NCERT Textbook - The Rocking horse Winner | English Class 11 PDF Download

 Page 1


The Rocking-horse Winner 19
The Rocking-horse Winner
D.H. Lawrence
F F F F F Look for these expressions in the story and guess the meaning
from the context
turned to dust careered
sequin overwrought
reiterated brazening it out
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with
all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for
love and love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet,
she felt they had been thrust upon her and she could not
love them. They looked at her coldly as if they were finding
fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up
some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover
up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were
present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard.
This troubled her and, in her manner, she was all the
more gentle and anxious for her children as if she loved
them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre
of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love,
no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: ‘She is
such a good mother. She adores her children.’ Only she
herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so.
They read it in each other’s eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a
pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants,
and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety
in the house. There was never enough money.
The mother had a small income and the father had a
small income but not nearly enough for the social position
3
2019-2020
Page 2


The Rocking-horse Winner 19
The Rocking-horse Winner
D.H. Lawrence
F F F F F Look for these expressions in the story and guess the meaning
from the context
turned to dust careered
sequin overwrought
reiterated brazening it out
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with
all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for
love and love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet,
she felt they had been thrust upon her and she could not
love them. They looked at her coldly as if they were finding
fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up
some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover
up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were
present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard.
This troubled her and, in her manner, she was all the
more gentle and anxious for her children as if she loved
them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre
of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love,
no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: ‘She is
such a good mother. She adores her children.’ Only she
herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so.
They read it in each other’s eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a
pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants,
and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety
in the house. There was never enough money.
The mother had a small income and the father had a
small income but not nearly enough for the social position
3
2019-2020
20 Woven Words
which they had to keep up. The father went into town to
some office. But though he had good prospects, these
prospects never materialised. There was always the grinding
sense of the shortage of money though the style was always
kept up.
At last the mother said: ‘I will see if I can’t make
something.’ But she did not know where to begin. She racked
her brains, and tried this thing and the other but could
not find anything successful. The failure made deep lines
come into her face. Her children were growing up; they
would have to go to school. There must be more money,
there must be more money. The father, who was always
very handsome and expensive in his tastes, seemed as if
he never would be able to do anything worth doing. And
the mother, who had a great belief in herself, did not succeed
any better, and her tastes were just as expensive.
And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken
phrase: ‘There must be more money! There must be more
money!’ The children could hear it all the time, though
nobody said it aloud. They heard it at Christmas, when
expensive and splendid toys filled the nursery. Behind
the shining modern rocking-horse, behind the smart doll’s
house, a voice would start whispering: ‘There must be
more money! There must be more money!’ And the children
would stop playing, to listen for a moment. They would
look into each other’s eyes to see if they had all heard.
And each one saw in the eyes of the other two that they
too had heard. ‘There must be more money! There must
be more money!’
It came whispering from the springs of the still-swaying
rocking-horse and even the horse, bending his wooden,
champing head, heard it. The big doll, sitting so pink and
smirking in her new pram, could hear it quite plainly and
seemed to be smirking all the more self-consciously because
of it. The foolish puppy, too, that took the place of the
teddy-bear, he was looking so extraordinarily foolish for no
other reason but that he heard the secret whisper all over
the house: ‘There must be more money!’
Yet nobody ever said it aloud. The whisper was
everywhere and therefore no one spoke it. Just as no one
2019-2020
Page 3


The Rocking-horse Winner 19
The Rocking-horse Winner
D.H. Lawrence
F F F F F Look for these expressions in the story and guess the meaning
from the context
turned to dust careered
sequin overwrought
reiterated brazening it out
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with
all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for
love and love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet,
she felt they had been thrust upon her and she could not
love them. They looked at her coldly as if they were finding
fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up
some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover
up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were
present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard.
This troubled her and, in her manner, she was all the
more gentle and anxious for her children as if she loved
them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre
of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love,
no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: ‘She is
such a good mother. She adores her children.’ Only she
herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so.
They read it in each other’s eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a
pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants,
and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety
in the house. There was never enough money.
The mother had a small income and the father had a
small income but not nearly enough for the social position
3
2019-2020
20 Woven Words
which they had to keep up. The father went into town to
some office. But though he had good prospects, these
prospects never materialised. There was always the grinding
sense of the shortage of money though the style was always
kept up.
