Durgan really was
extraordinarily good--extraordinarily good. You intend to give us a good
deal of your time here, I hope."
"I mean to do my duty by the Parish," said my uncle.
"I'm sincerely glad to hear it--sincerely. We've missed--the house
influence. An English village isn't complete--People get out of hand.
Life grows dull. The young people drift away to London."
He enjoyed his cigar gingerly for a moment.
"We shall look to you to liven things up," he said, poor man!
My uncle cocked his cigar and removed it from his mouth.
"What you think the place wants?" he asked.
He did not wait for an answer. "I been thinking while you been
talking--things one might do. Cricket--a good English game--sports.
Build the chaps a pavilion perhaps. Then every village ought to have a
miniature rifle range."
"Ye-ees," said the vicar. "Provided, of course, there isn't a constant
popping."...
"Manage that all right," said my uncle. "Thing'd be a sort of long shed.
Paint it red. British colour. Then there's a Union Jack for the church
and the village school.
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