第42部分(第2/7 頁)

like　a　string　tying　her　up。　She　could　not　help　looking　with

dread　at　the　string　buried　under　the　heaped…back　soil。　Her

father　was　working　nearer；　stooping；　working　nearer。　She　was

overe　by　her　responsibility。　She　put　potatoes　quickly　into

the　cold　earth。

He　came　near。

〃Not　so　close；〃　he　said；　stooping　over　her　potatoes；　taking

some　out　and　rearranging　the　others。　She　stood　by　with　the

painful　terrified　helplessness　of　childhood。　He　was　so　unseeing

and　confident；　she　wanted　to　do　the　thing　and　yet　she　could　not。

She　stood　by　looking　on；　her　little　blue　overall　fluttering　in

the　wind；　the　red　woollen　ends　of　her　shawl　blowing　gustily。

Then　he　went　down　the　row；　relentlessly；　turning　the　potatoes　in

with　his　sharp　spade…cuts。　He　took　no　notice　of　her；　only　worked

on。　He　had　another　world　from　hers。

She　stood　helplessly　stranded　on　his　world。　He　continued　his

work。　She　knew　she　could　not　help　him。　A　little　bit　forlorn；　at

last　she　turned　away；　and　ran　down　the　garden；　away　from　him；　as

fast　as　she　could　go　away　from　him；　to　forget　him　and　his

work。

He　missed　her　presence；　her　face　in　her　red　woollen　bonnet；

her　blue　overall　fluttering。　She　ran　to　where　a　little　water　ran

trickling　between　grass　and　stones。　That　she　loved。

When　he　came　by　he　said　to　her：

〃You　didn't　help　me　much。〃

The　child　looked　at　him　dumbly。　Already　her　heart　was　heavy

because　of　her　own　disappointment。　Her　mouth　was　dumb　and

pathetic。　But　he　did　not　notice；　he　went　his　way。

And　she　played　on；　because　of　her　disappointment　persisting

even　the　more　in　her　play。　She　dreaded　work；　because　she　could