At last the mother said: ‘I will see if I can’t make
something.’ But she did not know where to begin. She racked
her brains, and tried this thing and the other but could
not find anything successful. The failure made deep lines
come into her face. Her children were growing up; they
would have to go to school. There must be more money,
there must be more money. The father, who was always
very handsome and expensive in his tastes, seemed as if
he never would be able to do anything worth doing. And
the mother, who had a great belief in herself, did not succeed
any better, and her tastes were just as expensive.
And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken
phrase: ‘There must be more money! There must be more
money!’ The children could hear it all the time, though
nobody said it aloud. They heard it at Christmas, when
expensive and splendid toys filled the nursery. Behind
the shining modern rocking-horse, behind the smart doll’s
house, a voice would start whispering: ‘There must be
more money! There must be more money!’ And the children
would stop playing, to listen for a moment. They would
look into each other’s eyes to see if they had all heard.
And each one saw in the eyes of the other two that they
too had heard. ‘There must be more money! There must
be more money!’
It came whispering from the springs of the still-swaying
rocking-horse and even the horse, bending his wooden,
champing head, heard it. The big doll, sitting so pink and
smirking in her new pram, could hear it quite plainly and
seemed to be smirking all the more self-consciously because
of it. The foolish puppy, too, that took the place of the
teddy-bear, he was looking so extraordinarily foolish for no
other reason but that he heard the secret whisper all over
the house: ‘There must be more money!’
Yet nobody ever said it aloud. The whisper was
everywhere and therefore no one spoke it. Just as no one
2019-2020
The Rocking-horse Winner 21
ever says ‘we are breathing’ in spite of the fact that breath
is coming and going all the time.
‘Mother,’ said the boy Paul one day, ‘why don’t we keep
a car of our own? Why do we always use uncle’s, or else a
taxi?’
‘Because we’re the poor members of the family,’ said
the mother.
‘But why are we, mother?’
‘Well—I suppose,’ she said slowly and bitterly, ‘it’s
because your father has no luck.’
The boy was silent for some time.
‘Is luck money, mother?’ he asked, rather timidly.
‘No, Paul, not quite. It’s what causes you to have money.’
‘Oh!’, said Paul vaguely. ‘I thought when Uncle Oscar
said filthy lucre, it meant money.’
‘Filthy lucre does mean money,’ said the mother. ‘But
it’s lucre, not luck.’
‘Oh,’ said the boy. ‘Then what is luck, mother?’
‘It’s what causes you to have money. If you’re lucky
you have money. That’s why it’s better to be born lucky
than rich. If you’re rich, you may lose your money. But if
you’re lucky, you will always get more money.’
‘Oh! Will you? And is father not lucky?’
‘Very unlucky, I should say,’ she said bitterly.
The boy watched her with unsure eyes.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Nobody ever knows why one person is
lucky and another unlucky.’
‘Do they? Nobody at all? Does nobody know?’
‘Perhaps God. But He never tells.’
‘He ought to, then. And aren’t you lucky either, mother?’
‘I can’t be, if I married an unlucky husband.’
‘But by yourself, aren’t you?’
‘I used to think I was, before I married. Now I think I
am very unlucky indeed.’
‘Why?’
‘Well—never mind! Perhaps I’m not really,’ she said.
The child looked at her to see if she meant it. But he saw,
by the lines of her mouth, that she was only trying to hide
something from him.
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Page 4


The Rocking-horse Winner 19
The Rocking-horse Winner
D.H. Lawrence
F F F F F Look for these expressions in the story and guess the meaning
from the context
turned to dust careered
sequin overwrought
reiterated brazening it out
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with
all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for
love and love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet,
she felt they had been thrust upon her and she could not
love them. They looked at her coldly as if they were finding
fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up
some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover
up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were
present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard.
This troubled her and, in her manner, she was all the
more gentle and anxious for her children as if she loved
them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre
of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love,
no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: ‘She is
such a good mother. She adores her children.’ Only she
herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so.
They read it in each other’s eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a
pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants,
and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety
in the house. There was never enough money.
The mother had a small income and the father had a
small income but not nearly enough for the social position
3
2019-2020
20 Woven Words
which they had to keep up. The father went into town to
some office. But though he had good prospects, these
prospects never materialised. There was always the grinding
sense of the shortage of money though the style was always
kept up.
At last the mother said: ‘I will see if I can’t make
something.’ But she did not know where to begin. She racked
her brains, and tried this thing and the other but could
not find anything successful. The failure made deep lines
come into her face. Her children were growing up; they
would have to go to school. There must be more money,
there must be more money. The father, who was always
very handsome and expensive in his tastes, seemed as if
he never would be able to do anything worth doing. And
the mother, who had a great belief in herself, did not succeed
any better, and her tastes were just as expensive.
