He carried long things over his shoulders. He flashed
into the stream like a shadow swallowed by a flame. And as he went,
they caught such merry words, half sung, half chanted:--,
'I'll mix their smoke with hope and mystery till they see dreams and
faces in their fires---' and he was gone.
Behind him came a couple arm in arm, their movements equally light and
springy, but the one behind dragging a little, as though lazily. They
wore rags and torn old hats and had no collars to their shirts. The
lazy one had broken boots through which his toes showed plainly. The
other who dragged him had a swarthy face like the gypsies who once had
camped near their house in Essex long, oh, ever so long ago.
'I'll get some too,' the slow one sang huskily as he stumbled along
with difficulty 'but there's never any hurry. I'll fill their journeys
with desire and make adventure call to them with love---'
'And I,' the first one answered, 'will sprinkle all their days with
the sweetness of the moors and open fields, till houses choke their
lungs and they come out to learn the stars by name. Ho, ho!'
They dipped, with a flying leap, into the rushing flood. Their rags
and filthy slouched hats flashed radiant as they went, all bathed and
cleaned in glory.
Others came after them in a continuous stream, some too outlandish to
be named or recognised, others half familiar, very quick and earnest,
but merry at the same time, and all intent upon bringing back
something for the world.
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