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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:02 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:02 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1376-0.txt b/1376-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f3c9cf --- /dev/null +++ b/1376-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6829 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1376 *** + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + +OR ADVENTURES IN KENSINGTON GARDENS + +By J.M. Barrie + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + II. The Little Nursery Governess + III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an + Inventory of Her Furniture. + IV. A Night-Piece + V. The Fight For Timothy + VI. A Shock + VII. The Last of Timothy + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + X. Sporting Reflections + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + XIV. Peter Pan + XV. The Thrush's Nest + XVI. Lock-Out Time + XVII. The Little House + XVIII. Peter's Goat + XIX. An Interloper + XX. David and Porthos Compared + XXI. William Paterson + XXII. Joey + XXIII. Pilkington's + XXIV. Barbara + XXV. The Cricket Match + XXVI. The Dedication + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + + + + +I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + +Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an invitation +from his mother: “I shall be so pleased if you will come and see me,” + and I always reply in some such words as these: “Dear madam, I decline.” + And if David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no +desire to meet the woman. + +“Come this time, father,” he urged lately, “for it is her birthday, and +she is twenty-six,” which is so great an age to David, that I think he +fears she cannot last much longer. + +“Twenty-six, is she, David?” I replied. “Tell her I said she looks +more.” + +I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was twenty-six, +which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a place called +my home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking hours, and when I +alighted at the station a dear lost love was waiting for me, and we went +away together. She met me in no ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised +to find her there; it was as if we had been married for years and parted +for a day. I like to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + +Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I have +never in my life addressed one word, she would droop her head and raise +it bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but very proud, and she +would be wishful to lend me her absurd little pocket handkerchief. And +then, had I the heart, I might make a disclosure that would startle her, +for it is not the face of David's mother that I see in my dreams. + +Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty woman +who thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed down under +a hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have been pursued for +several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of the tender-hearted and +virtuous Mary A----. When we pass in the street the poor deluded soul +subdues her buoyancy, as if it were shame to walk happy before one she +has lamed, and at such times the rustle of her gown is whispered words +of comfort to me, and her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little +boy like David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am +unaware of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint +note of challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says why +don't you? and a mouth that says I rather wish you could: such is the +portrait of Mary A---- as she and I pass by. + +Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David that I +had spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and she asked would +I tell her the time please, just as children ask, and forget as they +run back with it to their nurse. But I was prepared even for this, and +raising my hat I pointed with my staff to a clock in the distance. She +should have been overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I +thought with displeasure that I heard her laughing. + +Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in order to +hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. She has been +putting qualities into David, altering him, turning him forever on a +lathe since the day she first knew him, and indeed long before, and all +so deftly that he is still called a child of nature. When you release +David's hand he is immediately lost like an arrow from the bow. No +sooner do you cast eyes on him than you are thinking of birds. It is +difficult to believe that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always +seems to have alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he +would come and peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the +doing of that timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly surprised by +it. He strikes a hundred gallant poses in a day; when he tumbles, which +is often, he comes to the ground like a Greek god; so Mary A---- has +willed it. But how she suffers that he may achieve! I have seen him +climbing a tree while she stood beneath in unutterable anguish; she had +to let him climb, for boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she +watched him, she fell from every branch. + +David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she will be +able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. Otherwise he would +trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she has discovered this; for, as +I learn from him, she warned him lately that she is not such a dear as +he thinks her. + +“I am very sure of it,” I replied. + +“Is she such a dear as you think her?” he asked me. + +“Heaven help her,” I said, “if she be not dearer than that.” + +Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their boy +will certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day when every +mother stands revealed before her little son. That dread hour ticks +between six and seven; when children go to bed later the revelation has +ceased to come. He is lapt in for the night now and lies quietly there, +madam, with great, mysterious eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing +up your day. Nothing in the revelations that kept you together and +yet apart in play time can save you now; you two are of no age, no +experience of life separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have +come up for judgment. “Have I done well to-day, my son?” You have got to +say it, and nothing may you hide from him; he knows all. How like your +voice has grown to his, but more tremulous, and both so solemn, so +unlike the voice of either of you by day. + +“You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you not, +mother?” + +Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands and +answer him. + +“Yes, my son, I was. I thought--” + +But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + +“Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and then +pretend it was six before it was quite six?” + +“No, it was very unfair. I thought--” + +“Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?” + +“Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again.” + +“No, mother, please don't.” + +“My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?” + +Suppose he were unable to say yes. + +These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a little +thing to be false to the agreement you signed when you got the boy? +There are mothers who avoid their children in that hour, but this will +not save them. Why is it that so many women are afraid to be left alone +with their thoughts between six and seven? I am not asking this of +you, Mary. I believe that when you close David's door softly there is a +gladness in your eyes, and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom +little boys say their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + +I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and has had +his first fight with another young Christian who challenged him to the +jump and prayed for victory, which David thought was taking an unfair +advantage. + +“So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell her that I +am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two.” + +He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. When I +pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing for our meeting. +She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so much of her when +she is fifty-two, meaning that she will not be so pretty then. So little +does the sex know of beauty. Surely a spirited old lady may be the +prettiest sight in the world. For my part, I confess that it is they, +and not the young ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was +about to fall in love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. +Indeed, I cannot see a likely young creature without impatiently +considering her chances for, say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious girls, +when you are fifty-two we shall find you out; you must come into the +open then. If the mouth has fallen sourly yours the blame: all the +meannesses your youth concealed have been gathering in your face. But +the pretty thoughts and sweet ways and dear, forgotten kindnesses linger +there also, to bloom in your twilight like evening primroses. + +Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about his +mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I reflect, what +sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him cruelly: “Boy, you are +uncommonly like your mother.” + +To which David: “Is that why you are so kind to me?” + +I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his mother, +but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour as a soldier, +there is nothing more in it than that. I must not let him know this, for +it would make him conscious, and so break the spell that binds him and +me together. Oftenest I am but Captain W---- to him, and for the best of +reasons. He addresses me as father when he is in a hurry only, and never +have I dared ask him to use the name. He says, “Come, father,” with an +accursed beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little while +longer. + +I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in shops he +asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and which drawer he +keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he like Achilles, of whom +David has lately heard, and is so enamoured that he wants to die to meet +him. At such times the shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot +explain the peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds +then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away +before he volunteers the information, “He is not really my father.” + +When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little boy will +take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to some +Round Pond. + +One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following letter: +“Dear David: If you really want to know how it began, will you come and +have a chop with me to-day at the club?” + +Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her consent, +and, I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what happened so that he +might repeat it to her, for despite her curiosity she knows not how +it began herself. I chuckled, guessing that she expected something +romantic. + +He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually +solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great +coat. There was a shawl round his neck. “You can take some of them off,” + I said, “when we come to summer.” + +“Shall we come to summer?” he asked, properly awed. + +“To many summers,” I replied, “for we are going away back, David, to see +your mother as she was in the days before there was you.” + +We hailed a hansom. “Drive back six years,” I said to the cabby, “and +stop at the Junior Old Fogies' Club.” + +He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + +The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For +instance, the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I dropped +David a hint of what was going on. + +“It doesn't make me littler, does it?” he asked anxiously; and then, +with a terrible misgiving: “It won't make me too little, will it, +father?” by which he meant that he hoped it would not do for him +altogether. He slipped his hand nervously into mine, and I put it in my +pocket. + +You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals of the +club. + + + + +II. The Little Nursery Governess + +As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David vanishing +into nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago at two in the +afternoon. I ring for coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy, and take my +chair by the window, just as the absurd little nursery governess comes +tripping into the street. I always feel that I have rung for her. + +While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall into the +cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the one suitable +lump of sugar she is taking six last looks at the letter; with the aid +of William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-reading the delicious +address. I lie back in my chair, and by this time she has dropped the +letter down the slit. I toy with my liqueur, and she is listening to +hear whether the postal authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at +a fellow-member who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and +her two little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When +I look out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for her +to-morrow at two sharp. + +She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. I know +not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. She is taking +the little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. James's Park, as +their hoops tell me, and she ought to look crushed and faded. No doubt +her mistress overworks her. It must enrage the other servants to see her +deporting herself as if she were quite the lady. + +I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that +the posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, +plebeians all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I have even seen +her blow a kiss after it. + +Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it rather +than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it through her +glove to make sure that it was still there. She took off the glove and +raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not it was the cheapest +trinket. She viewed it from afar by stretching out her hand; she stooped +to see how it looked near the ground; she considered its effect on the +right of her and on the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even +when you saw that she had made up her mind to think hard of something +else, the little silly would take another look. + +I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + +No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man +loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was the merest nobody, +she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her +tackle and ticketed with the insufferable air of an engaged woman. At +first her complacency disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my +life at two o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now +comes the tragedy. + +Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every Thursday for +her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is probably paid several +pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself once a week. And what does +she with it? Attend classes for making her a more accomplished person? +Not she. This is what she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her +pretty things, including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle +of expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On +ordinary days she at least tries to look demure, but on a Thursday she +has had the assurance to use the glass door of the club as a mirror in +which to see how she likes her engaging trifle of a figure to-day. + +In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the +post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always wears +the same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever make him free of +the company of gentlemen. He is one of your lean, clean Englishmen, +who strip so well, and I fear me he is handsome; I say fear, for your +handsome men have always annoyed me, and had I lived in the duelling +days I swear I would have called every one of them out. He seems to be +quite unaware that he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary +knows it. I conclude that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is +so easily elated and depressed; and because he carries his left thumb +curiously, as if it were feeling for the hole of a palette, I have +entered his name among the painters. I find pleasure in deciding that +they are shocking bad pictures, for obviously no one buys them. I feel +sure Mary says they are splendid, she is that sort of woman. Hence the +rapture with which he greets her. Her first effect upon him is to make +him shout with laughter. He laughs suddenly haw from an eager exulting +face, then haw again, and then, when you are thanking heaven that it is +at last over, comes a final haw, louder than the others. I take them to +be roars of joy because Mary is his, and they have a ring of youth +about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive him everything save his +youth, but it is so aggressive that I have sometimes to order William +testily to close the window. + +How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery governess. +The moment she comes into sight she looks at the post-office and sees +him. Then she looks straight before her, and now she is observed, and he +rushes across to her in a glory, and she starts--positively starts--as +if he had taken her by surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her +wicked little heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. +He gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, and +as she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then away they +strut, Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall to wondering what +they will look like when they grow up. + +What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each other. +You can see that they are to be married when he has twopence. + +Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom London is +famous only as the residence of a young man who mistakes her for someone +else, but her happiness had become part of my repast at two P.M., and +when one day she walked down Pall Mall without gradually posting a +letter I was most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. +Her two charges were as surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to +the slit, at which she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, +exactly like a sad baby, and so passed from the street. + +Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit +through my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there might +be an end of this annoyance, but no, neither of them appeared on that +acquainted ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes +were red every day, and heavy was her foolish little heart. Love had put +out his lights, and the little nursery governess walked in darkness. + +I felt I could complain to the committee. + +Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to her, +won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. + +Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be joyous as +of old during the five minutes of the day when you are anything to me, +and for the rest of the time, so far as I am concerned, you may be as +wretched as you list. Show some courage. I assure you he must be a very +bad painter; only the other day I saw him looking longingly into the +window of a cheap Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush +down his aspirations with two penny scones. + +You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + +All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from morning +till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she lost that +little. They are all like this. + +Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure till +you die, you might at least do it in another street. + +Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on ordinary +days, but I have discovered that every Thursday from two to three she +stands afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic post-office where she +and he shall meet no more. In these windy days she is like a homeless +leaf blown about by passers-by. + +There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + +At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet Thursday, +and from the window where I was writing letters I saw the forlorn soul +taking up her position at the top of the street: in a blast of fury I +rose with the one letter I had completed, meaning to write the others in +my chambers. She had driven me from the club. + +I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom should I +strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, but I hit out at +him savagely, as I always do when I run into anyone in the street. Then +I looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; he was muddy; there was not a haw +left in him. I never saw a more abject young man; he had not even the +spirit to resent the testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But +this is the important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office +and thus in a twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. +Whatever had been their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up as she, +and perhaps he had been here every Thursday while she was round the +corner in Pall Mall, each watching the post-office for an apparition. +But from where they hovered neither could see the other. + +I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen at his +feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a gentleman who finds +a letter on the pavement feels bound to post it, and I presumed that he +would naturally go to the nearest office. + +With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was just in +time to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I looked for +the little nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone as ever; then, +suddenly--oh, you poor little soul, and has it really been as bad as +that! + +She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It was a +disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently explode if he +could not make use of his arms. She must die if she could not lay her +head upon his breast. I must admit that he rose to the occasion; he +hailed a hansom. + +“William,” said I gaily, “coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy.” + + +As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to ask +what I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran eagerly to +the window, but he reached it just too late to see the lady who was to +become his mother. What I told him of her doings, however, interested +him greatly; and he intimated rather shyly that he was acquainted with +the man who said, “Haw-haw-haw.” On the other hand, he irritated me by +betraying an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to +regard as the hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How +old were they? Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or just wooden +hoops? Who gave them their hoops? + +“You don't seem to understand, my boy,” I said tartly, “that had I not +dropped that letter, there would never have been a little boy called +David A----.” But instead of being appalled by this he asked, sparkling, +whether I meant that he would still be a bird flying about in the +Kensington Gardens. + +David knows that all children in our part of London were once birds in +the Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are bars on nursery +windows and a tall fender by the fire is because very little people +sometimes forget that they have no longer wings, and try to fly away +through the window or up the chimney. + +Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows that many +people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon is to go with me +to some spot in the Gardens where these unfortunates may be seen trying +to catch one with small pieces of cake. + +That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even +a little undecided about which is the better life, is obvious to every +student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty perambulator under the +trees and watch from a distance, you will see the birds boarding it and +hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excitement; they +are trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. + +Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray from +the tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not +a grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, +and all the time such a jabbering and laughing from both sides of the +railing. They are comparing notes and inquiring for old friends, and so +on; but what they say I cannot determine, for when I approach they all +fly away. + +The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the Baby's Walk. +He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot day by a hose which +lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of water, and David was on +his back in the water, kicking up his legs. He used to enjoy being told +of this, having forgotten all about it, and gradually it all came back +to him, with a number of other incidents that had escaped my memory, +though I remember that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long +string and a cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never +tires of this story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me +rather than I to him, and when we come to the string he rubs his little +leg as if it still smarted. + +So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he called +out to me quickly: “Don't drop the letter!” and there were tree-tops in +his eyes. + +“Think of your mother,” I said severely. + +He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he would do +would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and +have a drink. + +“Tell her, father,” he said with horrid heartlessness, “always to have +plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I might fall +in and be drownded.” + +“Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother without +her boy!” + +It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, he would +hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck at her mouth. + +“And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a bird +instead of a boy.” + +This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. “You can drop it,” + he said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I have already +mentioned; and that is how it all began. + + + + +III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her +Furniture + +A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my way to +certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed +haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of +a shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire system. I had the merest +glimpse of them, but there was an extraordinary rapture on her face, and +his head was thrown proudly back, and all because they had been ordering +a piano on the hire system. + +So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptible, +but I passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she is unhappy that +this woman disturbs me, owing to a clever way she has at such times of +looking more fragile than she really is. + +When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window of the +sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most deliciously dramatic +spots in London. Mary was taking notes feverishly on a slip of paper +while he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily +without buying anything. I was in high feather. “Match abandoned, +ma'am,” I said to myself; “outlook hopeless; another visit to the +Governesses' Agency inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen +shovel.” But I was imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + +A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is +something artful about her skirts by which I always know her, though +I can't say what it is. She was carrying an enormous parcel that might +have been a bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, and she took it into +a bric-a-brac shop and came out without it. She then ran rather than +walked in the direction of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Now mystery +of any kind is detestable to me, and I went into the bric-a-brac +shop, ostensibly to look at the cracked china; and there, still on the +counter, with the wrapping torn off it, was the article Mary had sold +in order to furnish on the proceeds. What do you think it was? It was a +wonderful doll's house, with dolls at tea downstairs and dolls going to +bed upstairs, and a doll showing a doll out at the front door. Loving +lips had long ago licked most of the paint off, but otherwise the thing +was in admirable preservation; obviously the joy of Mary's childhood, it +had now been sold by her that she might get married. + +“Lately purchased by us,” said the shopwoman, seeing me look at the toy, +“from a lady who has no further use for it.” + +I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought the doll's +house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at this shop that I +first learned her name) I instructed them to send it back to her with +the following letter, which I wrote in the shop: “Dear madam, don't be +ridiculous. You will certainly have further use for this. I am, etc., +the Man Who Dropped the Letter.” + +It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to reflect +that I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I saw her she had +been married for some months. The time was nine o'clock of a November +evening, and we were in a street of shops that has not in twenty years +decided whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it minces in the +fashion, but take a step onward and its tongue is in the cup of the +ice-cream man. I usually rush this street, which is not far from my +rooms, with the glass down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in +front of me, leaning in a somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they +were chatting excitedly. She seemed to be remonstrating with him for +going forward, yet more than half admiring him for not turning back, and +I wondered why. + +And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out to do? +To buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been trying to persuade +him, I decided, that they were living too lavishly. That was why she +sought to draw him back. But in her heart she loves audacity, and that +is why she admired him for pressing forward. + +No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like two +gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace them to their +home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that night I composed the +following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to overtake a pretty young +woman carrying pork chops. I was now determined to be done with her. +First, however, to find out their abode, which was probably within easy +distance of the shop. I even conceived them lured into taking their +house by the advertisement, “Conveniently situated for the Pork +Emporium.” + +Well, one day--now this really is romantic and I am rather proud of +it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an anxiously +polite street between which and mine are little yards called, I think, +gardens. They are so small that if you have the tree your neighbour has +the shade from it. I was looking out at my back window on the day +we have come to when whom did I see but the whilom nursery governess +sitting on a chair in one of these gardens. I put up my eye-glass to +make sure, and undoubtedly it was she. But she sat there doing nothing, +which was by no means my conception of the jade, so I brought a +fieldglass to bear and discovered that the object was merely a lady's +jacket. It hung on the back of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry +thing, and, I must suppose, was suspended there for an airing. + +I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as it +was not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her wear such +a jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell why. Do clothes +absorb a little of the character of their wearer, so that I recognised +this jacket by a certain coquetry? If she has a way with her skirts that +always advertises me of her presence, quite possibly she is as cunning +with jackets. Or perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little +tucks of herself. + +Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on my +hat and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge from the +house to which I had calculated that garden belonged. Now am I clever, +or am I not? + +When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and a +droll house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist of a door +and a window, though above them the trained eye may detect another +window, the air-hole of some apartment which it would be just like +Mary's grandiloquence to call her bedroom. The houses on each side of +this bandbox are tall, and I discovered later that it had once been +an open passage to the back gardens. The story and a half of which it +consists had been knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather +than masons, and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that +has stuck for ever on its way through the passage. + +The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall ones +that I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their builders, +but this house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call itself a house, +for over the door was a board with the inscription “This space to be +sold,” and I remembered, as I rang the bell, that this notice had been +up for years. On avowing that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an +elderly, somewhat dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not +on scale with her surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first +remark was explanatory. + +“They get me cheap,” she said, “because I drink.” + +I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether I have +described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a picture of +that sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How can she have found +the money to pay for it all! which is always your first reflection when +you see Mary herself a-tripping down the street. + +I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim-whams +with which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn bell-rope which +pulled no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that contained no cigars. +The floor was of a delicious green with exquisite oriental rugs; green +and white, I think, was the lady's scheme of colour, something cool, you +observe, to keep the sun under. The window-curtains were of some rare +material and the colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor +grandly and suggested a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano +we may ignore, for I knew it to be hired, but there were many dainty +pieces, mostly in green wood, a sofa, a corner cupboard, and a most +captivating desk, which was so like its owner that it could have sat +down at her and dashed off a note. The writing paper on this desk had +the word Mary printed on it, implying that if there were other Marys +they didn't count. There were many oil-paintings on the walls, mostly +without frames, and I must mention the chandelier, which was obviously +of fabulous worth, for she had encased it in a holland bag. + +“I perceive, ma'am,” said I to the stout maid, “that your master is in +affluent circumstances.” + +She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed to +catch. + +“You wish to indicate,” I hazarded, “that he married a fortune.” + +This time I caught the words. They were “Tinned meats,” and having +uttered them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + +“Nevertheless,” I said, “this room must have cost a pretty penny.” + +“She done it all herself,” replied my new friend, with concentrated +scorn. + +“But this green floor, so beautifully stained--” + +“Boiling oil,” said she, with a flush of honest shame, “and a +shillingsworth o' paint.” + +“Those rugs--” + +“Remnants,” she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been pieced +together. + +“The curtains--” + +“Remnants.” + +“At all events the sofa--” + +She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of packing +cases. + +“The desk--” + +I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see the +drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for books, the +pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + +“She made it out of three orange boxes,” said the lady, at last a little +awed herself. + +I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the holland +covering. “There is a fine chandelier in that holland bag,” I said +coaxingly. + +She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. +“Forbear, ma'am,” I cried with authority, “I prefer to believe in that +bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost faith in +everything.” I think all the pretty things that the little nursery +governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand for letting the +chandelier off. + +“But, good God, ma'am,” said I to madam, “what an exposure.” + +She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + +“So there is a stair,” said I, and then, suspiciously, “did she make +it?” + +No, but how she had altered it. + +The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at that, +nor at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + +“Did she build the studio with her own hands?” + +No, but how she had altered it. + +“How she alters everything,” I said. “Do you think you are safe, ma'am?” + +She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me with some +of her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband +was not, it appeared, one on which any self-respecting domestic could +reflect with pride. They got the house very cheap on the understanding +that they were to vacate it promptly if anyone bought it for building +purposes, and because they paid so little they had to submit to the +indignity of the notice-board. Mary A---- detested the words “This space +to be sold,” and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as +elated about her house as if it were a real house, and always trembled +when any possible purchaser of spaces called. + +As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to record +that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of art. “The +difficulty,” she said, “is not to paint pictures, but to get frames for +them.” A home thrust this. + +She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's work. +Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned meats. + +Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was +constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even been +caught whispering fiercely to a friend, “Praise it, praise it, praise +it!” This was when the painter was sunk in gloom. Never, as I could well +believe, was such a one as Mary for luring a man back to cheerfulness. + +“A dangerous woman,” I said, with a shudder, and fell to examining a +painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of a man, and had +impressed me favourably because it was framed. + +“A friend of hers,” my guide informed me, “but I never seed him.” + +I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the picture +drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and these were the +words: “Fancy portrait of our dear unknown.” Could it be meant for me? I +cannot tell you how interested I suddenly became. + +It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day more +than thirty. + +“A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?” I asked quite shakily. “How do +you know that, if you have never seen him?” + +“When master was painting of it,” she said, “in the studio, he used to +come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What colour would you +make his eyes?'” + +“And her reply, ma'am?” I asked eagerly. + +“She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't make it +a handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very handsome face.' And +says he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, 'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him +saying, 'A little bald on the top?' and she says, says she, 'Not at +all.'” + +The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + +“I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture,” said the maid. + +Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + +Pooh! + +I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I could +write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. “I think she has +known him since she were a babby,” she was saying, “for this here was a +present he give her.” + +She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the sofa, +where it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, “I shall slip +the insulting message into this.” But I did not, and I shall tell you +why. It was because the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving +hands; there were fresh gowns for all the inhabitants, and the paint on +the furniture was scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready +for further use. + +I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. “Put it back,” + I said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, and I left the +house dejectedly, with a profound conviction that the little nursery +governess had hooked on to me again. + + + + +IV. A Night-Piece + +There came a night when the husband was alone in that street waiting. He +can do nothing for you now, little nursery governess, you must fight it +out by yourself; when there are great things to do in the house the man +must leave. Oh, man, selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, +thy woman's hour has come; get thee gone. + +He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, +chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? +It is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindness +to stalk the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still +might he not sometimes have been a little kinder? + +Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a +little kinder than is necessary? + +Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, +to sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, to send you +a reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, if you are not to +meet again, still to send you a reassuring, trembling smile. + +Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders the +streets thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. In her great +hour the man is nothing to the woman; their love is trivial now. + +He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become familiar +ground to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me in which Mary +A---- walked. Here was the morning after my only entry into her house. +The agent had promised me to have the obnoxious notice-board removed, +but I apprehended that as soon as the letter announcing his intention +reached her she would remove it herself, and when I passed by in the +morning there she was on a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it +with a hammer. When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + +There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the +postman. I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate of a +picture. He dogged the postman from door to door like an assassin or a +guardian angel; never had he the courage to ask if there was a letter +for him, but almost as it fell into the box he had it out and tore it +open, and then if the door closed despairingly the woman who had been at +the window all this time pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news +was good they might emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the +direction of the pork emporium. + +One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of them +through the open window, when she sat at the piano singing and playing +to him. Or while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for +him to grasp. She was so joyously happy, and she had such a romantic +mind. I conceived her so sympathetic that she always laughed before he +came to the joke, and I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start +of a pathetic story. + +And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery +governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, mysterious. I +suppose a man soon becomes used to the great change, and cannot recall a +time when there were no babes sprawling in his Mary's face. + +I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young husband on +the other side of the street. “If the barrier is to be crossed to-night +may I not go with her? She is not so brave as you think her. When she +talked so gaily a few hours ago, O my God, did she deceive even you?” + +Plain questions to-night. “Why should it all fall on her? What is the +man that he should be flung out into the street in this terrible hour? +You have not been fair to the man.” + +Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. If she +lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will die triumphant +and serene. Life and death, the child and the mother, are ever meeting +as the one draws into harbour and the other sets sail. They exchange a +bright “All's well” and pass on. + +But afterward? + +The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead young +mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is no other +inducement great enough to bring the departed back. They glide into the +acquainted room when day and night, their jailers, are in the grip, and +whisper, “How is it with you, my child?” but always, lest a strange face +should frighten him, they whisper it so low that he may not hear. They +bend over him to see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet +arm beneath the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many +little vests he has. They love to do these things. + +What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their child. They +expect him to be just as he was when they left him, and they are easily +bewildered, and search for him from room to room, and hate the unknown +boy he has become. Poor, passionate souls, they may even do him an +injury. These are the ghosts that go wailing about old houses, and +foolish wild stories are invented to explain what is all so pathetic and +simple. I know of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early +home to pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair +by the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's face appear. +She always looked at him very vindictively, and then vanished. Strange +things happened in this house. Windows were opened in the night. The +curtains of his bed were set fire to. A step on the stair was loosened. +The covering of an old well in a corridor where he walked was cunningly +removed. And when he fell ill the wrong potion was put in the glass by +his bedside, and he died. How could the pretty young mother know that +this grizzled interloper was the child of whom she was in search? + +All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty as lost +wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we are not nearly +so afraid of them as they are of us. + +One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp burned +steadily in the little window across the way. I know not how it +happened, whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, but, after +being for a long time as the echo of each other's steps, we were +together now. I can have had no desire to deceive him, but some reason +was needed to account for my vigil, and I may have said something that +he misconstrued, for above my words he was always listening for other +sounds. But however it came about he had conceived the idea that I was +an outcast for a reason similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, +it seemed to matter so little and to draw us together so naturally. +We talked together of many things, such as worldly ambition. For long +ambition has been like an ancient memory to me, some glorious day +recalled from my springtime, so much a thing of the past that I must +make a railway journey to revisit it as to look upon the pleasant fields +in which that scene was laid. But he had been ambitious yesterday. + +I mentioned worldly ambition. “Good God!” he said with a shudder. + +There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one o'clock +passed and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. And now? It is +still twenty past two. + +I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. “We +have a friend--” he began and paused, and then rambled into a not very +understandable story about a letter and a doll's house and some unknown +man who had bought one of his pictures, or was supposed to have done so, +in a curiously clandestine manner. I could not quite follow the story. + +“It is she who insists that it is always the same person,” he said. “She +thinks he will make himself known to me if anything happens to her.” His +voice suddenly went husky. “She told me,” he said, “if she died and I +discovered him, to give him her love.” + +At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the night, +to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of some things +she had asked him to do should she not get over this, but what they were +I know not, for they engulfed him at the first step. He would draw back +from them as ill-omened things, and next moment he was going over them +to himself like a child at lessons. A child! In that short year she had +made him entirely dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their +first deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few +men happily married who can knock in a nail. + +But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had not +degenerated so much. + +Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At eighteen +minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. He boasts about +it to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he +ever did was to look at the clock. + +An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to +my companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a wall, +hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss +me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I shook him by the hand, +but by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so abominably that a disgust of +him swelled up within me, and with it a passionate desire to jeer once +more at Mary A-- + +“It is little she will care for you now,” I said to the fellow; “I +know the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she has to +distinguish her from the brutes) are so imperfectly developed that she +will be a crazy thing about that boy for the next three years. She has +no longer occasion for you, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted +out.” + +But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if +one alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs +that lead to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to +the hilarity of the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I +wandered from chamber to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were +alike empty and desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought +I heard a pebble strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father +standing beneath. I had told him that I lived in this street, and I +suppose my lights had guided him to my window. + +“I could not lie down,” he called up hoarsely, “until I heard your news. +Is it all right?” + +For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: “Yes, all +is right.” + +“Both doing well?” he inquired. + +“Both,” I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window. +It was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was +nevertheless in a passion with him. + +“Boy or girl?” persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity. + +“Boy,” I said, very furiously. + +“Splendid,” he called out, and I think he added something else, but by +that time I had closed the window with a slam. + + + + +V. The Fight For Timothy + +Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of +exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a +life of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of +the street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were +some entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I +had not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that +every time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + +I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always +sulky, and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein +lies her heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a +student of her face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so +she has struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when +night falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy +natural state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even +sulkily? + +But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be +seen, and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a +rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though I have always +been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which over-excite him. +Hitherto the toys I had bought had always been for him, and as we durst +not admit this to the saleswoman we were both horribly self-conscious +when in the shop. A score of times I have told him that he had much +better not come, I have announced fiercely that he is not to come. He +then lets go of his legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making +the noise of a sack of coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head +between his front paws, stares at me through the red haws that make his +eyes so mournful. He will do this for an hour without blinking, for he +knows that in time it will unman me. My dog knows very little, but what +little he does know he knows extraordinarily well. One can get out of my +chambers by a back way, and I sometimes steal softly--but I can't +help looking back, and there he is, and there are those haws asking +sorrowfully, “Is this worthy of you?” + +“Curse you,” I say, “get your hat,” or words to that effect. + +He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so exactly +like some respected member that he makes everybody most uncomfortable. +I forget how I became possessor of him. I think I cut him out of an old +number of Punch. He costs me as much as an eight-roomed cottage in the +country. + +He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced him +to toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own amusement. It +represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her little son over her +head with one hand and catching him in the other, and I was entertaining +myself on the hearth-rug with this pretty domestic scene when I heard +an unwonted sound from Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and +melancholic countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for +putting the toy away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with +his, and signed that I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always +came, I found, when the poor lady dropped her babe, but the whole thing +entranced him; he tried to keep his excitement down by taking huge +draughts of water; he forgot all his niceties of conduct; he sat in holy +rapture with the toy between his paws, took it to bed with him, ate it +in the night, and searched for it so longingly next day that I had to go +out and buy him the man with the scythe. After that we had everything of +note, the bootblack boy, the toper with bottle, the woolly rabbit +that squeaks when you hold it in your mouth; they all vanished as +inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell him my suspicions, for he +suspected also and his gentle heart would have mourned had I confirmed +his fears. + +The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want them +for a little boy and calls him “the precious” and “the lamb,” the while +Porthos is standing gravely by my side. She is a motherly soul, but +over-talkative. + +“And how is the dear lamb to-day?” she begins, beaming. + +“Well, ma'am, well,” I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + +“This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?” + +“No, ma'am, not at all.” (She would be considerably surprised if +informed that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three +cabbages, and is suspected of a leg of mutton.) + +“I hope he loves his toys?” + +“He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am.” (Has the one we +bought yesterday with him now, though you might not think it to look at +him.) + +“What do you say to a box of tools this time?” + +“I think not, ma'am.” + +“Is the deary fond of digging?” + +“Very partial to digging.” (We shall find the leg of mutton some day.) + +“Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?” + +She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was so +insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got home. He +detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly prejudiced in +its favour we have had to try other shops. We went to the Lowther Arcade +for the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered +agape among thy enchanted palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and +Porthos and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, +unless it be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet +smiling entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrances, +and with much to be sung in laudation of that which opens from the +Strand I yet on the whole prefer the other as the more truly romantic, +because it is there the tattered ones congregate, waiting to see the +Davids emerge with the magic lamp. We have always a penny for them, +and I have known them, before entering the Arcade with it, retire (but +whither?) to wash; surely the prettiest of all the compliments that are +paid to the home of toys. + +And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we are told +that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an eating-house or a hive +for usurers, something rankly useful. All thy delights are under notice +to quit. The Noah's arks are packed one within another, with clockwork +horses harnessed to them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing +their hands to the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left +behind them; all the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who +is overful of drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their wings; the +man with the scythe mows his way through the crowd; the balloons tug +at their strings; the ships rock under a swell of sail, everything is +getting ready for the mighty exodus into the Strand. Tears will be shed. + +So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who thought it +was for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent to the bandbox +house anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to meet +Mary's husband in Kensington, so I asked him what he had called his +little girl. + +“It is a boy,” he replied, with intolerable good-humour, “we call him +David.” + +And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my boy. + +I flicked my glove. “Timothy,” said I. + +I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy was as +good a name as David. “I like it,” he assured me, and expressed a hope +that they would become friends. I boiled to say that I really could not +allow Timothy to mix with boys of the David class, but I refrained, and +listened coldly while he told me what David did when you said his toes +were pigs going to market or returning from it, I forget which. He +also boasted of David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly +touchy at the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + +But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a +forlorn little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for him, and +I became his champion and hinted something about teething, but withdrew +it when it seemed too surprising, and tried to get on to safer ground, +such as bibs and general intelligence, but the painter fellow was so +willing to let me have my say, and knew so much more about babies than +is fitting for men to know, that I paled before him and wondered why the +deuce he was listening to me so attentively. + +You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous friend. +“His latest,” said he now, “is to send David a rocking-horse!” + +I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. “Picture it,” said he, +“a rocking-horse for a child not three months old!” + +I was about to say fiercely: “The stirrups are adjustable,” but thought +it best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that Mary had +laughed, though heaven knows I have often laughed at her. + +“But women are odd,” he said unexpectedly, and explained. It appears +that in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave and said to +him quite haughtily, “I see nothing to laugh at.” Then she had kissed +the horse solemnly on the nose and said, “I wish he was here to see +me do it.” There are moments when one cannot help feeling a drawing to +Mary. + +But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a particularly +odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to hunt Mr. Anon down. + +“She won't succeed,” I said, sneering but nervous. + +“Then it will be her first failure,” said he. + +“But she knows nothing about the man.” + +“You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She says he is +a gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor.” + +“Old?” I cried. + +“Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't take +care. He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of children, but +has never had one to play with.” + +“Could not play with a child though there was one,” I said brusquely; +“has forgotten the way; could stand and stare only.” + +“Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were alone +with the child he could come out strong.” + +“How the deuce--” I began + +“That is what she says,” he explained, apologetically. “I think she will +prove to be too clever for him.” + +“Pooh,” I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next time +I met him he quite frightened me. “Do you happen to know any one,” he +said, “who has a St. Bernard dog?” + +“No,” said I, picking up my stick. + +“He has a St. Bernard dog.” + +“How have you found that out?” + +“She has found it out.” + +“But how?” + +“I don't know.” + +I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. The +mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I engaged +a boy to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him these +instructions: “Should you find yourself followed by a young woman +wheeling a second-hand perambulator, instantly hand her over to the +police on the charge of attempting to steal the dog.” + +Now then, Mary. + +“By the way,” her husband said at our next meeting, “that rocking-horse +I told you of cost three guineas.” + +“She has gone to the shop to ask?” + +“No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's +appearance.” + +Oh, Mary, Mary. + +Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:--looked +like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; fine Roman +nose (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all); +hair thin and thoughtfully distributed over the head like fiddlestrings, +as if to make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair with handkerchief +before sitting down on it, and had other oldmaidish ways (I should like +to know what they are); tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age +forty-five if a day (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog +with sore eyes. (They always think the haws are sore eyes.) + +“Do you know anyone who is like that?” Mary's husband asked me +innocently. + +“My dear man,” I said, “I know almost no one who is not like that,” and +it was true, so like each other do we grow at the club. I was pleased, +on the whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had +come to know of the St. Bernard, but anxiety returned when one day from +behind my curtains I saw Mary in my street with an inquiring eye on +the windows. She stopped a nurse who was carrying a baby and went into +pretended ecstasies over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any +chance it was called Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any +other nurse who had charge of a Timothy. + +Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to Timothy, +though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; for I still met +that other father occasionally, and he always stopped to compare notes +about the boys. And the questions he asked were so intimate, how Timothy +slept, how he woke up, how he fell off again, what we put in his bath. +It is well that dogs and little boys have so much in common, for it was +really of Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke +up (supposed to be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with one +little hand on his nose), but I glided past what we put in his bath +(carbolic and a mop). + +The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it reasonable +to hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I straitened in +my mind. For it might be that she was only biding her time to strike +suddenly, and this attached me the more to Timothy, as if I feared she +might soon snatch him from me. As was indeed to be the case. + + + + +VI. A Shock + +It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the +first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded +an Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily +married who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's +glorious return; and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a +bored smile saw nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic +Felicities. Oh, Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little +plot? + +Hallo! + +No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she +was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her +covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable, +set off nervously on some mysterious adventure. + +“The deuce!” thought I, and followed her. + +Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her +watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do +not give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once +she kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little +watch, which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but +why kiss it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in +your leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or +any day, the watch your husband gave you? + +It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts +to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination, +a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly +and shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of +shame; and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary +A----. Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would +have felled her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was +waiting for him, wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I +believe I clutched my stick. + +Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there +was some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her +husband, as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and +was ashamed to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be +to save, not herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have +been Mary's. Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy +from the consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? +Could that laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open forehead, +the curly locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways +which we carry with us out of childhood, they may all remain when the +innocence has fled, but surely the laugh of the morning of life must go. +I have never known the devil retain his grip on that. + +But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame had +possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the entanglement +was her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But without conviction, for, +after all, what did I know of women? I have some distant memories of +them, some vain inventions. But of men--I have known one man indifferent +well for over forty years, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), +shuddered at him, wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to +jog along with him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know +something of men, and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + +Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed that were +better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you foolish, soft heart, +and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate one, you saw the look on +your husband's face as he left you. It is the studio light by which he +paints and still sees to hope, despite all the disappointments of his +not ignoble ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he +is a wealthy man if it does not flicker. + +So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times she made +little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that detestable +street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the weasel. Again she +looked at her watch and kissed it. + +Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + +Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrified look +round, she popped into a pawnshop. + +Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the door +rang and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a street where she +was unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred shop before +desperately venturing in, why she looked so often at the watch she might +never see again. So desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little +house over her head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling +face for her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures +were going. + +It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light-hearted +again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had left her watch, +and I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn she had become, as +if her baby was grown too big for her slight arms, even then I was +light-hearted. Without attempting to follow her, I sauntered homeward +humming a snatch of song with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in +it, for I can never remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby +linen shop or some nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what +she had popped her watch; but what cared I? I continued to sing most +beautifully. I lunged gayly with my stick at a lamp-post and missed +it, whereat a street-urchin grinned, and I winked at him and slipped +twopence down his back. + + +I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given me, but +fate willed that I should meet the husband on his homeward journey, and +his first remark inspired me to a folly. + +“How is Timothy?” he asked; and the question opened a way so attractive +that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour could have +resisted it. + +“He is no more,” I replied impulsively. + +The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath of +pity, and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my little +boy was gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all my efforts to +shelter him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down the wind. + + + + +VII. The Last of Timothy + +So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that I +made away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinafores +and shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuch +at me for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathy +ran free I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by a +mere selfish desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are +parents. + +He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and, +of course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it I +doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reason +to know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at the +first hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the +many little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to look +upon, and he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house +with its little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but he +had not a sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsiveness +had plunged me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Was +there no profession in this age of specialism for taking away children's +garments from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could I +sell them? Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose of +them for gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had already +refused them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of +Timothy, and I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he +made the offer I was waiting for. + +I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage with +both him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adopted +this means in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out. +Timothy's hold on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of the +slightest, and I suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to the +obscure. He could never have penetrated into the open. It was no life +for a boy. + +Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seem +to remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommon +tenderness (following the setting sun that was to take him away), and +telling him with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave me +because another child was in need of all his pretty things; and as the +sun, his true father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love to +a lady of long ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowing +in his innocence that the little white birds are the birds that never +have a mother. I wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possession +of me) that before he went he could have played once in the Kensington +Gardens, and have ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to me +to look; that he could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond; +fain would I have had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughing +avenues of childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a long +summer-day, emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun +to pay for; and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolate +chambers) he knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that the +reason he never did these things was not that he was afraid, for he +would have loved to do them all, but because he was not quite like other +boys; and, so saying, he let go my finger and faded from before my eyes +into another and golden ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been +quite like other boys there would have been none braver than my Timothy. + +I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so far +as I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient. +So I discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit, +and found myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at the +pawnbroker's. The shop for little garments seems very alarming when you +reach the door; a man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to a +finer sense of the proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but +apparently I could not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering +shops of any kind, save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I +fear I go too frequently. + +So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself, +and it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I had +been brazen at half-past two all would now be over. + +To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man +whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I had +drawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned +he was still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smoked +my purpose. Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icy +politeness, “You have the advantage of me, sir.” + +“I beg your pardon,” said he, and I am now persuaded that my words +turned his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I was +sure some impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer. + +“I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance,” I barked. + +“No one regrets it more than I do,” he replied, laughing. + +“I mean, sir,” said I, “that I shall wait here until you retire,” and +with that I put my back to a shop-window. + +By this time he was grown angry, and said he, “I have no engagement,” + and he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedly +determined to tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. We +also felt it, for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away, +we shook hands cordially and agreed to call hansoms. + +Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who would +make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, rather +than explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in this +despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hicking +heartened me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine and +decoy by which David should procure his outfit. + +You must be told who they were. + + + + +VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + +They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had been +disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I deferred dining +several minutes that I might have the attendance of this ingrate. His +efforts to reserve the window-table for me were satisfactory, and I +used to allow him privileges, as to suggest dishes; I have given him +information, as that someone had startled me in the reading-room by +slamming a door; I have shown him how I cut my finger with a piece +of string. William was none of your assertive waiters. We could have +plotted a murder safely before him. It was one member who said to him +that Saucy Sarah would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy +Sarah had no chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The +excellent fellow (as I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be +smoked from either end. + +I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the window. I had +to repeat my order “Devilled kidney,” and instead of answering brightly, +“Yes, sir,” as if my selection of devilled kidney was a personal +gratification to him, which is the manner one expects of a waiter, he +gazed eagerly out at the window, and then, starting, asked, “Did you +say devilled kidney, sir?” A few minutes afterward I became aware that +someone was leaning over the back of my chair, and you may conceive my +indignation on discovering that this rude person was William. Let me +tell, in the measured words of one describing a past incident, what next +took place. To get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder. +“William,” I said, “you are not attending to me!” + +To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his audacious +apology, “Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of something else.” + +And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from him +passionately, “For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, tell me if +you have seen a little girl looking up at the club-windows.” + +Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed out the +girl to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the middle of Pall +Mall, regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed to pass over her), +nodded her head significantly three times and then disappeared (probably +on a stretcher). She was the tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, +but seemed to have brought relief to William. “Thank God!” said he +fervently, and in the worst taste. + +I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. “Bread, +William,” I said sharply. + +“You are not vexed with me, sir?” he had the hardihood to whisper. + +“It was a liberty,” I said. + +“I know, sir, but I was beside myself.” + +“That was a liberty again.” + +“It is my wife, sir, she--” + +So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I +felt that this was the greatest liberty of all. + +I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes +after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I +desired to be told by William that the signals meant her return to +health. He answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the +worst. + +“Bah, the doctor,” I said in a rage. + +“Yes, sir,” said William. + +“What is her confounded ailment?” + +“She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you +see, sir, she has had a baby-girl lately--” + +“William, how dare you,” I said, but in the same moment I saw that this +father might be useful to me. “How does your baby sleep, William?” I +asked in a low voice, “how does she wake up? what do you put in her +bath?” + +I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an +answer. “That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?” + +“Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means +that the missus is a little better.” + +“There were three nods to-day?” + +“Yes, sir. + +“I suppose you live in some low part, William?” + +The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. “Off Drury +Lane,” he said, flushing, “but it isn't low. And now,” he groaned, +“she's afeared she will die without my being there to hold her hand.” + +“She should not say such things.” + +“She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling stronger. +But I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the house in the +morning, for then she looks at me from her bed, and I looks at her from +the door--oh, my God, sir!” + +“William!” + +At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him to beg +my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some unsuccessful dish. +I tried to forget his vulgar story in billiards, but he had spoiled +my game, and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another +waiter. As I had the window-seat, however, I could not but see that the +little girl was late, and though this mattered nothing to me and I had +finished my dinner, I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three +times but waved her hat, and I arose, having now finished my dinner. + +William came stealthily toward me. “Her temperature has gone down, sir,” + he said, rubbing his hands together. + +“To whom are you referring?” I asked coldly, and retired to the +billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + +I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his maunderings, but +I observed the girl nightly, and once, instead of nodding, she shook her +head, and that evening I could not get into a pocket. Next evening +there was no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had +happened. But, chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I +was surprised to see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room +practically to ourselves, for though several members sat on chairs +holding books in their hands they were all asleep, and William descended +the ladder to tell me his blasting tale. He had sworn at a member! + +“I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her so +weakly that--” + +I stamped my foot. + +“I beg your pardon for speaking of her,” he had the grace to say. “But +Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she came about +four o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of blinded me, sir, and +I stumbled against a member, Mr. B----, and he said, 'Damn you!' Well, +sir, I had but touched him after all, and I was so broken it sort of +stung me to be treated so and I lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'” + +His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the readers +shuddered in their sleep. + +“I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until the +committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am willing to go +on my knees to Mr. B----” + +How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a +week? + +“For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just fall back +and die.” + +“I forbid your speaking to me of that woman,” I cried wryly, “unless you +can speak pleasantly,” and I left him to his fate and went off to +look for B----. “What is this story about your swearing at one of the +waiters?” I asked him. + +“You mean about his swearing at me,” said B----, reddening. + +“I am glad that was it,” I said, “for I could not believe you guilty of +such bad form. The version which reached me was that you swore at each +other, and that he was to be dismissed and you reprimanded.” + +“Who told you that?” asked B----, who is a timid man. + +“I am on the committee,” I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of +other matters, but presently B----, who had been reflecting, said: “Do +you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me, +and I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow.” + +I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without +my having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he +would not be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows, +which are at the back of the club. I was looking down at her, but +she refrained from signalling because she could not see William, and +irritated by her stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was. + +“My,” she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, “I b'lieve you are +one of them!” and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William +tells them of our splendid doings. + +The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child +wanted to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to +indicate this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall +Mall. I gave the little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club +disgusted. + +“By the way, William,” I said, “Mr. B---- is to inform the committee +that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to him, so +you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow.” + +I had to add immediately, “Remember your place, William.” + +“But Mr. B---- knows I swore,” he insisted. + +“A gentleman,” I replied stiffly, “cannot remember for many hours what a +waiter has said to him.” + +“No, sir, but--” + +To stop him I had to say, “And--ah--William, your wife is decidedly +better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it.” + +“How can you know, sir?” + +“By an accident.” + +“Irene signed to the window?” + +“No.” + +“Then you saw her and went out and--” + +“How dare you, William?” + +“Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl--” + +“William.” + +He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I +seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us +were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so +illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on +Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen +Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a +woful state of relapse on Thursday. + +“Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?” I asked, as soon as I had +drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + +“My!” she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass between her +and a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neighbour. + +I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like nothing +but a dead one till she got the brandy. + +“Hush, child,” I said, shocked. “You don't know how the dead look.” + +“Bless yer!” she replied. + +Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by +Irene's intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous +information, as that William's real name was Mr. Hicking, but that he +was known in their street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff +Hicking. That the street held he should get away from the club before +two in the morning, for his missus needed him more than the club needed +him. That William replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of +waiters at supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for +their marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, and +pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. That what +she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the kid was in another +part of London (in charge of a person called the old woman), because +there was an epidemic in Irene's street. + +“And what does the doctor say about your mother?” + +“He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her kid +back.” + +“Nonsense.” + +“And if she was took to the country.” + +“Then why does not William take her?” + +“My! And if she drank porty wine.” + +“Doesn't she?” + +“No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks it.” + +I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + +“Ain't yer going to do it this time?” she demanded with a falling face. +“You done it last time. I tell her you done it”--she pointed to her +friend who was looking wistfully at me--“ain't you to let her see you +doing of it?” + +For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but by a +piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my hat to her. +So I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her head in the air and +her neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. These little creatures are +really not without merit. + +About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a newspaper +before my face lest anyone should see me in company of a waiter and his +wife. William was taking her into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of +mine, and Irene was with us, wearing the most outrageous bonnet. + +I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her pride in +the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a regrettable scene +when it was brought to her, because “she had been feared it would not +know her again.” I could have told her that they know no one for years +had I not been in terror of Irene, who dandled the child on her knees +and talked to it all the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy +than this Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as “Oo +know who gave me this bonnet?” and answered them herself. “It was +the pretty gentleman there,” and several times I had to affect sleep, +because she announced, “Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman.” + +Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered +still more acutely when we reached our destination, where disagreeable +circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a waiter's family. William +knew that I regarded thanks from persons of his class as an outrage, yet +he looked them though he dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down +at the table by my orders than he remembered that I was a member of the +club and jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again +and again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, “How are you now? +You don't feel faint?” and when she said she felt like another woman +already, his face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude +from the way she let the baby pound her that she was stronger than she +pretended. + +I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to say to +William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he announced +that it was time for him to catch a train back to London, at which his +wife paled, I delivered the message. + +“William,” I said, backing away from him, “the head-waiter asked me to +say that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages will be paid +as usual.” + +Confound him. + +“William,” I cried furiously, “go away.” + +Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be left +alone with me. + +“William,” I cried in a panic, “stay where you are.” + +But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were filmy. Her +class are fond of scenes. “If you please, ma'am!” I said imploringly. + +But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + +“It can be only the memory of some woman,” said she, “that makes you so +kind to me and mine.” + +Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I suppose I +really am quite elderly. + +“I should like to know her name, sir,” she said, “that I may mention her +with loving respect in my prayers.” + +I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. “But she has +a home,” I said, “as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, ma'am, it would +be better worth your while to mention me.” + + +It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the purchase of +the outfits, “one for a boy of six months,” I explained to her, “and one +for a boy of a year,” for the painter had boasted to me of David's rapid +growth. I think she was a little surprised to find that both outfits +were for the same house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity +about the mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat +than a fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her daughter +enjoyed themselves hugely in the shops, from one of which I shall never +forget Irene emerging proudly with a commissionaire, who conducted her +under an umbrella to the cab where I was lying in wait. I think that was +the most celestial walk of Irene's life. + +I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill-treatment +that they might not look quite new, at which she exclaimed, not being in +my secret, and then to forward them to me. I then sent them to Mary and +rejoiced in my devilish cunning all the evening, but chagrin came in the +morning with a letter from her which showed she knew all, that I was her +Mr. Anon, and that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never +so gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + +Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her letter +at once and have seldom read it since. No married lady should have +indited such an epistle to a single man. It said, with other things +which I decline to repeat, that I was her good fairy. As a sample of the +deliberate falsehoods in it, I may mention that she said David loved me +already. She hoped that I would come in often to see her husband, who +was very proud of my friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my +first visit to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to +know, he is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she wanted +first to meet me alone, so that she might draw the delicious, respectful +romance out of me, and afterward repeat it to him, with sighs and little +peeps at him over her pocket-handkerchief. + +She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me upon the +paper, but I should not wonder though they were only artful drops of +water. + +I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any communication +with her. + + + + +IX. A Confirmed Spinster + +I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows, +which I so little desire that I have got me into my writing-chair to +combat the charge, but, having sat for an unconscionable time with pen +poised, I am come agitatedly to the fear that there may be something in +it. + +So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the ardours +of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty doors) for the +beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I seem ever to see this +same man until I am back in those wonderful months which were half of +my life, when, indeed, I know that I was otherwise than I am now; no +whimsical fellow then, for that was one of the possibilities I put to +myself while seeking for the explanation of things, and found to be +inadmissible. Having failed in those days to discover why I was driven +from the garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of +some dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect +unnoticed. + +It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up glorious +once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is humorously known +at the club as a “confirmed spinster.” I remember him well when his +years told four and twenty; on my soul the proudest subaltern of my +acquaintance, and with the most reason to be proud. There was nothing he +might not do in the future, having already done the biggest thing, this +toddler up club-steps to-day. + +Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, and most +inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of the ladies who +smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it +seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I forget when I first began to notice +that smile and to be made uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and +in some vague way it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but +I hope I am still your loyal, obedient servant. + +You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I once had +a fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my smile? I swear I +have not noticed that it was gone till now; I am like one who revisiting +his school feels suddenly for his old knife. I first heard of my smile +from another boy, whose sisters had considered all the smiles they knew +and placed mine on top. My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to +mention the plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. +I feel lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to look for +it in my mirror. + +I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some other +forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference between that +man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, telling me it was my +one adornment, and taking it from me, so to speak, for a moment to let +me see how she looked in it; she delighted to make sport of me when she +was in a wayward mood, and to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice +and gesture, exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a +star calling to the earth: “See, I will show you how you hobble round,” + and always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to stop her if I +dared, and upon them, when she was most audacious, lay a sweet mist. + +They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, to +tell her what love is, and she listened with a noble frankness, having, +indeed, the friendliest face for all engaged in this pursuit that can +ever have sat on woman. I have heard ladies call her coquette, not +understanding that she shone softly upon all who entered the lists +because, with the rarest intuition, she foresaw that they must go away +broken men and already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds +incurred for love were dear to her; at every true utterance about love +she exulted with grave approval, or it might be a with a little “ah!” or +“oh!” like one drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been more fair, +for she was for the first comer who could hit the target, which was her +heart. + +She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so +that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty; had she +had no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would +still have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful. + +And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive her; +I think had there been one it would have proved that there was a flaw in +her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping because all the pretty +things were said and done with, or she was making doleful confessions +about herself, so impulsive and generous and confidential, and so devoid +of humour, that they compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a +looking-glass of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all +to blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back so +that they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his lack of +skill to seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that she was always +waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there was +nothing to forgive, or very little, just the little that makes a dear +girl dearer, and often afterward, I believe, they have laughed fondly +when thinking of her, like boys brought back. You ladies who are +everything to your husbands save a girl from the dream of youth, have +you never known that double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in +a reverie and start up, as if he fancied he were being hailed from +far-away? + +I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her laugh is +what comes first across the years; so high-spirited that she would have +wept like Mary of Scots because she could not lie on the bare plains +like the men. I hear her, but it is only as an echo; I see her, but it +is as a light among distant trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no +nearer; she was only for the boys. There was a month when I could have +shown her to you in all her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from +that moment I understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was +never clear to me again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear +heart willing to give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was +so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but she was as young +as if she were the first woman. The world must have rung with gallant +deeds and grown lovely thoughts for numberless centuries before she +could be; she was the child of all the brave and wistful imaginings of +men. She was as mysterious as night when it fell for the first time upon +the earth. She was the thing we call romance, which lives in the little +hut beyond the blue haze of the pine-woods. + +No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, +her attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably gracious, her +movements indolently active, her face so candid that you must swear her +every thought lived always in the open. Yet, with it all, she was a wild +thing, alert, suspicious of the lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, +more curious about it than about aught else in the world; her quivering +delight was to see it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome +was she that she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it +was closing round her; she scorned, however her heart might be beating, +to run from her pursuers; she took only the one step backward, which +still left her near them but always out of reach; her head on high now, +but her face as friendly, her manner as gracious as before, she is yours +for the catching. That was ever the unspoken compact between her and the +huntsmen. + +It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, but +again I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought that all this +was for me could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of the gods, +but I won it. I found myself with one foot across the magic circle +wherein she moved, and which none but I had entered; and so, I think, I +saw her in revelation, not as the wild thing they had all conceived +her, but as she really was. I saw no tameless creature, nothing wild +or strange. I saw my sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I +brushed aside the haze and she was truly seen for the first time, she +raised her head, like one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted +eyes. I told her what had been revealed to me as I looked upon her, and +she trembled, knowing she was at last found, and fain would she have +fled away, but that her fear was less than her gladness. She came to me +slowly; no incomprehensible thing to me now, but transparent as a pool, +and so restful to look upon that she was a bath to the eyes, like banks +of moss. + +Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him +who can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in which she +walked, but I had pierced it and found the woman. I could anticipate her +every thought and gesture, I could have flashed and rippled and mocked +for her, and melted for her and been dear disdain for her. She would +forget this and be suddenly conscious of it as she began to speak, when +she gave me a look with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I +was already waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the +blush of the eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her +very finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I loved even her +naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, which she could +not do without also gnashing her teeth, like a child trying to look +fearsome. How pretty was that gnashing of her teeth! All her tormentings +of me turned suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this +exquisite fury, wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to +anyone, while I wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may +be that I wondered over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + +It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I brought +her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but then she came +willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly tamed, but he who knows +her will always be able to bring her back. + +I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know not how +it was, though in the twilight of my life that then began I groped for +reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is that she had ceased to +love me; I had won her love, but I could not keep it. The discovery came +to me slowly, as if I were a most dull-witted man; at first I knew only +that I no longer understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what +she had meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to +puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I had +strayed outside the magic circle. + +When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief that there +was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me assisted in that poor +pretence. She sought to glide to me with swimming eyes as before, but it +showed only that this caressing movement was still within her compass, +but never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she +touched mine, but no longer could they convey the message. The current +was broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. +She could tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she was +scarcely less anxious than I that I should make her love me again, and, +as I have said, she waited with a wonderful tolerance while I strove +futilely to discover in what I was lacking and to remedy it. And when, +at last, she had to leave me, it was with compassionate cries and little +backward flights. + +The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so +altered by it had I known what was the defect in me through which I let +her love escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than the loss of her. +Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak honestly to you) that I do +not repent me those dallyings in enchanted fields. It may not have been +so always, for I remember a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down +in an oarless boat and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant +moans do not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the +waters bring him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to +know that, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from +another. + +I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman playing +with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty one, and I saw the +gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the dear pretty way I can't +forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting for her shoulders, brought +the whole group joyously to the ground. She picked herself up in the old +leisurely manner, lazily active, and looked around her benignantly, +like a cow: our dear wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of +children. I meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the +old wound broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a +few poor drops, which fell because I found that she was even a little +sweeter than I had thought. + + + + +X. Sporting Reflections + +I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear it +would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat's +light keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Mary +to her lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman +to her consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mind +when I dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks, +which have all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject to +cold feet, I have sometimes toyed with it since. + +Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remain +true to the unattainable she? + +I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend of +mine, whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her lover +died. It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying to +point the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came +another youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well known +to me, and I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend once +more a matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like +one made young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale +daughter in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she cast +rice after the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chanced +upon her in her room, and she was on her knees in tears before the +spirit of the dead lover. “Forgive me,” she besought him, “for I am old, +and life is gray to friendless girls.” The pardon she wanted was for +pretending to her daughter that women should act thus. + +I am sure she felt herself soiled. + +But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty years +had elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like a +sack of returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. + +“They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopes +that you will find something in them about yourself.” It would have +sounded oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, and +something might have come of it. + +On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood of +the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both back +there. The easiness of it tempted me. + +Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They all +do, you see. + +And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost my +smile? + +And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + +I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + + + + +XI. The Runaway Perambulator + +I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, +where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face +and glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always +stalked by, meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me +very hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, +but fear I had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, +as, would I not call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which +moment, it seemed, he was at his best. + +No, I would not. + +“He says tick-tack to the clock,” Irene said, trying to snare me. + +“Pooh!” said I. + +“Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'” she told me, with a flush of +pride. + +“I prefer 'tick-tick,'” I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + +Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, I would +have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait until he could +walk, when it would be more easy to waylay him. However, he was a +cautious little gorbal who, after many threats to rise, always seemed to +come to the conclusion that he might do worse than remain where he was, +and when he had completed his first year I lost patience with him. + +“When I was his age,” I said to Irene, “I was running about.” I +consulted them casually about this matter at the club, and they had all +been running about at a year old. + +I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the dilatory +boy to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I would look at +him. At first Mary, to whom the offer was passed on, rejected it with +hauteur, but presently she wavered, and the upshot was that Irene, +looking scornful and anxious, arrived one day with the perambulator. +Without casting eyes on its occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: “In +half-an-hour,” I said. + +She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, and so +on, but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of a passionately +affectionate farewell to her charge, which was really all directed +against me, and ended with these powerful words: “And if he takes off +your socks, my pretty, may he be blasted for evermore.” + +“I shall probably take off her socks,” I said carelessly to this. + +Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + +“It is a girl, is it not?” I asked, thus neatly depriving her of +coherent speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round to--to +begin, and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down behind the hood of +his carriage. My plan was to accustom him to his new surroundings before +bursting on the scene myself. + +I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him +wake naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not said +quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I +should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but he took no notice. +I remember trying to persuade myself that if I never budged till Irene's +return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still +there was no response. Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not +there. + +I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly noticed a +covert movement somewhere near the middle of the carriage, and heard a +low gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. I stopped dead at this sharp +reminder that I was probably not the only curious person in the room, +and for a long moment we both lay low, after which, I am glad to +remember, I made the first advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged +some likely articles on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of +keys, and two war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these +(as something to fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking +(I fear now) a little like a professor of legerdemain. David was sitting +up, and he immediately fixed his eyes on me. + +It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to you, +for of course I know really nothing about children, so I shall say only +this, that I thought him very like what Timothy would have been had he +ever had a chance. + +I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself being +judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed so natural +that I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving to hear him +signify that I would do. I have stood up before other keen judges and +deceived them all, but I made no effort to deceive David; I wanted to, +but dared not. Those unblinking eyes were too new to the world to be +hooded by any of its tricks. In them I saw my true self. They opened for +me that pedler's pack of which I have made so much ado, and I found +that it was weighted less with pretty little sad love-tokens than with +ignoble thoughts and deeds and an unguided life. I looked dejectedly at +David, not so much, I think, because I had such a sorry display for him, +as because I feared he would not have me in his service. I seemed to +know that he was making up his mind once and for all. + +And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so frightened, +but the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself a fine fellow at +once. It was a long smile, too, opening slowly to its fullest extent (as +if to let me in), and then as slowly shutting. + +Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or +because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could +do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. This made him slide +down the perambulator, and I saw at once that it was very necessary to +replace him. But never before had I come into such close contact with +a child; the most I had ever done was, when they were held up to me, to +shut my eyes and kiss a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he +was eternally being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it +was contrived, and yet we managed it between us quite easily. His +body instinctively assumed a certain position as I touched him, which +compelled my arms to fall into place, and the thing was done. I felt +absurdly pleased, but he was already considering what he should do next. + +He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to +its being contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he +proposed to repeat his first performance, but in this I did him an +injustice, for, unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to do the same +feat twice; perhaps, like the conjurors, he knew that the audience were +more on the alert the second time. + +I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + +Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say that I +felt uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And what dire thing +could happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but +he signed to me to look sharp, and I removed the sock. The part of him +thus revealed gave David considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a +curious thing, that he seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + +However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after giving me +a glance which said “Now observe!” he raised his bare foot and ran his +mouth along the toes, like one playing on a barbaric instrument. He then +tossed his foot aside, smiled his long triumphant smile and intimated +that it was now my turn to do something. I thought the best thing I +could do would be to put his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried +to do so I discovered why Irene had warned me so portentously against +taking it off. I should say that she had trouble in socking him every +morning. + +Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what to do +with my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do nothing with it +myself, put it under a wine-glass, for instance, and make it turn into +a rabbit, which so many people can do. In the meantime David, occupied +with similar thoughts, very nearly made it disappear altogether, and I +was thankful to be able to pull it back by the chain. + +“Haw-haw-haw!” + +Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to me, a +trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, Mary had not +given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said that five and twenty +minutes had passed, and looking out I saw Irene at one end of the street +staring up at my window, and at the other end Mary's husband staring up +at my window, and beneath me Mary staring up at my window. They had all +broken their promise. + +I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give +me a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I was in despair. Then +the smile came, and I knew that he was teasing me only. He now nodded +his head about six times. + +This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty that, +contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my arms to him, and +first he shook his head, and then after a long pause (to frighten me), +he nodded it. + +But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her +husband and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from me, and +acting under an impulse I whipped him into the perambulator and was off +with it without a license down the back staircase. To the Kensington +Gardens we went; it may have been Manitoba we started for, but we +arrived at the Kensington Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated +and smartly carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in +the street, to make sure that I was wearing a hat. + +I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet made +up his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown +suddenly indifferent to public comment, and my elation increased when +I discovered that I was being pursued. They drew a cordon round me near +Margot Meredith's tree, but I broke through it by a strategic movement +to the south, and was next heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both +ends of this passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped +through their fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. +Cowering at St. Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up the Hump, +and when they had crossed to the Round Pond we paraded gaily in the +Broad Walk, not feeling the tiniest bit sorry for anybody. + +Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after all, I +was a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until they were the +size of my medals, and then, with the deliberation that distinguishes +his smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw all his forces gathering +in his face, and I had nothing to oppose to them; it was an unarmed man +against a regiment. + +Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I who had +dropped the letter. + +I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, for +who else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous manipulation +of the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth form? I alone of +boys had been able to elevate and lower my eyebrows separately; when +the one was climbing my forehead the other descended it, like the two +buckets in the well. + +Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, and +immediately David checked his forces and considered my unexpected +movement without prejudice. His face remained as it was, his mouth open +to emit the howl if I did not surpass expectation. I saw that, like the +fair-minded boy he has always been, he was giving me my chance, and +I worked feverishly, my chief fear being that, owing to his youth, +he might not know how marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an +appeal to the intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth +can do it except myself. + +When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with unchanged +face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decided +whether it was funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it +I went once more, till I saw his forces wavering, when I sent my left +eyebrow up almost farther than I could bring it back, and with that I +had him, the smile broke through the clouds. + +In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + +I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but had not +dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to my annoyance +that I was the centre of a deeply interested gathering of children. +There was, in particular, one vulgar little street-boy-- + +However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon to +triumph gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me down on one +of the garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand resting carelessly on the +perambulator, in imitation of the nurses, it was so pleasant to assume +the air of one who walked with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw +Mary approaching with quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that +flight would have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded +toward me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing that I +had observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + +I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a visitor +at her house, though never can I forget the shock I got the first time +I saw him strolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he has +avoided it, crossing to the other side when I go that way, and rejoining +me farther on, so I conclude that Mary's husband is painting him. + +I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and noted +that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat shabbily, gave +her the end of a smile which had been begun for me. It seemed to relieve +her, for what one may call the wild maternal look left her face, and +trying to check little gasps of breath, the result of unseemly running, +she signed to her confederates to remain in the background, and turned +curious eyes on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her +words would have been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth puckered +as David's does before he sets forth upon his smile, and I saw that she +thought she had me in a parley at last. + +“I could not help being a little anxious,” she said craftily, but I must +own, with some sweetness. + +I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David--I +cannot understand why the movement was so hasty--and lowered her face +to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, he seized her +face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows up and down with the +other. He failed, and his obvious disappointment in his mother was as +nectar to me. + +“I don't understand what you want, darling,” said she in distress, and +looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he wanted, and let +her see that I understood. Had I been prepared to converse with her, I +should have said elatedly that, had she known what he wanted, still she +could not have done it, though she had practised for twenty years. + +I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + +It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most +perfect confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly gave her +my back, but the effect on David was miraculous; he signed to her to go, +for he was engaged for the afternoon. + +What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great moment I +had strength of character to raise my hat for the third time and walk +away, leaving the child to judge between us. I walked slowly, for I knew +I must give him time to get it out, and I listened eagerly, but that +was unnecessary, for when it did come it was a very roar of anguish. I +turned my head, and saw David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he +might have one last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and +nodded repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, +and I walked on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since +relentlessly pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the boy, +expose her to him in all her vagaries, take him utterly from her and +make him mine. + + + + +XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + +All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + +Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much longer, +for soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it came to him to +be up and doing, and he up and did in the Broad Walk itself, where he +would stand alone most elaborately poised, signing imperiously to the +British public to time him, and looking his most heavenly just before he +fell. He fell with a dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended +that this was his funny way of finishing. + +That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of the +Gold King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, and +on Wednesday he struck three and went into knickerbockers. For the +Kensington Gardens, you must know, are full of short cuts, familiar to +all who play there; and the shortest leads from the baby in long +clothes to the little boy of three riding on the fence. It is called the +Mother's Tragedy. + +If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of their +own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, in which you +may read the ages of their young. When he is three they are said to wear +the knickerbocker face, and you may take it from me that Mary assumed +that face with a sigh; fain would she have kept her boy a baby longer, +but he insisted on his rights, and I encouraged him that I might notch +another point against her. I was now seeing David once at least every +week, his mother, who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, +having instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, +and we had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever a +threatening shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not improve +with acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, chiefly, I think, +because she now wore a nurse's cap with streamers, of which the little +creature was ludicrously proud. She assumed the airs of an official +person, and always talked as if generations of babies had passed through +her hands. She was also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying +disapproval of my methods that led to many coldnesses and even +bickerings between us, which I now see to have been undignified. I +brought the following accusations against her: + +That she prated too much about right and wrong. + +That she was a martinet. + +That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when she knew +Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I regret having +used this argument, but it was the only one that really damped her. + +On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + +Of not thinking of his future. + +Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such things. + +Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + +Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, when it +really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my person by a +piece of elastic. + +To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a pathetic +faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely +an affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I naturally cast +about for similar diversions when it ceased to attract. It lost its hold +on David suddenly, as I was to discover was the fate of all of them; +twenty times would he call for my latest, and exult in it, and the +twenty-first time (and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if +wondering what the man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the +great joke was explained to her, said coldly, “We are not amused,” and, +I assure you, it is a humiliating thing to perform before an infant who +intimates, after giving you ample time to make your points, that he is +not amused. I hoped that when David was able to talk--and not merely +to stare at me for five minutes and then say “hat”--his spoken verdict, +however damning, would be less expressive than his verdict without +words, but I was disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, +when he could keep up such spirited conversations with himself that he +had little need for any of us, promising him to do something exceedingly +funny with a box and two marbles, and after he had watched for a long +time he said gravely, “Tell me when it begins to be funny.” + +I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, in a +dimly lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young man with a +long neck and a pimply face, who as I entered took a barber's pole from +my pocket, saying at the same time, “Come, come, sir, this will never +do.” Whether because he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, +he was the most depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of +the artist's joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give +pleasure to thousands not caring a dump about it. + +The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, but the +difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a barber's pole +in the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there always being polite +children hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The +young man, again, had said that anyone would lend me a bottle or a +lemon, but though these were articles on which he seemed ever able to +lay his hand, I found (what I had never noticed before) that there is +a curious dearth of them in the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually +carried about with me, and with its connivance I did some astonishing +things with pennies, but even the penny that costs sixpence is +uncertain, and just when you are saying triumphantly that it will +be found in the egg-cup, it may clatter to the ground, whereon some +ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of fibbing and +corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through clenched +teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she understood no jokes +except her own, of which she had the most immoderately high opinion, +and that would have mattered little to me had not David liked them also. +There were times when I could not but think less of the boy, seeing +him rock convulsed over antics of Irene that have been known to every +nursemaid since the year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give +me the ecstatic look that meant, “Irene is really very entertaining, +isn't she?” + +We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous fairness, and +I admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her gutta-percha tooth. In +earlier days one of her front teeth, as she told me, had fallen out, but +instead of then parting with it, the resourceful child had hammered it +in again with a hair-brush, which she offered to show me, with the dents +on it. This tooth, having in time passed away, its place was supplied by +one of gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when +she sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign that the +cold was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the room she knew she +was in for something notable. Irene's tooth was very favourably known +in the Gardens, where the perambulators used to gather round her to hear +whether it had been doing anything to-day, and I would not have grudged +David his proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that +Irene's one poor little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was +without intellectual merit. I have sometimes stalked away from him, +intimating that if his regard was to be got so cheaply I begged to +retire from the competition, but the Gardens are the pleasantest club in +London, and I soon returned. How I scoured the Gardens looking for him, +and how skilful I became at picking him out far away among the trees, +though other mothers imitated the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's +indignation. I also cut Irene's wings (so to speak) by taking her to a +dentist. + +And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as +receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want +at the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets, +without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching +home--a tin-soldier, or a pistol--when I put it on my mantle-shelf +and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I had been +over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some time David +up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I favour other +dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, looking +very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was David's +first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + +Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace +at the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of +which David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the +Round Pond to persons coming from the north. + +You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty. +When next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at +first she bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she +burst into tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had +I lifted my hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now +learned to my surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our +tiffs, but I have never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. +I also made her promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, +saying I was taking my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I +tell you, Irene has one of the prettiest and most touching little bows +imaginable; it is half to the side (if I may so express myself), which +has always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by +watching Mary. + +I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I +look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that +was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms, +and even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that +until he was three years old I sought merely to amuse him. God forgive +me, but I had only one day a week in which to capture him, and I was +very raw at the business. + +I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, but +really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with children I +learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved almost more +profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was this little mother +that she had always room near her for one more, and often have I seen +her in the Gardens, the centre of a dozen mites who gazed awestruck at +her while she told them severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. +They were children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but +they believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little ladies +and gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these romantic creatures +keep themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait till they come to a gate, +the more they admired them, though their faces showed how profoundly +they felt that to be little ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You +can't think what hopeless little faces they were. + +Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do puppies care +only for play? That wistful look, which the merriest of them sometimes +wear, I wonder whether it means that they would like to hear about the +good puppies? + +As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising the +telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring feats, while +Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has any other fairy-tale +been told in my hearing. It was the prettiest of them all, and was +recited by the heroine. + +“Why were the king and queen not at home?” David would ask her +breathlessly. + +“I suppose,” said Irene, thinking it out, “they was away buying the +victuals.” + +She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David thought it +was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and when she came +to its great moments her little bosom heaved. Never shall I forget the +concentrated scorn with which the prince said to the sisters, “Neither +of you ain't the one what wore the glass slipper.” + +“And then--and then--and then--,” said Irene, not artistically to +increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious to her. + +“Tell me--tell me quick,” cried David, though he knew the tale by heart. + +“She sits down like,” said Irene, trembling in second-sight, “and she +tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, +he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true love, Cinderella, +what now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'” + +Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the grandees of +the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. “Her, as was only a kitchen +drudge,” she would say in a strange soft voice and with shining eyes, +“but was true and faithful in word and deed, such was her reward.” + +I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and touched +Irene with her wand, David would have been interested rather than +astonished. As for myself, I believe I have surprised this little girl's +secret. She knows there are no fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes +that if she is always true and faithful she may some day turn into a +lady in word and deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + +It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an amount of +heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in this sad London of +ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + +Good luck to you, Irene. + + + + +XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + +You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow our +adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens, as they +now became known to David. They are in London, where the King lives, and +you go to them every day unless you are looking decidedly flushed, but +no one has ever been in the whole of the Gardens, because it is so soon +time to turn back. The reason it is soon time to turn back is that you +sleep from twelve to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep +from twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + +The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of omnibuses, +over which Irene has such authority that if she holds up her finger +to any one of them it stops immediately. She then crosses with you in +safety to the other side. There are more gates to the Gardens than one +gate, but that is the one you go in at, and before you go in you speak +to the lady with the balloons, who sits just outside. This is as near to +being inside as she may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold +of the railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she +would be flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are always +tugging at her, and the strain has given her quite a red face. Once she +was a new one, because the old one had let go, and David was very sorry +for the old one, but as she did let go, he wished he had been there to +see. + +The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of +trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there, +for the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden +to mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend, +because they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves +contemptuously called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key +to the manners and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when +I tell you that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel +Fig climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel +Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate. +She was the only really celebrated Fig. + +We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other +walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began +little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the +other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted +him very much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a +perambulator. In the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth +knowing, and there is usually a grown-up with them to prevent their +going on the damp grass, and to make them stand disgraced at the corner +of a seat if they have been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish +is to behave like a girl, whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or +simpering with your thumb in your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, +but to be mad-dog is to kick out at everything, and there is some +satisfaction in that. + +If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad +Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply +wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called +Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has +been a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the +walk is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is +no more awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, +who had been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to +appear in the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in +the little wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him +knickerbockers with pockets. + +You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they +are not really manly, and they make you look the other way, at the Big +Penny and the Baby's Palace. She was the most celebrated baby of the +Gardens, and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, so +people rang the bell, and up she got out of her bed, though it was past +six o'clock, and she lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, +and then they all cried with great rejoicings, “Hail, Queen of England!” + What puzzled David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. +The Big Penny is a statue about her. + +Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk where all +the big races are run, and even though you had no intention of running +you do run when you come to the Hump, it is such a fascinating, +slide-down kind of place. Often you stop when you have run about +half-way down it, and then you are lost, but there is another little +wooden house near here, called the Lost House, and so you tell the man +that you are lost and then he finds you. It is glorious fun racing down +the Hump, but you can't do it on windy days because then you are not +there, but the fallen leaves do it instead of you. There is almost +nothing that has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf. + +From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel Grey, +the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always two nurses with +her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a long time she was a +pattern-child who always coughed off the table and said, “How do you +do?” to the other Figs, and the only game she played at was flinging a +ball gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one +day she tired of it all and went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she +really was mad-dog, she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her +tongue east, west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a +puddle and danced on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, +after which she climbed the fence and had a series of incredible +adventures, one of the least of which was that she kicked off both her +boots. At last she came to the gate that is now called after her, out of +which she ran into streets David and I have never been in though we have +heard them roaring, and still she ran on and would never again have been +heard of had not her mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. +It all happened, I should say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey +whom David knows. + +Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, which is +so full of perambulators that you could cross from side to side stepping +on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. From this walk a passage +called Bunting's Thumb, because it is that length, leads into Picnic +Street, where there are real kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into +your mug as you are drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, +and the blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + +Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm the +Bold fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let her put her +arm round his neck in public because she was a widow, but he was also +partial to adventures and liked to play with a chimney-sweep who had +killed a good many bears. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day when +they were playing near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have been +drowned had not Sooty dived in and rescued him, and the water had washed +Sooty clean and he now stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So +Malcolm would not let his mother put her arm round his neck any more. + +Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and +frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is +scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he +is out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are +wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something +else. The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which +is real cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a racquet +and the governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when you +are watching their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them. +Nevertheless, there was a very disagreeable incident one day when some +forward girls challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called +Angela Clare sent down so many yorkers that--However, instead of telling +you the result of that regrettable match I shall pass on hurriedly to +the Round Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the Gardens going. + +It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when +you are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good +all the time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good in +the Broad Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason +is that you forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that you may +as well be wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, +such big boats that they bring them in barrows and sometimes in +perambulators, and then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children +in the Gardens are these who had to walk too soon because their father +needed the perambulator. + +You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the +end your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the first +day is splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is +splendid, but soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest +craft that slips her moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a +stick-boat, because she is rather like a stick until she is in the water +and you are holding the string. Then as you walk round, pulling her, +you see little men running about her deck, and sails rise magically and +catch the breeze, and you put in on dirty nights at snug harbours which +are unknown to the lordly yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again +your rakish craft noses for the wind, whales spout, you glide over +buried cities, and have brushes with pirates and cast anchor on coral +isles. You are a solitary boy while all this is taking place, for two +boys together cannot adventure far upon the Round Pond, and though you +may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, giving orders and executing +them with dispatch, you know not, when it is time to go home, where you +have been or what swelled your sails; your treasure-trove is all locked +away in your hold, so to speak, which will be opened, perhaps, by +another little boy many years afterward. + +But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return to this +haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to sail it? Oh, no. +It is the stick-boat that is freighted with memories. The yachts are +toys, their owner a fresh-water mariner, they can cross and recross +a pond only while the stick-boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your +wands, who think we are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only +accidents of this place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the +ducks the real business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + +Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are +ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are made by men +with their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide at one spot and at +another so narrow that you can stand astride them. They are called Paths +that have Made Themselves, and David did wish he could see them doing +it. But, like all the most wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, +it is done, we concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have +also decided that the paths make themselves because it is their only +chance of getting to the Round Pond. + +One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get their +hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, I am told, he +said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary has never been quite +the same bright creature since, so he despises the sheep as they run +from their shearer and calls out tauntingly, “Cowardy, cowardy custard!” + But when the man grips them between his legs David shakes a fist at him +for using such big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man +turns back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look +suddenly like ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are so +frightened by the shearing that it makes them quite white and thin, and +as soon as they are set free they begin to nibble the grass at once, +quite anxiously, as if they feared that they would never be worth +eating. David wonders whether they know each other, now that they are +so different, and if it makes them fight with the wrong ones. They are +great fighters, and thus so unlike country sheep that every year they +give Porthos a shock. He can make a field of country sheep fly by merely +announcing his approach, but these town sheep come toward him with no +promise of gentle entertainment, and then a light from last year breaks +upon Porthos. He cannot with dignity retreat, but he stops and looks +about him as if lost in admiration of the scenery, and presently he +strolls away with a fine indifference and a glint at me from the corner +of his eye. + +The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a +drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the edge you can +see the trees all growing upside down, and they say that at night there +are also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter Pan sees them when he is +sailing across the lake in the Thrush's Nest. A small part only of the +Serpentine is in the Gardens, for soon it passes beneath a bridge to +far away where the island is on which all the birds are born that become +baby boys and girls. No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is +only half human), can land on the island, but you may write what you +want (boy or girl, dark or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist +it into the shape of a boat and slip it into the water, and it reaches +Peter Pan's island after dark. + +We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence that +we can go to so many of the places in one day. I should have had to be +carrying David long ago and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford. +That was what we called him, because he always talked to us of a lovely +place called Salford where he had been born. He was a crab-apple of +an old gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat +trying to fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of +Salford, and when we had known him for a year or more we actually did +meet another aged solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in +Salford. He was meek and timid and carried his address inside his hat, +and whatever part of London he was in search of he always went to the +General Post-office first as a starting-point. Him we carried in triumph +to our other friend, with the story of that Saturday to Monday, and +never shall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at +him. They have been cronies ever since, and I notice that Mr. Salford, +who naturally does most of the talking, keeps tight grip of the other +old man's coat. + +The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery +and the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's +Cemetery is, as Porthos is always with us. The nest is very sad. It +is quite white, and the way we found it was wonderful. We were having +another look among the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead +of the ball we found a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing +four eggs, with scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we +think they must have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones +inside. Every day we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest, +taking care that no cruel boy should see us, and we dropped crumbs, +and soon the bird knew us as friends, and sat in the nest looking at us +kindly with her shoulders hunched up. But one day when we went, there +were only two eggs in the nest, and the next time there were none. The +saddest part of it was that the poor little chaffinch fluttered about +the bushes, looking so reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we +had done it, and though David tried to explain to her, it was so +long since he had spoken the bird language that I fear she did not +understand. He and I left the Gardens that day with our knuckles in our +eyes. + + + + +XIV. Peter Pan + +If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a +little girl she will say, “Why, of course, I did, child,” and if you +ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, “What +a foolish question to ask; certainly he did.” Then if you ask your +grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she +also says, “Why, of course, I did, child,” but if you ask her whether he +rode on a goat in those days, she says she never heard of his having a +goat. Perhaps she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name +and calls you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she could +hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there was +no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in +telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people +do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest. + +Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really +always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age +is one week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a +birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The +reason is that he escaped from being a human when he was seven days' +old; he escaped by the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + +If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows +how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard +this story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, +but I told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, +and when he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly +remembered a youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that +memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as +soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way +up the chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would +press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before +they were human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few +weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So +David tells me. + +I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: +First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding +being that it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his +additions, and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more +his story or mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald +narrative and most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, +for this boy can be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the +ways and customs of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences +of David's, recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking +hard. + +Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing +on the ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the +Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that +he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the +houses to the Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, +but the place itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we +were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter +Pan that evening. + +He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace and the +Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. +He was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he +was a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and +when he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he +missed it was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, +of course, a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past +Lock-out Time, for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy +to notice him; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, +drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails made him +thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, +and dipped his beak in the pond; he thought it was his beak, but, of +course, it was only his nose, and, therefore, very little water came up, +and that not so refreshing as usual, so next he tried a puddle, and he +fell flop into it. When a real bird falls in flop, he spreads out his +feathers and pecks them dry, but Peter could not remember what was +the thing to do, and he decided, rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the +weeping beech in the Baby Walk. + +At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch, but +presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long before +morning, shivering, and saying to himself, “I never was out in such a +cold night;” he had really been out in colder nights when he was a bird, +but, of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird +is a cold night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely +uncomfortable, as if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made +him look round sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There +was something he wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted it, he +could not think what it was. What he wanted so much was his mother to +blow his nose, but that never struck him, so he decided to appeal to the +fairies for enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal. + +There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms +round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The +fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil +answer to a civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran +away the moment they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair, +reading a postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he heard +Peter's voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip. + +To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled from +him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed away, +leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail upside down +and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies +were running this away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was +afraid, lights were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds +of Queen Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the royal +guard had been called out. A regiment of Lancers came charging down +the Broad Walk, armed with holly-leaves, with which they jog the enemy +horribly in passing. Peter heard the little people crying everywhere +that there was a human in the Gardens after Lock-out Time, but he never +thought for a moment that he was the human. He was feeling stuffier and +stuffier, and more and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his +nose, but he pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid +creatures ran from him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up +the Hump, turned swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that they saw +him there. + +Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but now he +remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the weeping beech had +flown away when he alighted on it, and though that had not troubled him +at the time, he saw its meaning now. Every living thing was shunning +him. Poor little Peter Pan, he sat down and cried, and even then he did +not know that, for a bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a +blessing that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith +in his power to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you +cease forever to be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we can't +is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have +wings. + +Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the Serpentine, +for the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, and there +are stakes round it, standing up in the water, on each of which a +bird-sentinel sits by day and night. It was to the island that Peter now +flew to put his strange case before old Solomon Caw, and he alighted on +it with relief, much heartened to find himself at last at home, as the +birds call the island. All of them were asleep, including the sentinels, +except Solomon, who was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly +to Peter's adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + +“Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me,” Solomon said, +and with staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at the +sleeping birds. Not one of them wore anything. + +“How many of your toes are thumbs?” said Solomon a little cruelly, and +Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes were fingers. The +shock was so great that it drove away his cold. + +“Ruffle your feathers,” said that grim old Solomon, and Peter tried most +desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he rose +up, quaking, and for the first time since he stood on the window-ledge, +he remembered a lady who had been very fond of him. + +“I think I shall go back to mother,” he said timidly. + +“Good-bye,” replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + +But Peter hesitated. “Why don't you go?” the old one asked politely. + +“I suppose,” said Peter huskily, “I suppose I can still fly?” + +You see, he had lost faith. + +“Poor little half-and-half,” said Solomon, who was not really +hard-hearted, “you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy +days. You must live here on the island always.” + +“And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?” Peter asked tragically. + +“How could you get across?” said Solomon. He promised very kindly, +however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by +one of such an awkward shape. + +“Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?” Peter asked. + +“No.” + +“Nor exactly a bird?” + +“No.” + +“What shall I be?” + +“You will be a Betwixt-and-Between,” Solomon said, and certainly he was +a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + +The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them +every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds +that were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at +once, then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out +of other eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when +they tired of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break +their shells a day before the right time by whispering to them that now +was their chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands +gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch +the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts +they flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the +mouth. All his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's +orders by the birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they +thought very silly of him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. +Thus, when you cry out, “Greedy! Greedy!” to the bird that flies away +with the big crust, you know now that you ought not to do this, for he +is very likely taking it to Peter Pan. + +Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him +for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured, +he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left +of it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he +was cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason +was that Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many of the bird +ways. To be easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing +something, and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of vast +importance. Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build their +nests; soon he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly as well +as a blackbird, though never did he satisfy the finches, and he made +nice little water-troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the young +ones with his fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and +knew an east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the +grass growing and hear the insects walking about inside the tree-trunks. +But the best thing Solomon had done was to teach him to have a glad +heart. All birds have glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as +they were the only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it was easy to him +to teach Peter how to have one. + +Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, +just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he needed an +instrument, so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to sit by the shore +of the island of an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the +ripple of the water, and catching handfuls of the shine of the moon, and +he put them all in his pipe and played them so beautifully that even the +birds were deceived, and they would say to each other, “Was that a fish +leaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his pipe?” + and sometimes he played the birth of birds, and then the mothers would +turn round in their nests to see whether they had laid an egg. If you +are a child of the Gardens you must know the chestnut-tree near the +bridge, which comes out in flower first of all the chestnuts, but +perhaps you have not heard why this tree leads the way. It is because +Peter wearies for summer and plays that it has come, and the chestnut +being so near, hears him and is cheated. + +But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he sometimes +fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad also, and the +reason of all this sadness was that he could not reach the Gardens, +though he could see them through the arch of the bridge. He knew he +could never be a real human again, and scarcely wanted to be one, but +oh, how he longed to play as other children play, and of course there +is no such lovely place to play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him +news of how boys and girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's +eyes. + +Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was that he +could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no one on the island +knew the way except the ducks, and they are so stupid. They were quite +willing to teach him, but all they could say about it was, “You sit down +on the top of the water in this way, and then you kick out like that.” + Peter tried it often, but always before he could kick out he sank. What +he really needed to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, +and they said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as +that. Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give them +all his day's food and then ask them how they sat on the water, but as +soon as he had no more to give them the hateful things hissed at him and +sailed away. + +Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the Gardens. +A wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, floated high over +the island and then tumbled, rolling over and over after the manner of a +bird that has broken its wing. Peter was so frightened that he hid, but +the birds told him it was only a kite, and what a kite is, and that it +must have tugged its string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After +that they laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it +so much that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was +pathetic and pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it had +belonged to a real boy. + +To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt +grateful to him at this time because he had nursed a number of +fledglings through the German measles, and they offered to show him how +birds fly a kite. So six of them took the end of the string in their +beaks and flew away with it; and to his amazement it flew after them and +went even higher than they. + +Peter screamed out, “Do it again!” and with great good-nature they did +it several times, and always instead of thanking them he cried, “Do it +again!” which shows that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was +to be a boy. + +At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he begged +them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and now a hundred +flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the tail, meaning to drop +off when he was over the Gardens. But the kite broke to pieces in the +air, and he would have drowned in the Serpentine had he not caught hold +of two indignant swans and made them carry him to the island. After this +the birds said that they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + +Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of +Shelley's boat, as I am now to tell you. + + + + +XV. The Thrush's Nest + +Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect to +be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people +who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had all that +and five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, +he made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the +Serpentine. + +It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to Solomon +Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a message from a +lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her have a good one. +They always ask for the best one he has, and if he likes the letter he +sends one from Class A; but if it ruffles him he sends very funny ones +indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at another time he sends a +nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to +leave it all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he +will see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to send +another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little boy who wants +a baby-sister, always take pains to write your address clearly. You +can't think what a lot of babies Solomon has sent to the wrong house. + +Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took +counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with +their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided +that it came from some greedy person who wanted five. They thought this +because there was a large five printed on it. “Preposterous!” cried +Solomon in a rage, and he presented it to Peter; anything useless which +drifted upon the island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + +But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what it +was at once, having been very observant during the week when he was an +ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he could surely at last +contrive to reach the Gardens, and he considered all the possible ways, +and decided (wisely, I think) to choose the best way. But, first, he had +to tell the birds of the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were +too honest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they +cast such black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, +that he flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed +with his head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon +was on your side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so +he followed him and tried to hearten him. + +Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's good +will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office +all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his +green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs +which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his +stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had +been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a +hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper +and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he +would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He +cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick. + +This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted +together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently +why thrushes only were invited. + +The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did +most of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people +talked. He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the +superior ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this +put them into good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the +quarrels between birds are about the best way of building nests. Other +birds, said Solomon, omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a +result they did not hold water. Here he cocked his head as if he had +used an unanswerable argument; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come +to the meeting uninvited, and she squeaked out, “We don't build nests to +hold water, but to hold eggs,” and then the thrushes stopped cheering, +and Solomon was so perplexed that he took several sips of water. + +“Consider,” he said at last, “how warm the mud makes the nest.” + +“Consider,” cried Mrs. Finch, “that when water gets into the nest it +remains there and your little ones are drowned.” + +The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in +reply to this, but again he was perplexed. + +“Try another drink,” suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her name, and +all Kates are saucy. + +Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. “If,” said he, “a +finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and breaks to pieces, +but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup of a swan's back.” + +How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their nests +with mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, “We don't place our nests on +the Serpentine,” they did what they should have done at first: chased +her from the meeting. After this it was most orderly. What they had been +brought together to hear, said Solomon, was this: their young friend, +Peter Pan, as they well knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to +the Gardens, and he now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + +At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble for his +scheme. + +Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the cumbrous +boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be simply a thrush's +nest large enough to hold Peter. + +But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. “We are very busy +people,” they grumbled, “and this would be a big job.” + +“Quite so,” said Solomon, “and, of course, Peter would not allow you +to work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in comfortable +circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you have never been +paid before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that you shall all be paid +sixpence a day.” + +Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun the +celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business fell into +arrears. It was the time of year when they should have been pairing, but +not a thrush's nest was built except this big one, and so Solomon soon +ran short of thrushes with which to supply the demand from the mainland. +The stout, rather greedy children, who look so well in perambulators +but get puffed easily when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and +ladies often ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He +sent over to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to +lay their eggs in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the ladies +and swore they were all thrushes! It was known afterward on the island +as the Sparrows' Year, and so, when you meet, as you doubtless sometimes +do, grown-up people who puff and blow as if they thought themselves +bigger than they are, very likely they belong to that year. You ask +them. + +Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. They +stood in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper +sixpences out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and +then each bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got sixpence. +It must have been a fine sight. + +And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the +deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great +thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept by +its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was +lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps in +his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it +is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a +kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, +being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls +are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which +came off the thrushes while they were building. + +The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not +balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the +water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that +Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other +in dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a +sail, and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had +fashioned out of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a +night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full, +and all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis +Pretty would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew +not why, he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that moment +his eyes were pinned to the west. + +He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with them +to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens beckoning to +him beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face was flushed, but +he never looked back; there was an exultation in his little breast that +drove out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who +have sailed westward to meet the Unknown? + +At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the +place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of +the sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze, to +his no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was +drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the +dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown +and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which +bore him westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke +against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the bridge +and came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the delectable +Gardens. But having tried to cast anchor, which was a stone at the end +of a piece of the kite-string, he found no bottom, and was fain to hold +off, seeking for moorage, and, feeling his way, he buffeted against a +sunken reef that cast him overboard by the greatness of the shock, and +he was near to being drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There +now arose a mighty storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he +had never heard the like, and he was tossed this way and that, and +his hands so numbed with the cold that he could not close them. Having +escaped the danger of which, he was mercifully carried into a small bay, +where his boat rode at peace. + +Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark, +he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest +his landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past +Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and +also a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in the +Gardens, and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + +Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an +ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be their +friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no temper +to draw off therefrom, and he warned them if they sought to mischief him +to stand to their harms. + +So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with +intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women, +and it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's +night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that +their laps were too small, the which I cannot explain, except by saying +that such is the way of women. The men-fairies now sheathed their +weapons on observing the behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence +they set great store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who +conferred upon him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and +henceforth Peter could go whither he chose, and the fairies had orders +to put him in comfort. + +Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the +antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But Peter +never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under the +bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should see +him hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in the +Thrush's Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to paddle. +I shall tell you presently how he got his paddle. + +Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back +to the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all +that), but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real +children play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic +things about him that he often plays quite wrongly. + +You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the +fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know nothing, +and though the birds pretended that they could tell him a great deal, +when the time for telling came, it was wonderful how little they really +knew. They told him the truth about hide-and-seek, and he often plays +it by himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to +him what it is that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night +the ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number of +pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and say that +cake is not what it was in their young days. + +So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played ships +at the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had found on +the grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he wondered what +you play at with them, and decided that you play at pretending they +are boats. This hoop always sank at once, but he waded in for it, and +sometimes he dragged it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was +quite proud to think that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + +Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for +sitting in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get out of +it. Also he found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the Hump, quite as +if it was having a game by itself, and he caught it after an exciting +chase. But he thought it was a ball, and Jenny Wren had told him that +boys kick balls, so he kicked it; and after that he could not find it +anywhere. + +Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. It was +under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's Winter Palace +(which is within the circle of the seven Spanish chestnuts), and Peter +approached it warily, for the birds had never mentioned such things to +him. Lest it was alive, he addressed it politely, and then, as it gave +no answer, he went nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little +push, and it ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after +all; but, as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched out +his hand to pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and he was so +alarmed that he leapt the railing and scudded away to his boat. You must +not think, however, that he was a coward, for he came back next night +with a crust in one hand and a stick in the other, but the perambulator +had gone, and he never saw another one. I have promised to tell you also +about his paddle. It was a child's spade which he had found near St. +Govor's Well, and he thought it was a paddle. + +Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think it +rather silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must pity him +now and then, but to pity him all the time would be impertinence. He +thought he had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you +have it is almost quite as good as really to have it. He played without +ceasing, while you often waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He +could be neither of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do +you think he is to be pitied for that? + +Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, as you +are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a spinning-top, +from sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound leaping the fences of +the Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + +And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at night +write to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the Gardens, but +it is really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he had no mother--at +least, what use was she to him? You can be sorry for him for that, but +don't be too sorry, for the next thing I mean to tell you is how he +revisited her. It was the fairies who gave him the chance. + + + + +XVI. Lock-Out Time + +It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost +the only thing known for certain is that there are fairies wherever +there are children. Long ago children were forbidden the Gardens, and +at that time there was not a fairy in the place; then the children were +admitted, and the fairies came trooping in that very evening. They can't +resist following the children, but you seldom see them, partly because +they live in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not allowed +to go, and also partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit +cunning after Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + +When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember +a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you +can't write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children +who declared that they had never once seen a fairy. Very likely if they +said this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a +fairy all the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended +to be something else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually +pretend to be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, +and there are so many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, that +a flower is the thing least likely to attract attention. They dress +exactly like flowers, and change with the seasons, putting on white when +lilies are in and blue for blue-bells, and so on. They like crocus and +hyacinth time best of all, as they are partial to a bit of colour, but +tulips (except white ones, which are the fairy-cradles) they consider +garish, and they sometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so +that the beginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catch +them. + +When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty lively, but +if you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stand quite +still, pretending to be flowers. Then, after you have passed without +knowing that they were fairies, they rush home and tell their mothers +they have had such an adventure. The Fairy Basin, you remember, is all +covered with ground-ivy (from which they make their castor-oil), with +flowers growing in it here and there. Most of them really are flowers, +but some of them are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good +plan is to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. +Another good plan, which David and I sometimes follow, is to stare them +down. After a long time they can't help winking, and then you know for +certain that they are fairies. + +There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a +famous gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. Once +twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girls' +school out for a walk with the governess, and all wearing hyacinth +gowns, when she suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they +all stood still on an empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. +Unfortunately, what the governess had heard was two gardeners coming to +plant new flowers in that very bed. They were wheeling a handcart with +the flowers in it, and were quite surprised to find the bed occupied. +“Pity to lift them hyacinths,” said the one man. “Duke's orders,” + replied the other, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the +boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things in it in five rows. +Of course, neither the governess nor the girls dare let on that they +were fairies, so they were carted far away to a potting-shed, out of +which they escaped in the night without their shoes, but there was a +great row about it among the parents, and the school was ruined. + +As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they are +the exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by day but you +can't see them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you +can't see them by day, for they are the colour of night, and I never +heard of anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not +mean that they are black, for night has its colours just as day has, +but ever so much brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours +with a light behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured +glasses, and is quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but the +queen sometimes complains because the common people will peep in to see +what she is doing. They are very inquisitive folk, and press quite hard +against the glass, and that is why their noses are mostly snubby. The +streets are miles long and very twisty, and have paths on each side made +of bright worsted. The birds used to steal the worsted for their nests, +but a policeman has been appointed to hold on at the other end. + +One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they +never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first +time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping +about. That was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, +you know, as if they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask +them what they are doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are +frightfully ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have +a postman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, +and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the +youngest child being chief person is always elected mistress, and when +she has called the roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back. +It is a very noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest +is always chief person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and +children remember this, and think it must be so among humans also, and +that is why they are often made uneasy when they come upon their mother +furtively putting new frills on the basinette. + +You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all sorts +of things that your mother and her nurse want her not to do: to stand up +at sitting-down time, and to sit down at standing-up time, for instance, +or to wake up when she should fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when +she is wearing her best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down +to naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as +she has seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, and +it takes about two years to get her into the human ways. Her fits of +passion, which are awful to behold, and are usually called teething, +are no such thing; they are her natural exasperation, because we don't +understand her, though she is talking an intelligible language. She is +talking fairy. The reason mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, +before other people know, as that “Guch” means “Give it to me at once,” + while “Wa” is “Why do you wear such a funny hat?” is because, mixing so +much with babies, they have picked up a little of the fairy language. + +Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with +his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of their +phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He had heard +them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I suggested to him +that perhaps it is really bird language he is remembering, he says not, +for these phrases are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of +nothing but nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used +to go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the +different nests and saying, “Not my colour, my dear,” and “How would +that do with a soft lining?” and “But will it wear?” and “What hideous +trimming!” and so on. + +The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first +things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry +when you do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what +is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the +grass. It is not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing +round and round. Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and +these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. +The chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these little +people leave behind them, and they would remove even these were they not +so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very moment of the opening +of the gates. David and I once found a fairy-ring quite warm. + +But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes +place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to +close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the +board on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at +six-thirty for instance, instead of at seven. This enables them to get +begun half an hour earlier. + +If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the famous +Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, hundreds of +lovely fairies hastening to the ball, the married ones wearing their +wedding-rings round their waists, the gentlemen, all in uniform, holding +up the ladies' trains, and linkmen running in front carrying winter +cherries, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put +on their silver slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers +streaming up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because +they can lend a pin, the supper-table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, +and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on +which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time. + +The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is made +of chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is this: The men, +scores of them, climb up the trees and shake the branches, and the +blossom falls like snow. Then the lady servants sweep it together by +whisking their skirts until it is exactly like a table-cloth, and that +is how they get their table-cloth. + +They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, blackthorn +wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen pours out, but the +bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to pour out. There is bread +and butter to begin with, of the size of a threepenny bit; and cakes to +end with, and they are so small that they have no crumbs. The fairies +sit round on mushrooms, and at first they are very well-behaved and +always cough off the table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so +well-behaved and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got +from the roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the +table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their tongues. When +the Queen sees them doing this she signs to the servants to wash up and +put away, and then everybody adjourns to the dance, the Queen walking in +front while the Lord Chamberlain walks behind her, carrying two little +pots, one of which contains the juice of wall-flower and the other the +juice of Solomon's Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers +who fall to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for +bruises. They bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster +they foot it till they fall down in fits. For, as you know without my +telling you, Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He sits in the middle +of the ring, and they would never dream of having a smart dance nowadays +without him. “P. P.” is written on the corner of the invitation-cards +sent out by all really good families. They are grateful little people, +too, and at the princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their +second birthday and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish +of his heart. + +The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, and then +said that for playing so beautifully she would give him the wish of his +heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to hear what was the wish of +his heart, but for a long time he hesitated, not being certain what it +was himself. + +“If I chose to go back to mother,” he asked at last, “could you give me +that wish?” + +Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother they +should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose contemptuously and +said, “Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than that.” + +“Is that quite a little wish?” he inquired. + +“As little as this,” the Queen answered, putting her hands near each +other. + +“What size is a big wish?” he asked. + +She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome length. + +Then Peter reflected and said, “Well, then, I think I shall have two +little wishes instead of one big one.” + +Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather +shocked them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his +mother, but with the right to return to the Gardens if he found her +disappointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve. + +They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + +“I can give you the power to fly to her house,” the Queen said, “but I +can't open the door for you. + +“The window I flew out at will be open,” Peter said confidently. “Mother +always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back.” + +“How do you know?” they asked, quite surprised, and, really, Peter could +not explain how he knew. + +“I just do know,” he said. + +So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way they gave +him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and +soon he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and +higher and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. + +It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old home he +skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and back by the river +and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached his mother's window he had +quite made up his mind that his second wish should be to become a bird. + +The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he +fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted softly +on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look at her. +She lay with her head on her hand, and the hollow in the pillow was like +a nest lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he had +long forgotten it, that she always gave her hair a holiday at night. How +sweet the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a +pretty mother. + +But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her arms +moved as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew what it wanted +to go round. + +“Oh, mother,” said Peter to himself, “if you just knew who is sitting on +the rail at the foot of the bed.” + +Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he could +see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to say “Mother” + ever so softly, and she would wake up. They always wake up at once if it +is you that says their name. Then she would give such a joyous cry +and squeeze him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh, how +exquisitely delicious it would be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter +regarded it. In returning to his mother he never doubted that he was +giving her the greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more +splendid, he thought, than to have a little boy of your own. How proud +of him they are; and very right and proper, too. + +But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell his +mother that he has come back? + +I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds. +Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked +longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy +again, but, on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens! +Was he so sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off +the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They +were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The +socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet? He was +about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great adventure. +Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother woke up, for +he heard her say “Peter,” as if it was the most lovely word in the +language. He remained sitting on the floor and held his breath, +wondering how she knew that he had come back. If she said “Peter” again, +he meant to cry “Mother” and run to her. But she spoke no more, she +made little moans only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more +asleep, with tears on her face. + +It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first +thing he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a +beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself +out of the way she said “Peter,” and he never stopped playing until she +looked happy. + +He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening +her to hear her say, “Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you play.” However, as +she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You must +not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He had +quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning +to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant +to make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed +wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without returning to +the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too long it might +go bad. He asked himself if he had not been hardhearted to fly away +without saying good-bye to Solomon. “I should like awfully to sail in my +boat just once more,” he said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite +argued with her as if she could hear him. “It would be so splendid to +tell the birds of this adventure,” he said coaxingly. “I promise to come +back,” he said solemnly and meant it, too. + +And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from the +window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight of it +might waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on his pipe, and +then he flew back to the Gardens. + +Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies for his +second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he delayed so long. +One reason was that he had so many good-byes to say, not only to his +particular friends, but to a hundred favourite spots. Then he had his +last sail, and his very last sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. +Again, a number of farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another +comfortable reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his +mother would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason displeased +old Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds to procrastinate. +Solomon had several excellent mottoes for keeping them at their work, +such as “Never put off laying to-day, because you can lay to-morrow,” + and “In this world there are no second chances,” and yet here was Peter +gaily putting off and none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out +to each other, and fell into lazy habits. + +But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his mother, +he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution +with the fairies. They were most anxious that he should remain in the +Gardens to play to them, and to bring this to pass they tried to trick +him into making such a remark as “I wish the grass was not so wet,” and +some of them danced out of time in the hope that he might cry, “I do +wish you would keep time!” Then they would have said that this was his +second wish. But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he +began, “I wish--” he always stopped in time. So when at last he said +to them bravely, “I wish now to go back to mother for ever and always,” + they had to tickle his shoulders and let him go. + +He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his mother was +crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried for, and that a +hug from her splendid Peter would quickly make her to smile. Oh, he felt +sure of it, and so eager was he to be nestling in her arms that this +time he flew straight to the window, which was always to be open for +him. + +But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and peering +inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm round another +little boy. + +Peter called, “Mother! mother!” but she heard him not; in vain he beat +his little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, sobbing, to +the Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a glorious boy he had +meant to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have made the great mistake, how +differently we should all act at the second chance. But Solomon was +right; there is no second chance, not for most of us. When we reach the +window it is Lock-out Time. The iron bars are up for life. + + + + +XVII. The Little House + +Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which +is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for +humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and +they have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it +you never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but +it is there when you wake up and step outside. + +In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really +it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out +Time. David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the +trees as we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw +it the night he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of +his father's office. Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted +because then she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, +she saw hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the +fairies building the house, for they build it every night and always +in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of the lights was +bigger than the others, though she was not quite sure, for they jumped +about so, and it might have been another one that was bigger. But if it +was the same one, it was Peter Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen +the light, so that is nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one +for whom the house was first built. + +Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she +was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was +the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a +magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him +in the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered +rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting +she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you +that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the +daytime. + +But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt +for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there +came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. +It was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy +glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which +he always took away from her next morning) and she accepted them with a +disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so +mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to +bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do +it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened her, but +Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were +alone with their night-light she would start up in bed crying “Hsh! what +was that?” Tony beseeches her! “It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!” + and pulls the sheet over his head. “It is coming nearer!” she cries; +“Oh, look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is +boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!” and she desists not until he rushes +downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they came up to whip +Maimie they usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you +know, but really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest little angel, +which seems to me to make it almost worse. + +But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then +Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he +was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would +have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And +at no time did she admire him more than when he told her, as he often +did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in +the Gardens after the gates were closed. + +“Oh, Tony,” she would say, with awful respect, “but the fairies will be +so angry!” + +“I daresay,” replied Tony, carelessly. + +“Perhaps,” she said, thrilling, “Peter Pan will give you a sail in his +boat!” + +“I shall make him,” replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + +But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were +overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which +the little people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a +marked boy. They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down +he came on the back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his +boot-lace and bribed the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty +accidents you meet with in the Gardens occur because the fairies have +taken an ill-will to you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you +say about them. + +Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things, +but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to +remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, “Just +some day;” he was quite vague about which day except when she asked +“Will it be to-day?” and then he could always say for certain that it +would not be to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good +chance. + +This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow, +and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but +at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many +bright little boys and girls were doing that. + +When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond, +but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said +this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that +night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs +continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but +she was not to laugh much more that day. + +Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the +time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for +closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the +fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they +had changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said +there was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as +they trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their +little breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. +Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance. + +He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager +eyes asked the question, “Is it to-day?” and he gasped and then nodded. +Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold. +She did a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him! +“In case you should feel cold,” she whispered. Her face was aglow, but +Tony's was very gloomy. + +As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, “I'm afraid +Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it.” + +Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their +ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said +aloud, “Tony, I shall race you to the gate,” and in a whisper, “Then you +can hide,” and off they ran. + +Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him +speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might +have more time to hide. “Brave, brave!” her doting eyes were crying when +she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the +gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful +of darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain +she could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she +ran to St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + +When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her +other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores +and hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always +has to run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight +and glued them with passionate tears. When she opened them something +very cold ran up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart. +It was the stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from +another part clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of +the Gates. + +Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice +say, “So that's all right.” It had a wooden sound and seemed to come +from above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out +its arms and yawning. + +She was about to say, “I never knew you could speak!” when a metallic +voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the +elm, “I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?” and the elm replied, “Not +particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg,” and he +flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. +Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were +doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and +crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders +but did not seem to mind her. + +She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse +and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her +dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far +away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a +ball. She was about forty round the waist. + +There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in +time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set +off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but +that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the +walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had +crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and +shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never +known what they were for until to-night. + +She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy +fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way +he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut +like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with snow. “Oh, you +naughty, naughty child!” Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it +was to have a dripping umbrella about your ears. + +Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the +chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly “Hoity-toity, +what is this?” that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole +vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + +“Of course it is no affair of ours,” a spindle tree said after they had +whispered together, “but you know quite well you ought not to be here, +and perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think +yourself?” + +“I think you should not,” Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that +they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. “I wouldn't ask it +of you,” she assured them, “if I thought it was wrong,” and of +course after this they could not well carry tales. They then said, +“Well-a-day,” and “Such is life!” for they can be frightfully sarcastic, +but she felt sorry for those of them who had no crutches, and she said +good-naturedly, “Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take +you for a walk one at a time; you can lean on me, you know.” + +At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby +Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round +the very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and +treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though +she could not understand a word they said. + +They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not +taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others +jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a +lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off +to the ball, but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more +fear was that it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, +Maimie was always rather strange. + +They were now loath to let her go, for, “If the fairies see you,” they +warned her, “they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you +to nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an +evergreen oak.” As they said this they looked with affected pity at an +evergreen oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens. + +“Oh, la!” replied the oak bitingly, “how deliciously cosy it is to stand +here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!” + +This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves, +and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced +her if she insisted on going to the ball. + +She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual +good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the +Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a +dreadful complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried +many ladies in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them. +Queen Mab, who rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls +would bewitch him, but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. +This rather irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the +Duke's heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always +shook his bald head and murmured, “Cold, quite cold!” Naturally Queen +Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of ordering the court +into tears for nine minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed +that they should wear fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen +heart. + +“How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!” + Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the +Cupids hate to be laughed at. + +It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held, +as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the +Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting +their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on +the snow. + +Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting +anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her +surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just +time to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and +pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and +six behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held +up by two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a +lovely girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She +was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her +neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course +showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified +it. The high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their +skin, which lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you +cannot imagine anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' +busts in the jewellers' windows. + +Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion, +tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt +them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the +doctor had said “Cold, quite cold!” + +Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a +dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb +out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly +went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and +explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street +singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her. + +“Of course,” she said, “I am rather plain,” and this made Maimie +uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite +plain for a fairy. + +It was difficult to know what to reply. + +“I see you think I have no chance,” Brownie said falteringly. + +“I don't say that,” Maimie answered politely, “of course your face is +just a tiny bit homely, but--” Really it was quite awkward for her. + +Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone +to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London +were on view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home +instead of being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, “You +can't think, my dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again.” + +Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously, +indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose +her. So she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to +follow lest the Queen should mischief her. + +But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven +Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until +she was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree. + +The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed +of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming +a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little +people looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared +to the glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so +bewilderingly bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she +looked at them. + +It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas +Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love +his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the +Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling +ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were +told to pass on, and by his own most dreary face. + +Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and +hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly +sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure +places and, every time they heard that “Cold, quite cold,” bowed their +disgraced little heads. + +She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you +now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got +wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which +he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle. + +The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so +heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad +and remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies +never say “We feel happy”: what they say is, “We feel dancey.” + +Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke +out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was +insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke. + +Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she +had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie +herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his +grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart, +which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his +diamond shirt, had begun to say mechanically, “Cold, qui--,” when he +stopped abruptly. + +“What's this?” he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and +then put his ear to it. + +“Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, and by this time of course the +excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right +and left. + +Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled +and looked as if he would like to run away. “Good gracious me!” the +doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for +he had to jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth. + +The suspense was awful! + +Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, “My Lord Duke,” said the physician +elatedly, “I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace +is in love.” + +You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the +Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of +the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of +her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything. +Thus in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you +leap into each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman +has to be present. + +How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and +immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were +ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring. +Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps +from their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went +and spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight +over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward +and cried in an ecstasy, “Oh, Brownie, how splendid!” + +Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in +the time you may take to say “Oh dear!” An awful sense of her peril +came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a +place where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the +gates, she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand +swords flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + +How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head. +Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. +Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew +she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must +never cease to run, and she thought she was still running long after she +had dropped in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes +falling on her face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought +her coverlet of snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her +head. And when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was +mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she slept. +But it was the fairies. + +I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief +her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as “Slay +her!” “Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!” and so on, but the +pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front, +and this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and +demand a boon. + +Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's +life. “Anything except that,” replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the +fairies chanted “Anything except that.” But when they learned how Maimie +had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their +great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and +set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front +and the canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her +footprints in the snow. + +But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible +to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the +form of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and +read her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They +also cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they +saw she was in danger of perishing of cold. + +“Turn her into something that does not mind the cold,” seemed a good +suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of +that does not mind cold was a snowflake. “And it might melt,” the Queen +pointed out, so that idea had to be given up. + +A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but +though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all +the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids +had a lovely idea. “Build a house round her,” they cried, and at once +everybody perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred +fairy sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round +Maimie, measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, +seventy-five masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen +laid it, overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings +were run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning +lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting +in the windows. + +The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of +her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they +built a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were +the size of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it +would be easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as +is their custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, +and they were all so madly in love with the little house that they could +not bear to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many +little extra touches, and even then they added more extra touches. + +For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + +“Now we fear it is quite finished,” they sighed. But no, for another two +ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney. + +“That certainly finishes it,” they cried reluctantly. + +“Not at all,” cried a glow-worm, “if she were to wake without seeing a +night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light.” + +“Wait one moment,” said a china merchant, “and I shall make you a +saucer.” + +Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + +Oh, dear no! + +“Gracious me,” cried a brass manufacturer, “there's no handle on the +door,” and he put one on. + +An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat. +Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on +painting it. + +Finished at last! + +“Finished! how can it be finished,” the plumber demanded scornfully, +“before hot and cold are put in?” and he put in hot and cold. Then an +army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and +bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the +right of the verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and +clematis on the walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes +all these dear things were in full bloom. + +Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished +true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They +all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was +Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream +down the chimney. + +All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs +taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream +was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was +breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then +she called out, “Tony,” for she thought she was at home in the nursery. +As Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, +and it opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all +around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in +the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched +her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her +that she was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now +everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to +her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had +she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over +the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the +night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else. + +“Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!” she cried. + +Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew +that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to +grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it +was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It +always remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller, +and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer, +lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little +dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke +and the door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete. +The glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. “Darling, +loveliest, don't go!” Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little +house was now the size of a reel of thread, but still quite complete. +But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all +sides until it met itself, and where the little house had been was now +one unbroken expanse of snow. + +Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her +eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, “Don't cry, pretty human, don't +cry,” and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy +regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan. + + + + +XVIII. Peter's Goat + +Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + +“I hope you have had a good night,” he said earnestly. + +“Thank you,” she replied, “I was so cosy and warm. But you”--and she +looked at his nakedness awkwardly--“don't you feel the least bit cold?” + +Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, “I think +not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactly +a boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between.” + +“So that is what it is called,” said Maimie thoughtfully. + +“That's not my name,” he explained, “my name is Peter Pan.” + +“Yes, of course,” she said, “I know, everybody knows.” + +You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the people +outside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what they +knew and what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this time +on a fallen tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he sat +on a snowy bit himself. + +“Squeeze closer,” Maimie said. + +“What is that?” he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. They +talked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him, +but not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and been +barred out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for it +still humiliated him. + +“Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?” he asked very +proudly. “Oh, Maimie, please tell them!” But when he revealed how he +played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simply +horrified. + +“All your ways of playing,” she said with her big eyes on him, “are +quite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!” + +Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the first +time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, and +lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to do +with it, so she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and then +gave it back to him, saying “Now you do it,” but instead of wiping his +own eyes he wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this was +what she had meant. + +She said, out of pity for him, “I shall give you a kiss if you like,” + but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and he +replied, “Thank you,” and held out his hand, thinking she had offered to +put something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt she +could not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy she +gave Peter a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretended +that it was a kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to this +day he wears it on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who +needs a thimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was +really years and years since he had seen his mother, and I daresay the +baby who had supplanted him was now a man with whiskers. + +But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than to +admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was very +much mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her of +his adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the island +and the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + +“How romantic,” Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, and +he hung his head thinking she was despising him. + +“I suppose Tony would not have done that?” he said very humbly. + +“Never, never!” she answered with conviction, “he would have been +afraid.” + +“What is afraid?” asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be some +splendid thing. “I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie,” + he said. + +“I believe no one could teach that to you,” she answered adoringly, but +Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tony +and of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knew +quite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning and +said, “Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony.” + +It quite irritated her. “You are twenty thousand times braver than +Tony,” she said, “you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!” + +He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe he +screamed with joy. + +“And if you want very much to give me a kiss,” Maimie said, “you can do +it.” + +Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. He +thought she wanted it back. + +“I don't mean a kiss,” she said hurriedly, “I mean a thimble.” + +“What's that?” Peter asked. + +“It's like this,” she said, and kissed him. + +“I should love to give you a thimble,” Peter said gravely, so he gave +her one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightful +idea came into his head! “Maimie,” he said, “will you marry me?” + +Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same time +into Maimie's head. “I should like to,” she answered, “but will there be +room in your boat for two?” + +“If you squeeze close,” he said eagerly. + +“Perhaps the birds would be angry?” + +He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am not so +certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter. +“Of course they might want your clothes,” he had to admit rather +falteringly. + +She was somewhat indignant at this. + +“They are always thinking of their nests,” he said apologetically, “and +there are some bits of you”--he stroked the fur on her pelisse--“that +would excite them very much.” + +“They sha'n't have my fur,” she said sharply. + +“No,” he said, still fondling it, however, “no! Oh, Maimie,” he said +rapturously, “do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a +beautiful nest.” + +Somehow this made her uneasy. “I think you are speaking more like a bird +than a boy now,” she said, holding back, and indeed he was even +looking rather like a bird. “After all,” she said, “you are only a +Betwixt-and-Between.” But it hurt him so much that she immediately +added, “It must be a delicious thing to be.” + +“Come and be one then, dear Maimie,” he implored her, and they set off +for the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. “And you are not +a bit like a nest,” he whispered to please her. + +“But I think it is rather nice to be like one,” she said in a woman's +contradictory way. “And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, I +wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with little +spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!” + +But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said, +“Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as +if I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least like +that.” + +“Oh, no,” answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very like +that, and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fear +of losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live without +her. “She will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me,” he kept +saying to himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by the +way. + +But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over its +loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. “You know +quite well, Peter, don't you,” she said, “that I wouldn't come unless +I knew for certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, +say it!” + +He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + +“If you are sure your mother will always want you,” he added rather +sourly. + +“The idea of mother's not always wanting me!” Maimie cried, and her face +glistened. + +“If she doesn't bar you out,” said Peter huskily. + +“The door,” replied Maimie, “will always, always be open, and mother +will always be waiting at it for me.” + +“Then,” said Peter, not without grimness, “step in, if you feel so sure +of her,” and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + +“But why don't you look at me?” she asked, taking him by the arm. + +Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave a great +gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow. + +She went to him. “What is it, dear, dear Peter?” she said, wondering. + +“Oh, Maimie,” he cried, “it isn't fair to take you with me if you think +you can go back. Your mother”--he gulped again--“you don't know them as +well as I do.” + +And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, and +she gasped all the time. “But my mother,” she said, “my mother”-- + +“Yes, she would,” said Peter, “they are all the same. I daresay she is +looking for another one already.” + +Maimie said aghast, “I can't believe it. You see, when you went away +your mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they are +satisfied when they have one.” + +Peter replied bitterly, “You should see the letters Solomon gets from +ladies who have six.” + +Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, all +round the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumped +nervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, and +he was trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully. + +“If I should be too late,” she called in agony, “oh, Peter, if she has +got another one already!” + +Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. “I shall come and +look for you to-night,” he said, squeezing close, “but if you hurry away +I think you will be in time.” + +Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and covered +his face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + +“Dear Peter!” she cried. + +“Dear Maimie!” cried the tragic boy. + +She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, and +then she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you may +be sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded, +but he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For long +he hoped that some night she would come back to him; often he thought he +saw her waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew +to land, but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid +that if she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger with +him too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But she +often talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him, +and one day when she was wondering what Easter present he would like, +her mother made a suggestion. + +“Nothing,” she said thoughtfully, “would be so useful to him as a goat.” + +“He could ride on it,” cried Maimie, “and play on his pipe at the same +time!” + +“Then,” her mother asked, “won't you give him your goat, the one you +frighten Tony with at night?” + +“But it isn't a real goat,” Maimie said. + +“It seems very real to Tony,” replied her mother. + +“It seems frightfully real to me too,” Maimie admitted, “but how could I +give it to Peter?” + +Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was really +quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went to +the Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then her +mother, who was a rather gifted lady, said, + + “My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?” + +To which Maimie replied, + + “I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide.” + +She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and turned +round three times. + +Next Tony said, + + “If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?” + +And Maimie answered, + + “By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere.” + +She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining what she +had done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into one +convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, for +Peter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for the +fairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Peter +got the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playing +sublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened +Tony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another +animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presents +for Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play with +them), and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, for +instance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, and +we shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before +Porthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one of +them. + +Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, and +often in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrily +on the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memory +that he was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to the +house-swallows when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are the +spirits of little children who have died. They always build in the eaves +of the houses where they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they +try to fly in at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves +them best of all the birds. + +And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every night +except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest there +should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marshes +looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goat +to the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when they +step out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because it +is so pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because he +still loves to do just as he believes real boys would do. + +But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees the +little house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardens +after Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be out +that night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they are +not, you may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. He +has been too late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runs +back to the Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him +the true use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little +tombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He does this at +once because he thinks it is what real boys would do, and you must have +noticed the little stones and that there are always two together. He +puts them in twos because it seems less lonely. I think that quite the +most touching sight in the Gardens is the two tombstones of Walter +Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. They stand together at the spot +where the parishes of Westminster St. Mary's is said to meet the parish +of Paddington. Here Peter found the two babes, who had fallen unnoticed +from their perambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walter +probably still younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy about +putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and the simple +inscriptions read + + +-----------+ +-----------+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +-----------+ +-----------+ + +David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves. + +But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at the +opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetest +little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with his +spade. It is all rather sad. + + + + +XIX. An Interloper + +David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed the night +with me. We had often talked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary +consented to our having it. + +The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted hour of +six P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of sandwiches, but proved +to be his requisites for the night done up in a neat paper parcel. We +were both so excited that, at the moment of greeting, neither of us +could be apposite to the occasion in words, so we communicated our +feelings by signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there +was no chair, which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and +is borrowed, I think, from the frogs, and we then made the extraordinary +faces which mean, “What a tremendous adventure!” + +We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done every +evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know how it was such +an adventure to David. But I have now said enough to show you what an +adventure it was to me. + +For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the delicacy +of a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from asking +why one of them was not a Victoria Cross. He is very troubled because I +never won the Victoria Cross, for it lowers his status in the Gardens. +He never says in the Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of +his year who says I didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each +other. + +At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, and +covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, “Half-past +six; time for little boys to be in bed.” I said it in the matter-of-fact +voice of one made free of the company of parents, as if I had said it +often before, and would have to say it often again, and as if there was +nothing particularly delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried +to say it in that way. + +And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his little foot, +and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a +matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the floor when lighted, are the +greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is +a place with a roaring bonfire. + +Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle +bored by the dull routine of putting my little boys to bed, and +conducted him to the night nursery, which had lately been my private +chamber. There was an extra bed in it tonight, very near my own, +but differently shaped, and scarcely less conspicuous was the new +mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of milk, with a biscuit on top of it, +and a chocolate riding on the biscuit. To enter the room without seeing +the tumbler at once was impossible. I had tried it several times, +and David saw and promptly did his frog business, the while, with an +indescribable emotion, I produced a night-light from my pocket and +planted it in a saucer on the wash-stand. + +David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon made a +noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had no longer +use for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off his +boots. I took them off with all the coolness of an old hand, and then +I placed him on my knee and removed his blouse. This was a delightful +experience, but I think I remained wonderfully calm until I came +somewhat too suddenly to his little braces, which agitated me +profoundly. + +I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + +Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from the +night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a man peered +in at the little figure on the bed. However softly I opened the door, an +inch at a time, his bright eyes turned to me at once, and he always made +the face which means, “What a tremendous adventure!” + +“Are you never to fall asleep, David?” I always said. + +“When are you coming to bed?” he always replied, very brave but in +a whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When +little boys are in bed there is nothing between them and bears and +wolves but the night-light. + +I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with +his face to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the door, +listening. + +Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, and I +knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after what seemed +a long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said in a cautious +whisper, “Irene!” + +“You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David,” I said. + +“I didn't know,” he replied, a little troubled but trying not to be a +nuisance. + +“You remember you are with me?” I asked. + +After a moment's hesitation he replied, “I nearly remember,” and +presently he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had +whispered to him, “I remember now.” + +I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, “Is it +going on now?” + +“What?” + +“The adventure.” + +“Yes, David.” + +Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, “You are not +frightened, are you?” + +“Am I not?” he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping in the +darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. + +“I am not frightened now,” he whispered. + +“And there is nothing else you want?” + +“Is there not?” he again asked politely. “Are you sure there's not?” he +added. + +“What can it be, David?” + +“I don't take up very much room,” the far-away voice said. + +“Why, David,” said I, sitting up, “do you want to come into my bed?” + +“Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first,” he +squeaked. + +“It is what I have been wanting all the time,” said I, and then without +more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at me. For the +rest of the night he lay on me and across me, and sometimes his feet +were at the bottom of the bed and sometimes on the pillow, but he always +retained possession of my finger, and occasionally he woke me to say +that he was sleeping with me. I had not a good night. I lay thinking. + +Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I undressed him, +had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + +Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently daring. + +Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I essayed to +catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + +Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet breathing, +had stood so long that I forgot his name and called him Timothy. + + + + +XX. David and Porthos Compared + +But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the morning, by +inquiring too curiously into his person and discovering that I had put +his combinations on him with the buttons to the front. For this I +wrote her the following insulting letter. When Mary does anything +that specially annoys me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a +photograph taken of David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You +can't think of all the subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman with +the spirit of a crow would stand it. + +“Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you walk +in the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for encomiums of him +and of your fanciful dressing of him by passers-by, storing them in your +heart the while you make vain pretence to regard them not: wherefore +lest you be swollen by these very small things I, who now know David +both by day and by night, am minded to compare him and Porthos the +one with the other, both in this matter and in other matters of graver +account. And touching this matter of outward show, they are both very +lordly, and neither of them likes it to be referred to, but they endure +in different ways. For David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times hits +out, but Porthos droops his tail and lets them have their say. Yet is he +extolled as beautiful and a darling ten times for the once that David is +extolled. + +“The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners of +David, who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree sometimes +comes not in search, and on emerging tamely from my concealment I find +him playing other games entirely forgetful of my existence. Whereas +Porthos always comes in search. Also if David wearies of you he scruples +not to say so, but Porthos, in like circumstances, offers you his paw, +meaning 'Farewell,' and to bearded men he does this all the time (I +think because of a hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive +him to be enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to +go. Thus while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be argued +that those of David are more efficacious. + +“In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the one +shoves and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the other, who +is noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his size, remonstrates +not, even when they cling in froth and fury to his chest, but carries +them along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, +David will not unbend when in the company of babies, expecting them +unreasonably to rise to his level, but contrariwise Porthos, though +terrible to tramps, suffers all things of babies, even to an exploration +of his mouth in an attempt to discover what his tongue is like at +the other end. The comings and goings of David are unnoticed by +perambulators, which lie in wait for the advent of Porthos. The strong +and wicked fear Porthos but no little creature fears him, not the +hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, nor the sparrows +that steal his straw from under him. + +“In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the rabbit. +Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country Porthos was elated +to discover at last something small that ran from him, and developing +at once into an ecstatic sportsman he did pound hotly in pursuit, though +always over-shooting the mark by a hundred yards or so and wondering +very much what had become of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from +the top of which the rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of +Porthos was to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to +give me a knowing look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did +something tricky with a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore onwards in +full faith that the game was being played fairly, and always returned +panting and puzzling but glorious. + +“I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch the +rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he did catch +it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of +which he was in chase. I found him with it, his brows furrowed in the +deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cowered beneath +him. Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame +of mind. 'What is the next thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle +with him, and the position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, +which several times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. +Whereupon Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and +again fell to pondering. The strain on me was very great. + +“At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked over his +shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first slowly and then +in a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a search for it, but you +cannot think how relieved he looked. He even tried to brazen out his +disgrace before me and waved his tail appealingly. But he could not +look me in the face, and when he saw that this was what I insisted on he +collapsed at my feet and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and +I was touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could +do, and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so long as +I am pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matters to Porthos. I +told this story to David, having first extracted a promise from him that +he would not think the less of Porthos, and now I must demand the same +promise of you. Also, an admission that in innocence of heart, for which +David has been properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos +nothing, but on the contrary may learn much from him. + +“And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over +Porthos--the first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene +(pretentiously called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and envies +every ragged boy who can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos would have every +class keep its place, and though fond of going down into the kitchen, +always barks at the top of the stairs for a servile invitation before +he graciously descends. Most of the servants in our street have had +the loan of him to be photographed with, and I have but now seen him +stalking off for that purpose with a proud little housemaid who is +looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom she had paid a +shilling. + +“Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due to the +one and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I have noticed, +loves to splash in his bath and to slip back into it from the hands that +would transfer him to a towel. But Porthos stands in his bath drooping +abjectly like a shamed figure cut out of some limp material. + +“Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of Porthos, who +cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to take a solitary +walk, while David invents playfully all day long. Lastly, when David is +discovered of some offence and expresses sorrow therefor, he does +that thing no more for a time, but looks about him for other offences, +whereas Porthos incontinently repeats his offence, in other words, he +again buries his bone in the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know +it, although his nose be crusted with earth. + +“Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David excels +Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no more than a match +for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if a parcel comes +into my chambers Porthos is miserable until it is opened, and I have +noticed the same thing of David. + +“Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all +gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the other way, but if +I say I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he skips joyfully, +yet thinks he still has a right to a chocolate, and when I remarked +disparagingly on this to David he looked so shy that there was revealed +to me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + +“A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of punishments, +and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in this matter +to be your mouthpiece) complains that I am not sufficiently severe with +David, and do leave the chiding of him for offences against myself to +her in the hope that he will love her less and me more thereby. Which we +have hotly argued in the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I +here say that if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is +that I dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat +the one the same with the other. + +“Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his great +heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that all is not well +between him and me, and having struck him once some years ago never can +I forget the shudder which passed through him when he saw it was I +who had struck, and I shall strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is +detected in any unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my +writing table in his presence, and even this punishment is almost more +than he can bear. Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on David +encourages him but to enter upon fresh trespasses (as the girl Irene +avers), the reason must be that his heart is not like unto that of the +noble Porthos. + +“And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, and +so demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, what is the +manner of severity meted out to him at home? And lest you should shuffle +in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my +ears. + +“As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered +it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal +punishment, whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David +continuing to rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly +of a cane, but the mother rushed between the combatants. That the +problematical chastisement became to David an object of romantic +interest. That this darkened the happy home. That casting from his +path a weeping mother, the goaded father at last dashed from the house +yelling that he was away to buy a cane. That he merely walked the +streets white to the lips because of the terror David must now be +feeling. And that when he returned, it was David radiant with hope who +opened the door and then burst into tears because there was no cane. +Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax me with want of severity. +Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am comparing +with Porthos. + +“But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever +wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking +up from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate +attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which +comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to +their masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for +this, while I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David +has of making me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of +me as a matter of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the +depths of Porthos. Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie +down beside him on the floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my +soul, ma'am, a protecting arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew +what was the want of the other. + +“Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the +worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we +shall both be pleased.” + + + + +XXI. William Paterson + +We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the +fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may +say. It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some +sheets of newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my +housekeeper, who thinks dogs should lie on the floor. + +Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want them to +give you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, for all the +r's should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so often that David +believes I should find difficulty in making myself understood. + +“What would you say,” he asked me, “if you wanted them to turn you +into a hollyhock?” He thinks the ease with which they can turn you into +things is their most engaging quality. + +The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me this I +again forgot the lukka. + +“I should never dream,” I said (to cover my discomfiture), “of asking +them to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I should soon +wither, David.” + +He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, but +now he seemed to think it merely silly. “Just before the time to wither +begins,” he said airily, “you say to them Fairy me bola.” + +Fairy me bola means “Turn me back again,” and David's discovery made +me uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his distance of +the fairies mainly because of a feeling that their conversions are +permanent. + +So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms under the +care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown to them, but they +have no need of me, for at such times nothing would induce Porthos to +depart from the care of David. If anyone addresses them he growls softly +and shows the teeth that crunch bones as if they were biscuits. Thus +amicably the two pass on to Mary's house, where Porthos barks his +knock-and-ring bark till the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in +with David, but on this occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing +remarkable in this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next +day nor in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore +his knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos--at +least--well--something disquieting happened. I don't quite know what to +think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall think +as you choose. + +My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and got +locked in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was over I was +there to make inquiries. But there was no news of Porthos, though +I learned that someone was believed to have spent the night in the +Gardens, a young gentleman who walked out hastily the moment the gates +were opened. He had said nothing, however, of having seen a dog. I +feared an accident now, for I knew no thief could steal him, yet even an +accident seemed incredible, he was always so cautious at crossings; also +there could not possibly have been an accident to Porthos without there +being an accident to something else. + +David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the great blank +and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities that when he knew +he was about to cry he turned aside to do it and I always respected his +privacy and waited for him. Of course being but a little boy he was +soon playing again, but his sudden floods of feeling, of which we never +spoke, were dear to me in those desolate days. + +We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back to +that, meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos used to +squat, but we could not help looking at it sideways, and to our distress +a man was sitting on the acquainted spot. He rose at our approach and +took two steps toward us, so quick that they were almost jumps, then +as he saw that we were passing indignantly I thought I heard him give a +little cry. + +I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure +strangers into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on the +Story-seat itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was dandiacally +dressed, seemed to tell something under twenty years and had a handsome +wistful face atop of a heavy, lumbering, almost corpulent figure, which +however did not betoken inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of +his mother's of which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we +neared him he leapt the railings without touching them and was back with +it in three seconds; only instead of delivering it straightway he seemed +to expect David to chase him for it. + +You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings without +touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his name) was at +once our friend. We often found him waiting for us at the Story-seat, +and the great stout fellow laughed and wept over our tales like a +three-year-old. Often he said with extraordinary pride, “You are telling +the story to me quite as much as to David, ar'n't you?” He was of an +innocence such as you shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at +which even David blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David +said that of course these things did not really happen, and unable to +resist that appeal I would reply that they really did. I never saw him +irate except when David was still sceptical, but then he would say quite +warningly “He says it is true, so it must be true.” This brings me to +that one of his qualities, which at once gratified and pained me, his +admiration for myself. His eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were +ever fixed upon me fondly except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and +said that death alone could have kept him so long from my side. Then +Paterson's sympathy was such that he had to look away. He was shy of +speaking of himself so I asked him no personal questions, but concluded +that his upbringing must have been lonely, to account for his ignorance +of affairs, and loveless, else how could he have felt such a drawing to +me? + +I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely monstrous, +suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been blown, the three of +us, to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was also, I think, the first time +Paterson had entered them. “Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson,” I said, as +I drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were off +him. Then I saw that, before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading +the day's paper over it. “Whatever makes you do that?” I asked, and he +started like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed +the paper aside. + +David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, and, +despite my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be roused from +it by a feeling that Paterson was looking at me covertly. Pooh! what +vapours of the imagination were these. I blew them from me, and to prove +to myself, so to speak, that they were dissipated, I asked him to +see David home. As soon as I was alone, I flung me down on the floor +laughing, then as quickly jumped up and was after them, and very sober +too, for it was come to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had +set off without asking where David lived. + +Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. They were +walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps nothing remarkable +happened until they reached David's door. I say perhaps, for something +did occur. A lady, who has several pretty reasons for frequenting the +Gardens, recognised David in the street, and was stooping to address +him, when Paterson did something that alarmed her. I was too far off +to see what it was, but had he growled “Hands off!” she could not have +scurried away more precipitately. He then ponderously marched his +charge to the door, where, assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead of +knocking or ringing, he stood on the step and called out sharply, “Hie, +hie, hie!” until the door was opened. + +The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my sleep that +night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the pillow. + +I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to me +charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking hands. He now +did it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew him his arm had +described a circle, and the hand had sometimes missed mine and come +heavily upon my chest instead. His walk, again, might more correctly +have been called a waddle. + +There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without thanking me +with an intensity that was out of proportion to the little I had done +for him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever to take the sward rather +than the seats, perhaps a wise preference, but he had an unusual way of +sitting down. I can describe it only by saying that he let go of himself +and went down with a thud. + +I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. We had +cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat finicking manner; +yet having left the table for a moment to consult the sweets-card, +I saw, when I returned, that there was now no bone on his plate. The +waiters were looking at him rather curiously. + +David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat singular +manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I remembered, also, that +while David shouted to me or Irene to attract our attention, he usually +whistled to Paterson, he could not explain why. + +These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but often +when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, unsupported, +they would have disturbed me little by day. Day, however, had its +reflections, and they came to me while I was shaving, that ten minutes +when, brought face to face with the harsher realities of life, we see +things most clearly as they are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson +loomed offensively, and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to +nigh twenty years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He +could not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean motives +for generous acts. He had not a single base story about women. It all +seemed inhuman. + +What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's faith +in me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. An easy task, +you may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a change had come over +the youth. I am now arrived at a time when the light-heartedness had +gone out of him; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the +eyes that were once so certain. He was not doubtful of me, not then, but +of human nature in general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He +mixed with boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how +could he retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He heard your +talk of yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the edifice went down. +I have not the heart to follow him in all his discoveries. Sometimes +he went in flame at them, but for the most part he stood looking on, +bewildered and numbed, like one moaning inwardly. + +He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to breathe +upon the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born with a man's +powers, and when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment +longer to you, the woman of whom, before he saw you, he had heard so +much. How you would strive to cheat him, even as I strove to hide my +real self from Paterson, and still you would strive as I strove after +you knew the game was up. + +The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days when I +could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long ceased to be +a vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for hours he and I would +be together without speaking. It was so upon the last day, one of those +innumerable dreary days when David, having sneezed the night before, +was kept at home in flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the +Story-seat. At last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what +chained our tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, for +soon the gates would close, but when I looked at him I saw that he was +more mournful than ever before; he shut his eyes so tightly that a drop +of blood fell from them. + +“It was all over, Paterson, long ago,” I broke out harshly, “why do we +linger?” + +He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing looks +that had much affection in them. + +“You expected too much of me,” I told him, and he bowed his head. “I +don't know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women from. I +don't want to know,” I added hastily. + +“But it must have been from a prettier world than this,” I said: “are +you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?” + +He rose and sat down again. “I wanted to know you,” he replied slowly, +“I wanted to be like you.” + +“And now you know me,” I said, “do you want to be like me still? I am a +curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even +David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very +hard to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even +now I am not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson, +David will grow out of me.” + +The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but “No,” said I, “you have +found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the +loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?” + +He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far +away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + +For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew +not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I +switched on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do +in the early morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened, +and the dear Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his +bark, but whence he came no one knew. + +He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all +points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside +him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the +old adoring eyes. + +But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + + + + +XXII. Joey + +Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in +her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their +fortunate papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused +by their mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust +to your father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to +every one of the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a +delicious little tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is +pretty (but dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering +together the babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and +bring a hansom, but others go from street to street in private 'buses, +and even wear false noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon +them as you grew more and more like your sweet cruel mamma. + +So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my reasoning, +for I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, pausing on the +threshold to peer through the hole in the little house called “Pay +Here,” which he thought was Red Riding Hood's residence, and asked +politely whether he might see her, but they said she had gone to the +wood, and it was quite true, for there she was in the wood gathering a +stick for her grandmother's fire. She sang a beautiful song about the +Boys and their dashing ways, which flattered David considerably, but she +forgot to take away the stick after all. Other parts of the play were +not so nice, but David thought it all lovely, he really did. + +Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in the +darkest corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him he struck +me. + +The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so fair. He +had asked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in the +middle of a song) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and +when at last Joey did come he screamed out, “How do you do, Joey!” and +went into convulsions of mirth. + +Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, pocketing the +sausages for which their family has such a fatal weakness, and so when +the butcher engaged Joey as his assistant there was soon not a sausage +left. However, this did not matter, for there was a box rather like an +ice-cream machine, and you put chunks of pork in at one end and turned +a handle and they came out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite +enjoyed doing this, and you could see that the sausages were excellent +by the way he licked his fingers after touching them, but soon +there were no more pieces of pork, and just then a dear little Irish +terrier-dog came trotting down the street, so what did Joey do but pop +it into the machine and it came out at the other end as sausages. + +It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and drove +us weeping to our growler. + +Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as Joey told +me afterward, it is very difficult to say what they will think funny and +what barbarous. I was forced to admit to him that David had perceived +only the joyous in the pokering of the policeman's legs, and had called +out heartily “Do it again!” every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down +with one kick and helped him up with another. + +“It hurts the poor chap,” I was told by Joey, whom I was agreeably +surprised to find by no means wanting in the more humane feelings, “and +he wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the laugh to encourage him.” + +He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + +However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father and nurse +combined could not comfort him, though they swore that the dog was still +alive and kicking, which might all have been very well had not David +seen the sausages. It was to inquire whether anything could be done to +atone that in considerable trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, +and the result of our talk was that he invited me and David to have tea +with him on Thursday next at his lodgings. + +“I sha'n't laugh,” David said, nobly true to the memory of the little +dog, “I sha'n't laugh once,” and he closed his jaws very tightly as we +drew near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But he also gripped my +hand, like one who knew that it would be an ordeal not to laugh. + +The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a convenient +sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) and we saw a +policeman in the street looking the other way, as they always do look +just before you rub them. A woman wearing the same kind of clothes as +people in other houses wear, told us to go up to the second floor, and +she grinned at David, as if she had heard about him; so up we went, +David muttering through his clenched teeth, “I sha'n't laugh,” and as +soon as we knocked a voice called out, “Here we are again!” at which a +shudder passed through David as if he feared that he had set himself an +impossible task. In we went, however, and though the voice had certainly +come from this room we found nobody there. I looked in bewilderment at +David, and he quickly put his hand over his mouth. + +It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might expect; +there were droll things in it, but they did nothing funny, you could +see that they were just waiting for Joey. There were padded chairs +with friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a +horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing +happened to us. + +The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with a very +lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and a notice on +the top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. David tried to pull the +stocking out of the hole, but it was so long that it never came to an +end, and when it measured six times the length of the room he had to +cover his mouth again. + +“I'm not laughing,” he said to me, quite fiercely. He even managed not +to laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on the mantelpiece a +photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the garments he wore before he +became a clown. You can't think how absurd he looked in them. But David +didn't laugh. + +Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more +sudden though he had come from beneath the table, and he was wearing his +pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were the only clothes he +had) and his red and white face was so funny that David made gurgling +sounds, which were his laugh trying to force a passage. + +I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, instead of +taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this was so droll that +David had again to save himself by clapping his hand over his mouth. +Joey thought he had toothache, so I explained what it really meant, +and then Joey said, “Oh, I shall soon make him laugh,” whereupon the +following conversation took place between them: + +“No, you sha'n't,” said David doggedly. + +“Yes, I shall.” + +“No, you sha'n't not.” + +“Yes, I shall so.” + +“Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't.” + +“Shall, shall, shall.” + +“You shut up.” + +“You're another.” + +By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was getting +the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's laugh in his +pocket, and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey searched his +pockets and brought out the most unexpected articles, including a duck +and a bunch of carrots; and you could see by his manner that the simple +soul thought these were things which all boys carried loose in their +pockets. + +I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a +half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight of it reminded +him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he howled, and Joey's heart +was touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped his eyes with the +duck. + +It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also +dressed as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a +trayful of sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he +announced, in his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that +had lately been the dog. + +Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so +impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the sausages, +and said that they were two short, and he found the missing two up the +pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the room and came back with the +sausage-machine; and what do you think he did? He put all the sausages +into the end of the machine that they had issued from, and turned the +handle backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + +Can you picture the joy of David? + +He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we noticed that +there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must +have put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the machine had not worked +quite smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which +distressed David, for he saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its +bark outside, and we were considering what should be done when the dog +closed the discussion by swallowing the sausage. + +After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, entering +into the childish pleasures of this family as heartily as if he had been +brought up on sausages, and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You +must not think that he did this viciously; he did it to please the old +gentleman, who begged him to do it, and always shook hands warmly and +said “Thank you,” when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + +Joey called David and me “Sonny,” and asked David, who addressed him as +“Mr. Clown,” to call him Joey. He also told us that the pantaloon's name +was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the harlequin's Joeykin. + +We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. +This was because his memory is so bad that he often forgets whether it +is your head or your feet you should stand on, and he usually begins the +day by standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus +he requires constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw +attention to his mistake, he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No +sooner had Joey told us this than the poor old fellow began to turn +upside down and stood on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and +talked about the weather until he came to. + +Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this time, +for they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, and danced off +and on most of the time. Even in the middle of what they were saying +they would begin to flutter; it was not so much that they meant to +dance as that the slightest thing set them going, such as sitting in a +draught; and David found he could blow them about the room like pieces +of paper. You could see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was +very young indeed, and at first this made him shy, as he always is when +introduced formally to little girls, and he stood sucking his thumb, and +so did she, but soon the stiffness wore off and they sat together on the +sofa, holding each other's hands. + +All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, and +David requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is such an +adept, and first he said he would, and then he said better not, for the +last time he did it the people in the next house had made such a fuss. +David had to admit that it must be rather startling to the people on the +other side of the wall, but he was sorry. + +By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered to ask +if you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly as her mother +would have asked. There was nothing to eat, of course, except sausages, +but what a number of them there were! hundreds at least, strings of +sausages, and every now and then Joey jumped up and played skipping rope +with them. David had been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt +greedy, and he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey +and even Josy eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed +nobler feelings, for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love with +each other across the table, but unaffected by this pretty picture, Joey +continued to put whole sausages in his mouth at a time, and then rubbed +himself a little lower down, while old Joey secreted them about his +person; and when David wasn't looking they both pounced on his sausages, +and yet as they gobbled they were constantly running to the top of the +stair and screaming to the servant to bring up more sausages. + +You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your plate) +was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that sausages were a +passion with him. + +He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of +sausages. They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. He told +us how, even in those days, his mother had feared for him, though fond +of a sausage herself; how he had bought a sausage with his first penny, +and hoped to buy one with his last (if they could not be got in any +other way), and that he always slept with a string of them beneath his +pillow. + +While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes came +to rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a horrid gleam +in them, on the little dog, which was fooling about on the top of the +sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward it convulsively, whereat +David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gallantly clenched +his other fist, and then Joey begged his pardon and burst into tears, +each one of which he flung against the wall, where it exploded with a +bang. + +David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to look in +that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were nothing to him +when he was short of sausages, and so his wisest course would be to +present the dog to David. Oh, the joy of David when he understood that +the little dog he had saved was his very own! I can tell you he was now +in a hurry to be off before Joey had time to change his mind. + +“All I ask of you,” Joey said with a break in his voice, “is to call him +after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a Saturday night.” + +There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed that he +might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal passion. + +The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at +us in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand +like a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We could not exactly see +old Joey, but we saw his feet, and so feared the worst. Of course they +are not everything they should be, but one can't help liking them. + + + + +XXIII. Pilkington's + +On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away from the +Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them they are ladies +and gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail a hansom. + +Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I suppose, to +put up their hair, but the boys have gone to Pilkington's. He is a man +with a cane. You may not go to Pilkington's in knickerbockers made +by your mother, make she ever so artfully. They must be real +knickerbockers. It is his stern rule. Hence the fearful fascination of +Pilkington's. + +He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real +knickerbockers, fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him but a +pool swarming with small fry. + +Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the flesh, +sir, but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a lean tortuous +habit of body, that moves ever with a swish. Every morning, I swear, +thou readest avidly the list of male births in thy paper, and then are +thy hands rubbed gloatingly the one upon the other. 'Tis fear of thee +and thy gown and thy cane, which are part of thee, that makes the +fairies to hide by day; wert thou to linger but once among their haunts +between the hours of Lock-out and Open Gates there would be left not one +single gentle place in all the Gardens. The little people would flit. +How much wiser they than the small boys who swim glamoured to thy crafty +hook. Thou devastator of the Gardens, I know thee, Pilkington. + +I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. + +This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the Gardens, +and without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the completion +of his seventh year at a time when David seemed unable to get beyond +half-past five. I have to speak of him in the past tense, for gone is +Oliver from the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) but he is still a name +among us, and some lordly deeds are remembered of him, as that his +father shaved twice a day. Oliver himself was all on that scale. + +His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked upon +an island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it insinuatingly in his +prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that a boy with such an outlook +should fascinate David. I am proud, therefore, to be able to state on +wood that it was Oliver himself who made the overture. + +On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked Islands, +as they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully that he supposed +you needed to be very very good before you had any chance of being +wrecked, and the remark was conveyed to Oliver, on whom it made +an uncomfortable impression. For a time he tried to evade it, but +ultimately David was presented to him and invited gloomily to say +it again. The upshot was that Oliver advertised the Gardens of his +intention to be good until he was eight, and if he had not been wrecked +by that time, to be as jolly bad as a boy could be. He was naturally so +bad that at the Kindergarten Academy, when the mistress ordered whoever +had done the last naughty deed to step forward, Oliver's custom had been +to step forward, not necessarily because he had done it, but because he +presumed he very likely had. + +The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I thought +Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an equal; he also +walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved him for delinquencies +like a loving elder brother. But 'tis a gray world even in the Gardens, +for I found that a new arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to +life-size. He had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, +to his friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being +good until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely that the +one could not be wrecked without the other. + +When this was made known to me it was already too late to break the +spell of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith, I +began to find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver was frankly bored +by me and even David seemed to think it would be convenient if I went +and sat with Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really distressed and +lonely, and rather bitter; and how humble I became. Sometimes when the +dog Joey is unable, by frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, +he stands on his hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I +was sometimes as humble as Joey. Then David would insist on my being +suffered to join them, but it was plain that he had no real occasion for +me. + +It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I had +been fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed though she was +advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I now to be knocked out +so easily by a seven year old? I reconsidered my weapons, and I fought +Oliver and beat him. Figure to yourself those two boys become as +faithful to me as my coat-tails. + +With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious way by +telling them a story which might last an hour, and favoured by many an +unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. It started as the wreck of +the simple Swiss family who looked up and saw the butter tree, but soon +a glorious inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David +A---- and Oliver Bailey. At first it was what they were to do when they +were wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent +much of my time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories +in the booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for +I found that the titles were even more helpful than the stories. We +wrecked everybody of note, including all Homer's most taking characters +and the hero of Paradise Lost. But we suffered them not to land. We +stripped them of what we wanted and left them to wander the high seas +naked of adventure. And all this was merely the beginning. + +By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own +proposal, but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for me with +Oliver. They found me among the breakers with a large dog, which had +kept me afloat throughout that terrible night. I was the sole survivor +of the ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted was I that they had to carry +me to their hut, and great was my gratitude when on opening my eyes, I +found myself in that romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. +As we walked in the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and +they were inflated but not surprised. On the other hand they looked for +surprise from me. + +“Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?” asked Oliver, +reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously told them. + +“You did.” + +“Who turned it?” demanded David, not as one who needed information but +after the manner of a schoolmaster. + +“It was turned,” I said, “by David A----, the younger of the two +youths.” + +“Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?” asked the older of the +two youths. + +“Oliver Bailey,” I replied. + +“Was it Oliver,” asked David sharply, “that found the cocoa-nut-tree +first?” + +“On the contrary,” I answered, “it was first observed by David, +who immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the +cocos-nucifera, for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns supporting +the crown of leaves which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.'” + +“That's what I said,” remarked David with a wave of his hand. + +“I said things like that, too,” Oliver insisted. + +“No, you didn't then,” said David. + +“Yes, I did so.” + +“No, you didn't so.” + +“Shut up.” + +“Well, then, let's hear one you said.” + +Oliver looked appealingly at me. “The following,” I announced, “is +one that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils of these +happenings are great, and our privations calculated to break the +stoutest heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights I would endure +still greater trials and still rejoice even as the bird on yonder +bough.'” + +“That's one I said!” crowed Oliver. + +“I shot the bird,” said David instantly. + +“What bird?” + +“The yonder bird.” + +“No, you didn't.” + +“Did I not shoot the bird?” + +“It was David who shot the bird,” I said, “but it was Oliver who saw +by its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the Psittacidae, an +excellent substitute for partridge.” + +“You didn't see that,” said Oliver, rather swollen. + +“Yes, I did.” + +“What did you see?” + +“I saw that.” + +“What?” + +“You shut up.” + +“David shot it,” I summed up, “and Oliver knew its name, but I ate it. +Do you remember how hungry I was?” + +“Rather!” said David. + +“I cooked it,” said Oliver. + +“It was served up on toast,” I reminded them. + +“I toasted it,” said David. + +“Toast from the bread-fruit-tree,” I said, “which (as you both remarked +simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a year, and also +affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoes.” + +“I pitched mine best,” said Oliver. + +“I pitched mine farthest,” said David. + +“And when I had finished my repast,” said I, “you amazed me by handing +me a cigar from the tobacco-plant.” + +“I handed it,” said Oliver. + +“I snicked off the end,” said David. + +“And then,” said I, “you gave me a light.” + +“Which of us?” they cried together. + +“Both of you,” I said. “Never shall I forget my amazement when I saw you +get that light by rubbing two sticks together.” + +At this they waggled their heads. “You couldn't have done it!” said +David. + +“No, David,” I admitted, “I can't do it, but of course I know that all +wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did it.” + +But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not shown +everything. + +David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an +island, while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to argue it +out together and among their friends. As I unfolded the story Oliver +listened with an open knife in his hand, and David who was not allowed +to have a knife wore a pirate-string round his waist. Irene in her usual +interfering way objected to this bauble and dropped disparaging remarks +about wrecked islands which were little to her credit. I was for defying +her, but David, who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he +craftily proposed that we “should let Irene in,” in short, should wreck +her, and though I objected, she proved a great success and recognised +the yucca filamentosa by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined +us. Thereafter we had no more scoffing from Irene, who listened to the +story as hotly as anybody. + +This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, though +they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt he did. They +were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was very soft-hearted and +knew that while he was on the island they must be missing him very much +at home. So we let them in, and there was no part of the story he liked +better than that which told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of +another woman at any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and +Mary, I can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly +being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept at +plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff to cliff +with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a Saturday in which +David did not kill his man. + +I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as true +as true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero himself. I +had described to them how the savages had tattooed David's father, and +Oliver informed me that one night shortly afterward David was discovered +softly lifting the blankets off his father's legs to have a look at the +birds and reptiles etched thereon. + +Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may be +asking where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy +fishing, though I was as yet unaware of his existence. Most suddenly I +heard the whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a fish. I remember that +grim day with painful vividness, it was a wet day, indeed I think it has +rained for me more or less ever since. As soon as they joined me I saw +from the manner of the two boys that they had something to communicate. +Oliver nudged David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me +solemnly, + +“Oliver is going to Pilkington's.” + +I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little did I +understand the import of David's remark that I called out jocularly, “I +hope he won't swish you, Oliver.” + +Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances and +retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned to say +with emphasis, + +“He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all real +ones.” + +“Well done, Oliver!” said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once +more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided that the +time for plain speaking was come, for now David announced bluntly: + +“He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer.” + +“What shall I call him?” + +“Bailey.” + +“But why?” + +“He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more after +next Saturday.” + +“Why not?” + +“He's going to Pilkington's.” + +So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver +stretching himself consciously, and methought that even David walked +with a sedater air. + +“David,” said I, with a sinking, “are you going to Pilkington's?” + +“When I am eight,” he replied. + +“And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the +Gardens any more?” + +He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + +“Oh, no,” said David cheerily. + +Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. Strange +that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his hand and walked +on in silence, and presently I did my most churlish to hurt him by +ending the story abruptly in a very cruel way. “Ten years have elapsed,” + said I, “since I last spoke, and our two heroes, now gay young men, +are revisiting the wrecked island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck +ourselves,' said one, 'or was there someone to help us?' And the other +who was the younger, replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, +a man with a dog. I think he used to tell me stories in the Kensington +Gardens, but I forget all about him; I don't remember even his name.'” + +This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but David +still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I knew a storm +was brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. “It's not true,” he +cried, “it's a lie!” He gripped my hand. “I sha'n't never forget you, +father.” + +Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + +Yet I could go on. “You will forget, David, but there was once a boy who +would have remembered.” + +“Timothy?” said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, and is +very jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood alone and +wept passionately, while I waited for him. You may be sure I begged his +pardon, and made it all right with him, and had him laughing and happy +again before I let him go. But nevertheless what I said was true. David +is not my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + + + + +XXIV. Barbara + +Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + +For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey now. At +long intervals we met him on our way to or from the Gardens, and, if +there was none from Pilkington's to mark him, methought he looked at us +somewhat longingly, as if beneath his real knickerbockers a morsel of +the egg-shell still adhered. Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly +kick in passing, and called him “youngster.” That was about all. + +When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had lofted +him out of the story, and did very well without him, extending our +operations to the mainland, where they were on so vast a scale that we +were rapidly depopulating the earth. And then said David one day, + +“Shall we let Barbara in?” + +We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to some +other child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having sought +election, even with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + +“Who is she?” I asked. + +“She's my sister.” + +You may imagine how I gaped. + +“She hasn't come yet,” David said lightly, “but she's coming.” + + +I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for though +I had always suspicioned Mary A---- as one who harboured the craziest +ambitions when she looked most humble, of such presumption as this I had +never thought her capable. + +I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she was +wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about Mary's +husband and his manner the last time we met, for though I have had no +opportunity to say so, we still meet now and again, and he has even +dined with me at the club. On these occasions the subject of Timothy is +barred, and if by any unfortunate accident Mary's name is mentioned, we +immediately look opposite ways and a silence follows, in which I feel +sure he is smiling, and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I +remembered now that I had last seen him when I was dining with him at +his club (for he is become member of a club of painter fellows, and +Mary is so proud of this that she has had it printed on his card), when +undoubtedly he had looked preoccupied. It had been the look, I saw now, +of one who shared a guilty secret. + +As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at +myself, for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of late. +Always foolishly inflated about David, she had been grudging him even to +me during these last weeks, and I had forgiven her, putting it down to a +mother's love. I knew from the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been +giving him; I had seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her +every act, in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to +whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could I, not +being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying good-bye to him? + +Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about the +house at this time, on the understanding that everything was going on +as usual. Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, especially the engine +she bought him yesterday? + +Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? I envy +you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he wrapped you round +for it. That childish confidence of his to me, in which unwittingly he +betrayed you, indicates that at last you have been preparing him for the +great change, and I suppose you are capable of replying to me that David +is still happy, and even interested. But does he know from you what it +really means to him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not +scruple to give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands +for Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, what do +you think of this tricking of a little boy? + +Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, are +you sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an unwritten compact +in such matters between a mother and her first-born, and I desire to +point out to you that he never breaks it. Again, what will the other +boys say when they know? You are outside the criticism of the Gardens, +but David is not. Faith, madam, I believe you would have been kinder to +wait and let him run the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + +You think your husband is a great man now because they are beginning to +talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the newspaper columns +that nobody reads. I know you have bought him a velvet coat, and that +he has taken a large, airy and commodious studio in Mews Lane, where you +are to be found in a soft material on first and third Wednesdays. Times +are changing, but shall I tell you a story here, just to let you see +that I am acquainted with it? + +Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist a +picture which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But no one +spoke of the picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made an offer for +it. Crushed was the artist, sorry for the denseness of connoisseurs was +his wife, till the work was bought by a dealer for an anonymous client, +and then elated were they both, and relieved also to discover that I was +not the buyer. He came to me at once to make sure of this, and remained +to walk the floor gloriously as he told me what recognition means to +gentlemen of the artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + +But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is usually +kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden away. His wife +backed into a corner and made trembling confession. How could she submit +to see her dear's masterpiece ignored by the idiot public, and her dear +himself plunged into gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had +they not been married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers +for recognition, and so with her savings she bought the great work +anonymously and stored it away in a closet. At first, I believe, the man +raved furiously, but by-and-by he was on his knees at the feet of this +little darling. You know who she was, Mary, but, bless me, I seem to be +praising you, and that was not the enterprise on which I set out. What +I intended to convey was that though you can now venture on small +extravagances, you seem to be going too fast. Look at it how one may, +this Barbara idea is undoubtedly a bad business. + +How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my lucky day I +did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I have scarcely as yet +dared to hint, lest by discovering it I should spoil my plot. For there +has been a plot all the time. + +For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a book, my +informant being David, who, because I have published a little volume +on Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one on the same subject +(which I shall never finish), likes to watch my methods of composition, +how I dip, and so on, his desire being to help her. He may have done +this on his own initiative, but it is also quite possible that in her +desperation she urged him to it; he certainly implied that she had +taken to book-writing because it must be easy if I could do it. She +also informed him (very inconsiderately), that I did not print my books +myself, and this lowered me in the eyes of David, for it was for the +printing he had admired me and boasted of me in the Gardens. + +“I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the labels,” he +said to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in everything. + +I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the token +whereof is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each labelled +with a letter of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, I drop its into +the A box, and so on, much to the satisfaction of David, who likes to +drop them in for me. I had now to admit that Wheeler & Gibb made the +boxes. + +“But I made the labels myself, David.” + +“They are not so well made as the boxes,” he replied. + +Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as I +presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, “Tell her +about the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book until they are +all full. That will frighten her.” + +Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + +“One box!” I said with a sneer. + +“She made it herself,” retorted David hotly. + +I got little real information from him about the work, partly because +David loses his footing when he descends to the practical, and perhaps +still more because he found me unsympathetic. But when he blurted out +the title, “The Little White Bird,” I was like one who had read the +book to its last page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little +daughter Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she +would like to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, and +so long as she had the modesty to see that she could not have one, I +sympathised with her deeply, whatever I may have said about her book to +David. + +In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little book, and +they came to her mostly in the morning when she was only three-parts +awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all flew away like startled +birds. I gathered from David that this depressed her exceedingly. + +Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show themselves +to anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding within you. If they +could come into the open they would not be a book, they would be little +Barbara. + +But that was not the message I sent her. “She will never be able to +write it,” I explained to David. “She has not the ability. Tell her I +said that.” + +I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her +ambitious project, so I questioned David and discovered that it was +abandoned. He could not say why, nor was it necessary that he should, +the trivial little reason was at once so plain to me. From that moment +all my sympathy with Mary was spilled, and I searched for some means of +exulting over her until I found it. It was this. I decided, unknown even +to David, to write the book “The Little White Bird,” of which she had +proved herself incapable, and then when, in the fulness of time, she +held her baby on high, implying that she had done a big thing, I was to +hold up the book. I venture to think that such a devilish revenge was +never before planned and carried out. + +Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching completion. +She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + +I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to +an abrupt end. “And it really is the end this time, David,” I said +severely. (I always say that.) + +It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot the +great Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we found his +size to have been under-estimated. David, his father and I had flung +our limbs upon the beach and were having a last pipe before turning in, +while Mary, attired in barbaric splendour, sang and danced before us. +It was a lovely evening, and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at +the pretty creature. + +The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths in the +distance. + +By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the light of +her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had been harpooned by +David earlier in the day. + +Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace crept over +us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was uttered by Irene, +who came speeding to us, bearing certain articles, a watch, a pair of +boots, a newspaper, which she had discovered in the interior of the +shark. What was our surprise to find in the newspaper intelligence of +the utmost importance to all of us. It was nothing less than this, the +birth of a new baby in London to Mary. + +How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + +The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of excitement, and +next morning we set sail for England. Soon we came within sight of the +white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not sit down for a moment, so hot was +she to see her child. She paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + +“So did I!” cried David, when I had reached this point in the story. + +On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + +“Never, David,” I said, “shall I forget your mother's excitement. She +kept putting her head out of the window and calling to the cabby to go +quicker, quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last he drew up at your +house, and then your mother, springing out, flew up the steps and beat +with her hands upon the door.” + +David was quite carried away by the reality of it. “Father has the key!” + he screamed. + +“He opened the door,” I said grandly, “and your mother rushed in, and +next moment her Benjamin was in her arms.” + +There was a pause. + +“Barbara,” corrected David. + +“Benjamin,” said I doggedly. + +“Is that a girl's name?” + +“No, it's a boy's name.” + +“But mother wants a girl,” he said, very much shaken. + +“Just like her presumption,” I replied testily. “It is to be a boy, +David, and you can tell her I said so.” + +He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would +have suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was +pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy. + +“Barbara,” he repeatedly implored me. + +“Benjamin,” I replied firmly. + +For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed +to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, +and if I won it was to be a boy. + + + + +XXV. The Cricket Match + +I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when +Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the +daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon +played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A +lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of +our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little +thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive +Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies +every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic +match of the Gardens. + +David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is +familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted +on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We +could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens, +but there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them +throughout the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat +near one of these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected +is a ragged yew which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and +I viewed the ground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly +at about four yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my +style of bowling. + +I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first +knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this +occasion I strode to the crease in an almost eerie silence. David had +taken off his blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were +set, so I knew he would begin by sending me down some fast ones. + +His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes tries a +round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder at square leg. +He has not a good length, but he varies his action bewilderingly, and +has one especially teasing ball which falls from the branches just as +you have stepped out of your ground to look for it. It was not, however, +with his teaser that he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and +two singles, when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two +minds and I played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a really +grassy wicket for such a meagre score, and as David and I changed places +without a word, there was a cheery look on his face that I found very +galling. He ran in to my second ball and cut it neatly to the on for a +single, and off my fifth and sixth he had two pretty drives for three, +both behind the wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of +him, for he now hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at +nine I beat him with my shooter. + +The look was now on my face. + +I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, for +I knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, and then +when he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. What cared I +though David's lips were twitching. + +When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which broke +awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that he needed +twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. As I gave him +the bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on my hand, and then a +sudden fear seized me lest David should not win. + +At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and soon +fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed him a Yorker +which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon as it had reached +the tree. “Not out,” I cried hastily, for the face he turned to me was +terrible. + +Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always recall +with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the bat, and I just +missed the catch. “Dash it all!” said I irritably, and was about to +resume bowling, when I noticed that he was unhappy. He hesitated, took +up his position at the wicket, and then came to me manfully. “I am a +cad,” he said in distress, “for when the ball was in the air I prayed.” + He had prayed that I should miss the catch, and as I think I have +already told you, it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for +victory. + +My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but he has +a noble sense of fairness. “We shall call it a no-ball, David,” I said +gravely. + +I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and therefore I +shall say at once that David won the match with two lovely fours, the +one over my head and the other to leg all along the ground. When I came +back from fielding this last ball I found him embracing his bat, and +to my sour congratulations he could at first reply only with hysterical +sounds. But soon he was pelting home to his mother with the glorious +news. + +And that is how we let Barbara in. + + + + +XXVI. The Dedication + +It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks after +the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even then it was +not quite finished, for there remained the dedication, at which I set +to elatedly. I think I have never enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my +opinion that I wrote the book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + +“Madam” (I wrote wittily), “I have no desire to exult over you, yet I +should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things were I not +to dedicate this little work to you. For its inception was yours, and +in your more ambitious days you thought to write the tale of the little +white bird yourself. Why you so early deserted the nest is not for me +to inquire. It now appears that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, +madam, you chose the lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining +the Bird. May I point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that +in the meantime I am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, +to me the substance. Trusting that you will accept my little offering in +a Christian spirit, I am, dear madam,” etc. + +It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design plainly +through the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, when, without +warning, the door burst open and a little boy entered, dragging in a +faltering lady. + +“Father,” said David, “this is mother.” + +Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the +electric light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as was very +fitting, Mary and I may be said to have met for the first time to the +accompaniment of flashes of lightning. I think she was arrayed in little +blue feathers, but if such a costume is not seemly, I swear there were, +at least, little blue feathers in her too coquettish cap, and that she +was carrying a muff to match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than +her muff, and as muffs are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I +saw in a twink, that she had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. +I am also of opinion that she remembered she had worn blue in the days +when I watched her from the club-window. Undoubtedly Mary is an engaging +little creature, though not my style. She was paler than is her wont, +and had the touching look of one whom it would be easy to break. I +daresay this was a trick. Her skirts made music in my room, but perhaps +this was only because no lady had ever rustled in it before. It was +disquieting to me to reflect that despite her obvious uneasiness, she +was a very artful woman. + +With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting-pad +over the dedication, and then, “Pray be seated,” I said coldly, but she +remained standing, all in a twitter and very much afraid of me, and I +know that her hands were pressed together within the muff. Had there +been any dignified means of escape, I think we would both have taken it. + +“I should not have come,” she said nervously, and then seemed to wait +for some response, so I bowed. + +“I was terrified to come, indeed I was,” she assured me with obvious +sincerity. + +“But I have come,” she finished rather baldly. + +“It is an epitome, ma'am,” said I, seeing my chance, “of your whole +life,” and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + +She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and of +some little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have done for +her when I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as soft as her muff. +She had also an affecting way of pronouncing all her r's as w's, just as +the fairies do. “And so,” she said, “as you would not come to me to be +thanked, I have come to you to thank you.” Whereupon she thanked me most +abominably. She also slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though +she was smiling her eyes were wet. + +“Pooh, ma'am,” said I in desperation, but I did not take her hand. + +“I am not very strong yet,” she said with low cunning. She said this to +make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted it a little. +Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth is, I begun to think +uncomfortably of the dedication. + +I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to address +her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something that would sting +her. + +“When you have quite done, ma'am,” I said, after a long pause, “perhaps +you will allow me to say a word.” + +I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's face, +that she had given him a quick look which did not imply that she was +stung. Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, that though she +was agitated and in some fear of me, she was also enjoying herself +considerably. + +In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-bank, +so I said, rather off my watch, “If I have done all this for you, why +did I do it?” + +She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the chair, so +that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this that she was now +holding herself conceitedly and trying to look modest. “Not a bit of it, +ma'am,” said I sharply, “that was not the reason at all.” + +I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + +“I never said it was,” she retorted with spirit, “I never thought for +a moment that it was.” She added, a trifle too late in the story, +“Besides, I don't know what you are talking of.” + +I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, and +became quite little in the chair again. + +“David,” said I mercilessly, “did you ever see your mother blush?” + +“What is blush?” + +“She goes a beautiful pink colour.” + +David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head office, +crossed to his mother expectantly. + +“I don't, David,” she cried. + +“I think,” said I, “she will do it now,” and with the instinct of a +gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but presently +David exclaimed admiringly, “Oh, mother, do it again!” + +As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel-glass +whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most candid face +on me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. Perhaps no look +given by woman to man affects him quite so much. “You see,” she said +radiantly and with a gesture that disclosed herself to me, “I can +forgive even that. You long ago earned the right to hurt me if you want +to.” + +It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an +uncommon drawing to her. + +“And if I did think that for a little while--,” she went on, with an +unsteady smile. + +“Think what?” I asked, but without the necessary snap. + +“What we were talking of,” she replied wincing, but forgiving me again. +“If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it lasted and it +lasted but a little time. I have long been sure that your kindness to me +was due to some other reason.” + +“Ma'am,” said I very honestly, “I know not what was the reason. My +concern for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a selfish +thing, yet not altogether selfish, for I think that what first stirred +it was the joyous sway of the little nursery governess as she walked +down Pall Mall to meet her lover. It seemed such a mighty fine thing to +you to be loved that I thought you had better continue to be loved for a +little longer. And perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter +I was charmed by the ease with which you could be helped, for you must +know that I am one who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty +years.” + +She shook her head and smiled. “On my soul,” I assured her, “I can think +of no other reason.” + +“A kind heart,” said she. + +“More likely a whim,” said I. + +“Or another woman,” said she. + +I was very much taken aback. + +“More than twenty years ago,” she said with a soft huskiness in her +voice, and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know that in +twenty years all love stories are grown mouldy. + +On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude for +Mary was one that had never struck me, but the more I pondered it now--. +I raised her hand and touched it with my lips, as we whimsical old +fellows do when some gracious girl makes us to hear the key in the lock +of long ago. “Why, ma'am,” I said, “it is a pretty notion, and there may +be something in it. Let us leave it at that.” + +But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you remember, +beneath the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire to crush her with +it. I wished that she had succeeded in writing the book on which her +longings had been so set. + +“If only you had been less ambitious,” I said, much troubled that she +should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + +“I wanted all the dear delicious things,” she admitted contritely. + +“It was unreasonable,” I said eagerly, appealing to her intellect. +“Especially this last thing.” + +“Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I know.” And then to my amazement she added +triumphantly, “But I got it.” + +I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued apologetically but +still as if she really thought hers had been a romantic career, “I know +I have not deserved it, but I got it.” + +“Oh, ma'am,” I cried reproachfully, “reflect. You have not got the great +thing.” I saw her counting the great things in her mind, her wondrous +husband and his obscure success, David, Barbara, and the other trifling +contents of her jewel-box. + +“I think I have,” said she. + +“Come, madam,” I cried a little nettled, “you know that there is lacking +the one thing you craved for most of all.” + +Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when I had +told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, “The book? I +had forgotten all about the book!” And then after reflection she added, +“Pooh!” Had she not added Pooh I might have spared her, but as it was +I raised the blotting-pad rather haughtily and presented her with the +sheet beneath it. + +“What is this?” she asked. + +“Ma'am,” said I, swelling, “it is a Dedication,” and I walked +majestically to the window. + +There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. Yet if +indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in almost the +same moment she was looking large-eyed at me and tapping my sleeve +impulsively with her fingers, just as David does when he suddenly likes +you. + +“How characteristic of you,” she said at the window. + +“Characteristic,” I echoed uneasily. “Ha!” + +“And how kind.” + +“Did you say kind, ma'am?” + +“But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you +know very well,” said she. + +Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, +but how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very +depressed. + +“And there is another mistake,” said she. + +“Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one.” + +“It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write,” she said. + +I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. “It +was of your little white bird,” she said, “it was of a little boy whose +name was Timothy.” + +She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into +another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little +book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for +me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of +us would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject +as ourselves, but said she, “How wrong you are in thinking this book is +about me and mine, it is really all about Timothy.” + +At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I considered I +saw that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this +very clever woman. + +“And so,” said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he +makes a great discovery, “it proves to be my book after all.” + +“With all your pretty thoughts left out,” I answered, properly humbled. + +She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. “I had only +one pretty thought for the book,” she said, “I was to give it a happy +ending.” She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when +she added with extraordinary boldness, “The little white bird was to +bear an olive-leaf in its mouth.” + +For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which +she had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get +admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young +thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind +her that I was forty-seven years of age. + +“It is quite young for a man,” she said brazenly. + +“My father,” said I, “was not forty-seven when he died, and I remember +thinking him an old man.” + +“But you don't think so now, do you?” she persisted, “you feel young +occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in +the Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?” + +“Mary A----,” I cried, grown afraid of the woman, “I forbid you to make +any more discoveries to-day.” + +But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought +her to my rooms. “They are very dear women,” said she coaxingly. + +“I am sure,” I said, “they must be dear women if they are friends of +yours.” + +“They are not exactly young,” she faltered, “and perhaps they are not +very pretty--” + +But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that +she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind +against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had +thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all +the land. + +My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the +little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came +back to the present together. + +I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no +longer ago than yesterday. + +“Very well, ma'am,” I said, trying to put a brave face on it, “I will +come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see.” + +It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she +wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that +the youthful romances are the best. + +It was now my turn to comfort her. “In twenty years,” I said, smiling +at her tears, “a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great +fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the +word of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got +to care for me I shall be very proud.” Despite her semblance of delight +I knew that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it +was true. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. Barrie + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1376 *** diff --git a/1376-h/1376-h.htm b/1376-h/1376-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..19dcc57 --- /dev/null +++ b/1376-h/1376-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8098 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Little White Bird, by J.M. Barrie + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1376 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + </h1> + <h2> + OR ADVENTURES IN KENSINGTON GARDENS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By J.M. Barrie + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. The Little Nursery Governess </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite,<br /> + and an + Inventory of Her Furniture </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. A Night-Piece </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. The Fight For Timothy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. A Shock </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. The Last of Timothy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. A Confirmed Spinster </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. Sporting Reflections </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. The Runaway Perambulator </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. The Pleasantest Club in London </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. Peter Pan </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. The Thrush's Nest </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. Lock-Out Time </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII. The Little House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII. Peter's Goat </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX. An Interloper </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX. David and Porthos Compared </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI. William Paterson </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXII. Joey </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIII. Pilkington's </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIV. Barbara </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXV. The Cricket Match </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXVI. The Dedication </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + </h2> + <p> + Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an invitation from + his mother: “I shall be so pleased if you will come and see me,” and I + always reply in some such words as these: “Dear madam, I decline.” And if + David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no desire to + meet the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Come this time, father,” he urged lately, “for it is her birthday, and + she is twenty-six,” which is so great an age to David, that I think he + fears she cannot last much longer. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-six, is she, David?” I replied. “Tell her I said she looks more.” + </p> + <p> + I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was twenty-six, + which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a place called my + home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking hours, and when I alighted + at the station a dear lost love was waiting for me, and we went away + together. She met me in no ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised to find + her there; it was as if we had been married for years and parted for a + day. I like to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + </p> + <p> + Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I have never + in my life addressed one word, she would droop her head and raise it + bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but very proud, and she would + be wishful to lend me her absurd little pocket handkerchief. And then, had + I the heart, I might make a disclosure that would startle her, for it is + not the face of David's mother that I see in my dreams. + </p> + <p> + Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty woman who + thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed down under a + hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have been pursued for + several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of the tender-hearted and + virtuous Mary A——. When we pass in the street the poor deluded + soul subdues her buoyancy, as if it were shame to walk happy before one + she has lamed, and at such times the rustle of her gown is whispered words + of comfort to me, and her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little + boy like David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am unaware + of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint note of + challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says why don't you? and + a mouth that says I rather wish you could: such is the portrait of Mary A—— + as she and I pass by. + </p> + <p> + Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David that I had + spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and she asked would I tell + her the time please, just as children ask, and forget as they run back + with it to their nurse. But I was prepared even for this, and raising my + hat I pointed with my staff to a clock in the distance. She should have + been overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I thought with + displeasure that I heard her laughing. + </p> + <p> + Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in order to + hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. She has been + putting qualities into David, altering him, turning him forever on a lathe + since the day she first knew him, and indeed long before, and all so + deftly that he is still called a child of nature. When you release David's + hand he is immediately lost like an arrow from the bow. No sooner do you + cast eyes on him than you are thinking of birds. It is difficult to + believe that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always seems to have + alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he would come and + peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the doing of that + timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly surprised by it. He strikes a + hundred gallant poses in a day; when he tumbles, which is often, he comes + to the ground like a Greek god; so Mary A—— has willed it. But + how she suffers that he may achieve! I have seen him climbing a tree while + she stood beneath in unutterable anguish; she had to let him climb, for + boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she watched him, she fell from + every branch. + </p> + <p> + David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she will be + able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. Otherwise he would + trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she has discovered this; for, as I + learn from him, she warned him lately that she is not such a dear as he + thinks her. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sure of it,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Is she such a dear as you think her?” he asked me. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help her,” I said, “if she be not dearer than that.” + </p> + <p> + Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their boy will + certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day when every mother + stands revealed before her little son. That dread hour ticks between six + and seven; when children go to bed later the revelation has ceased to + come. He is lapt in for the night now and lies quietly there, madam, with + great, mysterious eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing up your day. + Nothing in the revelations that kept you together and yet apart in play + time can save you now; you two are of no age, no experience of life + separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have come up for judgment. + “Have I done well to-day, my son?” You have got to say it, and nothing may + you hide from him; he knows all. How like your voice has grown to his, but + more tremulous, and both so solemn, so unlike the voice of either of you + by day. + </p> + <p> + “You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you not, + mother?” + </p> + <p> + Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands and answer + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my son, I was. I thought—” + </p> + <p> + But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + </p> + <p> + “Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and then + pretend it was six before it was quite six?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was very unfair. I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, mother, please don't.” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?” + </p> + <p> + Suppose he were unable to say yes. + </p> + <p> + These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a little thing + to be false to the agreement you signed when you got the boy? There are + mothers who avoid their children in that hour, but this will not save + them. Why is it that so many women are afraid to be left alone with their + thoughts between six and seven? I am not asking this of you, Mary. I + believe that when you close David's door softly there is a gladness in + your eyes, and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom little boys + say their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + </p> + <p> + I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and has had + his first fight with another young Christian who challenged him to the + jump and prayed for victory, which David thought was taking an unfair + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell her that I + am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two.” + </p> + <p> + He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. When I + pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing for our meeting. + She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so much of her when she + is fifty-two, meaning that she will not be so pretty then. So little does + the sex know of beauty. Surely a spirited old lady may be the prettiest + sight in the world. For my part, I confess that it is they, and not the + young ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was about to fall in + love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. Indeed, I cannot see a + likely young creature without impatiently considering her chances for, + say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious girls, when you are fifty-two we shall + find you out; you must come into the open then. If the mouth has fallen + sourly yours the blame: all the meannesses your youth concealed have been + gathering in your face. But the pretty thoughts and sweet ways and dear, + forgotten kindnesses linger there also, to bloom in your twilight like + evening primroses. + </p> + <p> + Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about his + mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I reflect, what + sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him cruelly: “Boy, you are + uncommonly like your mother.” + </p> + <p> + To which David: “Is that why you are so kind to me?” + </p> + <p> + I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his mother, + but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour as a soldier, there + is nothing more in it than that. I must not let him know this, for it + would make him conscious, and so break the spell that binds him and me + together. Oftenest I am but Captain W—— to him, and for the + best of reasons. He addresses me as father when he is in a hurry only, and + never have I dared ask him to use the name. He says, “Come, father,” with + an accursed beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little + while longer. + </p> + <p> + I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in shops he + asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and which drawer he + keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he like Achilles, of whom + David has lately heard, and is so enamoured that he wants to die to meet + him. At such times the shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot + explain the peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds + then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away before + he volunteers the information, “He is not really my father.” + </p> + <p> + When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little boy will + take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to some + Round Pond. + </p> + <p> + One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following letter: “Dear + David: If you really want to know how it began, will you come and have a + chop with me to-day at the club?” + </p> + <p> + Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her consent, and, + I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what happened so that he might + repeat it to her, for despite her curiosity she knows not how it began + herself. I chuckled, guessing that she expected something romantic. + </p> + <p> + He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually + solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great coat. + There was a shawl round his neck. “You can take some of them off,” I said, + “when we come to summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we come to summer?” he asked, properly awed. + </p> + <p> + “To many summers,” I replied, “for we are going away back, David, to see + your mother as she was in the days before there was you.” + </p> + <p> + We hailed a hansom. “Drive back six years,” I said to the cabby, “and stop + at the Junior Old Fogies' Club.” + </p> + <p> + He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + </p> + <p> + The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For instance, + the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I dropped David a hint of + what was going on. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't make me littler, does it?” he asked anxiously; and then, with + a terrible misgiving: “It won't make me too little, will it, father?” by + which he meant that he hoped it would not do for him altogether. He + slipped his hand nervously into mine, and I put it in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals of the + club. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. The Little Nursery Governess + </h2> + <p> + As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David vanishing into + nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago at two in the afternoon. + I ring for coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy, and take my chair by the + window, just as the absurd little nursery governess comes tripping into + the street. I always feel that I have rung for her. + </p> + <p> + While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall into the + cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the one suitable lump + of sugar she is taking six last looks at the letter; with the aid of + William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-reading the delicious + address. I lie back in my chair, and by this time she has dropped the + letter down the slit. I toy with my liqueur, and she is listening to hear + whether the postal authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at a + fellow-member who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and her + two little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When I look + out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for her to-morrow at + two sharp. + </p> + <p> + She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. I know + not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. She is taking the + little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. James's Park, as their + hoops tell me, and she ought to look crushed and faded. No doubt her + mistress overworks her. It must enrage the other servants to see her + deporting herself as if she were quite the lady. + </p> + <p> + I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that the + posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, plebeians + all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I have even seen her blow a + kiss after it. + </p> + <p> + Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it rather + than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it through her + glove to make sure that it was still there. She took off the glove and + raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not it was the cheapest + trinket. She viewed it from afar by stretching out her hand; she stooped + to see how it looked near the ground; she considered its effect on the + right of her and on the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even + when you saw that she had made up her mind to think hard of something + else, the little silly would take another look. + </p> + <p> + I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + </p> + <p> + No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man + loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was the merest nobody, + she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her + tackle and ticketed with the insufferable air of an engaged woman. At + first her complacency disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my + life at two o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now + comes the tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every Thursday for + her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is probably paid several + pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself once a week. And what does she + with it? Attend classes for making her a more accomplished person? Not + she. This is what she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her + pretty things, including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle of + expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On ordinary + days she at least tries to look demure, but on a Thursday she has had the + assurance to use the glass door of the club as a mirror in which to see + how she likes her engaging trifle of a figure to-day. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the + post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always wears the + same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever make him free of the + company of gentlemen. He is one of your lean, clean Englishmen, who strip + so well, and I fear me he is handsome; I say fear, for your handsome men + have always annoyed me, and had I lived in the duelling days I swear I + would have called every one of them out. He seems to be quite unaware that + he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary knows it. I conclude + that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is so easily elated and + depressed; and because he carries his left thumb curiously, as if it were + feeling for the hole of a palette, I have entered his name among the + painters. I find pleasure in deciding that they are shocking bad pictures, + for obviously no one buys them. I feel sure Mary says they are splendid, + she is that sort of woman. Hence the rapture with which he greets her. Her + first effect upon him is to make him shout with laughter. He laughs + suddenly haw from an eager exulting face, then haw again, and then, when + you are thanking heaven that it is at last over, comes a final haw, louder + than the others. I take them to be roars of joy because Mary is his, and + they have a ring of youth about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive + him everything save his youth, but it is so aggressive that I have + sometimes to order William testily to close the window. + </p> + <p> + How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery governess. + The moment she comes into sight she looks at the post-office and sees him. + Then she looks straight before her, and now she is observed, and he rushes + across to her in a glory, and she starts—positively starts—as + if he had taken her by surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her + wicked little heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. + He gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, and as + she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then away they strut, + Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall to wondering what they will + look like when they grow up. + </p> + <p> + What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each other. You + can see that they are to be married when he has twopence. + </p> + <p> + Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom London is + famous only as the residence of a young man who mistakes her for someone + else, but her happiness had become part of my repast at two P.M., and when + one day she walked down Pall Mall without gradually posting a letter I was + most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. Her two charges + were as surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to the slit, at which + she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, exactly like a sad + baby, and so passed from the street. + </p> + <p> + Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit through + my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there might be an end of + this annoyance, but no, neither of them appeared on that acquainted + ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes were red + every day, and heavy was her foolish little heart. Love had put out his + lights, and the little nursery governess walked in darkness. + </p> + <p> + I felt I could complain to the committee. + </p> + <p> + Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to her, won't + you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. + </p> + <p> + Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be joyous as of + old during the five minutes of the day when you are anything to me, and + for the rest of the time, so far as I am concerned, you may be as wretched + as you list. Show some courage. I assure you he must be a very bad + painter; only the other day I saw him looking longingly into the window of + a cheap Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush down his + aspirations with two penny scones. + </p> + <p> + You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + </p> + <p> + All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from morning + till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she lost that little. + They are all like this. + </p> + <p> + Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure till you + die, you might at least do it in another street. + </p> + <p> + Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on ordinary days, + but I have discovered that every Thursday from two to three she stands + afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic post-office where she and he + shall meet no more. In these windy days she is like a homeless leaf blown + about by passers-by. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + </p> + <p> + At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet Thursday, and + from the window where I was writing letters I saw the forlorn soul taking + up her position at the top of the street: in a blast of fury I rose with + the one letter I had completed, meaning to write the others in my + chambers. She had driven me from the club. + </p> + <p> + I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom should I + strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, but I hit out at him + savagely, as I always do when I run into anyone in the street. Then I + looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; he was muddy; there was not a haw left + in him. I never saw a more abject young man; he had not even the spirit to + resent the testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But this is the + important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office and thus in a + twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. Whatever had been + their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up as she, and perhaps he had + been here every Thursday while she was round the corner in Pall Mall, each + watching the post-office for an apparition. But from where they hovered + neither could see the other. + </p> + <p> + I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen at his + feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a gentleman who finds a + letter on the pavement feels bound to post it, and I presumed that he + would naturally go to the nearest office. + </p> + <p> + With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was just in time + to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I looked for the little + nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone as ever; then, suddenly—oh, + you poor little soul, and has it really been as bad as that! + </p> + <p> + She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It was a + disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently explode if he + could not make use of his arms. She must die if she could not lay her head + upon his breast. I must admit that he rose to the occasion; he hailed a + hansom. + </p> + <p> + “William,” said I gaily, “coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy.” + </p> + <p> + As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to ask what + I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran eagerly to the + window, but he reached it just too late to see the lady who was to become + his mother. What I told him of her doings, however, interested him + greatly; and he intimated rather shyly that he was acquainted with the man + who said, “Haw-haw-haw.” On the other hand, he irritated me by betraying + an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to regard as the + hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How old were they? + Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or just wooden hoops? Who gave + them their hoops? + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem to understand, my boy,” I said tartly, “that had I not + dropped that letter, there would never have been a little boy called David + A——.” But instead of being appalled by this he asked, + sparkling, whether I meant that he would still be a bird flying about in + the Kensington Gardens. + </p> + <p> + David knows that all children in our part of London were once birds in the + Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are bars on nursery windows + and a tall fender by the fire is because very little people sometimes + forget that they have no longer wings, and try to fly away through the + window or up the chimney. + </p> + <p> + Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows that many + people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon is to go with me + to some spot in the Gardens where these unfortunates may be seen trying to + catch one with small pieces of cake. + </p> + <p> + That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even a + little undecided about which is the better life, is obvious to every + student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty perambulator under the + trees and watch from a distance, you will see the birds boarding it and + hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excitement; they are + trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. + </p> + <p> + Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray from the + tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not a + grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, and all + the time such a jabbering and laughing from both sides of the railing. + They are comparing notes and inquiring for old friends, and so on; but + what they say I cannot determine, for when I approach they all fly away. + </p> + <p> + The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the Baby's Walk. + He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot day by a hose which lay + on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of water, and David was on his + back in the water, kicking up his legs. He used to enjoy being told of + this, having forgotten all about it, and gradually it all came back to + him, with a number of other incidents that had escaped my memory, though I + remember that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long string and a + cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never tires of this + story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me rather than I to + him, and when we come to the string he rubs his little leg as if it still + smarted. + </p> + <p> + So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he called out + to me quickly: “Don't drop the letter!” and there were tree-tops in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Think of your mother,” I said severely. + </p> + <p> + He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he would do + would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and have + a drink. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, father,” he said with horrid heartlessness, “always to have + plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I might fall in + and be drownded.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother without her + boy!” + </p> + <p> + It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, he would + hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck at her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a bird + instead of a boy.” + </p> + <p> + This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. “You can drop it,” he + said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I have already + mentioned; and that is how it all began. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her + Furniture + </h2> + <p> + A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my way to + certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed + haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of a + shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire system. I had the merest + glimpse of them, but there was an extraordinary rapture on her face, and + his head was thrown proudly back, and all because they had been ordering a + piano on the hire system. + </p> + <p> + So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptible, but I + passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she is unhappy that this woman + disturbs me, owing to a clever way she has at such times of looking more + fragile than she really is. + </p> + <p> + When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window of the + sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most deliciously dramatic + spots in London. Mary was taking notes feverishly on a slip of paper while + he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily without + buying anything. I was in high feather. “Match abandoned, ma'am,” I said + to myself; “outlook hopeless; another visit to the Governesses' Agency + inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen shovel.” But I was + imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + </p> + <p> + A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is something + artful about her skirts by which I always know her, though I can't say + what it is. She was carrying an enormous parcel that might have been a + bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, and she took it into a bric-a-brac shop + and came out without it. She then ran rather than walked in the direction + of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Now mystery of any kind is detestable to + me, and I went into the bric-a-brac shop, ostensibly to look at the + cracked china; and there, still on the counter, with the wrapping torn off + it, was the article Mary had sold in order to furnish on the proceeds. + What do you think it was? It was a wonderful doll's house, with dolls at + tea downstairs and dolls going to bed upstairs, and a doll showing a doll + out at the front door. Loving lips had long ago licked most of the paint + off, but otherwise the thing was in admirable preservation; obviously the + joy of Mary's childhood, it had now been sold by her that she might get + married. + </p> + <p> + “Lately purchased by us,” said the shopwoman, seeing me look at the toy, + “from a lady who has no further use for it.” + </p> + <p> + I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought the doll's + house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at this shop that I + first learned her name) I instructed them to send it back to her with the + following letter, which I wrote in the shop: “Dear madam, don't be + ridiculous. You will certainly have further use for this. I am, etc., the + Man Who Dropped the Letter.” + </p> + <p> + It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to reflect that + I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I saw her she had been + married for some months. The time was nine o'clock of a November evening, + and we were in a street of shops that has not in twenty years decided + whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it minces in the fashion, + but take a step onward and its tongue is in the cup of the ice-cream man. + I usually rush this street, which is not far from my rooms, with the glass + down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in front of me, leaning in a + somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they were chatting excitedly. She + seemed to be remonstrating with him for going forward, yet more than half + admiring him for not turning back, and I wondered why. + </p> + <p> + And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out to do? To + buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been trying to persuade him, I + decided, that they were living too lavishly. That was why she sought to + draw him back. But in her heart she loves audacity, and that is why she + admired him for pressing forward. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like two + gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace them to their + home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that night I composed the + following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to overtake a pretty young woman + carrying pork chops. I was now determined to be done with her. First, + however, to find out their abode, which was probably within easy distance + of the shop. I even conceived them lured into taking their house by the + advertisement, “Conveniently situated for the Pork Emporium.” + </p> + <p> + Well, one day—now this really is romantic and I am rather proud of + it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an anxiously + polite street between which and mine are little yards called, I think, + gardens. They are so small that if you have the tree your neighbour has + the shade from it. I was looking out at my back window on the day we have + come to when whom did I see but the whilom nursery governess sitting on a + chair in one of these gardens. I put up my eye-glass to make sure, and + undoubtedly it was she. But she sat there doing nothing, which was by no + means my conception of the jade, so I brought a fieldglass to bear and + discovered that the object was merely a lady's jacket. It hung on the back + of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry thing, and, I must suppose, was + suspended there for an airing. + </p> + <p> + I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as it was + not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her wear such a + jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell why. Do clothes absorb + a little of the character of their wearer, so that I recognised this + jacket by a certain coquetry? If she has a way with her skirts that always + advertises me of her presence, quite possibly she is as cunning with + jackets. Or perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little tucks of + herself. + </p> + <p> + Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on my hat + and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge from the house + to which I had calculated that garden belonged. Now am I clever, or am I + not? + </p> + <p> + When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and a droll + house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist of a door and a + window, though above them the trained eye may detect another window, the + air-hole of some apartment which it would be just like Mary's + grandiloquence to call her bedroom. The houses on each side of this + bandbox are tall, and I discovered later that it had once been an open + passage to the back gardens. The story and a half of which it consists had + been knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather than masons, + and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that has stuck for + ever on its way through the passage. + </p> + <p> + The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall ones that + I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their builders, but this + house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call itself a house, for over the + door was a board with the inscription “This space to be sold,” and I + remembered, as I rang the bell, that this notice had been up for years. On + avowing that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an elderly, somewhat + dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not on scale with her + surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first remark was + explanatory. + </p> + <p> + “They get me cheap,” she said, “because I drink.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether I have + described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a picture of that + sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How can she have found the + money to pay for it all! which is always your first reflection when you + see Mary herself a-tripping down the street. + </p> + <p> + I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim-whams with + which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn bell-rope which pulled + no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that contained no cigars. The floor + was of a delicious green with exquisite oriental rugs; green and white, I + think, was the lady's scheme of colour, something cool, you observe, to + keep the sun under. The window-curtains were of some rare material and the + colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor grandly and suggested + a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano we may ignore, for I knew + it to be hired, but there were many dainty pieces, mostly in green wood, a + sofa, a corner cupboard, and a most captivating desk, which was so like + its owner that it could have sat down at her and dashed off a note. The + writing paper on this desk had the word Mary printed on it, implying that + if there were other Marys they didn't count. There were many oil-paintings + on the walls, mostly without frames, and I must mention the chandelier, + which was obviously of fabulous worth, for she had encased it in a holland + bag. + </p> + <p> + “I perceive, ma'am,” said I to the stout maid, “that your master is in + affluent circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed to + catch. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to indicate,” I hazarded, “that he married a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + This time I caught the words. They were “Tinned meats,” and having uttered + them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” I said, “this room must have cost a pretty penny.” + </p> + <p> + “She done it all herself,” replied my new friend, with concentrated scorn. + </p> + <p> + “But this green floor, so beautifully stained—” + </p> + <p> + “Boiling oil,” said she, with a flush of honest shame, “and a + shillingsworth o' paint.” + </p> + <p> + “Those rugs—” + </p> + <p> + “Remnants,” she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been pieced + together. + </p> + <p> + “The curtains—” + </p> + <p> + “Remnants.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events the sofa—” + </p> + <p> + She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of packing + cases. + </p> + <p> + “The desk—” + </p> + <p> + I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see the + drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for books, the + pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + </p> + <p> + “She made it out of three orange boxes,” said the lady, at last a little + awed herself. + </p> + <p> + I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the holland + covering. “There is a fine chandelier in that holland bag,” I said + coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. + “Forbear, ma'am,” I cried with authority, “I prefer to believe in that + bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost faith in + everything.” I think all the pretty things that the little nursery + governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand for letting the + chandelier off. + </p> + <p> + “But, good God, ma'am,” said I to madam, “what an exposure.” + </p> + <p> + She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “So there is a stair,” said I, and then, suspiciously, “did she make it?” + </p> + <p> + No, but how she had altered it. + </p> + <p> + The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at that, nor + at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Did she build the studio with her own hands?” + </p> + <p> + No, but how she had altered it. + </p> + <p> + “How she alters everything,” I said. “Do you think you are safe, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me with some of + her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband was + not, it appeared, one on which any self-respecting domestic could reflect + with pride. They got the house very cheap on the understanding that they + were to vacate it promptly if anyone bought it for building purposes, and + because they paid so little they had to submit to the indignity of the + notice-board. Mary A—— detested the words “This space to be + sold,” and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as elated + about her house as if it were a real house, and always trembled when any + possible purchaser of spaces called. + </p> + <p> + As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to record + that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of art. “The + difficulty,” she said, “is not to paint pictures, but to get frames for + them.” A home thrust this. + </p> + <p> + She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's work. + Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned meats. + </p> + <p> + Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was + constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even been caught + whispering fiercely to a friend, “Praise it, praise it, praise it!” This + was when the painter was sunk in gloom. Never, as I could well believe, + was such a one as Mary for luring a man back to cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “A dangerous woman,” I said, with a shudder, and fell to examining a + painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of a man, and had + impressed me favourably because it was framed. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers,” my guide informed me, “but I never seed him.” + </p> + <p> + I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the picture + drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and these were the words: + “Fancy portrait of our dear unknown.” Could it be meant for me? I cannot + tell you how interested I suddenly became. + </p> + <p> + It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day more than + thirty. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?” I asked quite shakily. “How do you + know that, if you have never seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “When master was painting of it,” she said, “in the studio, he used to + come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What colour would you + make his eyes?'” + </p> + <p> + “And her reply, ma'am?” I asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't make it a + handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very handsome face.' And says + he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, 'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him saying, 'A + little bald on the top?' and she says, says she, 'Not at all.'” + </p> + <p> + The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + </p> + <p> + “I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + </p> + <p> + Pooh! + </p> + <p> + I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I could + write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. “I think she has known + him since she were a babby,” she was saying, “for this here was a present + he give her.” + </p> + <p> + She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the sofa, where + it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, “I shall slip the + insulting message into this.” But I did not, and I shall tell you why. It + was because the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving hands; there + were fresh gowns for all the inhabitants, and the paint on the furniture + was scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready for further + use. + </p> + <p> + I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. “Put it back,” I + said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, and I left the house + dejectedly, with a profound conviction that the little nursery governess + had hooked on to me again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. A Night-Piece + </h2> + <p> + There came a night when the husband was alone in that street waiting. He + can do nothing for you now, little nursery governess, you must fight it + out by yourself; when there are great things to do in the house the man + must leave. Oh, man, selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, thy + woman's hour has come; get thee gone. + </p> + <p> + He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, + chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? It + is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindness to stalk + the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still might he not + sometimes have been a little kinder? + </p> + <p> + Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a + little kinder than is necessary? + </p> + <p> + Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, to + sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, to send you a + reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, if you are not to meet + again, still to send you a reassuring, trembling smile. + </p> + <p> + Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders the streets + thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. In her great hour the + man is nothing to the woman; their love is trivial now. + </p> + <p> + He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become familiar ground + to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me in which Mary A—— + walked. Here was the morning after my only entry into her house. The agent + had promised me to have the obnoxious notice-board removed, but I + apprehended that as soon as the letter announcing his intention reached + her she would remove it herself, and when I passed by in the morning there + she was on a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it with a hammer. + When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + </p> + <p> + There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the postman. + I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate of a picture. He + dogged the postman from door to door like an assassin or a guardian angel; + never had he the courage to ask if there was a letter for him, but almost + as it fell into the box he had it out and tore it open, and then if the + door closed despairingly the woman who had been at the window all this + time pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news was good they might + emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the direction of the pork + emporium. + </p> + <p> + One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of them through + the open window, when she sat at the piano singing and playing to him. Or + while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for him to grasp. + She was so joyously happy, and she had such a romantic mind. I conceived + her so sympathetic that she always laughed before he came to the joke, and + I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start of a pathetic story. + </p> + <p> + And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery + governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, mysterious. I + suppose a man soon becomes used to the great change, and cannot recall a + time when there were no babes sprawling in his Mary's face. + </p> + <p> + I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young husband on the + other side of the street. “If the barrier is to be crossed to-night may I + not go with her? She is not so brave as you think her. When she talked so + gaily a few hours ago, O my God, did she deceive even you?” + </p> + <p> + Plain questions to-night. “Why should it all fall on her? What is the man + that he should be flung out into the street in this terrible hour? You + have not been fair to the man.” + </p> + <p> + Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. If she + lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will die triumphant + and serene. Life and death, the child and the mother, are ever meeting as + the one draws into harbour and the other sets sail. They exchange a bright + “All's well” and pass on. + </p> + <p> + But afterward? + </p> + <p> + The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead young + mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is no other + inducement great enough to bring the departed back. They glide into the + acquainted room when day and night, their jailers, are in the grip, and + whisper, “How is it with you, my child?” but always, lest a strange face + should frighten him, they whisper it so low that he may not hear. They + bend over him to see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet arm + beneath the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many little + vests he has. They love to do these things. + </p> + <p> + What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their child. They + expect him to be just as he was when they left him, and they are easily + bewildered, and search for him from room to room, and hate the unknown boy + he has become. Poor, passionate souls, they may even do him an injury. + These are the ghosts that go wailing about old houses, and foolish wild + stories are invented to explain what is all so pathetic and simple. I know + of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early home to pass the + evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair by the fire he saw + the door open softly and a woman's face appear. She always looked at him + very vindictively, and then vanished. Strange things happened in this + house. Windows were opened in the night. The curtains of his bed were set + fire to. A step on the stair was loosened. The covering of an old well in + a corridor where he walked was cunningly removed. And when he fell ill the + wrong potion was put in the glass by his bedside, and he died. How could + the pretty young mother know that this grizzled interloper was the child + of whom she was in search? + </p> + <p> + All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty as lost + wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we are not nearly so + afraid of them as they are of us. + </p> + <p> + One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp burned + steadily in the little window across the way. I know not how it happened, + whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, but, after being for a + long time as the echo of each other's steps, we were together now. I can + have had no desire to deceive him, but some reason was needed to account + for my vigil, and I may have said something that he misconstrued, for + above my words he was always listening for other sounds. But however it + came about he had conceived the idea that I was an outcast for a reason + similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, it seemed to matter so + little and to draw us together so naturally. We talked together of many + things, such as worldly ambition. For long ambition has been like an + ancient memory to me, some glorious day recalled from my springtime, so + much a thing of the past that I must make a railway journey to revisit it + as to look upon the pleasant fields in which that scene was laid. But he + had been ambitious yesterday. + </p> + <p> + I mentioned worldly ambition. “Good God!” he said with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one o'clock passed + and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. And now? It is still twenty + past two. + </p> + <p> + I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. “We have + a friend—” he began and paused, and then rambled into a not very + understandable story about a letter and a doll's house and some unknown + man who had bought one of his pictures, or was supposed to have done so, + in a curiously clandestine manner. I could not quite follow the story. + </p> + <p> + “It is she who insists that it is always the same person,” he said. “She + thinks he will make himself known to me if anything happens to her.” His + voice suddenly went husky. “She told me,” he said, “if she died and I + discovered him, to give him her love.” + </p> + <p> + At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the night, + to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of some things she + had asked him to do should she not get over this, but what they were I + know not, for they engulfed him at the first step. He would draw back from + them as ill-omened things, and next moment he was going over them to + himself like a child at lessons. A child! In that short year she had made + him entirely dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their first + deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few men + happily married who can knock in a nail. + </p> + <p> + But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had not + degenerated so much. + </p> + <p> + Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At eighteen + minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. He boasts about it + to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he ever + did was to look at the clock. + </p> + <p> + An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to my + companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a wall, + hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss + me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I shook him by the hand, but + by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so abominably that a disgust of him + swelled up within me, and with it a passionate desire to jeer once more at + Mary A— + </p> + <p> + “It is little she will care for you now,” I said to the fellow; “I know + the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she has to distinguish + her from the brutes) are so imperfectly developed that she will be a crazy + thing about that boy for the next three years. She has no longer occasion + for you, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted out.” + </p> + <p> + But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if one + alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs that lead + to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to the hilarity of + the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I wandered from chamber + to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were alike empty and + desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought I heard a pebble + strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father standing beneath. + I had told him that I lived in this street, and I suppose my lights had + guided him to my window. + </p> + <p> + “I could not lie down,” he called up hoarsely, “until I heard your news. + Is it all right?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: “Yes, all is + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Both doing well?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Both,” I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window. It + was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was + nevertheless in a passion with him. + </p> + <p> + “Boy or girl?” persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Boy,” I said, very furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid,” he called out, and I think he added something else, but by + that time I had closed the window with a slam. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. The Fight For Timothy + </h2> + <p> + Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of + exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a life + of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of the + street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were some + entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I had + not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that every + time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + </p> + <p> + I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always sulky, + and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein lies her + heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a student of her + face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so she has + struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when night + falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy natural + state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even sulkily? + </p> + <p> + But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be seen, + and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a + rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though I have always + been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which over-excite him. Hitherto + the toys I had bought had always been for him, and as we durst not admit + this to the saleswoman we were both horribly self-conscious when in the + shop. A score of times I have told him that he had much better not come, I + have announced fiercely that he is not to come. He then lets go of his + legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making the noise of a sack of + coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head between his front paws, + stares at me through the red haws that make his eyes so mournful. He will + do this for an hour without blinking, for he knows that in time it will + unman me. My dog knows very little, but what little he does know he knows + extraordinarily well. One can get out of my chambers by a back way, and I + sometimes steal softly—but I can't help looking back, and there he + is, and there are those haws asking sorrowfully, “Is this worthy of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Curse you,” I say, “get your hat,” or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so exactly + like some respected member that he makes everybody most uncomfortable. I + forget how I became possessor of him. I think I cut him out of an old + number of Punch. He costs me as much as an eight-roomed cottage in the + country. + </p> + <p> + He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced him to + toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own amusement. It + represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her little son over her head + with one hand and catching him in the other, and I was entertaining myself + on the hearth-rug with this pretty domestic scene when I heard an unwonted + sound from Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and melancholic + countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for putting the toy + away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with his, and signed that + I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always came, I found, when the poor + lady dropped her babe, but the whole thing entranced him; he tried to keep + his excitement down by taking huge draughts of water; he forgot all his + niceties of conduct; he sat in holy rapture with the toy between his paws, + took it to bed with him, ate it in the night, and searched for it so + longingly next day that I had to go out and buy him the man with the + scythe. After that we had everything of note, the bootblack boy, the toper + with bottle, the woolly rabbit that squeaks when you hold it in your + mouth; they all vanished as inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell + him my suspicions, for he suspected also and his gentle heart would have + mourned had I confirmed his fears. + </p> + <p> + The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want them for a + little boy and calls him “the precious” and “the lamb,” the while Porthos + is standing gravely by my side. She is a motherly soul, but + over-talkative. + </p> + <p> + “And how is the dear lamb to-day?” she begins, beaming. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, well,” I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + </p> + <p> + “This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, not at all.” (She would be considerably surprised if informed + that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three cabbages, and is + suspected of a leg of mutton.) + </p> + <p> + “I hope he loves his toys?” + </p> + <p> + “He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am.” (Has the one we bought + yesterday with him now, though you might not think it to look at him.) + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to a box of tools this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the deary fond of digging?” + </p> + <p> + “Very partial to digging.” (We shall find the leg of mutton some day.) + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?” + </p> + <p> + She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was so + insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got home. He + detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly prejudiced in its + favour we have had to try other shops. We went to the Lowther Arcade for + the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered agape + among thy enchanted palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and Porthos + and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, unless it + be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet smiling + entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrances, and with + much to be sung in laudation of that which opens from the Strand I yet on + the whole prefer the other as the more truly romantic, because it is there + the tattered ones congregate, waiting to see the Davids emerge with the + magic lamp. We have always a penny for them, and I have known them, before + entering the Arcade with it, retire (but whither?) to wash; surely the + prettiest of all the compliments that are paid to the home of toys. + </p> + <p> + And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we are told + that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an eating-house or a hive for + usurers, something rankly useful. All thy delights are under notice to + quit. The Noah's arks are packed one within another, with clockwork horses + harnessed to them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing their hands + to the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left behind them; all + the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who is overful of + drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their wings; the man with the + scythe mows his way through the crowd; the balloons tug at their strings; + the ships rock under a swell of sail, everything is getting ready for the + mighty exodus into the Strand. Tears will be shed. + </p> + <p> + So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who thought it was + for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent to the bandbox house + anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to meet Mary's + husband in Kensington, so I asked him what he had called his little girl. + </p> + <p> + “It is a boy,” he replied, with intolerable good-humour, “we call him + David.” + </p> + <p> + And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my boy. + </p> + <p> + I flicked my glove. “Timothy,” said I. + </p> + <p> + I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy was as + good a name as David. “I like it,” he assured me, and expressed a hope + that they would become friends. I boiled to say that I really could not + allow Timothy to mix with boys of the David class, but I refrained, and + listened coldly while he told me what David did when you said his toes + were pigs going to market or returning from it, I forget which. He also + boasted of David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly touchy + at the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + </p> + <p> + But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a forlorn + little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for him, and I became + his champion and hinted something about teething, but withdrew it when it + seemed too surprising, and tried to get on to safer ground, such as bibs + and general intelligence, but the painter fellow was so willing to let me + have my say, and knew so much more about babies than is fitting for men to + know, that I paled before him and wondered why the deuce he was listening + to me so attentively. + </p> + <p> + You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous friend. “His + latest,” said he now, “is to send David a rocking-horse!” + </p> + <p> + I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. “Picture it,” said he, “a + rocking-horse for a child not three months old!” + </p> + <p> + I was about to say fiercely: “The stirrups are adjustable,” but thought it + best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that Mary had laughed, + though heaven knows I have often laughed at her. + </p> + <p> + “But women are odd,” he said unexpectedly, and explained. It appears that + in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave and said to him quite + haughtily, “I see nothing to laugh at.” Then she had kissed the horse + solemnly on the nose and said, “I wish he was here to see me do it.” There + are moments when one cannot help feeling a drawing to Mary. + </p> + <p> + But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a particularly + odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to hunt Mr. Anon down. + </p> + <p> + “She won't succeed,” I said, sneering but nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Then it will be her first failure,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “But she knows nothing about the man.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She says he is a + gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + “Old?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't take care. + He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of children, but has + never had one to play with.” + </p> + <p> + “Could not play with a child though there was one,” I said brusquely; “has + forgotten the way; could stand and stare only.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were alone + with the child he could come out strong.” + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce—” I began + </p> + <p> + “That is what she says,” he explained, apologetically. “I think she will + prove to be too clever for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh,” I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next time I + met him he quite frightened me. “Do you happen to know any one,” he said, + “who has a St. Bernard dog?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, picking up my stick. + </p> + <p> + “He has a St. Bernard dog.” + </p> + <p> + “How have you found that out?” + </p> + <p> + “She has found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. The + mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I engaged a boy + to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him these instructions: + “Should you find yourself followed by a young woman wheeling a second-hand + perambulator, instantly hand her over to the police on the charge of + attempting to steal the dog.” + </p> + <p> + Now then, Mary. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” her husband said at our next meeting, “that rocking-horse I + told you of cost three guineas.” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone to the shop to ask?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's + appearance.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, Mary. + </p> + <p> + Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:—looked + like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; fine Roman nose + (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all); hair thin + and thoughtfully distributed over the head like fiddlestrings, as if to + make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair with handkerchief before sitting + down on it, and had other oldmaidish ways (I should like to know what they + are); tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age forty-five if a day + (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog with sore eyes. (They + always think the haws are sore eyes.) + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anyone who is like that?” Mary's husband asked me innocently. + </p> + <p> + “My dear man,” I said, “I know almost no one who is not like that,” and it + was true, so like each other do we grow at the club. I was pleased, on the + whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had come to know + of the St. Bernard, but anxiety returned when one day from behind my + curtains I saw Mary in my street with an inquiring eye on the windows. She + stopped a nurse who was carrying a baby and went into pretended ecstasies + over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any chance it was called + Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any other nurse who had + charge of a Timothy. + </p> + <p> + Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to Timothy, + though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; for I still met that + other father occasionally, and he always stopped to compare notes about + the boys. And the questions he asked were so intimate, how Timothy slept, + how he woke up, how he fell off again, what we put in his bath. It is well + that dogs and little boys have so much in common, for it was really of + Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke up (supposed to + be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with one little hand on his + nose), but I glided past what we put in his bath (carbolic and a mop). + </p> + <p> + The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it reasonable to + hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I straitened in my mind. + For it might be that she was only biding her time to strike suddenly, and + this attached me the more to Timothy, as if I feared she might soon snatch + him from me. As was indeed to be the case. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. A Shock + </h2> + <p> + It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the + first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded an + Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily married + who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's glorious return; + and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a bored smile saw + nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic Felicities. Oh, + Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little plot? + </p> + <p> + Hallo! + </p> + <p> + No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she + was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her + covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable, + set off nervously on some mysterious adventure. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” thought I, and followed her. + </p> + <p> + Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her + watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do not + give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once she + kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little watch, + which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but why kiss + it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in your + leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or any day, + the watch your husband gave you? + </p> + <p> + It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts + to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination, a + street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly and + shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of shame; + and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary A——. + Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would have felled + her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was waiting for him, + wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I believe I clutched + my stick. + </p> + <p> + Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there was + some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her husband, + as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and was ashamed + to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be to save, not + herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have been Mary's. + Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy from the + consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? Could that + laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open forehead, the curly + locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways which we carry + with us out of childhood, they may all remain when the innocence has fled, + but surely the laugh of the morning of life must go. I have never known + the devil retain his grip on that. + </p> + <p> + But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame had + possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the entanglement was + her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But without conviction, for, after + all, what did I know of women? I have some distant memories of them, some + vain inventions. But of men—I have known one man indifferent well + for over forty years, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), shuddered + at him, wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to jog along with + him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know something of men, + and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + </p> + <p> + Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed that were + better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you foolish, soft heart, + and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate one, you saw the look on your + husband's face as he left you. It is the studio light by which he paints + and still sees to hope, despite all the disappointments of his not ignoble + ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he is a wealthy + man if it does not flicker. + </p> + <p> + So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times she made + little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that detestable + street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the weasel. Again she + looked at her watch and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrified look + round, she popped into a pawnshop. + </p> + <p> + Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the door rang + and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a street where she was + unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred shop before + desperately venturing in, why she looked so often at the watch she might + never see again. So desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little house + over her head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling face for + her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures were going. + </p> + <p> + It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light-hearted + again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had left her watch, and + I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn she had become, as if her + baby was grown too big for her slight arms, even then I was light-hearted. + Without attempting to follow her, I sauntered homeward humming a snatch of + song with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in it, for I can never + remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby linen shop or some + nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what she had popped her watch; + but what cared I? I continued to sing most beautifully. I lunged gayly + with my stick at a lamp-post and missed it, whereat a street-urchin + grinned, and I winked at him and slipped twopence down his back. + </p> + <p> + I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given me, but + fate willed that I should meet the husband on his homeward journey, and + his first remark inspired me to a folly. + </p> + <p> + “How is Timothy?” he asked; and the question opened a way so attractive + that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour could have resisted + it. + </p> + <p> + “He is no more,” I replied impulsively. + </p> + <p> + The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath of pity, + and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my little boy was + gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all my efforts to shelter + him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down the wind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. The Last of Timothy + </h2> + <p> + So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that I made + away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinafores and + shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuch at me + for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathy ran free + I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by a mere selfish + desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are parents. + </p> + <p> + He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and, of + course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it I + doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reason to + know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at the first + hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the many + little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to look upon, and + he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house with its + little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but he had not a + sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsiveness had plunged + me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Was there no + profession in this age of specialism for taking away children's garments + from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could I sell them? + Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose of them for + gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had already refused + them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of Timothy, and + I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he made the offer + I was waiting for. + </p> + <p> + I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage with both + him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adopted this means + in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out. Timothy's hold + on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of the slightest, and I + suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to the obscure. He could + never have penetrated into the open. It was no life for a boy. + </p> + <p> + Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seem to + remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommon tenderness + (following the setting sun that was to take him away), and telling him + with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave me because another + child was in need of all his pretty things; and as the sun, his true + father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love to a lady of long + ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowing in his innocence + that the little white birds are the birds that never have a mother. I + wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possession of me) that before + he went he could have played once in the Kensington Gardens, and have + ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to me to look; that he + could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond; fain would I have + had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughing avenues of + childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a long summer-day, + emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun to pay for; + and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolate chambers) he + knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that the reason he never + did these things was not that he was afraid, for he would have loved to do + them all, but because he was not quite like other boys; and, so saying, he + let go my finger and faded from before my eyes into another and golden + ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been quite like other boys there + would have been none braver than my Timothy. + </p> + <p> + I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so far as + I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient. So I + discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit, and found + myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at the pawnbroker's. The + shop for little garments seems very alarming when you reach the door; a + man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to a finer sense of the + proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but apparently I could + not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering shops of any kind, + save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I fear I go too + frequently. + </p> + <p> + So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself, and + it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I had been + brazen at half-past two all would now be over. + </p> + <p> + To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man + whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I had drawn + valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned he was + still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smoked my purpose. + Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icy politeness, “You + have the advantage of me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said he, and I am now persuaded that my words turned + his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I was sure some + impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance,” I barked. + </p> + <p> + “No one regrets it more than I do,” he replied, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sir,” said I, “that I shall wait here until you retire,” and with + that I put my back to a shop-window. + </p> + <p> + By this time he was grown angry, and said he, “I have no engagement,” and + he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedly determined to + tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. We also felt it, + for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away, we shook hands + cordially and agreed to call hansoms. + </p> + <p> + Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who would + make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, rather than + explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in this + despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hicking heartened + me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine and decoy by which + David should procure his outfit. + </p> + <p> + You must be told who they were. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + </h2> + <p> + They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had been + disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I deferred dining + several minutes that I might have the attendance of this ingrate. His + efforts to reserve the window-table for me were satisfactory, and I used + to allow him privileges, as to suggest dishes; I have given him + information, as that someone had startled me in the reading-room by + slamming a door; I have shown him how I cut my finger with a piece of + string. William was none of your assertive waiters. We could have plotted + a murder safely before him. It was one member who said to him that Saucy + Sarah would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy Sarah had no + chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The excellent fellow (as + I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be smoked from either end. + </p> + <p> + I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the window. I had + to repeat my order “Devilled kidney,” and instead of answering brightly, + “Yes, sir,” as if my selection of devilled kidney was a personal + gratification to him, which is the manner one expects of a waiter, he + gazed eagerly out at the window, and then, starting, asked, “Did you say + devilled kidney, sir?” A few minutes afterward I became aware that someone + was leaning over the back of my chair, and you may conceive my indignation + on discovering that this rude person was William. Let me tell, in the + measured words of one describing a past incident, what next took place. To + get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder. “William,” I + said, “you are not attending to me!” + </p> + <p> + To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his audacious + apology, “Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of something else.” + </p> + <p> + And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from him + passionately, “For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, tell me if you + have seen a little girl looking up at the club-windows.” + </p> + <p> + Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed out the girl + to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the middle of Pall Mall, + regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed to pass over her), nodded her + head significantly three times and then disappeared (probably on a + stretcher). She was the tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, but + seemed to have brought relief to William. “Thank God!” said he fervently, + and in the worst taste. + </p> + <p> + I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. “Bread, + William,” I said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You are not vexed with me, sir?” he had the hardihood to whisper. + </p> + <p> + “It was a liberty,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, but I was beside myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a liberty again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my wife, sir, she—” + </p> + <p> + So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I felt + that this was the greatest liberty of all. + </p> + <p> + I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes + after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I desired + to be told by William that the signals meant her return to health. He + answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the worst. + </p> + <p> + “Bah, the doctor,” I said in a rage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said William. + </p> + <p> + “What is her confounded ailment?” + </p> + <p> + “She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you see, + sir, she has had a baby-girl lately—” + </p> + <p> + “William, how dare you,” I said, but in the same moment I saw that this + father might be useful to me. “How does your baby sleep, William?” I asked + in a low voice, “how does she wake up? what do you put in her bath?” + </p> + <p> + I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an answer. + “That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means + that the missus is a little better.” + </p> + <p> + “There were three nods to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you live in some low part, William?” + </p> + <p> + The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. “Off Drury + Lane,” he said, flushing, “but it isn't low. And now,” he groaned, “she's + afeared she will die without my being there to hold her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “She should not say such things.” + </p> + <p> + “She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling stronger. But + I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the house in the morning, + for then she looks at me from her bed, and I looks at her from the door—oh, + my God, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “William!” + </p> + <p> + At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him to beg + my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some unsuccessful dish. I + tried to forget his vulgar story in billiards, but he had spoiled my game, + and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another waiter. As I + had the window-seat, however, I could not but see that the little girl was + late, and though this mattered nothing to me and I had finished my dinner, + I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three times but waved her + hat, and I arose, having now finished my dinner. + </p> + <p> + William came stealthily toward me. “Her temperature has gone down, sir,” + he said, rubbing his hands together. + </p> + <p> + “To whom are you referring?” I asked coldly, and retired to the + billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + </p> + <p> + I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his maunderings, but I + observed the girl nightly, and once, instead of nodding, she shook her + head, and that evening I could not get into a pocket. Next evening there + was no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had happened. + But, chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I was surprised to + see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room practically to + ourselves, for though several members sat on chairs holding books in their + hands they were all asleep, and William descended the ladder to tell me + his blasting tale. He had sworn at a member! + </p> + <p> + “I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her so weakly + that—” + </p> + <p> + I stamped my foot. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for speaking of her,” he had the grace to say. “But + Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she came about four + o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of blinded me, sir, and I + stumbled against a member, Mr. B——, and he said, 'Damn you!' + Well, sir, I had but touched him after all, and I was so broken it sort of + stung me to be treated so and I lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'” + </p> + <p> + His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the readers + shuddered in their sleep. + </p> + <p> + “I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until the + committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am willing to go on + my knees to Mr. B——” + </p> + <p> + How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a + week? + </p> + <p> + “For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just fall back + and die.” