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though to himself； 〃Terrible； terrible！〃 or 〃God preserve us！〃 sketching out
the sign of the cross as he uttered the words。 The clients who came in
laughing grew suddenly grave； they began to take the witch seriously。
She was a formidable… looking woman； could it be； was it possible； that
there was something in this sort of thing after all？ After all； they thought；
as the hag shook her head over their hands； after all。。。And they waited；
with an uncomfortably beating heart； for the oracle to speak。 After a long
and silent inspection； Mr。 Scogan would suddenly look up and ask； in a
hoarse whisper； some horrifying question； such as； 〃Have you ever been
hit on the head with a hammer by a young man with red hair？〃 When the
answer was in the negative； which it could hardly fail to be； Mr。 Scogan
would nod several times； saying； 〃I was afraid so。 Everything is still to
come； still to come； though it can't be very far off now。〃 Sometimes；
after a long examination； he would just whisper； 〃Where ignorance is bliss；
'tis folly to be wise；〃 and refuse to divulge any details of a future too
appalling to be envisaged without despair。 Sesostris had a success of
horror。 People stood in a queue outside the witch's booth waiting for the
privilege of hearing sentence pronounced upon them。
Denis； in the course of his round； looked with curiosity at this crowd
of suppliants before the shrine of the oracle。 He had a great desire to see
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how Mr。 Scogan played his part。 The canvas booth was a rickety； ill…
made structure。 Between its walls and its sagging roof were long gaping
chinks and crannies。 Denis went to the tea…tent and borrowed a wooden
bench and a small Union Jack。 With these he hurried back to the booth
of Sesostris。 Setting down the bench at the back of the booth； he climbed
up； and with a great air of busy efficiency began to tie the Union Jack to
the top of one of the tent…poles。 Through the crannies in the canvas he
could see almost the whole of the interior of the tent。 Mr。 Scogan's
bandana…covered head was just below him； his terrifying whispers came
clearly up。 Denis looked and listened while the witch prophesied
financial losses； death by apoplexy； destruction by air…raids in the next
war。
〃Is there going to be another war？〃 asked the old lady to whom he had
predicted this end。
〃Very soon；〃 said Mr。 Scogan； with an air of quiet confidence。
The old lady was succeeded by a girl dressed in white muslin；
garnished with pink ribbons。 She was wearing a broad hat； so that Denis
could not see her face； but from her figure and the roundness of her bare
arms he judged her young and pleasing。 Mr。 Scogan looked at her hand；
then whispered； 〃You are still virtuous。〃
The young lady giggled and exclaimed； 〃Oh； lor'！〃
〃But you will not remain so for long；〃 added Mr。 Scogan sepulchrally。
The young lady giggled again。 〃Destiny； which interests itself in small
things no less than in great； has announced the fact upon your hand。〃 Mr。
Scogan took up the magnifying…glass and began once more to examine the
white palm。 〃Very interesting；〃 he said； as though to himself〃very
interesting。 It's as clear as day。〃 He was silent。
〃What's clear？〃 asked the girl。
〃I don't think I ought to tell you。〃 Mr。 Scogan shook his head； the
pendulous brass ear…rings which he had screwed on to his ears tinkled。
〃Please； please！；〃 she implored。
The witch seemed to ignore her remark。 〃Afterwards； it's not at all
clear。 The fates don't say whether you will settle down to married life
and have four children or whether you will try to go on the cinema and
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have none。 They are only specific about this one rather crucial incident。〃
〃What is it？ What is it？ Oh； do tell me！〃
The white muslin figure leant eagerly forward。
Mr。 Scogan sighed。 〃Very well；〃 he said； 〃if you must know； you
must know。 But if anything untoward happens you must blame your own
curiosity。 Listen。 Listen。〃 He lifted up a sharp； claw… nailed
forefinger。 〃This is what the fates have written。 Next Sunday afternoon
at six o'clock you will be sitting on the second stile on the footpath that
leads from the church to the lower road。 At that moment a man will
appear walking along the footpath。〃 Mr。 Scogan looked at her hand
again as though to refresh his memory of the details of the scene。 〃A
man；〃 he repeated〃a small man with a sharp nose； not exactly good
looking nor precisely young； but fascinating。〃 He lingered hissingly over
the word。 〃He will ask you； 'Can you tell me the way to Paradise？' and
you will answer； 'Yes； I'll show you；' and walk with him down towards the
little hazel copse。 I cannot read what will happen after that。〃 There was
a silence。
〃Is it really true？〃 asked white muslin。
The witch gave a shrug of the shoulders。 〃I merely tell you what I
read in your hand。 Good afternoon。 That will be sixpence。 Yes； I have
change。 Thank you。 Good afternoon。〃
Denis stepped down from the bench； tied insecurely and crookedly to
the tentpole； the Union Jack hung limp on the windless air。 〃If only I could
do things like that！〃 he thought； as he carried the bench back to the tea…
tent。
Anne was sitting behind a long table filling thick white cups from an
urn。 A neat pile of printed sheets lay before her on the table。 Denis
took one of them and looked at it affectionately。 It was his poem。 They
had printed five hundred copies； and very nice the quarto broadsheets
looked。
〃Have you sold many？〃 he asked in a casual tone。
Anne put her head on one side deprecatingly。 〃Only three so far； I'm
afraid。 But I'm giving a free copy to everyone who spends more than a
shilling on his tea。 So in any case it's having a circulation。〃
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Denis made no reply； but walked slowly away。 He looked at the
broadsheet in his hand and read the lines to himself relishingly as he
walked along：
〃This day of roundabouts and swings； Struck weights； shied cocoa…
nuts； tossed rings； Switchbacks； Aunt Sallies； and all such small High
jinksyou call it ferial？ A holiday？ But paper noses Sniffed the artificial
roses Of round Venetian cheeks through half Each carnival year； and
masks might laugh At things the naked face for shame Would blush at
laugh and think no blame。 A holiday？ But Galba showed Elephants on an
airy road； Jumbo trod the tightrope then； And in the circus armed men
Stabbed home for sport and died to break Those dull imperatives that
make A prison of every working day； Where all must drudge and all obey。
Sing Holiday！ You do not know How to be free。 The Russian snow
flowered with bright blood whose roses spread Petals of fading； fading red
That died into the snow again； Into the virgin snow； and men From all
ancient bonds were freed。 Old law； old custom； and old creed； Old right
and wrong there bled to death； The frozen air received their breath； A little
smoke that died away； And round about them where they lay The snow
bloomed roses。 Blood was there A red gay flower and only fair。 Sing
Holiday！ Beneath the Tree Of Innocence and Liberty； Paper Nose and
Red Cockade Dance within the magic shade That makes them drunken；
merry； and strong To laugh and sing their ferial song： 'Free； free。。。！' But
Echo answers Faintly to the laughing dancers； 'Fr