And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken
phrase: ‘There must be more money! There must be more
money!’ The children could hear it all the time, though
nobody said it aloud. They heard it at Christmas, when
expensive and splendid toys filled the nursery. Behind
the shining modern rocking-horse, behind the smart doll’s
house, a voice would start whispering: ‘There must be
more money! There must be more money!’ And the children
would stop playing, to listen for a moment. They would
look into each other’s eyes to see if they had all heard.
And each one saw in the eyes of the other two that they
too had heard. ‘There must be more money! There must
be more money!’
It came whispering from the springs of the still-swaying
rocking-horse and even the horse, bending his wooden,
champing head, heard it. The big doll, sitting so pink and
smirking in her new pram, could hear it quite plainly and
seemed to be smirking all the more self-consciously because
of it. The foolish puppy, too, that took the place of the
teddy-bear, he was looking so extraordinarily foolish for no
other reason but that he heard the secret whisper all over
the house: ‘There must be more money!’
Yet nobody ever said it aloud. The whisper was
everywhere and therefore no one spoke it. Just as no one
2019-2020
The Rocking-horse Winner 21
ever says ‘we are breathing’ in spite of the fact that breath
is coming and going all the time.
‘Mother,’ said the boy Paul one day, ‘why don’t we keep
a car of our own? Why do we always use uncle’s, or else a
taxi?’
‘Because we’re the poor members of the family,’ said
the mother.
‘But why are we, mother?’
‘Well—I suppose,’ she said slowly and bitterly, ‘it’s
because your father has no luck.’
The boy was silent for some time.
‘Is luck money, mother?’ he asked, rather timidly.
‘No, Paul, not quite. It’s what causes you to have money.’
‘Oh!’, said Paul vaguely. ‘I thought when Uncle Oscar
said filthy lucre, it meant money.’
‘Filthy lucre does mean money,’ said the mother. ‘But
it’s lucre, not luck.’
‘Oh,’ said the boy. ‘Then what is luck, mother?’
‘It’s what causes you to have money. If you’re lucky
you have money. That’s why it’s better to be born lucky
than rich. If you’re rich, you may lose your money. But if
you’re lucky, you will always get more money.’
‘Oh! Will you? And is father not lucky?’
‘Very unlucky, I should say,’ she said bitterly.
The boy watched her with unsure eyes.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Nobody ever knows why one person is
lucky and another unlucky.’
‘Do they? Nobody at all? Does nobody know?’
‘Perhaps God. But He never tells.’
‘He ought to, then. And aren’t you lucky either, mother?’
‘I can’t be, if I married an unlucky husband.’
‘But by yourself, aren’t you?’
‘I used to think I was, before I married. Now I think I
am very unlucky indeed.’
‘Why?’
‘Well—never mind! Perhaps I’m not really,’ she said.
The child looked at her to see if she meant it. But he saw,
by the lines of her mouth, that she was only trying to hide
something from him.
2019-2020
22 Woven Words
‘Well, anyhow,’ he said stoutly, ‘I’m a lucky person.’
‘Why?’ said his mother, with a sudden laugh.
He stared at her. He didn’t even know why he had said
it.
‘God told me,’ he asserted, brazening it out.
‘1 hope He did, dear,’ she said, again with a laugh, but
rather bitter.
‘He did, mother!’
‘Excellent!’ said the mother, using one of her husband’s
exclamations.
The boy saw she did not believe him; or rather, that
she paid no attention to his assertion. This angered him
somewhat and made him want to compel her attention.
He went off by himself, vaguely, in a childish way,
seeking for the clue to ‘luck’. Absorbed, taking no heed of
other people, he went about with a sort of stealth, seeking
inwardly for luck. He wanted luck. He wanted it, he wanted
it. When the two girls were playing dolls in the nursery, he
would sit on his big rocking-horse, charging madly into
space, with a frenzy that made the little girls peer at him
uneasily. Wildly the horse careered. The waving dark hair
of the boy tossed, his eyes had a strange glare in them. The
little girls dared not speak to him.
When he had ridden to the end of his mad little journey,
he climbed down and stood in front of his rocking-horse,
staring fixedly into its lowered face. Its red mouth was
slightly open, its big eye was wide and glassy-bright.
‘Now!’ he would silently command the snorting steed.
‘Now, take me to where there is luck. Now take me!’
And he would slash the horse on the neck with the
little whip he had asked Uncle Oscar for. He knew the horse
could take him to where there was luck if only he forced it.