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid your speaking to me of that woman,” I cried wryly, “unless you + can speak pleasantly,” and I left him to his fate and went off to look for + B——. “What is this story about your swearing at one of the + waiters?” I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “You mean about his swearing at me,” said B——, reddening. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that was it,” I said, “for I could not believe you guilty of + such bad form. The version which reached me was that you swore at each + other, and that he was to be dismissed and you reprimanded.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that?” asked B——, who is a timid man. + </p> + <p> + “I am on the committee,” I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of other + matters, but presently B——, who had been reflecting, said: “Do + you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me, and + I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without my + having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he would not + be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows, which are at the + back of the club. I was looking down at her, but she refrained from + signalling because she could not see William, and irritated by her + stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was. + </p> + <p> + “My,” she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, “I b'lieve you are one + of them!” and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William tells + them of our splendid doings. + </p> + <p> + The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child wanted + to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to indicate + this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall Mall. I gave the + little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club disgusted. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, William,” I said, “Mr. B—— is to inform the + committee that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to + him, so you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + I had to add immediately, “Remember your place, William.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. B—— knows I swore,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” I replied stiffly, “cannot remember for many hours what a + waiter has said to him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, but—” + </p> + <p> + To stop him I had to say, “And—ah—William, your wife is + decidedly better. She has eaten the tapioca—all of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you know, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “By an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Irene signed to the window?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you saw her and went out and—” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl—” + </p> + <p> + “William.” + </p> + <p> + He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I + seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us + were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so + illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on + Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen + Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a + woful state of relapse on Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?” I asked, as soon as I had + drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + </p> + <p> + “My!” she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass between her and + a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neighbour. + </p> + <p> + I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like nothing + but a dead one till she got the brandy. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, child,” I said, shocked. “You don't know how the dead look.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless yer!” she replied. + </p> + <p> + Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by Irene's + intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous information, as + that William's real name was Mr. Hicking, but that he was known in their + street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff Hicking. That the + street held he should get away from the club before two in the morning, + for his missus needed him more than the club needed him. That William + replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of waiters at + supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for their + marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, and + pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. That what + she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the kid was in another + part of London (in charge of a person called the old woman), because there + was an epidemic in Irene's street. + </p> + <p> + “And what does the doctor say about your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her kid back.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “And if she was took to the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why does not William take her?” + </p> + <p> + “My! And if she drank porty wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks it.” + </p> + <p> + I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't yer going to do it this time?” she demanded with a falling face. + “You done it last time. I tell her you done it”—she pointed to her + friend who was looking wistfully at me—“ain't you to let her see you + doing of it?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but by a + piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my hat to her. So + I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her head in the air and her + neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. These little creatures are really + not without merit. + </p> + <p> + About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a newspaper before + my face lest anyone should see me in company of a waiter and his wife. + William was taking her into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of mine, and + Irene was with us, wearing the most outrageous bonnet. + </p> + <p> + I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her pride in + the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a regrettable scene + when it was brought to her, because “she had been feared it would not know + her again.” I could have told her that they know no one for years had I + not been in terror of Irene, who dandled the child on her knees and talked + to it all the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy than this + Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as “Oo know who gave + me this bonnet?” and answered them herself. “It was the pretty gentleman + there,” and several times I had to affect sleep, because she announced, + “Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered still + more acutely when we reached our destination, where disagreeable + circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a waiter's family. William + knew that I regarded thanks from persons of his class as an outrage, yet + he looked them though he dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down at + the table by my orders than he remembered that I was a member of the club + and jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again and + again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, “How are you now? You don't + feel faint?” and when she said she felt like another woman already, his + face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude from the way she + let the baby pound her that she was stronger than she pretended. + </p> + <p> + I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to say to + William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he announced that + it was time for him to catch a train back to London, at which his wife + paled, I delivered the message. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I said, backing away from him, “the head-waiter asked me to say + that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages will be paid as + usual.” + </p> + <p> + Confound him. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I cried furiously, “go away.” + </p> + <p> + Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be left alone + with me. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I cried in a panic, “stay where you are.” + </p> + <p> + But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were filmy. Her + class are fond of scenes. “If you please, ma'am!” I said imploringly. + </p> + <p> + But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + </p> + <p> + “It can be only the memory of some woman,” said she, “that makes you so + kind to me and mine.” + </p> + <p> + Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I suppose I + really am quite elderly. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know her name, sir,” she said, “that I may mention her + with loving respect in my prayers.” + </p> + <p> + I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. “But she has a + home,” I said, “as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, ma'am, it would be + better worth your while to mention me.” + </p> + <p> + It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the purchase of + the outfits, “one for a boy of six months,” I explained to her, “and one + for a boy of a year,” for the painter had boasted to me of David's rapid + growth. I think she was a little surprised to find that both outfits were + for the same house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity about + the mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat than a + fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her daughter enjoyed + themselves hugely in the shops, from one of which I shall never forget + Irene emerging proudly with a commissionaire, who conducted her under an + umbrella to the cab where I was lying in wait. I think that was the most + celestial walk of Irene's life. + </p> + <p> + I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill-treatment + that they might not look quite new, at which she exclaimed, not being in + my secret, and then to forward them to me. I then sent them to Mary and + rejoiced in my devilish cunning all the evening, but chagrin came in the + morning with a letter from her which showed she knew all, that I was her + Mr. Anon, and that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never so + gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + </p> + <p> + Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her letter at + once and have seldom read it since. No married lady should have indited + such an epistle to a single man. It said, with other things which I + decline to repeat, that I was her good fairy. As a sample of the + deliberate falsehoods in it, I may mention that she said David loved me + already. She hoped that I would come in often to see her husband, who was + very proud of my friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my first + visit to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to know, he + is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she wanted first to + meet me alone, so that she might draw the delicious, respectful romance + out of me, and afterward repeat it to him, with sighs and little peeps at + him over her pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me upon the + paper, but I should not wonder though they were only artful drops of + water. + </p> + <p> + I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any communication + with her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + </h2> + <p> + I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows, + which I so little desire that I have got me into my writing-chair to + combat the charge, but, having sat for an unconscionable time with pen + poised, I am come agitatedly to the fear that there may be something in + it. + </p> + <p> + So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the ardours + of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty doors) for the + beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I seem ever to see this + same man until I am back in those wonderful months which were half of my + life, when, indeed, I know that I was otherwise than I am now; no + whimsical fellow then, for that was one of the possibilities I put to + myself while seeking for the explanation of things, and found to be + inadmissible. Having failed in those days to discover why I was driven + from the garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of some + dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect + unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up glorious + once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is humorously known at + the club as a “confirmed spinster.” I remember him well when his years + told four and twenty; on my soul the proudest subaltern of my + acquaintance, and with the most reason to be proud. There was nothing he + might not do in the future, having already done the biggest thing, this + toddler up club-steps to-day. + </p> + <p> + Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, and most + inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of the ladies who + smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it + seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I forget when I first began to notice + that smile and to be made uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and + in some vague way it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but I + hope I am still your loyal, obedient servant. + </p> + <p> + You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I once had a + fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my smile? I swear I have + not noticed that it was gone till now; I am like one who revisiting his + school feels suddenly for his old knife. I first heard of my smile from + another boy, whose sisters had considered all the smiles they knew and + placed mine on top. My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to mention + the plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. I feel + lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to look for it in my + mirror. + </p> + <p> + I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some other + forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference between that + man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, telling me it was my + one adornment, and taking it from me, so to speak, for a moment to let me + see how she looked in it; she delighted to make sport of me when she was + in a wayward mood, and to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice and + gesture, exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a star + calling to the earth: “See, I will show you how you hobble round,” and + always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to stop her if I dared, and + upon them, when she was most audacious, lay a sweet mist. + </p> + <p> + They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, to tell + her what love is, and she listened with a noble frankness, having, indeed, + the friendliest face for all engaged in this pursuit that can ever have + sat on woman. I have heard ladies call her coquette, not understanding + that she shone softly upon all who entered the lists because, with the + rarest intuition, she foresaw that they must go away broken men and + already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds incurred for love + were dear to her; at every true utterance about love she exulted with + grave approval, or it might be a with a little “ah!” or “oh!” like one + drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been more fair, for she was for + the first comer who could hit the target, which was her heart. + </p> + <p> + She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so + that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty; had she had + no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would still + have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful. + </p> + <p> + And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive her; I + think had there been one it would have proved that there was a flaw in + her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping because all the pretty + things were said and done with, or she was making doleful confessions + about herself, so impulsive and generous and confidential, and so devoid + of humour, that they compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a + looking-glass of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all to + blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back so that + they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his lack of skill to + seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that she was always waiting + tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there was nothing to + forgive, or very little, just the little that makes a dear girl dearer, + and often afterward, I believe, they have laughed fondly when thinking of + her, like boys brought back. You ladies who are everything to your + husbands save a girl from the dream of youth, have you never known that + double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in a reverie and start up, + as if he fancied he were being hailed from far-away? + </p> + <p> + I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her laugh is what + comes first across the years; so high-spirited that she would have wept + like Mary of Scots because she could not lie on the bare plains like the + men. I hear her, but it is only as an echo; I see her, but it is as a + light among distant trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no nearer; she + was only for the boys. There was a month when I could have shown her to + you in all her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from that moment I + understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was never clear to me + again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear heart willing to + give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was so picturesque that + she was the last word of art, but she was as young as if she were the + first woman. The world must have rung with gallant deeds and grown lovely + thoughts for numberless centuries before she could be; she was the child + of all the brave and wistful imaginings of men. She was as mysterious as + night when it fell for the first time upon the earth. She was the thing we + call romance, which lives in the little hut beyond the blue haze of the + pine-woods. + </p> + <p> + No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, her + attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably gracious, her + movements indolently active, her face so candid that you must swear her + every thought lived always in the open. Yet, with it all, she was a wild + thing, alert, suspicious of the lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, more + curious about it than about aught else in the world; her quivering delight + was to see it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome was she + that she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it was closing + round her; she scorned, however her heart might be beating, to run from + her pursuers; she took only the one step backward, which still left her + near them but always out of reach; her head on high now, but her face as + friendly, her manner as gracious as before, she is yours for the catching. + That was ever the unspoken compact between her and the huntsmen. + </p> + <p> + It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, but again + I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought that all this was for + me could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of the gods, but I won + it. I found myself with one foot across the magic circle wherein she + moved, and which none but I had entered; and so, I think, I saw her in + revelation, not as the wild thing they had all conceived her, but as she + really was. I saw no tameless creature, nothing wild or strange. I saw my + sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I brushed aside the haze and + she was truly seen for the first time, she raised her head, like one + caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted eyes. I told her what had + been revealed to me as I looked upon her, and she trembled, knowing she + was at last found, and fain would she have fled away, but that her fear + was less than her gladness. She came to me slowly; no incomprehensible + thing to me now, but transparent as a pool, and so restful to look upon + that she was a bath to the eyes, like banks of moss. + </p> + <p> + Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him who + can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in which she walked, + but I had pierced it and found the woman. I could anticipate her every + thought and gesture, I could have flashed and rippled and mocked for her, + and melted for her and been dear disdain for her. She would forget this + and be suddenly conscious of it as she began to speak, when she gave me a + look with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I was already + waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the blush of the + eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her very + finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I loved even her + naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, which she could not do + without also gnashing her teeth, like a child trying to look fearsome. How + pretty was that gnashing of her teeth! All her tormentings of me turned + suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this exquisite fury, + wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to anyone, while I + wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may be that I wondered + over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + </p> + <p> + It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I brought + her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but then she came + willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly tamed, but he who knows + her will always be able to bring her back. + </p> + <p> + I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know not how it + was, though in the twilight of my life that then began I groped for + reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is that she had ceased to + love me; I had won her love, but I could not keep it. The discovery came + to me slowly, as if I were a most dull-witted man; at first I knew only + that I no longer understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what + she had meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to + puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I had + strayed outside the magic circle. + </p> + <p> + When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief that there + was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me assisted in that poor + pretence. She sought to glide to me with swimming eyes as before, but it + showed only that this caressing movement was still within her compass, but + never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she + touched mine, but no longer could they convey the message. The current was + broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. She could + tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she was scarcely less + anxious than I that I should make her love me again, and, as I have said, + she waited with a wonderful tolerance while I strove futilely to discover + in what I was lacking and to remedy it. And when, at last, she had to + leave me, it was with compassionate cries and little backward flights. + </p> + <p> + The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so altered + by it had I known what was the defect in me through which I let her love + escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than the loss of her. + Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak honestly to you) that I do + not repent me those dallyings in enchanted fields. It may not have been so + always, for I remember a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down in an + oarless boat and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant moans do + not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the waters bring + him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to know that, once + upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from another. + </p> + <p> + I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman playing + with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty one, and I saw the + gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the dear pretty way I can't + forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting for her shoulders, brought the + whole group joyously to the ground. She picked herself up in the old + leisurely manner, lazily active, and looked around her benignantly, like a + cow: our dear wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of children. I + meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the old wound + broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a few poor drops, + which fell because I found that she was even a little sweeter than I had + thought. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. Sporting Reflections + </h2> + <p> + I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear it + would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat's light + keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Mary to her + lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman to her + consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mind when I + dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks, which have + all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject to cold feet, I + have sometimes toyed with it since. + </p> + <p> + Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remain + true to the unattainable she? + </p> + <p> + I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend of mine, + whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her lover died. + It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying to point + the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came another + youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well known to me, and + I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend once more a + matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like one made + young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale daughter + in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she cast rice after + the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chanced upon her in + her room, and she was on her knees in tears before the spirit of the dead + lover. “Forgive me,” she besought him, “for I am old, and life is gray to + friendless girls.” The pardon she wanted was for pretending to her + daughter that women should act thus. + </p> + <p> + I am sure she felt herself soiled. + </p> + <p> + But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty years had + elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like a sack of + returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. + </p> + <p> + “They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopes that + you will find something in them about yourself.” It would have sounded + oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, and something might + have come of it. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood of + the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both back + there. The easiness of it tempted me. + </p> + <p> + Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They all do, + you see. + </p> + <p> + And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost my smile? + </p> + <p> + And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + </p> + <p> + I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + </h2> + <p> + I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, + where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face and + glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always stalked by, + meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me very + hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, but fear I + had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, as, would I not + call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which moment, it + seemed, he was at his best. + </p> + <p> + No, I would not. + </p> + <p> + “He says tick-tack to the clock,” Irene said, trying to snare me. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'” she told me, with a flush of + pride. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer 'tick-tick,'” I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + </p> + <p> + Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, I would + have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait until he could walk, + when it would be more easy to waylay him. However, he was a cautious + little gorbal who, after many threats to rise, always seemed to come to + the conclusion that he might do worse than remain where he was, and when + he had completed his first year I lost patience with him. + </p> + <p> + “When I was his age,” I said to Irene, “I was running about.” I consulted + them casually about this matter at the club, and they had all been running + about at a year old. + </p> + <p> + I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the dilatory boy + to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I would look at him. At + first Mary, to whom the offer was passed on, rejected it with hauteur, but + presently she wavered, and the upshot was that Irene, looking scornful and + anxious, arrived one day with the perambulator. Without casting eyes on + its occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: “In half-an-hour,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, and so on, + but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of a passionately + affectionate farewell to her charge, which was really all directed against + me, and ended with these powerful words: “And if he takes off your socks, + my pretty, may he be blasted for evermore.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably take off her socks,” I said carelessly to this. + </p> + <p> + Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + </p> + <p> + “It is a girl, is it not?” I asked, thus neatly depriving her of coherent + speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round to—to begin, + and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down behind the hood of his + carriage. My plan was to accustom him to his new surroundings before + bursting on the scene myself. + </p> + <p> + I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him wake + naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not said + quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I + should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but he took no notice. I + remember trying to persuade myself that if I never budged till Irene's + return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still + there was no response. Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not + there. + </p> + <p> + I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly noticed a + covert movement somewhere near the middle of the carriage, and heard a low + gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. I stopped dead at this sharp + reminder that I was probably not the only curious person in the room, and + for a long moment we both lay low, after which, I am glad to remember, I + made the first advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged some likely + articles on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of keys, and two + war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these (as something to + fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking (I fear now) a little + like a professor of legerdemain. David was sitting up, and he immediately + fixed his eyes on me. + </p> + <p> + It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to you, for of + course I know really nothing about children, so I shall say only this, + that I thought him very like what Timothy would have been had he ever had + a chance. + </p> + <p> + I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself being + judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed so natural that + I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving to hear him signify that + I would do. I have stood up before other keen judges and deceived them + all, but I made no effort to deceive David; I wanted to, but dared not. + Those unblinking eyes were too new to the world to be hooded by any of its + tricks. In them I saw my true self. They opened for me that pedler's pack + of which I have made so much ado, and I found that it was weighted less + with pretty little sad love-tokens than with ignoble thoughts and deeds + and an unguided life. I looked dejectedly at David, not so much, I think, + because I had such a sorry display for him, as because I feared he would + not have me in his service. I seemed to know that he was making up his + mind once and for all. + </p> + <p> + And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so frightened, but + the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself a fine fellow at once. + It was a long smile, too, opening slowly to its fullest extent (as if to + let me in), and then as slowly shutting. + </p> + <p> + Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or + because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could + do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. This made him slide down + the perambulator, and I saw at once that it was very necessary to replace + him. But never before had I come into such close contact with a child; the + most I had ever done was, when they were held up to me, to shut my eyes + and kiss a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he was eternally + being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it was contrived, and + yet we managed it between us quite easily. His body instinctively assumed + a certain position as I touched him, which compelled my arms to fall into + place, and the thing was done. I felt absurdly pleased, but he was already + considering what he should do next. + </p> + <p> + He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to its being + contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he proposed to + repeat his first performance, but in this I did him an injustice, for, + unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to do the same feat twice; perhaps, + like the conjurors, he knew that the audience were more on the alert the + second time. + </p> + <p> + I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + </p> + <p> + Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say that I felt + uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And what dire thing could + happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but he signed + to me to look sharp, and I removed the sock. The part of him thus revealed + gave David considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a curious thing, that + he seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + </p> + <p> + However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after giving me a + glance which said “Now observe!” he raised his bare foot and ran his mouth + along the toes, like one playing on a barbaric instrument. He then tossed + his foot aside, smiled his long triumphant smile and intimated that it was + now my turn to do something. I thought the best thing I could do would be + to put his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried to do so I discovered + why Irene had warned me so portentously against taking it off. I should + say that she had trouble in socking him every morning. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what to do with + my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do nothing with it myself, put + it under a wine-glass, for instance, and make it turn into a rabbit, which + so many people can do. In the meantime David, occupied with similar + thoughts, very nearly made it disappear altogether, and I was thankful to + be able to pull it back by the chain. + </p> + <p> + “Haw-haw-haw!” + </p> + <p> + Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to me, a + trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, Mary had not + given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said that five and twenty + minutes had passed, and looking out I saw Irene at one end of the street + staring up at my window, and at the other end Mary's husband staring up at + my window, and beneath me Mary staring up at my window. They had all + broken their promise. + </p> + <p> + I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give me + a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I was in despair. Then the + smile came, and I knew that he was teasing me only. He now nodded his head + about six times. + </p> + <p> + This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty that, + contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my arms to him, and + first he shook his head, and then after a long pause (to frighten me), he + nodded it. + </p> + <p> + But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her husband + and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from me, and acting + under an impulse I whipped him into the perambulator and was off with it + without a license down the back staircase. To the Kensington Gardens we + went; it may have been Manitoba we started for, but we arrived at the + Kensington Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated and smartly + carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in the street, to + make sure that I was wearing a hat. + </p> + <p> + I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet made up + his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown suddenly + indifferent to public comment, and my elation increased when I discovered + that I was being pursued. They drew a cordon round me near Margot + Meredith's tree, but I broke through it by a strategic movement to the + south, and was next heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both ends of + this passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped through their + fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. Cowering at St. + Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up the Hump, and when they had + crossed to the Round Pond we paraded gaily in the Broad Walk, not feeling + the tiniest bit sorry for anybody. + </p> + <p> + Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after all, I was + a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until they were the size + of my medals, and then, with the deliberation that distinguishes his + smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw all his forces gathering in his + face, and I had nothing to oppose to them; it was an unarmed man against a + regiment. + </p> + <p> + Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I who had + dropped the letter. + </p> + <p> + I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, for who + else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous manipulation of + the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth form? I alone of boys had + been able to elevate and lower my eyebrows separately; when the one was + climbing my forehead the other descended it, like the two buckets in the + well. + </p> + <p> + Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, and + immediately David checked his forces and considered my unexpected movement + without prejudice. His face remained as it was, his mouth open to emit the + howl if I did not surpass expectation. I saw that, like the fair-minded + boy he has always been, he was giving me my chance, and I worked + feverishly, my chief fear being that, owing to his youth, he might not + know how marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an appeal to the + intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth can do it except + myself. + </p> + <p> + When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with unchanged + face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decided whether + it was funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it I went once + more, till I saw his forces wavering, when I sent my left eyebrow up + almost farther than I could bring it back, and with that I had him, the + smile broke through the clouds. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + </p> + <p> + I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but had not + dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to my annoyance + that I was the centre of a deeply interested gathering of children. There + was, in particular, one vulgar little street-boy— + </p> + <p> + However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon to triumph + gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me down on one of the + garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand resting carelessly on the + perambulator, in imitation of the nurses, it was so pleasant to assume the + air of one who walked with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw Mary + approaching with quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that flight + would have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded toward + me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing that I had + observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + </p> + <p> + I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a visitor at + her house, though never can I forget the shock I got the first time I saw + him strolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he has avoided + it, crossing to the other side when I go that way, and rejoining me + farther on, so I conclude that Mary's husband is painting him. + </p> + <p> + I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and noted + that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat shabbily, gave her + the end of a smile which had been begun for me. It seemed to relieve her, + for what one may call the wild maternal look left her face, and trying to + check little gasps of breath, the result of unseemly running, she signed + to her confederates to remain in the background, and turned curious eyes + on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her words would have + been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth puckered as David's does + before he sets forth upon his smile, and I saw that she thought she had me + in a parley at last. + </p> + <p> + “I could not help being a little anxious,” she said craftily, but I must + own, with some sweetness. + </p> + <p> + I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David—I + cannot understand why the movement was so hasty—and lowered her face + to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, he seized her + face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows up and down with the + other. He failed, and his obvious disappointment in his mother was as + nectar to me. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand what you want, darling,” said she in distress, and + looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he wanted, and let her see + that I understood. Had I been prepared to converse with her, I should have + said elatedly that, had she known what he wanted, still she could not have + done it, though she had practised for twenty years. + </p> + <p> + I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + </p> + <p> + It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most perfect + confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly gave her my back, + but the effect on David was miraculous; he signed to her to go, for he was + engaged for the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great moment I had + strength of character to raise my hat for the third time and walk away, + leaving the child to judge between us. I walked slowly, for I knew I must + give him time to get it out, and I listened eagerly, but that was + unnecessary, for when it did come it was a very roar of anguish. I turned + my head, and saw David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he might + have one last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and nodded + repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, and I walked + on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since relentlessly + pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the boy, expose her to him + in all her vagaries, take him utterly from her and make him mine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + </h2> + <h3> + All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + </h3> + <p> + Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much longer, for + soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it came to him to be up + and doing, and he up and did in the Broad Walk itself, where he would + stand alone most elaborately poised, signing imperiously to the British + public to time him, and looking his most heavenly just before he fell. He + fell with a dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended that this + was his funny way of finishing. + </p> + <p> + That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of the Gold + King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, and on Wednesday + he struck three and went into knickerbockers. For the Kensington Gardens, + you must know, are full of short cuts, familiar to all who play there; and + the shortest leads from the baby in long clothes to the little boy of + three riding on the fence. It is called the Mother's Tragedy. + </p> + <p> + If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of their + own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, in which you + may read the ages of their young. When he is three they are said to wear + the knickerbocker face, and you may take it from me that Mary assumed that + face with a sigh; fain would she have kept her boy a baby longer, but he + insisted on his rights, and I encouraged him that I might notch another + point against her. I was now seeing David once at least every week, his + mother, who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, having + instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, and we + had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever a threatening + shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not improve with + acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, chiefly, I think, because + she now wore a nurse's cap with streamers, of which the little creature + was ludicrously proud. She assumed the airs of an official person, and + always talked as if generations of babies had passed through her hands. + She was also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying disapproval of + my methods that led to many coldnesses and even bickerings between us, + which I now see to have been undignified. I brought the following + accusations against her: + </p> + <p> + That she prated too much about right and wrong. + </p> + <p> + That she was a martinet. + </p> + <p> + That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when she knew + Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I regret having used + this argument, but it was the only one that really damped her. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + </p> + <p> + Of not thinking of his future. + </p> + <p> + Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such things. + </p> + <p> + Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + </p> + <p> + Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, when it + really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my person by a piece + of elastic. + </p> + <p> + To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a pathetic + faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely an + affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I naturally cast about + for similar diversions when it ceased to attract. It lost its hold on + David suddenly, as I was to discover was the fate of all of them; twenty + times would he call for my latest, and exult in it, and the twenty-first + time (and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if wondering what the + man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the great joke was + explained to her, said coldly, “We are not amused,” and, I assure you, it + is a humiliating thing to perform before an infant who intimates, after + giving you ample time to make your points, that he is not amused. I hoped + that when David was able to talk—and not merely to stare at me for + five minutes and then say “hat”—his spoken verdict, however damning, + would be less expressive than his verdict without words, but I was + disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, when he could keep up + such spirited conversations with himself that he had little need for any + of us, promising him to do something exceedingly funny with a box and two + marbles, and after he had watched for a long time he said gravely, “Tell + me when it begins to be funny.” + </p> + <p> + I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, in a dimly + lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young man with a long neck + and a pimply face, who as I entered took a barber's pole from my pocket, + saying at the same time, “Come, come, sir, this will never do.” Whether + because he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, he was the + most depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of the artist's + joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give pleasure to + thousands not caring a dump about it. + </p> + <p> + The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, but the + difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a barber's pole in + the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there always being polite children + hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The young man, + again, had said that anyone would lend me a bottle or a lemon, but though + these were articles on which he seemed ever able to lay his hand, I found + (what I had never noticed before) that there is a curious dearth of them + in the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually carried about with me, and + with its connivance I did some astonishing things with pennies, but even + the penny that costs sixpence is uncertain, and just when you are saying + triumphantly that it will be found in the egg-cup, it may clatter to the + ground, whereon some ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of + fibbing and corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through + clenched teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she understood no + jokes except her own, of which she had the most immoderately high opinion, + and that would have mattered little to me had not David liked them also. + There were times when I could not but think less of the boy, seeing him + rock convulsed over antics of Irene that have been known to every + nursemaid since the year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give me + the ecstatic look that meant, “Irene is really very entertaining, isn't + she?” + </p> + <p> + We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous fairness, and I + admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her gutta-percha tooth. In + earlier days one of her front teeth, as she told me, had fallen out, but + instead of then parting with it, the resourceful child had hammered it in + again with a hair-brush, which she offered to show me, with the dents on + it. This tooth, having in time passed away, its place was supplied by one + of gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when she + sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign that the cold + was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the room she knew she was in + for something notable. Irene's tooth was very favourably known in the + Gardens, where the perambulators used to gather round her to hear whether + it had been doing anything to-day, and I would not have grudged David his + proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that Irene's one poor + little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was without intellectual + merit. I have sometimes stalked away from him, intimating that if his + regard was to be got so cheaply I begged to retire from the competition, + but the Gardens are the pleasantest club in London, and I soon returned. + How I scoured the Gardens looking for him, and how skilful I became at + picking him out far away among the trees, though other mothers imitated + the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's indignation. I also cut Irene's + wings (so to speak) by taking her to a dentist. + </p> + <p> + And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as + receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want at + the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets, + without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching + home—a tin-soldier, or a pistol—when I put it on my + mantle-shelf and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I + had been over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some + time David up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I + favour other dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, + looking very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was + David's first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + </p> + <p> + Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace at + the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of which + David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the Round Pond + to persons coming from the north. + </p> + <p> + You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty. When + next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at first she + bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she burst into + tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had I lifted my + hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now learned to my + surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our tiffs, but I have + never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. I also made her + promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, saying I was taking + my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I tell you, Irene has one + of the prettiest and most touching little bows imaginable; it is half to + the side (if I may so express myself), which has always been my favourite + bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by watching Mary. + </p> + <p> + I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I + look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that + was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms, and + even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that until + he was three years old I sought merely to amuse him. God forgive me, but I + had only one day a week in which to capture him, and I was very raw at the + business. + </p> + <p> + I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, but + really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with children I + learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved almost more + profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was this little mother + that she had always room near her for one more, and often have I seen her + in the Gardens, the centre of a dozen mites who gazed awestruck at her + while she told them severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. They + were children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but they + believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little ladies and + gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these romantic creatures keep + themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait till they come to a gate, the + more they admired them, though their faces showed how profoundly they felt + that to be little ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You can't think + what hopeless little faces they were. + </p> + <p> + Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do puppies care + only for play? That wistful look, which the merriest of them sometimes + wear, I wonder whether it means that they would like to hear about the + good puppies? + </p> + <p> + As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising the + telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring feats, while + Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has any other fairy-tale + been told in my hearing. It was the prettiest of them all, and was recited + by the heroine. + </p> + <p> + “Why were the king and queen not at home?” David would ask her + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Irene, thinking it out, “they was away buying the + victuals.” + </p> + <p> + She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David thought it + was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and when she came to its + great moments her little bosom heaved. Never shall I forget the + concentrated scorn with which the prince said to the sisters, “Neither of + you ain't the one what wore the glass slipper.” + </p> + <p> + “And then—and then—and then—,” said Irene, not + artistically to increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—tell me quick,” cried David, though he knew the tale by + heart. + </p> + <p> + “She sits down like,” said Irene, trembling in second-sight, “and she + tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, + he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true love, Cinderella, what + now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'” + </p> + <p> + Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the grandees of + the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. “Her, as was only a kitchen + drudge,” she would say in a strange soft voice and with shining eyes, “but + was true and faithful in word and deed, such was her reward.” + </p> + <p> + I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and touched + Irene with her wand, David would have been interested rather than + astonished. As for myself, I believe I have surprised this little girl's + secret. She knows there are no fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes + that if she is always true and faithful she may some day turn into a lady + in word and deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + </p> + <p> + It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an amount of + heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in this sad London of + ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Good luck to you, Irene. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + </h2> + <p> + You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow our + adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens, as they + now became known to David. They are in London, where the King lives, and + you go to them every day unless you are looking decidedly flushed, but no + one has ever been in the whole of the Gardens, because it is so soon time + to turn back. The reason it is soon time to turn back is that you sleep + from twelve to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep from + twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + </p> + <p> + The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of omnibuses, + over which Irene has such authority that if she holds up her finger to any + one of them it stops immediately. She then crosses with you in safety to + the other side. There are more gates to the Gardens than one gate, but + that is the one you go in at, and before you go in you speak to the lady + with the balloons, who sits just outside. This is as near to being inside + as she may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold of the + railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she would be + flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are always tugging at + her, and the strain has given her quite a red face. Once she was a new + one, because the old one had let go, and David was very sorry for the old + one, but as she did let go, he wished he had been there to see. + </p> + <p> + The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of + trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there, for + the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden to + mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend, because + they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves contemptuously + called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key to the manners + and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when I tell you that + cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel Fig climbs over the + fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel Grey, of whom I shall + tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate. She was the only really + celebrated Fig. + </p> + <p> + We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other + walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began + little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the + other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted him very + much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a perambulator. In + the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth knowing, and there is + usually a grown-up with them to prevent their going on the damp grass, and + to make them stand disgraced at the corner of a seat if they have been + mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish is to behave like a girl, + whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or simpering with your thumb in + your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, but to be mad-dog is to kick out + at everything, and there is some satisfaction in that. + </p> + <p> + If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad + Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply + wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called + Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has been + a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the walk + is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is no more + awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, who had + been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to appear in + the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in the little + wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him knickerbockers + with pockets. + </p> + <p> + You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they are + not really manly, and they make you look the other way, at the Big Penny + and the Baby's Palace. She was the most celebrated baby of the Gardens, + and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, so people rang + the bell, and up she got out of her bed, though it was past six o'clock, + and she lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, and then they + all cried with great rejoicings, “Hail, Queen of England!” What puzzled + David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. The Big Penny is + a statue about her. + </p> + <p> + Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk where all + the big races are run, and even though you had no intention of running you + do run when you come to the Hump, it is such a fascinating, slide-down + kind of place. Often you stop when you have run about half-way down it, + and then you are lost, but there is another little wooden house near here, + called the Lost House, and so you tell the man that you are lost and then + he finds you. It is glorious fun racing down the Hump, but you can't do it + on windy days because then you are not there, but the fallen leaves do it + instead of you. There is almost nothing that has such a keen sense of fun + as a fallen leaf. + </p> + <p> + From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel Grey, + the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always two nurses with + her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a long time she was a + pattern-child who always coughed off the table and said, “How do you do?” + to the other Figs, and the only game she played at was flinging a ball + gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one day she + tired of it all and went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she really was + mad-dog, she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her tongue east, + west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a puddle and danced + on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, after which she + climbed the fence and had a series of incredible adventures, one of the + least of which was that she kicked off both her boots. At last she came to + the gate that is now called after her, out of which she ran into streets + David and I have never been in though we have heard them roaring, and + still she ran on and would never again have been heard of had not her + mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. It all happened, I should + say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey whom David knows. + </p> + <p> + Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, which is + so full of perambulators that you could cross from side to side stepping + on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. From this walk a passage + called Bunting's Thumb, because it is that length, leads into Picnic + Street, where there are real kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into your + mug as you are drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, and the + blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + </p> + <p> + Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm the Bold + fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let her put her arm + round his neck in public because she was a widow, but he was also partial + to adventures and liked to play with a chimney-sweep who had killed a good + many bears. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day when they were playing + near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have been drowned had not Sooty + dived in and rescued him, and the water had washed Sooty clean and he now + stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So Malcolm would not let his + mother put her arm round his neck any more. + </p> + <p> + Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and + frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is + scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he is + out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are + wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something else. + The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which is real + cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a racquet and the + governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when you are watching + their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them. Nevertheless, there + was a very disagreeable incident one day when some forward girls + challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called Angela Clare + sent down so many yorkers that—However, instead of telling you the + result of that regrettable match I shall pass on hurriedly to the Round + Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the Gardens going. + </p> + <p> + It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when you + are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good all the + time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good in the Broad + Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason is that you + forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that you may as well be + wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, such big boats + that they bring them in barrows and sometimes in perambulators, and then + the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children in the Gardens are these who + had to walk too soon because their father needed the perambulator. + </p> + <p> + You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the end + your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the first day is + splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is splendid, but + soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest craft that slips her + moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a stick-boat, because she is + rather like a stick until she is in the water and you are holding the + string. Then as you walk round, pulling her, you see little men running + about her deck, and sails rise magically and catch the breeze, and you put + in on dirty nights at snug harbours which are unknown to the lordly + yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again your rakish craft noses for the + wind, whales spout, you glide over buried cities, and have brushes with + pirates and cast anchor on coral isles. You are a solitary boy while all + this is taking place, for two boys together cannot adventure far upon the + Round Pond, and though you may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, + giving orders and executing them with dispatch, you know not, when it is + time to go home, where you have been or what swelled your sails; your + treasure-trove is all locked away in your hold, so to speak, which will be + opened, perhaps, by another little boy many years afterward. + </p> + <p> + But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return to this + haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to sail it? Oh, no. It + is the stick-boat that is freighted with memories. The yachts are toys, + their owner a fresh-water mariner, they can cross and recross a pond only + while the stick-boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your wands, who think + we are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only accidents of this + place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the ducks the real + business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + </p> + <p> + Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are + ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are made by men with + their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide at one spot and at another + so narrow that you can stand astride them. They are called Paths that have + Made Themselves, and David did wish he could see them doing it. But, like + all the most wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, it is done, we + concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have also decided that + the paths make themselves because it is their only chance of getting to + the Round Pond. + </p> + <p> + One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get their + hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, I am told, he + said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary has never been quite + the same bright creature since, so he despises the sheep as they run from + their shearer and calls out tauntingly, “Cowardy, cowardy custard!” But + when the man grips them between his legs David shakes a fist at him for + using such big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man turns + back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look suddenly like + ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are so frightened by the + shearing that it makes them quite white and thin, and as soon as they are + set free they begin to nibble the grass at once, quite anxiously, as if + they feared that they would never be worth eating. David wonders whether + they know each other, now that they are so different, and if it makes them + fight with the wrong ones. They are great fighters, and thus so unlike + country sheep that every year they give Porthos a shock. He can make a + field of country sheep fly by merely announcing his approach, but these + town sheep come toward him with no promise of gentle entertainment, and + then a light from last year breaks upon Porthos. He cannot with dignity + retreat, but he stops and looks about him as if lost in admiration of the + scenery, and presently he strolls away with a fine indifference and a + glint at me from the corner of his eye. + </p> + <p> + The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a + drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the edge you can see + the trees all growing upside down, and they say that at night there are + also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter Pan sees them when he is sailing + across the lake in the Thrush's Nest. A small part only of the Serpentine + is in the Gardens, for soon it passes beneath a bridge to far away where + the island is on which all the birds are born that become baby boys and + girls. No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is only half human), + can land on the island, but you may write what you want (boy or girl, dark + or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist it into the shape of a boat + and slip it into the water, and it reaches Peter Pan's island after dark. + </p> + <p> + We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence that we + can go to so many of the places in one day. I should have had to be + carrying David long ago and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford. + That was what we called him, because he always talked to us of a lovely + place called Salford where he had been born. He was a crab-apple of an old + gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat trying to + fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of Salford, and + when we had known him for a year or more we actually did meet another aged + solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in Salford. He was meek and + timid and carried his address inside his hat, and whatever part of London + he was in search of he always went to the General Post-office first as a + starting-point. Him we carried in triumph to our other friend, with the + story of that Saturday to Monday, and never shall I forget the gloating + joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at him. They have been cronies ever + since, and I notice that Mr. Salford, who naturally does most of the + talking, keeps tight grip of the other old man's coat. + </p> + <p> + The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery and + the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's Cemetery + is, as Porthos is always with us. The nest is very sad. It is quite white, + and the way we found it was wonderful. We were having another look among + the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead of the ball we found + a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing four eggs, with + scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we think they must + have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones inside. Every day + we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest, taking care that no + cruel boy should see us, and we dropped crumbs, and soon the bird knew us + as friends, and sat in the nest looking at us kindly with her shoulders + hunched up. But one day when we went, there were only two eggs in the + nest, and the next time there were none. The saddest part of it was that + the poor little chaffinch fluttered about the bushes, looking so + reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we had done it, and though + David tried to explain to her, it was so long since he had spoken the bird + language that I fear she did not understand. He and I left the Gardens + that day with our knuckles in our eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. Peter Pan + </h2> + <p> + If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a + little girl she will say, “Why, of course, I did, child,” and if you ask + her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, “What a foolish + question to ask; certainly he did.” Then if you ask your grandmother + whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she also says, “Why, + of course, I did, child,” but if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in + those days, she says she never heard of his having a goat. Perhaps she has + forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and calls you Mildred, + which is your mother's name. Still, she could hardly forget such an + important thing as the goat. Therefore there was no goat when your + grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in telling the story of + Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people do) is as silly as to + put on your jacket before your vest. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really + always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age is one + week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a birthday, nor + is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The reason is that + he escaped from being a human when he was seven days' old; he escaped by + the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + </p> + <p> + If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows how + completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard this + story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, but I + told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, and when + he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly remembered a + youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that memory came + others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as soon as his + mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up the + chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would press + their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before they were + human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few weeks, and + very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So David tells + me. + </p> + <p> + I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: First, + I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding being that + it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his additions, + and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more his story or + mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and + most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can + be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs + of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David's, recalled + by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing on the + ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the Kensington + Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that he was now a + little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the houses to the + Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, but the place + itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we were as + dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Pan that + evening. + </p> + <p> + He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace and the + Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. He + was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he was + a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and when + he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he missed it + was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, of course, + a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past Lock-out Time, + for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy to notice him; they + were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, drawing water, and so + on, and the sight of the water-pails made him thirsty, so he flew over to + the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, and dipped his beak in the + pond; he thought it was his beak, but, of course, it was only his nose, + and, therefore, very little water came up, and that not so refreshing as + usual, so next he tried a puddle, and he fell flop into it. When a real + bird falls in flop, he spreads out his feathers and pecks them dry, but + Peter could not remember what was the thing to do, and he decided, rather + sulkily, to go to sleep on the weeping beech in the Baby Walk. + </p> + <p> + At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch, but + presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long before + morning, shivering, and saying to himself, “I never was out in such a cold + night;” he had really been out in colder nights when he was a bird, but, + of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird is a cold + night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely uncomfortable, as + if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made him look round + sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There was something he + wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted it, he could not think + what it was. What he wanted so much was his mother to blow his nose, but + that never struck him, so he decided to appeal to the fairies for + enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal. + </p> + <p> + There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms + round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The fairies + have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil answer to a + civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran away the moment + they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair, reading a + postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he heard Peter's + voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip. + </p> + <p> + To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled from + him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed away, + leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail upside down + and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies were + running this away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was afraid, + lights were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds of Queen + Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the royal guard had + been called out. A regiment of Lancers came charging down the Broad Walk, + armed with holly-leaves, with which they jog the enemy horribly in + passing. Peter heard the little people crying everywhere that there was a + human in the Gardens after Lock-out Time, but he never thought for a + moment that he was the human. He was feeling stuffier and stuffier, and + more and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his nose, but he + pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid creatures ran from + him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up the Hump, turned + swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that they saw him there. + </p> + <p> + Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but now he + remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the weeping beech had + flown away when he alighted on it, and though that had not troubled him at + the time, he saw its meaning now. Every living thing was shunning him. + Poor little Peter Pan, he sat down and cried, and even then he did not + know that, for a bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a blessing + that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith in his power + to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to + be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply that + they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings. + </p> + <p> + Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the Serpentine, for + the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, and there are stakes + round it, standing up in the water, on each of which a bird-sentinel sits + by day and night. It was to the island that Peter now flew to put his + strange case before old Solomon Caw, and he alighted on it with relief, + much heartened to find himself at last at home, as the birds call the + island. All of them were asleep, including the sentinels, except Solomon, + who was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly to Peter's + adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me,” Solomon said, and with + staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at the sleeping + birds. Not one of them wore anything. + </p> + <p> + “How many of your toes are thumbs?” said Solomon a little cruelly, and + Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes were fingers. The shock + was so great that it drove away his cold. + </p> + <p> + “Ruffle your feathers,” said that grim old Solomon, and Peter tried most + desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he rose up, + quaking, and for the first time since he stood on the window-ledge, he + remembered a lady who had been very fond of him. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall go back to mother,” he said timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + </p> + <p> + But Peter hesitated. “Why don't you go?” the old one asked politely. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Peter huskily, “I suppose I can still fly?” + </p> + <p> + You see, he had lost faith. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little half-and-half,” said Solomon, who was not really + hard-hearted, “you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy + days. You must live here on the island always.” + </p> + <p> + “And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?” Peter asked tragically. + </p> + <p> + “How could you get across?” said Solomon. He promised very kindly, + however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by + one of such an awkward shape. + </p> + <p> + “Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor exactly a bird?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I be?