And three minutes later they were back in the centre again.
After that, they simply couldn't get anywhere else. Whatever way they
turned brought them back to the middle. It became so regular at length,
that some of the people stopped there, and waited for the others to take
a walk round, and come back to them. Harris drew out his map again,
after a while, but the sight of it only infuriated the mob, and they told
him to go and curl his hair with it. Harris said that he couldn't help
feeling that, to a certain extent, he had become unpopular.
They all got crazy at last, and sang out for the keeper, and the man came
and climbed up the ladder outside, and shouted out directions to them.
But all their heads were, by this time, in such a confused whirl that
they were incapable of grasping anything, and so the man told them to
stop where they were, and he would come to them. They huddled together,
and waited; and he climbed down, and came in.
He was a young keeper, as luck would have it, and new to the business;
and when he got in, he couldn't find them, and he wandered about, trying
to get to them, and then HE got lost. They caught sight of him, every
now and then, rushing about the other side of the hedge, and he would see
them, and rush to get to them, and they would wait there for about five
minutes, and then he would reappear again in exactly the same spot, and
ask them where they had been.
They had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner
before they got out.
Harris said he thought it was a very fine maze, so far as he was a judge;
and we agreed that we would try to get George to go into it, on our way
back.
CHAPTER VII.
THE RIVER IN ITS SUNDAY GARB. - DRESS ON THE RIVER. - A CHANCE FOR THE
MEN. - ABSENCE OF TASTE IN HARRIS. - GEORGE'S BLAZER. - A DAY WITH THE
FASHION-PLATE YOUNG LADY. - MRS. THOMAS'S TOMB. - THE MAN WHO LOVES NOT
GRAVES AND COFFINS AND SKULLS. - HARRIS MAD. - HIS VIEWS ON GEORGE AND
BANKS AND LEMONADE. - HE PERFORMS TRICKS.
IT was while passing through Moulsey Lock that Harris told me about his
maze experience. It took us some time to pass through, as we were the
only boat, and it is a big lock. I don't think I ever remember to have
seen Moulsey Lock, before, with only one boat in it. It is, I suppose,
Boulter's not even excepted, the busiest lock on the river.
I have stood and watched it, sometimes, when you could not see any water
at all, but only a brilliant tangle of bright blazers, and gay caps, and
saucy hats, and many-coloured parasols, and silken rugs, and cloaks, and
streaming ribbons, and dainty whites; when looking down into the lock
from the quay, you might fancy it was a huge box into which flowers of
every hue and shade had been thrown pell-mell, and lay piled up in a
rainbow heap, that covered every corner.
On a fine Sunday it presents this appearance nearly all day long, while,
up the stream, and down the stream, lie, waiting their turn, outside the
gates, long lines of still more boats; and boats are drawing near and
passing away, so that the sunny river, from the Palace up to Hampton
Church, is dotted and decked with yellow, and blue, and orange, and
white, and red, and pink. All the inhabitants of Hampton and Moulsey
dress themselves up in boating costume, and come and mouch round the lock
with their dogs, and flirt, and smoke, and watch the boats; and,
altogether, what with the caps and jackets of the men, the pretty
coloured dresses of the women, the excited dogs, the moving boats, the
white sails, the pleasant landscape, and the sparkling water, it is one
of the gayest sights I know of near this dull old London town.
The river affords a good opportunity for dress. For once in a way, we
men are able to show our taste in colours, and I think we come out very
natty, if you ask me. I always like a little red in my things - red and
black. You know my hair is a sort of golden brown, rather a pretty shade
I've been told, and a dark red matches it beautifully; and then I always
think a light-blue necktie goes so well with it, and a pair of those
Russian-leather shoes and a red silk handkerchief round the waist - a
handkerchief looks so much better than a belt.
Harris always keeps to shades or mixtures of orange or yellow, but I
don't think he is at all wise in this. His complexion is too dark for
yellows. Yellows don't suit him: there can be no question about it. I
want him to take to blue as a background, with white or cream for relief;
but, there! the less taste a person has in dress, the more obstinate he
always seems to be. It is a great pity, because he will never be a
success as it is, while there are one or two colours in which he might
not really look so bad, with his hat on.
George has bought some new things for this trip, and I'm rather vexed
about them. The blazer is loud. I should not like George to know that I
thought so, but there really is no other word for it. He brought it home
and showed it to us on Thursday evening. We asked him what colour he
called it, and he said he didn't know.