So he would mount again and start on his furious ride,
hoping at last to get there. He knew he could get there.
‘You’ll break your horse, Paul!’ said the nurse.
‘He’s always riding like that, I wish he’d leave off ’,
said his sister, Joan.
But he only glared down on them in silence. Nurse
gave him up. She could make nothing of him. Anyhow, he
was growing beyond her.
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Page 5


The Rocking-horse Winner 19
The Rocking-horse Winner
D.H. Lawrence
F F F F F Look for these expressions in the story and guess the meaning
from the context
turned to dust careered
sequin overwrought
reiterated brazening it out
There was a woman who was beautiful, who started with
all the advantages, yet she had no luck. She married for
love and love turned to dust. She had bonny children, yet,
she felt they had been thrust upon her and she could not
love them. They looked at her coldly as if they were finding
fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up
some fault in herself. Yet what it was that she must cover
up she never knew. Nevertheless, when her children were
present, she always felt the centre of her heart go hard.
This troubled her and, in her manner, she was all the
more gentle and anxious for her children as if she loved
them very much. Only she herself knew that at the centre
of her heart was a hard little place that could not feel love,
no, not for anybody. Everybody else said of her: ‘She is
such a good mother. She adores her children.’ Only she
herself, and her children themselves, knew it was not so.
They read it in each other’s eyes.
There were a boy and two little girls. They lived in a
pleasant house, with a garden, and they had discreet servants,
and felt themselves superior to anyone in the neighbourhood.
Although they lived in style, they felt always an anxiety
in the house. There was never enough money.
The mother had a small income and the father had a
small income but not nearly enough for the social position
3
2019-2020
20 Woven Words
which they had to keep up. The father went into town to
some office. But though he had good prospects, these
prospects never materialised. There was always the grinding
sense of the shortage of money though the style was always
kept up.
At last the mother said: ‘I will see if I can’t make
something.’ But she did not know where to begin. She racked
her brains, and tried this thing and the other but could
not find anything successful. The failure made deep lines
come into her face. Her children were growing up; they
would have to go to school. There must be more money,
there must be more money. The father, who was always
very handsome and expensive in his tastes, seemed as if
he never would be able to do anything worth doing. And
the mother, who had a great belief in herself, did not succeed
any better, and her tastes were just as expensive.
And so the house came to be haunted by the unspoken
phrase: ‘There must be more money! There must be more
money!’ The children could hear it all the time, though
nobody said it aloud. They heard it at Christmas, when
expensive and splendid toys filled the nursery. Behind
the shining modern rocking-horse, behind the smart doll’s
house, a voice would start whispering: ‘There must be
more money! There must be more money!’ And the children
would stop playing, to listen for a moment. They would
look into each other’s eyes to see if they had all heard.
And each one saw in the eyes of the other two that they
too had heard. ‘There must be more money! There must
be more money!’
It came whispering from the springs of the still-swaying
rocking-horse and even the horse, bending his wooden,
champing head, heard it. The big doll, sitting so pink and
smirking in her new pram, could hear it quite plainly and
seemed to be smirking all the more self-consciously because
of it. The foolish puppy, too, that took the place of the
teddy-bear, he was looking so extraordinarily foolish for no
other reason but that he heard the secret whisper all over
the house: ‘There must be more money!’
Yet nobody ever said it aloud. The whisper was
everywhere and therefore no one spoke it. Just as no one
2019-2020
The Rocking-horse Winner 21
ever says ‘we are breathing’ in spite of the fact that breath
is coming and going all the time.
‘Mother,’ said the boy Paul one day, ‘why don’t we keep
a car of our own? Why do we always use uncle’s, or else a
taxi?’
‘Because we’re the poor members of the family,’ said
the mother.
‘But why are we, mother?’
‘Well—I suppose,’ she said slowly and bitterly, ‘it’s
because your father has no luck.’
The boy was silent for some time.
‘Is luck money, mother?’ he asked, rather timidly.
‘No, Paul, not quite. It’s what causes you to have money.’
‘Oh!’, said Paul vaguely. ‘I thought when Uncle Oscar
said filthy lucre, it meant money.’
‘Filthy lucre does mean money,’ said the mother. ‘But
it’s lucre, not luck.’
‘Oh,’ said the boy. ‘Then what is luck, mother?’
‘It’s what causes you to have money. If you’re lucky
you have money. That’s why it’s better to be born lucky
than rich. If you’re rich, you may lose your money. But if
you’re lucky, you will always get more money.’
