The Pump

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXX, Issue 21450, 25 March 1933, Page 4 (Supplement)

The Pump

(Original). By LUCY FYERS. Bangiriri, Waikato. Aged 17 years. The pump has stood beside the creek, in a little hollow of the bank, for a year and a-half. Many and many a pleasant half-hour has Jean spent pumping the water for the house. Listening to the creek beside her, singing as it tumbled over the willow roots, and to the pump's everlasting appeal, " Sh-sh-sh —give me reesst." Thousand of thoughts have trickled into her mind like raindrops into the sea as she has sat upon that old box beside the pump half asleep. Jean used to take a book when she was sent to pump; she has given that up now, not of her own freewill either. Mother found that she did more pumping without it. So now she has only her thoughts for company, little does that worry her. Back and forth the handle goes; her hands do that while her mind is far, far away. Sometimes her hands forget and give the pump its long called for "reesst." Then some voice from above brings her back to earth. " So that's the way you pump ?" " Pumping, aren't you ?" or some equally cruel remark. Jean usually gives a slight jump of surprise as they break in upon her silent thoughts, then that warped, cracked, weather-beaten box adds to the cruelty of the world and pinches her. Jean has pumped in the morning just as tho sun rose over the hill. Sho has pumped at every hour of the day, but best of all she loves to pump and think just after the sun has set. Then all the bird 3 wish her " Goou-night," and the stars wink as they say. " Hullo."