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OdourOfChrysanthemumsD.H.LawrenceThesmalllocomotiveengine,Number4,cameclanking,stumblingdownfromSelston-withsevenfullwaggons.Itappearedroundthecornerwithloudthreatsofspeed,butthecoltthatitstartledfromamongthegorse,whichstillflickeredindistinctlyintherawafternoon,outdistanceditatacanter.Awoman,walkinguptherailwaylinetoUnderwood,drewbackintothehedge,heldherbasketaside,andwatchedthefootplateoftheengineadvancing.Thetrucksthumpedheavilypast,onebyone,withslowinevitablemovement,asshestoodinsignificantlytrappedbetweenthejoltingblackwaggonsandthehedge;thentheycurvedawaytowardsthecoppicewherethewitheredoakleavesdroppednoiselessly,whilethebirds,pullingatthescarlethipsbesidethetrack,madeoffintotheduskthathadalreadycreptintothespinney.Intheopen,thesmokefromtheenginesankandcleavedtotheroughgrass.Thefieldsweredrearyandforsaken,andinthemarshystripthatledtothewhimsey,areedypit-pond,thefowlshadalreadyabandonedtheirrunamongthealders,toroostinthetarredfowl-house.Thepit-bankloomedupbeyondthepond,flameslikeredsoreslickingitsashysides,intheafternoon'sstagnantlight.Justbeyondrosethetaperingchimneysandtheclumsyblackhead-stocksofBrinsleyColliery.Thetwowheelswerespinningfastupagainstthesky,andthewinding-enginerappedoutitslittlespasms.Theminerswerebeingturnedup.Theenginewhistledasitcameintothewidebayofrailwaylinesbesidethecolliery,whererowsoftrucksstoodinharbour.Miners,single,trailingandingroups,passedlikeshadowsdiverginghome.Attheedgeoftheribbedlevelofsidingssquatalowcottage,threestepsdownfromthecindertrack.Alargebonyvineclutchedatthehouse,asiftoclawdownthetiledroof.Roundthebrickedyardgrewafewwintryprimroses.Beyond,thelonggardenslopeddowntoabush-coveredbrookcourse.Thereweresometwiggyappletrees,winter-cracktrees,andraggedcabbages.Besidethepathhungdishevelledpinkchrysanthemums,likepinkclothshungonbushes.Awomancamestoopingoutofthefelt-coveredfowl-house,half-waydownthegarden.Sheclosedandpadlockedthedoor,thendrewherselferect,havingbrushedsomebitsfromherwhiteapron.Shewasatillwomanofimperiousmien,handsome,withdefiniteblackeyebrows.Hersmoothblackhairwaspartedexactly.Forafewmomentsshestoodsteadilywatchingtheminersastheypassedalongtherailway:thensheturnedtowardsthebrookcourse.Herfacewascalmandset,hermouthwasclosedwithdisillusionment.Afteramomentshecalled:John!Therewasnoanswer.Shewaited,andthensaiddistinctly:Whereareyou?Here!repliedachild'ssulkyvoicefromamongthebushes.Thewomanlookedpiercinglythroughthedusk.Areyouatthatbrook?sheaskedsternly.Foranswerthechildshowedhimselfbeforetheraspberry-canesthatroselikewhips.Hewasasmall,sturdyboyoffive.Hestoodquitestill,defiantly.Oh!saidthemother,conciliated.Ithoughtyouweredownatthatwetbrook-andyourememberwhatItoldyou-Theboydidnotmoveoranswer.Come,comeonin,shesaidmoregently,it'sgettingdark.There'syourgrandfather'senginecomingdowntheline!Theladadvancedslowly,withresentful,taciturnmovement.Hewasdressedintrousersandwaistcoatofcloththatwastoothickandhardforthesizeofthegarments.Theywereevidentlycutdownfromaman'sclothes.Astheywentslowlytowardsthehousehetoreattheraggedwispsofchrysanthemumsanddroppedthepetalsinhandfulsalongthepath.Don'tdothat-itdoeslooknasty,saidhismother.Herefrained,andshe,suddenlypitiful,brokeoffatwigwiththreeorfourwanflowersandheldthemagainstherface.Whenmotherandsonreachedtheyardherhandhesitated,andinsteadoflayingthefloweraside,shepusheditinherapron-band.Themotherandsonstoodatthefootofthethreestepslookingacrossthebayoflinesatthepassinghomeoftheminers.Thetrundleofthesmalltrainwasimminent.Suddenlytheengineloomedpastthehouseandcametoastopoppositethegate.Theengine-driver,ashortmanwithroundgreybeard,leanedoutofthecabhighabovethewoman.Haveyougotacupoftea?hesaidinacheery,heartyfashion.Itwasherfather.Shewentin,sayingshewouldmash.Directly,shereturned.Ididn'tcometoseeyouonSunday,beganthelittlegrey-beardedman.Ididn'texpectyou,saidhisdaughter.Theengine-driverwinced;then,reassuminghischeery,airymanner,hesaid:Oh,haveyouheardthen?Well,andwhatdoyouthink-?Ithinkitissoonenough,shereplied.Atherbriefcensurethelittlemanmadeanimpatientgesture,andsaidcoaxingly,yetwithdangerouscoldness:Well,what'samantodo?It'snosortoflifeforamanofmyyears,tositatmyownhearthlikeastranger.AndifI'mgoingtomarryagainitmayaswellbesoonaslate-whatdoesitmattertoanybody?Thewomandidnotreply,butturnedandwentintothehouse.Themanintheengine-cabstoodassertive,tillshereturnedwithacupofteaandapieceofbreadandbutteronaplate.Shewentupthestepsandstoodnearthefootplateofthehissingengine.Youneedn't'a'broughtmebreadan'butter,saidherfather.Butacupoftea-hesippedappreciatively-it'sverynice.Hesippedforamomentortwo,then:IhearasWalter'sgotanotherbouton,hesaid.Whenhasn'the?saidthewomanbitterly.Iheeredtellofhiminthe'LordNelson'braggin'ashewasgoingtospendthatb--aforehewent:halfasovereignthatwas.When?askedthewoman.A'Sat'daynight-Iknowthat'strue.Verylikely,shelaughedbitterly.Hegivesmetwenty-threeshillings.Aye,it'sanicething,whenamancandonothingwithhismoneybutmakeabeastofhimself!saidthegrey-whiskeredman.Thewomanturnedherheadaway.Herfatherswallowedthelastofhisteaandhandedherth