‘Oh! Will you? And is father not lucky?’
‘Very unlucky, I should say,’ she said bitterly.
The boy watched her with unsure eyes.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Nobody ever knows why one person is
lucky and another unlucky.’
‘Do they? Nobody at all? Does nobody know?’
‘Perhaps God. But He never tells.’
‘He ought to, then. And aren’t you lucky either, mother?’
‘I can’t be, if I married an unlucky husband.’
‘But by yourself, aren’t you?’
‘I used to think I was, before I married. Now I think I
am very unlucky indeed.’
‘Why?’
‘Well—never mind! Perhaps I’m not really,’ she said.
The child looked at her to see if she meant it. But he saw,
by the lines of her mouth, that she was only trying to hide
something from him.
2019-2020
22 Woven Words
‘Well, anyhow,’ he said stoutly, ‘I’m a lucky person.’
‘Why?’ said his mother, with a sudden laugh.
He stared at her. He didn’t even know why he had said
it.
‘God told me,’ he asserted, brazening it out.
‘1 hope He did, dear,’ she said, again with a laugh, but
rather bitter.
‘He did, mother!’
‘Excellent!’ said the mother, using one of her husband’s
exclamations.
The boy saw she did not believe him; or rather, that
she paid no attention to his assertion. This angered him
somewhat and made him want to compel her attention.
He went off by himself, vaguely, in a childish way,
seeking for the clue to ‘luck’. Absorbed, taking no heed of
other people, he went about with a sort of stealth, seeking
inwardly for luck. He wanted luck. He wanted it, he wanted
it. When the two girls were playing dolls in the nursery, he
would sit on his big rocking-horse, charging madly into
space, with a frenzy that made the little girls peer at him
uneasily. Wildly the horse careered. The waving dark hair
of the boy tossed, his eyes had a strange glare in them. The
little girls dared not speak to him.
When he had ridden to the end of his mad little journey,
he climbed down and stood in front of his rocking-horse,
staring fixedly into its lowered face. Its red mouth was
slightly open, its big eye was wide and glassy-bright.
‘Now!’ he would silently command the snorting steed.
‘Now, take me to where there is luck. Now take me!’
And he would slash the horse on the neck with the
little whip he had asked Uncle Oscar for. He knew the horse
could take him to where there was luck if only he forced it.
So he would mount again and start on his furious ride,
hoping at last to get there. He knew he could get there.
‘You’ll break your horse, Paul!’ said the nurse.
‘He’s always riding like that, I wish he’d leave off ’,
said his sister, Joan.
But he only glared down on them in silence. Nurse
gave him up. She could make nothing of him. Anyhow, he
was growing beyond her.
2019-2020
The Rocking-horse Winner 23
One day his mother and his Uncle Oscar came in when
he was on one of his furious rides. He did not speak to
them.
‘Hello, you young jockey! Riding a winner?’ said his
uncle.
‘Aren’t you growing too big for a rocking-horse? You’re
not a very little boy any longer, you know,’ said his mother.
But Paul only gave a blue glare from his big, rather
close-set eyes. He would speak to nobody when he was in
full tilt. His mother watched him with an anxious
expression on her face.
At last he suddenly stopped forcing his horse into the
mechanical gallop and slid down.
‘Well, I got there,’ he announced fiercely, his blue eyes
still flaring and his sturdy long legs straddling apart.
‘Where did you get to?’ asked his mother.
‘Where I wanted to go,’ he flared back at her.
‘That’s right, son!’ said Uncle Oscar, ‘Don’t you stop
till you get there. What’s the horse’s name?’
‘He doesn’t have a name,’ said the boy.
‘Gets on without all right?’ asked the uncle.
‘Well, he has different names. He was called Sansovino
last week.’
‘Sansovino, eh? Won the Ascot. How did you know his
name?’
‘He always talks about horse-races with Bassett,’ said
Joan.
The uncle was delighted to find that his small nephew
was posted with all the racing news. Bassett, the young
gardener, who had been wounded in the left foot in the war
and had got his present job through Oscar Cresswell whose
batman he had been, was a perfect blade of the ‘turf’. He
lived in the racing events, and the small boy lived with
him.
Oscar Cresswell got it all from Bassett.
‘Master Paul comes and asks me so I can’t do more
than tell him, sir,’ said Bassett, his face terribly serious,
as if he were speaking of religious matters.
‘And does he ever put anything on a horse he fancies?’
‘Well—I don’t want to give him away—he’s a young sport, a
2019-2020