(23)Kennedy was supposed to have the charge of it, and then hisleg got so bad after he fell from the cart; and perhaps thenno one for a year; or the better part of one, and then TommieCurwen, and seeds might be sent, but who should say if they wereever planted?

[She hailed her son. He looked at her. He said nothing.]He was one of those quiet ones.GeorgeHe was a great one for work.He turned to his scything again.He was one of those quiet ones.Lines drawn from lines 6 and 7 appear to have originally moved these passages before a decision was made to delete them.On he went, like a machine,scything scything, wet or fine, a great one for work. Well,they must be getting along with the cupbaooards, she supposed.

At last, after days of labour within, of cutting, rakingsweeping digging without, dusters were flicked out of thewindows; the windows were shut fast; keys were turned all overthe house; the front door was banged; it was finished.

And now, as if the cleaning and the scrubbing and thescything and the mowing had drowned them, there rose that halfheard melody, that intermittent music which the ear half catchesbut lets fall, a bark, a bleat, irregular, intermittent, yetsomehow related - the jar of an insect, the tremor of cut grass,dissevered yet somehow belonging, the hum of a dor beetle, thesquaekak of a wheel, loud, low, but mysteriously related, whichthe ear strains to bring together and is always on the verge ofharmonising; but they are never quite heard, never fullyharmonised, and at last, in the evening, one after another theonedies & another dies, &sounds died out, and the harmony faltereds and fell into completecompletesilence. With the sunset sharpness was lost, and like mist& the silence isis complete
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