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be a Betwixt-and-Between,” Solomon said, and certainly he was a + wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + </p> + <p> + The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them + every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds that + were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at once, + then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out of other + eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when they tired + of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break their shells + a day before the right time by whispering to them that now was their + chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands gathered + round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch the + peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts they + flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the mouth. All + his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's orders by the + birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they thought very silly of + him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. Thus, when you cry out, + “Greedy! Greedy!” to the bird that flies away with the big crust, you know + now that you ought not to do this, for he is very likely taking it to + Peter Pan. + </p> + <p> + Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him + for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured, he + could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left of + it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he was + cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason was + that Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many of the bird ways. To + be easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing something, + and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of vast importance. + Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build their nests; soon + he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly as well as a + blackbird, though never did he satisfy the finches, and he made nice + little water-troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the young ones + with his fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and knew an + east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the grass + growing and hear the insects walking about inside the tree-trunks. But the + best thing Solomon had done was to teach him to have a glad heart. All + birds have glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as they were the + only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it was easy to him to teach Peter + how to have one. + </p> + <p> + Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, just as + the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he needed an instrument, + so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to sit by the shore of the island + of an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the ripple of the + water, and catching handfuls of the shine of the moon, and he put them all + in his pipe and played them so beautifully that even the birds were + deceived, and they would say to each other, “Was that a fish leaping in + the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his pipe?” and sometimes + he played the birth of birds, and then the mothers would turn round in + their nests to see whether they had laid an egg. If you are a child of the + Gardens you must know the chestnut-tree near the bridge, which comes out + in flower first of all the chestnuts, but perhaps you have not heard why + this tree leads the way. It is because Peter wearies for summer and plays + that it has come, and the chestnut being so near, hears him and is + cheated. + </p> + <p> + But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he sometimes + fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad also, and the reason + of all this sadness was that he could not reach the Gardens, though he + could see them through the arch of the bridge. He knew he could never be a + real human again, and scarcely wanted to be one, but oh, how he longed to + play as other children play, and of course there is no such lovely place + to play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him news of how boys and + girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was that he + could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no one on the island + knew the way except the ducks, and they are so stupid. They were quite + willing to teach him, but all they could say about it was, “You sit down + on the top of the water in this way, and then you kick out like that.” + Peter tried it often, but always before he could kick out he sank. What he + really needed to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, and + they said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as that. + Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give them all his + day's food and then ask them how they sat on the water, but as soon as he + had no more to give them the hateful things hissed at him and sailed away. + </p> + <p> + Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the Gardens. A + wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, floated high over the + island and then tumbled, rolling over and over after the manner of a bird + that has broken its wing. Peter was so frightened that he hid, but the + birds told him it was only a kite, and what a kite is, and that it must + have tugged its string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After that + they laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it so much + that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was pathetic and + pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it had belonged to a real + boy. + </p> + <p> + To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt grateful + to him at this time because he had nursed a number of fledglings through + the German measles, and they offered to show him how birds fly a kite. So + six of them took the end of the string in their beaks and flew away with + it; and to his amazement it flew after them and went even higher than + they. + </p> + <p> + Peter screamed out, “Do it again!” and with great good-nature they did it + several times, and always instead of thanking them he cried, “Do it + again!” which shows that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was + to be a boy. + </p> + <p> + At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he begged + them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and now a hundred + flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the tail, meaning to drop off + when he was over the Gardens. But the kite broke to pieces in the air, and + he would have drowned in the Serpentine had he not caught hold of two + indignant swans and made them carry him to the island. After this the + birds said that they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of Shelley's + boat, as I am now to tell you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. The Thrush's Nest + </h2> + <p> + Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect to + be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people + who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had all that and + five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, he + made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the Serpentine. + </p> + <p> + It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to Solomon + Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a message from a + lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her have a good one. + They always ask for the best one he has, and if he likes the letter he + sends one from Class A; but if it ruffles him he sends very funny ones + indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at another time he sends a + nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to + leave it all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he will + see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to send + another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little boy who wants a + baby-sister, always take pains to write your address clearly. You can't + think what a lot of babies Solomon has sent to the wrong house. + </p> + <p> + Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took + counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with + their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided that + it came from some greedy person who wanted five. They thought this because + there was a large five printed on it. “Preposterous!” cried Solomon in a + rage, and he presented it to Peter; anything useless which drifted upon + the island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + </p> + <p> + But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what it was + at once, having been very observant during the week when he was an + ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he could surely at last + contrive to reach the Gardens, and he considered all the possible ways, + and decided (wisely, I think) to choose the best way. But, first, he had + to tell the birds of the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were too + honest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they cast such + black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, that he + flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed with his + head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon was on your + side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so he followed + him and tried to hearten him. + </p> + <p> + Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's good + will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office + all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his + green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs + which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his + stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had + been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a + hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper + and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he + would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He + cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick. + </p> + <p> + This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted + together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently why + thrushes only were invited. + </p> + <p> + The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did most + of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people talked. + He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the superior + ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this put them into + good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the quarrels between + birds are about the best way of building nests. Other birds, said Solomon, + omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a result they did not hold + water. Here he cocked his head as if he had used an unanswerable argument; + but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come to the meeting uninvited, and + she squeaked out, “We don't build nests to hold water, but to hold eggs,” + and then the thrushes stopped cheering, and Solomon was so perplexed that + he took several sips of water. + </p> + <p> + “Consider,” he said at last, “how warm the mud makes the nest.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider,” cried Mrs. Finch, “that when water gets into the nest it + remains there and your little ones are drowned.” + </p> + <p> + The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in reply + to this, but again he was perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Try another drink,” suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her name, and + all Kates are saucy. + </p> + <p> + Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. “If,” said he, “a + finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and breaks to pieces, + but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup of a swan's back.” + </p> + <p> + How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their nests with + mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, “We don't place our nests on the + Serpentine,” they did what they should have done at first: chased her from + the meeting. After this it was most orderly. What they had been brought + together to hear, said Solomon, was this: their young friend, Peter Pan, + as they well knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to the Gardens, + and he now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + </p> + <p> + At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble for his + scheme. + </p> + <p> + Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the cumbrous + boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be simply a thrush's nest + large enough to hold Peter. + </p> + <p> + But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. “We are very busy + people,” they grumbled, “and this would be a big job.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Solomon, “and, of course, Peter would not allow you to + work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in comfortable + circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you have never been paid + before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that you shall all be paid sixpence + a day.” + </p> + <p> + Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun the + celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business fell into + arrears. It was the time of year when they should have been pairing, but + not a thrush's nest was built except this big one, and so Solomon soon ran + short of thrushes with which to supply the demand from the mainland. The + stout, rather greedy children, who look so well in perambulators but get + puffed easily when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and ladies + often ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He sent over + to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to lay their eggs + in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the ladies and swore they + were all thrushes! It was known afterward on the island as the Sparrows' + Year, and so, when you meet, as you doubtless sometimes do, grown-up + people who puff and blow as if they thought themselves bigger than they + are, very likely they belong to that year. You ask them. + </p> + <p> + Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. They stood + in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper sixpences + out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and then each + bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got sixpence. It must + have been a fine sight. + </p> + <p> + And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the + deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great + thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept by + its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was + lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps in + his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it + is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a + kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, + being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls + are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which + came off the thrushes while they were building. + </p> + <p> + The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not + balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the + water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that + Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other in + dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a sail, + and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had + fashioned out of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a + night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full, and + all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis Pretty + would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew not why, + he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that moment his eyes + were pinned to the west. + </p> + <p> + He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with them + to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens beckoning to him + beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face was flushed, but he + never looked back; there was an exultation in his little breast that drove + out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who have + sailed westward to meet the Unknown? + </p> + <p> + At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the + place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of the + sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze, to his + no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was + drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the + dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown + and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which + bore him westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke + against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the bridge and + came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the delectable Gardens. + But having tried to cast anchor, which was a stone at the end of a piece + of the kite-string, he found no bottom, and was fain to hold off, seeking + for moorage, and, feeling his way, he buffeted against a sunken reef that + cast him overboard by the greatness of the shock, and he was near to being + drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There now arose a mighty + storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he had never heard the + like, and he was tossed this way and that, and his hands so numbed with + the cold that he could not close them. Having escaped the danger of which, + he was mercifully carried into a small bay, where his boat rode at peace. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark, + he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest his + landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past + Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and also + a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in the Gardens, + and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + </p> + <p> + Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an + ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be their + friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no temper to + draw off therefrom, and he warned them if they sought to mischief him to + stand to their harms. + </p> + <p> + So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with + intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women, and + it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's + night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that their + laps were too small, the which I cannot explain, except by saying that + such is the way of women. The men-fairies now sheathed their weapons on + observing the behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence they set + great store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who conferred upon + him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and henceforth Peter + could go whither he chose, and the fairies had orders to put him in + comfort. + </p> + <p> + Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the + antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But Peter + never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under the + bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should see him + hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in the Thrush's + Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to paddle. I shall + tell you presently how he got his paddle. + </p> + <p> + Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back to + the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all that), + but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real children + play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic things about + him that he often plays quite wrongly. + </p> + <p> + You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the + fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know nothing, + and though the birds pretended that they could tell him a great deal, when + the time for telling came, it was wonderful how little they really knew. + They told him the truth about hide-and-seek, and he often plays it by + himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to him + what it is that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night the + ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number of + pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and say that + cake is not what it was in their young days. + </p> + <p> + So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played ships at + the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had found on the + grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he wondered what you play + at with them, and decided that you play at pretending they are boats. This + hoop always sank at once, but he waded in for it, and sometimes he dragged + it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was quite proud to think + that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + </p> + <p> + Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for sitting + in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get out of it. Also he + found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the Hump, quite as if it was + having a game by itself, and he caught it after an exciting chase. But he + thought it was a ball, and Jenny Wren had told him that boys kick balls, + so he kicked it; and after that he could not find it anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. It was + under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's Winter Palace + (which is within the circle of the seven Spanish chestnuts), and Peter + approached it warily, for the birds had never mentioned such things to + him. Lest it was alive, he addressed it politely, and then, as it gave no + answer, he went nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little push, + and it ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after all; but, + as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched out his hand to + pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and he was so alarmed that he + leapt the railing and scudded away to his boat. You must not think, + however, that he was a coward, for he came back next night with a crust in + one hand and a stick in the other, but the perambulator had gone, and he + never saw another one. I have promised to tell you also about his paddle. + It was a child's spade which he had found near St. Govor's Well, and he + thought it was a paddle. + </p> + <p> + Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think it rather + silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must pity him now and + then, but to pity him all the time would be impertinence. He thought he + had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you have it is + almost quite as good as really to have it. He played without ceasing, + while you often waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He could be + neither of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do you think + he is to be pitied for that? + </p> + <p> + Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, as you + are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a spinning-top, from + sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound leaping the fences of the + Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + </p> + <p> + And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at night write + to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the Gardens, but it is + really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he had no mother—at least, + what use was she to him? You can be sorry for him for that, but don't be + too sorry, for the next thing I mean to tell you is how he revisited her. + It was the fairies who gave him the chance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. Lock-Out Time + </h2> + <p> + It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost the + only thing known for certain is that there are fairies wherever there are + children. Long ago children were forbidden the Gardens, and at that time + there was not a fairy in the place; then the children were admitted, and + the fairies came trooping in that very evening. They can't resist + following the children, but you seldom see them, partly because they live + in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not allowed to go, and + also partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit cunning after + Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + </p> + <p> + When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember a + good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you can't + write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children who + declared that they had never once seen a fairy. Very likely if they said + this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a fairy all + the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended to be + something else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually pretend to + be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, and there are so + many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, that a flower is the + thing least likely to attract attention. They dress exactly like flowers, + and change with the seasons, putting on white when lilies are in and blue + for blue-bells, and so on. They like crocus and hyacinth time best of all, + as they are partial to a bit of colour, but tulips (except white ones, + which are the fairy-cradles) they consider garish, and they sometimes put + off dressing like tulips for days, so that the beginning of the tulip + weeks is almost the best time to catch them. + </p> + <p> + When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty lively, but if + you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stand quite still, + pretending to be flowers. Then, after you have passed without knowing that + they were fairies, they rush home and tell their mothers they have had + such an adventure. The Fairy Basin, you remember, is all covered with + ground-ivy (from which they make their castor-oil), with flowers growing + in it here and there. Most of them really are flowers, but some of them + are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good plan is to walk by + looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. Another good plan, + which David and I sometimes follow, is to stare them down. After a long + time they can't help winking, and then you know for certain that they are + fairies. + </p> + <p> + There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a famous + gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. Once twenty-four + of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girls' school out for + a walk with the governess, and all wearing hyacinth gowns, when she + suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they all stood still on an + empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. Unfortunately, what the governess + had heard was two gardeners coming to plant new flowers in that very bed. + They were wheeling a handcart with the flowers in it, and were quite + surprised to find the bed occupied. “Pity to lift them hyacinths,” said + the one man. “Duke's orders,” replied the other, and, having emptied the + cart, they dug up the boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things + in it in five rows. Of course, neither the governess nor the girls dare + let on that they were fairies, so they were carted far away to a + potting-shed, out of which they escaped in the night without their shoes, + but there was a great row about it among the parents, and the school was + ruined. + </p> + <p> + As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they are the + exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by day but you can't + see them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you can't + see them by day, for they are the colour of night, and I never heard of + anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not mean that + they are black, for night has its colours just as day has, but ever so + much brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours with a light + behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured glasses, and is + quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but the queen sometimes + complains because the common people will peep in to see what she is doing. + They are very inquisitive folk, and press quite hard against the glass, + and that is why their noses are mostly snubby. The streets are miles long + and very twisty, and have paths on each side made of bright worsted. The + birds used to steal the worsted for their nests, but a policeman has been + appointed to hold on at the other end. + </p> + <p> + One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they never + do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first time, his + laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping about. That + was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, you know, as if + they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they are + doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are frightfully + ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have a postman, but + he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, and though they + have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the youngest child + being chief person is always elected mistress, and when she has called the + roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back. It is a very + noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest is always chief + person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and children remember + this, and think it must be so among humans also, and that is why they are + often made uneasy when they come upon their mother furtively putting new + frills on the basinette. + </p> + <p> + You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all sorts of + things that your mother and her nurse want her not to do: to stand up at + sitting-down time, and to sit down at standing-up time, for instance, or + to wake up when she should fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when she + is wearing her best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down to + naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as she has + seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, and it takes + about two years to get her into the human ways. Her fits of passion, which + are awful to behold, and are usually called teething, are no such thing; + they are her natural exasperation, because we don't understand her, though + she is talking an intelligible language. She is talking fairy. The reason + mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, before other people know, + as that “Guch” means “Give it to me at once,” while “Wa” is “Why do you + wear such a funny hat?” is because, mixing so much with babies, they have + picked up a little of the fairy language. + </p> + <p> + Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with his + hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of their + phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He had heard + them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I suggested to him that + perhaps it is really bird language he is remembering, he says not, for + these phrases are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of + nothing but nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used to + go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the different + nests and saying, “Not my colour, my dear,” and “How would that do with a + soft lining?” and “But will it wear?” and “What hideous trimming!” and so + on. + </p> + <p> + The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first things + the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry when you + do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what is called a + fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the grass. It is + not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing round and round. + Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and these are fairy + chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. The chairs and the + rings are the only tell-tale marks these little people leave behind them, + and they would remove even these were they not so fond of dancing that + they toe it till the very moment of the opening of the gates. David and I + once found a fairy-ring quite warm. + </p> + <p> + But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes + place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to + close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the board + on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at six-thirty + for instance, instead of at seven. This enables them to get begun half an + hour earlier. + </p> + <p> + If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the famous + Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, hundreds of lovely + fairies hastening to the ball, the married ones wearing their + wedding-rings round their waists, the gentlemen, all in uniform, holding + up the ladies' trains, and linkmen running in front carrying winter + cherries, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put on + their silver slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers + streaming up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because + they can lend a pin, the supper-table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, + and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on + which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time. + </p> + <p> + The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is made of + chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is this: The men, scores + of them, climb up the trees and shake the branches, and the blossom falls + like snow. Then the lady servants sweep it together by whisking their + skirts until it is exactly like a table-cloth, and that is how they get + their table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, blackthorn + wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen pours out, but the + bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to pour out. There is bread + and butter to begin with, of the size of a threepenny bit; and cakes to + end with, and they are so small that they have no crumbs. The fairies sit + round on mushrooms, and at first they are very well-behaved and always + cough off the table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so + well-behaved and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got from + the roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the + table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their tongues. When the + Queen sees them doing this she signs to the servants to wash up and put + away, and then everybody adjourns to the dance, the Queen walking in front + while the Lord Chamberlain walks behind her, carrying two little pots, one + of which contains the juice of wall-flower and the other the juice of + Solomon's Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers who fall + to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for bruises. They + bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster they foot it + till they fall down in fits. For, as you know without my telling you, + Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He sits in the middle of the ring, + and they would never dream of having a smart dance nowadays without him. + “P. P.” is written on the corner of the invitation-cards sent out by all + really good families. They are grateful little people, too, and at the + princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their second birthday + and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish of his heart. + </p> + <p> + The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, and then + said that for playing so beautifully she would give him the wish of his + heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to hear what was the wish of his + heart, but for a long time he hesitated, not being certain what it was + himself. + </p> + <p> + “If I chose to go back to mother,” he asked at last, “could you give me + that wish?” + </p> + <p> + Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother they + should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose contemptuously and + said, “Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that quite a little wish?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “As little as this,” the Queen answered, putting her hands near each + other. + </p> + <p> + “What size is a big wish?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome length. + </p> + <p> + Then Peter reflected and said, “Well, then, I think I shall have two + little wishes instead of one big one.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather shocked + them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his mother, but with + the right to return to the Gardens if he found her disappointing. His + second wish he would hold in reserve. + </p> + <p> + They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + </p> + <p> + “I can give you the power to fly to her house,” the Queen said, “but I + can't open the door for you. + </p> + <p> + “The window I flew out at will be open,” Peter said confidently. “Mother + always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” they asked, quite surprised, and, really, Peter could + not explain how he knew. + </p> + <p> + “I just do know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way they gave + him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and soon + he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and higher + and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. + </p> + <p> + It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old home he + skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and back by the river + and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached his mother's window he had + quite made up his mind that his second wish should be to become a bird. + </p> + <p> + The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he + fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted softly on + the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look at her. She lay + with her head on her hand, and the hollow in the pillow was like a nest + lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he had long + forgotten it, that she always gave her hair a holiday at night. How sweet + the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a pretty + mother. + </p> + <p> + But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her arms moved + as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew what it wanted to go + round. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother,” said Peter to himself, “if you just knew who is sitting on + the rail at the foot of the bed.” + </p> + <p> + Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he could + see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to say “Mother” ever + so softly, and she would wake up. They always wake up at once if it is you + that says their name. Then she would give such a joyous cry and squeeze + him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh, how exquisitely + delicious it would be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter regarded it. + In returning to his mother he never doubted that he was giving her the + greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more splendid, he thought, + than to have a little boy of your own. How proud of him they are; and very + right and proper, too. + </p> + <p> + But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell his + mother that he has come back? + </p> + <p> + I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds. + Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked + longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy + again, but, on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens! + Was he so sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off + the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They + were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The + socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet? He was + about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great adventure. + Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother woke up, for he + heard her say “Peter,” as if it was the most lovely word in the language. + He remained sitting on the floor and held his breath, wondering how she + knew that he had come back. If she said “Peter” again, he meant to cry + “Mother” and run to her. But she spoke no more, she made little moans + only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more asleep, with tears + on her face. + </p> + <p> + It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first thing he + did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a beautiful + lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself out of the + way she said “Peter,” and he never stopped playing until she looked happy. + </p> + <p> + He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening + her to hear her say, “Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you play.” However, as + she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You must + not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He had + quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning + to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant to + make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed + wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without returning to the + fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too long it might go bad. + He asked himself if he had not been hardhearted to fly away without saying + good-bye to Solomon. “I should like awfully to sail in my boat just once + more,” he said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite argued with her + as if she could hear him. “It would be so splendid to tell the birds of + this adventure,” he said coaxingly. “I promise to come back,” he said + solemnly and meant it, too. + </p> + <p> + And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from the + window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight of it might + waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on his pipe, and then he + flew back to the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies for his + second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he delayed so long. + One reason was that he had so many good-byes to say, not only to his + particular friends, but to a hundred favourite spots. Then he had his last + sail, and his very last sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. Again, + a number of farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another + comfortable reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his mother + would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason displeased old + Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds to procrastinate. + Solomon had several excellent mottoes for keeping them at their work, such + as “Never put off laying to-day, because you can lay to-morrow,” and “In + this world there are no second chances,” and yet here was Peter gaily + putting off and none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out to each + other, and fell into lazy habits. + </p> + <p> + But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his mother, he + was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution with + the fairies. They were most anxious that he should remain in the Gardens + to play to them, and to bring this to pass they tried to trick him into + making such a remark as “I wish the grass was not so wet,” and some of + them danced out of time in the hope that he might cry, “I do wish you + would keep time!” Then they would have said that this was his second wish. + But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he began, “I wish—” + he always stopped in time. So when at last he said to them bravely, “I + wish now to go back to mother for ever and always,” they had to tickle his + shoulders and let him go. + </p> + <p> + He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his mother was + crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried for, and that a hug + from her splendid Peter would quickly make her to smile. Oh, he felt sure + of it, and so eager was he to be nestling in her arms that this time he + flew straight to the window, which was always to be open for him. + </p> + <p> + But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and peering + inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm round another + little boy. + </p> + <p> + Peter called, “Mother! mother!” but she heard him not; in vain he beat his + little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, sobbing, to the + Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a glorious boy he had meant + to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have made the great mistake, how + differently we should all act at the second chance. But Solomon was right; + there is no second chance, not for most of us. When we reach the window it + is Lock-out Time. The iron bars are up for life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. The Little House + </h2> + <p> + Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which + is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for + humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and they + have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it you + never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but it is + there when you wake up and step outside. + </p> + <p> + In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really it, + but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out Time. + David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the trees as + we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw it the night + he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of his father's office. + Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted because then she is + treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, she saw hundreds of + them all together, and this must have been the fairies building the house, + for they build it every night and always in a different part of the + Gardens. She thought one of the lights was bigger than the others, though + she was not quite sure, for they jumped about so, and it might have been + another one that was bigger. But if it was the same one, it was Peter + Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen the light, so that is nothing. + But Maimie Mannering was the famous one for whom the house was first + built. + </p> + <p> + Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she was + strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was the + ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a + magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him in + the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered rather + than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting she + would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you that she + was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the daytime. + </p> + <p> + But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt + for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there came + into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. It was also + a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy glances. Then he + would make her presents of his favourite toys (which he always took away + from her next morning) and she accepted them with a disturbing smile. The + reason he was now become so wheedling and she so mysterious was (in brief) + that they knew they were about to be sent to bed. It was then that Maimie + was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do it to-night, and the mother and + their coloured nurse threatened her, but Maimie merely smiled her + agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were alone with their night-light + she would start up in bed crying “Hsh! what was that?” Tony beseeches her! + “It was nothing—don't, Maimie, don't!” and pulls the sheet over his + head. “It is coming nearer!” she cries; “Oh, look at it, Tony! It is + feeling your bed with its horns—it is boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!” + and she desists not until he rushes downstairs in his combinations, + screeching. When they came up to whip Maimie they usually found her + sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and + looking like the sweetest little angel, which seems to me to make it + almost worse. + </p> + <p> + But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then Tony + did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he was a very + brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would have loved + to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And at no time did + she admire him more than when he told her, as he often did with splendid + firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in the Gardens after the + gates were closed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tony,” she would say, with awful respect, “but the fairies will be so + angry!” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” replied Tony, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, thrilling, “Peter Pan will give you a sail in his + boat!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall make him,” replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + </p> + <p> + But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were overheard + by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which the little + people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a marked boy. + They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down he came on the + back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his boot-lace and bribed + the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty accidents you meet with + in the Gardens occur because the fairies have taken an ill-will to you, + and so it behoves you to be careful what you say about them. + </p> + <p> + Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things, but + Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to remain + behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, “Just some day;” + he was quite vague about which day except when she asked “Will it be + to-day?” and then he could always say for certain that it would not be + to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good chance. + </p> + <p> + This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow, and + there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but at least + you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many bright + little boys and girls were doing that. + </p> + <p> + When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond, + but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said + this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that + night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs + continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but + she was not to laugh much more that day. + </p> + <p> + Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the + time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for + closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the + fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they had + changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said there + was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as they + trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their little + breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. Never, Tony + felt, could he hope for a better chance. + </p> + <p> + He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager eyes + asked the question, “Is it to-day?” and he gasped and then nodded. Maimie + slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold. She did + a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him! “In case you + should feel cold,” she whispered. Her face was aglow, but Tony's was very + gloomy. + </p> + <p> + As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, “I'm afraid + Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their + ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said aloud, + “Tony, I shall race you to the gate,” and in a whisper, “Then you can + hide,” and off they ran. + </p> + <p> + Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him + speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might + have more time to hide. “Brave, brave!” her doting eyes were crying when + she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the + gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful of + darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain she + could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she ran to + St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + </p> + <p> + When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her + other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores and + hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always has to + run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight and glued + them with passionate tears. When she opened them something very cold ran + up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart. It was the + stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from another part + clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of the Gates. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice + say, “So that's all right.” It had a wooden sound and seemed to come from + above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out its + arms and yawning. + </p> + <p> + She was about to say, “I never knew you could speak!” when a metallic + voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the elm, + “I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?” and the elm replied, “Not + particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg,” and he + flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. + Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were + doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and + crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders + but did not seem to mind her. + </p> + <p> + She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse + and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her + dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far + away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a + ball. She was about forty round the waist. + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in + time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set + off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but + that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the + walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had + crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and + shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never + known what they were for until to-night. + </p> + <p> + She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy fairy + who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way he did it + was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut like umbrellas, + deluging the little plants beneath with snow. “Oh, you naughty, naughty + child!” Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it was to have a + dripping umbrella about your ears. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the + chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly “Hoity-toity, + what is this?” that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole + vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is no affair of ours,” a spindle tree said after they had + whispered together, “but you know quite well you ought not to be here, and + perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you should not,” Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that + they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. “I wouldn't ask it of + you,” she assured them, “if I thought it was wrong,” and of course after + this they could not well carry tales. They then said, “Well-a-day,” and + “Such is life!” for they can be frightfully sarcastic, but she felt sorry + for those of them who had no crutches, and she said good-naturedly, + “Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take you for a walk + one at a time; you can lean on me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby + Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round the + very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and + treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though she + could not understand a word they said. + </p> + <p> + They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not + taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others jagged + her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a lady to cry + out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off to the ball, + but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more fear was that + it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, Maimie was always + rather strange. + </p> + <p> + They were now loath to let her go, for, “If the fairies see you,” they + warned her, “they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you to + nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an evergreen + oak.” As they said this they looked with affected pity at an evergreen + oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, la!” replied the oak bitingly, “how deliciously cosy it is to stand + here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!” + </p> + <p> + This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves, and + they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced her if + she insisted on going to the ball. + </p> + <p> + She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual good + temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the Duke of + Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a dreadful + complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried many ladies + in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them. Queen Mab, who + rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls would bewitch him, + but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. This rather + irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the Duke's heart + immediately after any lady was presented, and then always shook his bald + head and murmured, “Cold, quite cold!” Naturally Queen Mab felt disgraced, + and first she tried the effect of ordering the court into tears for nine + minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed that they should wear + fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen heart. + </p> + <p> + “How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!” + Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the + Cupids hate to be laughed at. + </p> + <p> + It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held, as + ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the + Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting + their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on the + snow. + </p> + <p> + Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting + anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her + surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just time + to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and + pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and six + behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held up by + two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a lovely + girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She was + dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her neck, + which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course showed off + her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified it. The + high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their skin, which + lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you cannot imagine + anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' busts in the + jewellers' windows. + </p> + <p> + Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion, + tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt + them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the doctor + had said “Cold, quite cold!” + </p> + <p> + Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a + dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb + out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly + went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and + explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street + singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “I am rather plain,” and this made Maimie + uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite + plain for a fairy. + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to know what to reply. + </p> + <p> + “I see you think I have no chance,” Brownie said falteringly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't say that,” Maimie answered politely, “of course your face is just + a tiny bit homely, but—” Really it was quite awkward for her. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone to + a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London were on + view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home instead of + being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, “You can't think, my + dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously, indeed + she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose her. So + she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to follow lest + the Queen should mischief her. + </p> + <p> + But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven + Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until she + was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree. + </p> + <p> + The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed + of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming a + dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little people + looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared to the + glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so bewilderingly + bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she looked at them. + </p> + <p> + It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas + Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love + his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the + Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling + ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were told + to pass on, and by his own most dreary face. + </p> + <p> + Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and hear + him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly sorry for + the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure places and, every + time they heard that “Cold, quite cold,” bowed their disgraced little + heads. + </p> + <p> + She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you now + why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got wedged on + the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which he had to + break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle. + </p> + <p> + The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so + heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad and + remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies never + say “We feel happy”: what they say is, “We feel dancey.” + </p> + <p> + Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke + out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was + insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she had + really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie + herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his + grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart, + which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his diamond + shirt, had begun to say mechanically, “Cold, qui—,” when he stopped + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and + then put his ear to it. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, and by this time of course the + excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right and + left. + </p> + <p> + Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled and + looked as if he would like to run away. “Good gracious me!” the doctor was + heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for he had to + jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + The suspense was awful! + </p> + <p> + Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, “My Lord Duke,” said the physician + elatedly, “I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace is + in love.” + </p> + <p> + You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the Duke + and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of the Lord + Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of her + gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything. Thus + in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you leap into + each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman has to be + present. + </p> + <p> + How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and + immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were + ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring. + Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps from + their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went and + spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight over + her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward and + cried in an ecstasy, “Oh, Brownie, how splendid!” + </p> + <p> + Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in + the time you may take to say “Oh dear!” An awful sense of her peril came + upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a place + where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the gates, + she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand swords + flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + </p> + <p> + How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head. Many + times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. Her + little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew she was in + the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must never cease + to run, and she thought she was still running long after she had dropped + in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes falling on her + face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought her coverlet of + snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her head. And when she + heard talking through her dreams she thought it was mother bringing father + to the nursery door to look at her as she slept. But it was the fairies. + </p> + <p> + I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief + her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as “Slay + her!” “Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!” and so on, but the + pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front, and + this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and demand + a boon. + </p> + <p> + Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's + life. “Anything except that,” replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the + fairies chanted “Anything except that.” But when they learned how Maimie + had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their + great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and + set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front and the + canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her footprints + in the snow. + </p> + <p> + But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible + to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the form + of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and read + her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They also + cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they saw she + was in danger of perishing of cold. + </p> + <p> + “Turn her into something that does not mind the cold,” seemed a good + suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of that + does not mind cold was a snowflake. “And it might melt,” the Queen pointed + out, so that idea had to be given up. + </p> + <p> + A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but + though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all the + ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids had a + lovely idea. “Build a house round her,” they cried, and at once everybody + perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred fairy + sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round Maimie, + measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, seventy-five + masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen laid it, + overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings were run up, + the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning lathes, and by + this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting in the windows. + </p> + <p> + The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of her + arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they built + a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were the size + of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it would be + easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as is their + custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, and they + were all so madly in love with the little house that they could not bear + to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many little extra + touches, and even then they added more extra touches. + </p> + <p> + For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + </p> + <p> + “Now we fear it is quite finished,” they sighed. But no, for another two + ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney. + </p> + <p> + “That certainly finishes it,” they cried reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” cried a glow-worm, “if she were to wake without seeing a + night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment,” said a china merchant, “and I shall make you a saucer.” + </p> + <p> + Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + </p> + <p> + Oh, dear no! + </p> + <p> + “Gracious me,” cried a brass manufacturer, “there's no handle on the + door,” and he put one on. + </p> + <p> + An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat. + Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on + painting it. + </p> + <p> + Finished at last! + </p> + <p> + “Finished! how can it be finished,” the plumber demanded scornfully, + “before hot and cold are put in?” and he put in hot and cold. Then an army + of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and bulbs and + forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the right of the + verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and clematis on the + walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes all these dear + things were in full bloom. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished + true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They all + kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was + Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream + down the chimney. + </p> + <p> + All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs + taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream was + quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was + breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then she + called out, “Tony,” for she thought she was at home in the nursery. As + Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, and it + opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all around + her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in the + nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched her + cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her that she + was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now everything that + had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to her running away + from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had she got into this + funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over the garden, and then + she saw the dear house in which she had passed the night. It so entranced + her that she could think of nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew + that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to + grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it was + shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It always + remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller, and the + garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer, lapping house + and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little dog's kennel, and + now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke and the door-handle + and the roses on the wall, every one complete. The glow-worm light was + waning too, but it was still there. “Darling, loveliest, don't go!” Maimie + cried, falling on her knees, for the little house was now the size of a + reel of thread, but still quite complete. But as she stretched out her + arms imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself, and + where the little house had been was now one unbroken expanse of snow. + </p> + <p> + Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her + eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, “Don't cry, pretty human, don't + cry,” and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy + regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. Peter's Goat + </h2> + <h3> + Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + </h3> + <p> + “I hope you have had a good night,” he said earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she replied, “I was so cosy and warm. But you”—and she + looked at his nakedness awkwardly—“don't you feel the least bit + cold?” + </p> + <p> + Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, “I think + not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactly a + boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between.” + </p> + <p> + “So that is what it is called,” said Maimie thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “That's not my name,” he explained, “my name is Peter Pan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” she said, “I know, everybody knows.” + </p> + <p> + You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the people outside + the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what they knew and + what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this time on a fallen + tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he sat on a snowy bit + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Squeeze closer,” Maimie said. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. They + talked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him, but + not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and been barred + out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for it still + humiliated him. + </p> + <p> + “Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?” he asked very + proudly. “Oh, Maimie, please tell them!” But when he revealed how he + played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simply + horrified. + </p> + <p> + “All your ways of playing,” she said with her big eyes on him, “are quite, + quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the first time + for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, and lent him + her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to do with it, so + she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and then gave it back + to him, saying “Now you do it,” but instead of wiping his own eyes he + wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this was what she had + meant. + </p> + <p> + She said, out of pity for him, “I shall give you a kiss if you like,” but + though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and he replied, + “Thank you,” and held out his hand, thinking she had offered to put + something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt she could + not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy she gave Peter + a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretended that it was a + kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to this day he wears it + on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who needs a thimble so + little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was really years and years + since he had seen his mother, and I daresay the baby who had supplanted + him was now a man with whiskers. + </p> + <p> + But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than to + admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was very much + mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her of his + adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the island and + the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + </p> + <p> + “How romantic,” Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, and he + hung his head thinking she was despising him. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Tony would not have done that?” he said very humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Never, never!” she answered with conviction, “he would have been afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “What is afraid?” asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be some + splendid thing. “I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “I believe no one could teach that to you,” she answered adoringly, but + Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tony + and of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knew + quite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning and + said, “Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony.” + </p> + <p> + It quite irritated her. “You are twenty thousand times braver than Tony,” + she said, “you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!” + </p> + <p> + He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe he + screamed with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And if you want very much to give me a kiss,” Maimie said, “you can do + it.” + </p> + <p> + Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. He + thought she wanted it back. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean a kiss,” she said hurriedly, “I mean a thimble.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's like this,” she said, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “I should love to give you a thimble,” Peter said gravely, so he gave her + one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightful idea + came into his head! “Maimie,” he said, “will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same time into + Maimie's head. “I should like to,” she answered, “but will there be room + in your boat for two?” + </p> + <p> + “If you squeeze close,” he said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the birds would be angry?” + </p> + <p> + He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am not so + certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter. “Of + course they might want your clothes,” he had to admit rather falteringly. + </p> + <p> + She was somewhat indignant at this. + </p> + <p> + “They are always thinking of their nests,” he said apologetically, “and + there are some bits of you”—he stroked the fur on her pelisse—“that + would excite them very much.” + </p> + <p> + “They sha'n't have my fur,” she said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, still fondling it, however, “no! Oh, Maimie,” he said + rapturously, “do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a + beautiful nest.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow this made her uneasy. “I think you are speaking more like a bird + than a boy now,” she said, holding back, and indeed he was even looking + rather like a bird. “After all,” she said, “you are only a + Betwixt-and-Between.” But it hurt him so much that she immediately added, + “It must be a delicious thing to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and be one then, dear Maimie,” he implored her, and they set off for + the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. “And you are not a bit + like a nest,” he whispered to please her. + </p> + <p> + “But I think it is rather nice to be like one,” she said in a woman's + contradictory way. “And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, I + wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with little + spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!” + </p> + <p> + But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said, “Of + course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as if I was + saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very like that, + and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fear of losing + her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live without her. “She + will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me,” he kept saying to + himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by the way. + </p> + <p> + But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over its + loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. “You know quite + well, Peter, don't you,” she said, “that I wouldn't come unless I knew for + certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, say it!” + </p> + <p> + He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + </p> + <p> + “If you are sure your mother will always want you,” he added rather + sourly. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of mother's not always wanting me!” Maimie cried, and her face + glistened. + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn't bar you out,” said Peter huskily. + </p> + <p> + “The door,” replied Maimie, “will always, always be open, and mother will + always be waiting at it for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Peter, not without grimness, “step in, if you feel so sure of + her,” and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + </p> + <p> + “But why don't you look at me?” she asked, taking him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave a great + gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow. + </p> + <p> + She went to him. “What is it, dear, dear Peter?” she said, wondering. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Maimie,” he cried, “it isn't fair to take you with me if you think + you can go back. Your mother”—he gulped again—“you don't know + them as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, and + she gasped all the time. “But my mother,” she said, “my mother”— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she would,” said Peter, “they are all the same. I daresay she is + looking for another one already.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie said aghast, “I can't believe it. You see, when you went away your + mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they are satisfied + when they have one.” + </p> + <p> + Peter replied bitterly, “You should see the letters Solomon gets from + ladies who have six.” + </p> + <p> + Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, all round + the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumped nervously + into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, and he was + trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully. + </p> + <p> + “If I should be too late,” she called in agony, “oh, Peter, if she has got + another one already!” + </p> + <p> + Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. “I shall come and + look for you to-night,” he said, squeezing close, “but if you hurry away I + think you will be in time.” + </p> + <p> + Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and covered his + face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Peter!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Maimie!” cried the tragic boy. + </p> + <p> + She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, and then + she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you may be + sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded, but + he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For long he hoped + that some night she would come back to him; often he thought he saw her + waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew to land, + but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid that if she + saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger with him too long, + and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But she often talked + lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him, and one day + when she was wondering what Easter present he would like, her mother made + a suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said thoughtfully, “would be so useful to him as a goat.” + </p> + <p> + “He could ride on it,” cried Maimie, “and play on his pipe at the same + time!” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” her mother asked, “won't you give him your goat, the one you + frighten Tony with at night?” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't a real goat,” Maimie said. + </p> + <p> + “It seems very real to Tony,” replied her mother. + </p> + <p> + “It seems frightfully real to me too,” Maimie admitted, “but how could I + give it to Peter?” + </p> + <p> + Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was really + quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went to the + Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then her mother, + who was a rather gifted lady, said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?” + </pre> + <p> + To which Maimie replied, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide.” + </pre> + <p> + She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and turned round + three times. + </p> + <p> + Next Tony said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?” + </pre> + <p> + And Maimie answered, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere.” + </pre> + <p> + She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining what she had + done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into one + convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, for + Peter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for the + fairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Peter + got the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playing + sublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened + Tony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another + animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presents for + Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play with them), + and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, for + instance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, and + we shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before + Porthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one of + them. + </p> + <p> + Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, and often + in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrily on the + grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memory that he + was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to the house-swallows + when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are the spirits of little + children who have died. They always build in the eaves of the houses where + they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they try to fly in at a + nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves them best of all the + birds. + </p> + <p> + And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every night + except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest there + should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marshes + looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goat to + the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when they step + out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because it is so + pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because he still + loves to do just as he believes real boys would do. + </p> + <p> + But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees the little + house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardens after + Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be out that + night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they are not, you + may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. He has been too + late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runs back to the + Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him the true use, + and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little tombstone and carves + the poor thing's initials on it. He does this at once because he thinks it + is what real boys would do, and you must have noticed the little stones + and that there are always two together. He puts them in twos because it + seems less lonely. I think that quite the most touching sight in the + Gardens is the two tombstones of Walter Stephen Matthews and Phoebe + Phelps. They stand together at the spot where the parishes of Westminster + St. Mary's is said to meet the parish of Paddington. Here Peter found the + two babes, who had fallen unnoticed from their perambulators, Phoebe aged + thirteen months and Walter probably still younger, for Peter seems to have + felt a delicacy about putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, + and the simple inscriptions read + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +—————-+ +—————-+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +—————-+ +—————-+ +</pre> + <p> + David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves. + </p> + <p> + But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at the + opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetest + little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with his + spade. It is all rather sad. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. An Interloper + </h2> + <p> + David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed the night + with me. We had often talked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary + consented to our having it. + </p> + <p> + The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted hour of six + P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of sandwiches, but proved to be + his requisites for the night done up in a neat paper parcel. We were both + so excited that, at the moment of greeting, neither of us could be + apposite to the occasion in words, so we communicated our feelings by + signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there was no chair, + which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and is borrowed, I + think, from the frogs, and we then made the extraordinary faces which + mean, “What a tremendous adventure!” + </p> + <p> + We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done every + evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know how it was such + an adventure to David. But I have now said enough to show you what an + adventure it was to me. + </p> + <p> + For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the delicacy of + a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from asking why one + of them was not a Victoria Cross. He is very troubled because I never won + the Victoria Cross, for it lowers his status in the Gardens. He never says + in the Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of his year who says I + didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each other. + </p> + <p> + At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, and + covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, “Half-past six; + time for little boys to be in bed.” I said it in the matter-of-fact voice + of one made free of the company of parents, as if I had said it often + before, and would have to say it often again, and as if there was nothing + particularly delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried to say it + in that way. + </p> + <p> + And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his little foot, + and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a + matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the floor when lighted, are the + greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is a + place with a roaring bonfire. + </p> + <p> + Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle bored + by the dull routine of putting my little boys to bed, and conducted him to + the night nursery, which had lately been my private chamber. There was an + extra bed in it tonight, very near my own, but differently shaped, and + scarcely less conspicuous was the new mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of + milk, with a biscuit on top of it, and a chocolate riding on the biscuit. + To enter the room without seeing the tumbler at once was impossible. I had + tried it several times, and David saw and promptly did his frog business, + the while, with an indescribable emotion, I produced a night-light from my + pocket and planted it in a saucer on the wash-stand. + </p> + <p> + David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon made a + noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had no longer use + for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off his boots. + I took them off with all the coolness of an old hand, and then I placed + him on my knee and removed his blouse. This was a delightful experience, + but I think I remained wonderfully calm until I came somewhat too suddenly + to his little braces, which agitated me profoundly. + </p> + <p> + I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + </p> + <p> + Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from the + night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a man peered in + at the little figure on the bed. However softly I opened the door, an inch + at a time, his bright eyes turned to me at once, and he always made the + face which means, “What a tremendous adventure!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you never to fall asleep, David?” I always said. + </p> + <p> + “When are you coming to bed?” he always replied, very brave but in a + whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When little + boys are in bed there is nothing between them and bears and wolves but the + night-light. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with his face + to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the door, listening. + </p> + <p> + Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, and I + knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after what seemed a + long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said in a cautious whisper, + “Irene!” + </p> + <p> + “You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know,” he replied, a little troubled but trying not to be a + nuisance. + </p> + <p> + “You remember you are with me?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + After a moment's hesitation he replied, “I nearly remember,” and presently + he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had whispered to him, “I + remember now.” + </p> + <p> + I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, “Is it + going on now?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, David.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, “You are not + frightened, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not?” he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping in the + darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. + </p> + <p> + “I am not frightened now,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “And there is nothing else you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there not?” he again asked politely. “Are you sure there's not?” he + added. + </p> + <p> + “What can it be, David?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take up very much room,” the far-away voice said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, David,” said I, sitting up, “do you want to come into my bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first,” he squeaked. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I have been wanting all the time,” said I, and then without + more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at me. For the rest + of the night he lay on me and across me, and sometimes his feet were at + the bottom of the bed and sometimes on the pillow, but he always retained + possession of my finger, and occasionally he woke me to say that he was + sleeping with me. I had not a good night. I lay thinking. + </p> + <p> + Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I undressed him, + had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + </p> + <p> + Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently daring. + </p> + <p> + Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I essayed to + catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + </p> + <p> + Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet breathing, had + stood so long that I forgot his name and called him Timothy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. David and Porthos Compared + </h2> + <p> + But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the morning, by + inquiring too curiously into his person and discovering that I had put his + combinations on him with the buttons to the front. For this I wrote her + the following insulting letter. When Mary does anything that specially + annoys me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a photograph taken of + David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You can't think of all the + subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman with the spirit of a crow + would stand it. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you walk in + the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for encomiums of him and + of your fanciful dressing of him by passers-by, storing them in your heart + the while you make vain pretence to regard them not: wherefore lest you be + swollen by these very small things I, who now know David both by day and + by night, am minded to compare him and Porthos the one with the other, + both in this matter and in other matters of graver account. And touching + this matter of outward show, they are both very lordly, and neither of + them likes it to be referred to, but they endure in different ways. For + David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times hits out, but Porthos droops + his tail and lets them have their say. Yet is he extolled as beautiful and + a darling ten times for the once that David is extolled. + </p> + <p> + “The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners of David, + who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree sometimes comes not + in search, and on emerging tamely from my concealment I find him playing + other games entirely forgetful of my existence. Whereas Porthos always + comes in search. Also if David wearies of you he scruples not to say so, + but Porthos, in like circumstances, offers you his paw, meaning + 'Farewell,' and to bearded men he does this all the time (I think because + of a hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive him to be + enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to go. Thus + while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be argued that those + of David are more efficacious. + </p> + <p> + “In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the one shoves + and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the other, who is + noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his size, remonstrates not, + even when they cling in froth and fury to his chest, but carries them + along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, David will not + unbend when in the company of babies, expecting them unreasonably to rise + to his level, but contrariwise Porthos, though terrible to tramps, suffers + all things of babies, even to an exploration of his mouth in an attempt to + discover what his tongue is like at the other end. The comings and goings + of David are unnoticed by perambulators, which lie in wait for the advent + of Porthos. The strong and wicked fear Porthos but no little creature + fears him, not the hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, + nor the sparrows that steal his straw from under him. + </p> + <p> + “In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the rabbit. + Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country Porthos was elated to + discover at last something small that ran from him, and developing at once + into an ecstatic sportsman he did pound hotly in pursuit, though always + over-shooting the mark by a hundred yards or so and wondering very much + what had become of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from the top of + which the rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of Porthos was + to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to give me a knowing + look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did something tricky with + a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore onwards in full faith that the game + was being played fairly, and always returned panting and puzzling but + glorious. + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch the + rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he did catch + it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of + which he was in chase. I found him with it, his brows furrowed in the + deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cowered beneath him. + Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame of + mind. 'What is the next thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle with + him, and the position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, which + several times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. Whereupon + Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and again fell to + pondering. The strain on me was very great. + </p> + <p> + “At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked over his + shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first slowly and then in + a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a search for it, but you + cannot think how relieved he looked. He even tried to brazen out his + disgrace before me and waved his tail appealingly. But he could not look + me in the face, and when he saw that this was what I insisted on he + collapsed at my feet and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and I + was touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could do, + and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so long as I am + pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matters to Porthos. I told + this story to David, having first extracted a promise from him that he + would not think the less of Porthos, and now I must demand the same + promise of you. Also, an admission that in innocence of heart, for which + David has been properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos + nothing, but on the contrary may learn much from him. + </p> + <p> + “And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over Porthos—the + first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene (pretentiously + called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and envies every ragged boy who + can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos would have every class keep its place, and + though fond of going down into the kitchen, always barks at the top of the + stairs for a servile invitation before he graciously descends. Most of the + servants in our street have had the loan of him to be photographed with, + and I have but now seen him stalking off for that purpose with a proud + little housemaid who is looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom + she had paid a shilling. + </p> + <p> + “Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due to the one + and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I have noticed, loves + to splash in his bath and to slip back into it from the hands that would + transfer him to a towel. But Porthos stands in his bath drooping abjectly + like a shamed figure cut out of some limp material. + </p> + <p> + “Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of Porthos, who + cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to take a solitary walk, + while David invents playfully all day long. Lastly, when David is + discovered of some offence and expresses sorrow therefor, he does that + thing no more for a time, but looks about him for other offences, whereas + Porthos incontinently repeats his offence, in other words, he again buries + his bone in the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know it, although his + nose be crusted with earth. + </p> + <p> + “Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David excels + Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no more than a match + for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if a parcel comes into + my chambers Porthos is miserable until it is opened, and I have noticed + the same thing of David. + </p> + <p> + “Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all + gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the other way, but if I + say I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he skips joyfully, yet + thinks he still has a right to a chocolate, and when I remarked + disparagingly on this to David he looked so shy that there was revealed to + me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + </p> + <p> + “A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of punishments, + and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in this matter to + be your mouthpiece) complains that I am not sufficiently severe with + David, and do leave the chiding of him for offences against myself to her + in the hope that he will love her less and me more thereby. Which we have + hotly argued in the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I here + say that if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is that I + dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat the one the + same with the other. + </p> + <p> + “Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his great + heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that all is not well + between him and me, and having struck him once some years ago never can I + forget the shudder which passed through him when he saw it was I who had + struck, and I shall strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is detected in + any unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my writing table in + his presence, and even this punishment is almost more than he can bear. + Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on David encourages him but to + enter upon fresh trespasses (as the girl Irene avers), the reason must be + that his heart is not like unto that of the noble Porthos. + </p> + <p> + “And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, and so + demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, what is the + manner of severity meted out to him at home? And lest you should shuffle + in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my ears. + </p> + <p> + “As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered it + with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal punishment, + whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David continuing to + rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly of a cane, but + the mother rushed between the combatants. That the problematical + chastisement became to David an object of romantic interest. That this + darkened the happy home. That casting from his path a weeping mother, the + goaded father at last dashed from the house yelling that he was away to + buy a cane. That he merely walked the streets white to the lips because of + the terror David must now be feeling. And that when he returned, it was + David radiant with hope who opened the door and then burst into tears + because there was no cane. Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax + me with want of severity. Rather should you be giving thanks that it is + not you I am comparing with Porthos. + </p> + <p> + “But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever + wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking up + from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate + attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which + comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to their + masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for this, while + I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David has of making + me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of me as a matter + of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the depths of Porthos. + Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie down beside him on the + floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my soul, ma'am, a protecting + arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew what was the want of the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the + worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we + shall both be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. William Paterson + </h2> + <p> + We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the + fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may say. + It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some sheets of + newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my housekeeper, + who thinks dogs should lie on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want them to give + you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, for all the r's + should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so often that David + believes I should find difficulty in making myself understood. + </p> + <p> + “What would you say,” he asked me, “if you wanted them to turn you into a + hollyhock?” He thinks the ease with which they can turn you into things is + their most engaging quality. + </p> + <p> + The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me this I again + forgot the lukka. + </p> + <p> + “I should never dream,” I said (to cover my discomfiture), “of asking them + to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I should soon wither, + David.” + </p> + <p> + He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, but now he + seemed to think it merely silly. “Just before the time to wither begins,” + he said airily, “you say to them Fairy me bola.” + </p> + <p> + Fairy me bola means “Turn me back again,” and David's discovery made me + uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his distance of the fairies + mainly because of a feeling that their conversions are permanent. + </p> + <p> + So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms under the + care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown to them, but they + have no need of me, for at such times nothing would induce Porthos to + depart from the care of David. If anyone addresses them he growls softly + and shows the teeth that crunch bones as if they were biscuits. Thus + amicably the two pass on to Mary's house, where Porthos barks his + knock-and-ring bark till the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in with + David, but on this occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing + remarkable in this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next day + nor in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore his + knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos—at + least—well—something disquieting happened. I don't quite know + what to think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall + think as you choose. + </p> + <p> + My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and got locked + in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was over I was there to + make inquiries. But there was no news of Porthos, though I learned that + someone was believed to have spent the night in the Gardens, a young + gentleman who walked out hastily the moment the gates were opened. He had + said nothing, however, of having seen a dog. I feared an accident now, for + I knew no thief could steal him, yet even an accident seemed incredible, + he was always so cautious at crossings; also there could not possibly have + been an accident to Porthos without there being an accident to something + else. + </p> + <p> + David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the great blank + and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities that when he knew he + was about to cry he turned aside to do it and I always respected his + privacy and waited for him. Of course being but a little boy he was soon + playing again, but his sudden floods of feeling, of which we never spoke, + were dear to me in those desolate days. + </p> + <p> + We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back to that, + meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos used to squat, but + we could not help looking at it sideways, and to our distress a man was + sitting on the acquainted spot. He rose at our approach and took two steps + toward us, so quick that they were almost jumps, then as he saw that we + were passing indignantly I thought I heard him give a little cry. + </p> + <p> + I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure strangers + into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on the Story-seat + itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was dandiacally dressed, seemed + to tell something under twenty years and had a handsome wistful face atop + of a heavy, lumbering, almost corpulent figure, which however did not + betoken inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of his mother's of + which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we neared him he leapt + the railings without touching them and was back with it in three seconds; + only instead of delivering it straightway he seemed to expect David to + chase him for it. + </p> + <p> + You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings without + touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his name) was at once + our friend. We often found him waiting for us at the Story-seat, and the + great stout fellow laughed and wept over our tales like a three-year-old. + Often he said with extraordinary pride, “You are telling the story to me + quite as much as to David, ar'n't you?” He was of an innocence such as you + shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at which even David blinked. + Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David said that of course these + things did not really happen, and unable to resist that appeal I would + reply that they really did. I never saw him irate except when David was + still sceptical, but then he would say quite warningly “He says it is + true, so it must be true.” This brings me to that one of his qualities, + which at once gratified and pained me, his admiration for myself. His + eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were ever fixed upon me fondly + except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and said that death alone could + have kept him so long from my side. Then Paterson's sympathy was such that + he had to look away. He was shy of speaking of himself so I asked him no + personal questions, but concluded that his upbringing must have been + lonely, to account for his ignorance of affairs, and loveless, else how + could he have felt such a drawing to me? + </p> + <p> + I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely monstrous, + suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been blown, the three of us, + to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was also, I think, the first time + Paterson had entered them. “Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson,” I said, as I + drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were off him. + Then I saw that, before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading the + day's paper over it. “Whatever makes you do that?” I asked, and he started + like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed the paper + aside. + </p> + <p> + David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, and, despite + my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be roused from it by a + feeling that Paterson was looking at me covertly. Pooh! what vapours of + the imagination were these. I blew them from me, and to prove to myself, + so to speak, that they were dissipated, I asked him to see David home. As + soon as I was alone, I flung me down on the floor laughing, then as + quickly jumped up and was after them, and very sober too, for it was come + to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had set off without asking + where David lived. + </p> + <p> + Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. They were + walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps nothing remarkable + happened until they reached David's door. I say perhaps, for something did + occur. A lady, who has several pretty reasons for frequenting the Gardens, + recognised David in the street, and was stooping to address him, when + Paterson did something that alarmed her. I was too far off to see what it + was, but had he growled “Hands off!” she could not have scurried away more + precipitately. He then ponderously marched his charge to the door, where, + assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead of knocking or ringing, he + stood on the step and called out sharply, “Hie, hie, hie!” until the door + was opened. + </p> + <p> + The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my sleep that + night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the pillow. + </p> + <p> + I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to me + charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking hands. He now did + it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew him his arm had described a + circle, and the hand had sometimes missed mine and come heavily upon my + chest instead. His walk, again, might more correctly have been called a + waddle. + </p> + <p> + There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without thanking me + with an intensity that was out of proportion to the little I had done for + him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever to take the sward rather than the + seats, perhaps a wise preference, but he had an unusual way of sitting + down. I can describe it only by saying that he let go of himself and went + down with a thud. + </p> + <p> + I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. We had + cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat finicking manner; yet + having left the table for a moment to consult the sweets-card, I saw, when + I returned, that there was now no bone on his plate. The waiters were + looking at him rather curiously. + </p> + <p> + David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat singular + manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I remembered, also, that while + David shouted to me or Irene to attract our attention, he usually whistled + to Paterson, he could not explain why. + </p> + <p> + These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but often + when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, unsupported, they + would have disturbed me little by day. Day, however, had its reflections, + and they came to me while I was shaving, that ten minutes when, brought + face to face with the harsher realities of life, we see things most + clearly as they are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson loomed + offensively, and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to nigh + twenty years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He could + not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean motives for + generous acts. He had not a single base story about women. It all seemed + inhuman. + </p> + <p> + What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's faith in + me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. An easy task, you + may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a change had come over the + youth. I am now arrived at a time when the light-heartedness had gone out + of him; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the eyes that + were once so certain. He was not doubtful of me, not then, but of human + nature in general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He mixed with + boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how could he + retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He heard your talk of + yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the edifice went down. I have not + the heart to follow him in all his discoveries. Sometimes he went in flame + at them, but for the most part he stood looking on, bewildered and numbed, + like one moaning inwardly. + </p> + <p> + He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to breathe upon + the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born with a man's powers, and + when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment longer to you, + the woman of whom, before he saw you, he had heard so much. How you would + strive to cheat him, even as I strove to hide my real self from Paterson, + and still you would strive as I strove after you knew the game was up. + </p> + <p> + The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days when I + could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long ceased to be a + vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for hours he and I would be + together without speaking. It was so upon the last day, one of those + innumerable dreary days when David, having sneezed the night before, was + kept at home in flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the Story-seat. + At last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what chained our + tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, for soon the gates + would close, but when I looked at him I saw that he was more mournful than + ever before; he shut his eyes so tightly that a drop of blood fell from + them. + </p> + <p> + “It was all over, Paterson, long ago,” I broke out harshly, “why do we + linger?” + </p> + <p> + He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing looks that + had much affection in them. + </p> + <p> + “You expected too much of me,” I told him, and he bowed his head. “I don't + know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women from. I don't + want to know,” I added hastily. + </p> + <p> + “But it must have been from a prettier world than this,” I said: “are you + quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?” + </p> + <p> + He rose and sat down again. “I wanted to know you,” he replied slowly, “I + wanted to be like you.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you know me,” I said, “do you want to be like me still? I am a + curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even + David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very hard + to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even now I am + not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson, David will + grow out of me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but “No,” said I, “you have found + me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the loss of + him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?” + </p> + <p> + He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far away + I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + </p> + <p> + For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew not + what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I switched + on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do in the early + morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened, and the dear + Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his bark, but whence + he came no one knew. + </p> + <p> + He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all + points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside + him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the + old adoring eyes. + </p> + <p> + But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. Joey + </h2> + <p> + Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in her + maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their fortunate + papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused by their + mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust to your + father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to every one of + the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a delicious little + tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is pretty (but + dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering together the + babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and bring a hansom, + but others go from street to street in private 'buses, and even wear false + noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon them as you grew more and + more like your sweet cruel mamma. + </p> + <p> + So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my reasoning, for + I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, pausing on the threshold + to peer through the hole in the little house called “Pay Here,” which he + thought was Red Riding Hood's residence, and asked politely whether he + might see her, but they said she had gone to the wood, and it was quite + true, for there she was in the wood gathering a stick for her + grandmother's fire. She sang a beautiful song about the Boys and their + dashing ways, which flattered David considerably, but she forgot to take + away the stick after all. Other parts of the play were not so nice, but + David thought it all lovely, he really did. + </p> + <p> + Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in the darkest + corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him he struck me. + </p> + <p> + The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so fair. He had + asked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in the middle + of a song) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and when at + last Joey did come he screamed out, “How do you do, Joey!” and went into + convulsions of mirth. + </p> + <p> + Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, pocketing the + sausages for which their family has such a fatal weakness, and so when the + butcher engaged Joey as his assistant there was soon not a sausage left. + However, this did not matter, for there was a box rather like an ice-cream + machine, and you put chunks of pork in at one end and turned a handle and + they came out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite enjoyed doing this, + and you could see that the sausages were excellent by the way he licked + his fingers after touching them, but soon there were no more pieces of + pork, and just then a dear little Irish terrier-dog came trotting down the + street, so what did Joey do but pop it into the machine and it came out at + the other end as sausages. + </p> + <p> + It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and drove us + weeping to our growler. + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as Joey told me + afterward, it is very difficult to say what they will think funny and what + barbarous. I was forced to admit to him that David had perceived only the + joyous in the pokering of the policeman's legs, and had called out + heartily “Do it again!” every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down with + one kick and helped him up with another. + </p> + <p> + “It hurts the poor chap,” I was told by Joey, whom I was agreeably + surprised to find by no means wanting in the more humane feelings, “and he + wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the laugh to encourage him.” + </p> + <p> + He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + </p> + <p> + However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father and nurse + combined could not comfort him, though they swore that the dog was still + alive and kicking, which might all have been very well had not David seen + the sausages. It was to inquire whether anything could be done to atone + that in considerable trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, and the + result of our talk was that he invited me and David to have tea with him + on Thursday next at his lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “I sha'n't laugh,” David said, nobly true to the memory of the little dog, + “I sha'n't laugh once,” and he closed his jaws very tightly as we drew + near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But he also gripped my hand, + like one who knew that it would be an ordeal not to laugh. + </p> + <p> + The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a convenient + sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) and we saw a policeman + in the street looking the other way, as they always do look just before + you rub them. A woman wearing the same kind of clothes as people in other + houses wear, told us to go up to the second floor, and she grinned at + David, as if she had heard about him; so up we went, David muttering + through his clenched teeth, “I sha'n't laugh,” and as soon as we knocked a + voice called out, “Here we are again!” at which a shudder passed through + David as if he feared that he had set himself an impossible task. In we + went, however, and though the voice had certainly come from this room we + found nobody there. I looked in bewilderment at David, and he quickly put + his hand over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might expect; + there were droll things in it, but they did nothing funny, you could see + that they were just waiting for Joey. There were padded chairs with + friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a + horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing + happened to us. + </p> + <p> + The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with a very + lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and a notice on the + top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. David tried to pull the + stocking out of the hole, but it was so long that it never came to an end, + and when it measured six times the length of the room he had to cover his + mouth again. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not laughing,” he said to me, quite fiercely. He even managed not to + laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on the mantelpiece a + photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the garments he wore before he + became a clown. You can't think how absurd he looked in them. But David + didn't laugh. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more sudden + though he had come from beneath the table, and he was wearing his + pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were the only clothes he + had) and his red and white face was so funny that David made gurgling + sounds, which were his laugh trying to force a passage. + </p> + <p> + I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, instead of + taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this was so droll that + David had again to save himself by clapping his hand over his mouth. Joey + thought he had toothache, so I explained what it really meant, and then + Joey said, “Oh, I shall soon make him laugh,” whereupon the following + conversation took place between them: + </p> + <p> + “No, you sha'n't,” said David doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you sha'n't not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall so.” + </p> + <p> + “Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall, shall, shall.” + </p> + <p> + “You shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “You're another.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was getting + the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's laugh in his pocket, + and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey searched his pockets and + brought out the most unexpected articles, including a duck and a bunch of + carrots; and you could see by his manner that the simple soul thought + these were things which all boys carried loose in their pockets. + </p> + <p> + I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a + half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight of it reminded + him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he howled, and Joey's heart was + touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped his eyes with the duck. + </p> + <p> + It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also dressed + as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a trayful of + sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he announced, in + his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that had lately been + the dog. + </p> + <p> + Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so + impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the sausages, + and said that they were two short, and he found the missing two up the + pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the room and came back with the + sausage-machine; and what do you think he did? He put all the sausages + into the end of the machine that they had issued from, and turned the + handle backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + </p> + <p> + Can you picture the joy of David? + </p> + <p> + He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we noticed that + there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must have + put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the machine had not worked quite + smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which + distressed David, for he saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its + bark outside, and we were considering what should be done when the dog + closed the discussion by swallowing the sausage. + </p> + <p> + After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, entering into + the childish pleasures of this family as heartily as if he had been + brought up on sausages, and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You + must not think that he did this viciously; he did it to please the old + gentleman, who begged him to do it, and always shook hands warmly and said + “Thank you,” when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + </p> + <p> + Joey called David and me “Sonny,” and asked David, who addressed him as + “Mr. Clown,” to call him Joey. He also told us that the pantaloon's name + was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the harlequin's Joeykin. + </p> + <p> + We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. This + was because his memory is so bad that he often forgets whether it is your + head or your feet you should stand on, and he usually begins the day by + standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus he requires + constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw attention to + his mistake, he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No sooner had Joey + told us this than the poor old fellow began to turn upside down and stood + on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and talked about the weather + until he came to. + </p> + <p> + Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this time, for + they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, and danced off and on + most of the time. Even in the middle of what they were saying they would + begin to flutter; it was not so much that they meant to dance as that the + slightest thing set them going, such as sitting in a draught; and David + found he could blow them about the room like pieces of paper. You could + see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was very young indeed, and + at first this made him shy, as he always is when introduced formally to + little girls, and he stood sucking his thumb, and so did she, but soon the + stiffness wore off and they sat together on the sofa, holding each other's + hands. + </p> + <p> + All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, and David + requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is such an adept, and + first he said he would, and then he said better not, for the last time he + did it the people in the next house had made such a fuss. David had to + admit that it must be rather startling to the people on the other side of + the wall, but he was sorry. + </p> + <p> + By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered to ask if + you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly as her mother would + have asked. There was nothing to eat, of course, except sausages, but what + a number of them there were! hundreds at least, strings of sausages, and + every now and then Joey jumped up and played skipping rope with them. + David had been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt greedy, and + he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey and even Josy + eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed nobler feelings, + for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love with each other across the + table, but unaffected by this pretty picture, Joey continued to put whole + sausages in his mouth at a time, and then rubbed himself a little lower + down, while old Joey secreted them about his person; and when David wasn't + looking they both pounced on his sausages, and yet as they gobbled they + were constantly running to the top of the stair and screaming to the + servant to bring up more sausages. + </p> + <p> + You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your plate) + was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that sausages were a + passion with him. + </p> + <p> + He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of sausages. + They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. He told us how, even + in those days, his mother had feared for him, though fond of a sausage + herself; how he had bought a sausage with his first penny, and hoped to + buy one with his last (if they could not be got in any other way), and + that he always slept with a string of them beneath his pillow. + </p> + <p> + While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes came to + rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a horrid gleam in + them, on the little dog, which was fooling about on the top of the + sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward it convulsively, whereat + David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gallantly clenched + his other fist, and then Joey begged his pardon and burst into tears, each + one of which he flung against the wall, where it exploded with a bang. + </p> + <p> + David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to look in + that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were nothing to him when + he was short of sausages, and so his wisest course would be to present the + dog to David. Oh, the joy of David when he understood that the little dog + he had saved was his very own! I can tell you he was now in a hurry to be + off before Joey had time to change his mind. + </p> + <p> + “All I ask of you,” Joey said with a break in his voice, “is to call him + after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a Saturday night.” + </p> + <p> + There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed that he + might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal passion. + </p> + <p> + The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at us + in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand like + a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We could not exactly see old + Joey, but we saw his feet, and so feared the worst. Of course they are not + everything they should be, but one can't help liking them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. Pilkington's + </h2> + <p> + On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away from the + Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them they are ladies and + gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail a hansom. + </p> + <p> + Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I suppose, to put + up their hair, but the boys have gone to Pilkington's. He is a man with a + cane. You may not go to Pilkington's in knickerbockers made by your + mother, make she ever so artfully. They must be real knickerbockers. It is + his stern rule. Hence the fearful fascination of Pilkington's. + </p> + <p> + He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real knickerbockers, + fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him but a pool swarming with + small fry. + </p> + <p> + Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the flesh, sir, + but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a lean tortuous habit of + body, that moves ever with a swish. Every morning, I swear, thou readest + avidly the list of male births in thy paper, and then are thy hands rubbed + gloatingly the one upon the other. 'Tis fear of thee and thy gown and thy + cane, which are part of thee, that makes the fairies to hide by day; wert + thou to linger but once among their haunts between the hours of Lock-out + and Open Gates there would be left not one single gentle place in all the + Gardens. The little people would flit. How much wiser they than the small + boys who swim glamoured to thy crafty hook. Thou devastator of the + Gardens, I know thee, Pilkington. + </p> + <p> + I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. + </p> + <p> + This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the Gardens, and + without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the completion of his + seventh year at a time when David seemed unable to get beyond half-past + five. I have to speak of him in the past tense, for gone is Oliver from + the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) but he is still a name among us, and + some lordly deeds are remembered of him, as that his father shaved twice a + day. Oliver himself was all on that scale. + </p> + <p> + His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked upon an + island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it insinuatingly in his + prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that a boy with such an outlook + should fascinate David. I am proud, therefore, to be able to state on wood + that it was Oliver himself who made the overture. + </p> + <p> + On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked Islands, as + they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully that he supposed you + needed to be very very good before you had any chance of being wrecked, + and the remark was conveyed to Oliver, on whom it made an uncomfortable + impression. For a time he tried to evade it, but ultimately David was + presented to him and invited gloomily to say it again. The upshot was that + Oliver advertised the Gardens of his intention to be good until he was + eight, and if he had not been wrecked by that time, to be as jolly bad as + a boy could be. He was naturally so bad that at the Kindergarten Academy, + when the mistress ordered whoever had done the last naughty deed to step + forward, Oliver's custom had been to step forward, not necessarily because + he had done it, but because he presumed he very likely had. + </p> + <p> + The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I thought + Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an equal; he also + walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved him for delinquencies like + a loving elder brother. But 'tis a gray world even in the Gardens, for I + found that a new arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to + life-size. He had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, to + his friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being good + until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely that the one + could not be wrecked without the other. + </p> + <p> + When this was made known to me it was already too late to break the spell + of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith, I began to + find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver was frankly bored by me and + even David seemed to think it would be convenient if I went and sat with + Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really distressed and lonely, and + rather bitter; and how humble I became. Sometimes when the dog Joey is + unable, by frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, he stands on his + hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I was sometimes as humble + as Joey. Then David would insist on my being suffered to join them, but it + was plain that he had no real occasion for me. + </p> + <p> + It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I had been + fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed though she was + advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I now to be knocked out so + easily by a seven year old? I reconsidered my weapons, and I fought Oliver + and beat him. Figure to yourself those two boys become as faithful to me + as my coat-tails. + </p> + <p> + With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious way by + telling them a story which might last an hour, and favoured by many an + unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. It started as the wreck of the + simple Swiss family who looked up and saw the butter tree, but soon a + glorious inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David A—— + and Oliver Bailey. At first it was what they were to do when they were + wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent much of + my time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories in the + booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for I found that + the titles were even more helpful than the stories. We wrecked everybody + of note, including all Homer's most taking characters and the hero of + Paradise Lost. But we suffered them not to land. We stripped them of what + we wanted and left them to wander the high seas naked of adventure. And + all this was merely the beginning. + </p> + <p> + By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own proposal, + but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for me with Oliver. + They found me among the breakers with a large dog, which had kept me + afloat throughout that terrible night. I was the sole survivor of the + ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted was I that they had to carry me to their + hut, and great was my gratitude when on opening my eyes, I found myself in + that romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. As we walked in + the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and they were inflated + but not surprised. On the other hand they looked for surprise from me. + </p> + <p> + “Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?” asked Oliver, + reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously told them. + </p> + <p> + “You did.” + </p> + <p> + “Who turned it?” demanded David, not as one who needed information but + after the manner of a schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “It was turned,” I said, “by David A——, the younger of the two + youths.” + </p> + <p> + “Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?” asked the older of the two + youths. + </p> + <p> + “Oliver Bailey,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Was it Oliver,” asked David sharply, “that found the cocoa-nut-tree + first?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” I answered, “it was first observed by David, who + immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the cocos-nucifera, + for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns supporting the crown of leaves + which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” remarked David with a wave of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I said things like that, too,” Oliver insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't then,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't so.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, let's hear one you said.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver looked appealingly at me. “The following,” I announced, “is one + that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils of these + happenings are great, and our privations calculated to break the stoutest + heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights I would endure still greater + trials and still rejoice even as the bird on yonder bough.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's one I said!” crowed Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I shot the bird,” said David instantly. + </p> + <p> + “What bird?” + </p> + <p> + “The yonder bird.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not shoot the bird?” + </p> + <p> + “It was David who shot the bird,” I said, “but it was Oliver who saw by + its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the Psittacidae, an + excellent substitute for partridge.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't see that,” said Oliver, rather swollen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw that.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “David shot it,” I summed up, “and Oliver knew its name, but I ate it. Do + you remember how hungry I was?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” said David. + </p> + <p> + “I cooked it,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “It was served up on toast,” I reminded them. + </p> + <p> + “I toasted it,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Toast from the bread-fruit-tree,” I said, “which (as you both remarked + simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a year, and also + affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoes.” + </p> + <p> + “I pitched mine best,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I pitched mine farthest,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And when I had finished my repast,” said I, “you amazed me by handing me + a cigar from the tobacco-plant.” + </p> + <p> + “I handed it,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I snicked off the end,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said I, “you gave me a light.” + </p> + <p> + “Which of us?” they cried together. + </p> + <p> + “Both of you,” I said. “Never shall I forget my amazement when I saw you + get that light by rubbing two sticks together.” + </p> + <p> + At this they waggled their heads. “You couldn't have done it!” said David. + </p> + <p> + “No, David,” I admitted, “I can't do it, but of course I know that all + wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did it.” + </p> + <p> + But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not shown + everything. + </p> + <p> + David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an island, + while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to argue it out + together and among their friends. As I unfolded the story Oliver listened + with an open knife in his hand, and David who was not allowed to have a + knife wore a pirate-string round his waist. Irene in her usual interfering + way objected to this bauble and dropped disparaging remarks about wrecked + islands which were little to her credit. I was for defying her, but David, + who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he craftily proposed that + we “should let Irene in,” in short, should wreck her, and though I + objected, she proved a great success and recognised the yucca filamentosa + by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined us. Thereafter we had no + more scoffing from Irene, who listened to the story as hotly as anybody. + </p> + <p> + This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, though + they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt he did. They + were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was very soft-hearted and + knew that while he was on the island they must be missing him very much at + home. So we let them in, and there was no part of the story he liked + better than that which told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of + another woman at any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and + Mary, I can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly + being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept at + plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff to cliff + with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a Saturday in which + David did not kill his man. + </p> + <p> + I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as true as + true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero himself. I had + described to them how the savages had tattooed David's father, and Oliver + informed me that one night shortly afterward David was discovered softly + lifting the blankets off his father's legs to have a look at the birds and + reptiles etched thereon. + </p> + <p> + Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may be asking + where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy fishing, + though I was as yet unaware of his existence. Most suddenly I heard the + whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a fish. I remember that grim day + with painful vividness, it was a wet day, indeed I think it has rained for + me more or less ever since. As soon as they joined me I saw from the + manner of the two boys that they had something to communicate. Oliver + nudged David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me solemnly, + </p> + <p> + “Oliver is going to Pilkington's.” + </p> + <p> + I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little did I + understand the import of David's remark that I called out jocularly, “I + hope he won't swish you, Oliver.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances and + retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned to say with + emphasis, + </p> + <p> + “He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all real ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Oliver!” said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once + more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided that the + time for plain speaking was come, for now David announced bluntly: + </p> + <p> + “He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I call him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bailey.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more after next + Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to Pilkington's.” + </p> + <p> + So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver + stretching himself consciously, and methought that even David walked with + a sedater air. + </p> + <p> + “David,” said I, with a sinking, “are you going to Pilkington's?” + </p> + <p> + “When I am eight,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the + Gardens any more?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said David cheerily. + </p> + <p> + Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. Strange + that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his hand and walked on + in silence, and presently I did my most churlish to hurt him by ending the + story abruptly in a very cruel way. “Ten years have elapsed,” said I, + “since I last spoke, and our two heroes, now gay young men, are revisiting + the wrecked island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck ourselves,' said one, + 'or was there someone to help us?' And the other who was the younger, + replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, a man with a dog. I think + he used to tell me stories in the Kensington Gardens, but I forget all + about him; I don't remember even his name.'” + </p> + <p> + This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but David + still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I knew a storm was + brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. “It's not true,” he cried, + “it's a lie!” He gripped my hand. “I sha'n't never forget you, father.” + </p> + <p> + Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Yet I could go on. “You will forget, David, but there was once a boy who + would have remembered.” + </p> + <p> + “Timothy?” said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, and is very + jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood alone and wept + passionately, while I waited for him. You may be sure I begged his pardon, + and made it all right with him, and had him laughing and happy again + before I let him go. But nevertheless what I said was true. David is not + my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. Barbara + </h2> + <p> + Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + </p> + <p> + For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey now. At + long intervals we met him on our way to or from the Gardens, and, if there + was none from Pilkington's to mark him, methought he looked at us somewhat + longingly, as if beneath his real knickerbockers a morsel of the egg-shell + still adhered. Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly kick in passing, + and called him “youngster.” That was about all. + </p> + <p> + When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had lofted him out + of the story, and did very well without him, extending our operations to + the mainland, where they were on so vast a scale that we were rapidly + depopulating the earth. And then said David one day, + </p> + <p> + “Shall we let Barbara in?” + </p> + <p> + We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to some other + child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having sought election, even + with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “She's my sister.” + </p> + <p> + You may imagine how I gaped. + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't come yet,” David said lightly, “but she's coming.” + </p> + <p> + I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for though I + had always suspicioned Mary A—— as one who harboured the + craziest ambitions when she looked most humble, of such presumption as + this I had never thought her capable. + </p> + <p> + I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she was + wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about Mary's husband and + his manner the last time we met, for though I have had no opportunity to + say so, we still meet now and again, and he has even dined with me at the + club. On these occasions the subject of Timothy is barred, and if by any + unfortunate accident Mary's name is mentioned, we immediately look + opposite ways and a silence follows, in which I feel sure he is smiling, + and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I remembered now that I had + last seen him when I was dining with him at his club (for he is become + member of a club of painter fellows, and Mary is so proud of this that she + has had it printed on his card), when undoubtedly he had looked + preoccupied. It had been the look, I saw now, of one who shared a guilty + secret. + </p> + <p> + As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at myself, + for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of late. Always + foolishly inflated about David, she had been grudging him even to me + during these last weeks, and I had forgiven her, putting it down to a + mother's love. I knew from the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been + giving him; I had seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her + every act, in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to + whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could I, not + being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying good-bye to him? + </p> + <p> + Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about the house + at this time, on the understanding that everything was going on as usual. + Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, especially the engine she bought + him yesterday? + </p> + <p> + Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? I envy + you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he wrapped you round + for it. That childish confidence of his to me, in which unwittingly he + betrayed you, indicates that at last you have been preparing him for the + great change, and I suppose you are capable of replying to me that David + is still happy, and even interested. But does he know from you what it + really means to him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not + scruple to give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands + for Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, what do + you think of this tricking of a little boy? + </p> + <p> + Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, are you + sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an unwritten compact in such + matters between a mother and her first-born, and I desire to point out to + you that he never breaks it. Again, what will the other boys say when they + know? You are outside the criticism of the Gardens, but David is not. + Faith, madam, I believe you would have been kinder to wait and let him run + the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + </p> + <p> + You think your husband is a great man now because they are beginning to + talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the newspaper columns that + nobody reads. I know you have bought him a velvet coat, and that he has + taken a large, airy and commodious studio in Mews Lane, where you are to + be found in a soft material on first and third Wednesdays. Times are + changing, but shall I tell you a story here, just to let you see that I am + acquainted with it? + </p> + <p> + Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist a picture + which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But no one spoke of the + picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made an offer for it. Crushed was + the artist, sorry for the denseness of connoisseurs was his wife, till the + work was bought by a dealer for an anonymous client, and then elated were + they both, and relieved also to discover that I was not the buyer. He came + to me at once to make sure of this, and remained to walk the floor + gloriously as he told me what recognition means to gentlemen of the + artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + </p> + <p> + But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is usually + kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden away. His wife backed + into a corner and made trembling confession. How could she submit to see + her dear's masterpiece ignored by the idiot public, and her dear himself + plunged into gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had they not been + married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers for recognition, and + so with her savings she bought the great work anonymously and stored it + away in a closet. At first, I believe, the man raved furiously, but + by-and-by he was on his knees at the feet of this little darling. You know + who she was, Mary, but, bless me, I seem to be praising you, and that was + not the enterprise on which I set out. What I intended to convey was that + though you can now venture on small extravagances, you seem to be going + too fast. Look at it how one may, this Barbara idea is undoubtedly a bad + business. + </p> + <p> + How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my lucky day I + did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I have scarcely as yet + dared to hint, lest by discovering it I should spoil my plot. For there + has been a plot all the time. + </p> + <p> + For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a book, my + informant being David, who, because I have published a little volume on + Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one on the same subject (which + I shall never finish), likes to watch my methods of composition, how I + dip, and so on, his desire being to help her. He may have done this on his + own initiative, but it is also quite possible that in her desperation she + urged him to it; he certainly implied that she had taken to book-writing + because it must be easy if I could do it. She also informed him (very + inconsiderately), that I did not print my books myself, and this lowered + me in the eyes of David, for it was for the printing he had admired me and + boasted of me in the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the labels,” he said + to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in everything. + </p> + <p> + I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the token whereof + is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each labelled with a letter + of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, I drop its into the A box, and + so on, much to the satisfaction of David, who likes to drop them in for + me. I had now to admit that Wheeler & Gibb made the boxes. + </p> + <p> + “But I made the labels myself, David.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not so well made as the boxes,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as I + presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, “Tell her about + the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book until they are all + full. That will frighten her.” + </p> + <p> + Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + </p> + <p> + “One box!” I said with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “She made it herself,” retorted David hotly. + </p> + <p> + I got little real information from him about the work, partly because + David loses his footing when he descends to the practical, and perhaps + still more because he found me unsympathetic. But when he blurted out the + title, “The Little White Bird,” I was like one who had read the book to + its last page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little daughter + Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she would like + to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, and so long as she + had the modesty to see that she could not have one, I sympathised with her + deeply, whatever I may have said about her book to David. + </p> + <p> + In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little book, and + they came to her mostly in the morning when she was only three-parts + awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all flew away like startled + birds. I gathered from David that this depressed her exceedingly. + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show themselves to + anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding within you. If they could + come into the open they would not be a book, they would be little Barbara. + </p> + <p> + But that was not the message I sent her. “She will never be able to write + it,” I explained to David. “She has not the ability. Tell her I said + that.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her ambitious + project, so I questioned David and discovered that it was abandoned. He + could not say why, nor was it necessary that he should, the trivial little + reason was at once so plain to me. From that moment all my sympathy with + Mary was spilled, and I searched for some means of exulting over her until + I found it. It was this. I decided, unknown even to David, to write the + book “The Little White Bird,” of which she had proved herself incapable, + and then when, in the fulness of time, she held her baby on high, implying + that she had done a big thing, I was to hold up the book. I venture to + think that such a devilish revenge was never before planned and carried + out. + </p> + <p> + Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching completion. + She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + </p> + <p> + I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to an abrupt + end. “And it really is the end this time, David,” I said severely. (I + always say that.) + </p> + <p> + It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot the great + Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we found his size to + have been under-estimated. David, his father and I had flung our limbs + upon the beach and were having a last pipe before turning in, while Mary, + attired in barbaric splendour, sang and danced before us. It was a lovely + evening, and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at the pretty + creature. + </p> + <p> + The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the light of + her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had been harpooned by + David earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace crept over + us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was uttered by Irene, + who came speeding to us, bearing certain articles, a watch, a pair of + boots, a newspaper, which she had discovered in the interior of the shark. + What was our surprise to find in the newspaper intelligence of the utmost + importance to all of us. It was nothing less than this, the birth of a new + baby in London to Mary. + </p> + <p> + How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + </p> + <p> + The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of excitement, and + next morning we set sail for England. Soon we came within sight of the + white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not sit down for a moment, so hot was + she to see her child. She paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + </p> + <p> + “So did I!” cried David, when I had reached this point in the story. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Never, David,” I said, “shall I forget your mother's excitement. She kept + putting her head out of the window and calling to the cabby to go quicker, + quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last he drew up at your house, and + then your mother, springing out, flew up the steps and beat with her hands + upon the door.” + </p> + <p> + David was quite carried away by the reality of it. “Father has the key!” + he screamed. + </p> + <p> + “He opened the door,” I said grandly, “and your mother rushed in, and next + moment her Benjamin was in her arms.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara,” corrected David. + </p> + <p> + “Benjamin,” said I doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that a girl's name?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's a boy's name.” + </p> + <p> + “But mother wants a girl,” he said, very much shaken. + </p> + <p> + “Just like her presumption,” I replied testily. “It is to be a boy, David, + and you can tell her I said so.” + </p> + <p> + He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would have + suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was + pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara,” he repeatedly implored me. + </p> + <p> + “Benjamin,” I replied firmly. + </p> + <p> + For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed to + play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, and + if I won it was to be a boy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. The Cricket Match + </h2> + <p> + I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when + Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the + daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon + played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A + lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of + our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little + thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive + Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies + every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic match + of the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is + familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted + on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We + could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens, but + there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them throughout + the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat near one of + these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected is a ragged yew + which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and I viewed the ground + with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly at about four yards' + distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my style of bowling. + </p> + <p> + I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first knock. + As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this occasion I + strode to the crease in an almost eerie silence. David had taken off his + blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were set, so I knew + he would begin by sending me down some fast ones. + </p> + <p> + His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes tries a + round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder at square leg. He + has not a good length, but he varies his action bewilderingly, and has one + especially teasing ball which falls from the branches just as you have + stepped out of your ground to look for it. It was not, however, with his + teaser that he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and two singles, + when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two minds and I + played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a really grassy wicket + for such a meagre score, and as David and I changed places without a word, + there was a cheery look on his face that I found very galling. He ran in + to my second ball and cut it neatly to the on for a single, and off my + fifth and sixth he had two pretty drives for three, both behind the + wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of him, for he now + hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at nine I beat him + with my shooter. + </p> + <p> + The look was now on my face. + </p> + <p> + I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, for I + knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, and then when + he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. What cared I though + David's lips were twitching. + </p> + <p> + When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which broke + awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that he needed + twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. As I gave him the + bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on my hand, and then a sudden + fear seized me lest David should not win. + </p> + <p> + At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and soon + fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed him a Yorker + which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon as it had reached the + tree. “Not out,” I cried hastily, for the face he turned to me was + terrible. + </p> + <p> + Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always recall + with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the bat, and I just + missed the catch. “Dash it all!” said I irritably, and was about to resume + bowling, when I noticed that he was unhappy. He hesitated, took up his + position at the wicket, and then came to me manfully. “I am a cad,” he + said in distress, “for when the ball was in the air I prayed.” He had + prayed that I should miss the catch, and as I think I have already told + you, it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for victory. + </p> + <p> + My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but he has a + noble sense of fairness. “We shall call it a no-ball, David,” I said + gravely. + </p> + <p> + I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and therefore I shall + say at once that David won the match with two lovely fours, the one over + my head and the other to leg all along the ground. When I came back from + fielding this last ball I found him embracing his bat, and to my sour + congratulations he could at first reply only with hysterical sounds. But + soon he was pelting home to his mother with the glorious news. + </p> + <p> + And that is how we let Barbara in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. The Dedication + </h2> + <p> + It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks after + the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even then it was not + quite finished, for there remained the dedication, at which I set to + elatedly. I think I have never enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my + opinion that I wrote the book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + </p> + <p> + “Madam” (I wrote wittily), “I have no desire to exult over you, yet I + should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things were I not to + dedicate this little work to you. For its inception was yours, and in your + more ambitious days you thought to write the tale of the little white bird + yourself. Why you so early deserted the nest is not for me to inquire. It + now appears that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, madam, you chose + the lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining the Bird. May I + point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that in the meantime I + am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, to me the substance. + Trusting that you will accept my little offering in a Christian spirit, I + am, dear madam,” etc. + </p> + <p> + It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design plainly through + the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, when, without warning, + the door burst open and a little boy entered, dragging in a faltering + lady. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said David, “this is mother.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the electric + light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as was very fitting, + Mary and I may be said to have met for the first time to the accompaniment + of flashes of lightning. I think she was arrayed in little blue feathers, + but if such a costume is not seemly, I swear there were, at least, little + blue feathers in her too coquettish cap, and that she was carrying a muff + to match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than her muff, and as muffs + are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I saw in a twink, that she + had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. I am also of opinion that + she remembered she had worn blue in the days when I watched her from the + club-window. Undoubtedly Mary is an engaging little creature, though not + my style. She was paler than is her wont, and had the touching look of one + whom it would be easy to break. I daresay this was a trick. Her skirts + made music in my room, but perhaps this was only because no lady had ever + rustled in it before. It was disquieting to me to reflect that despite her + obvious uneasiness, she was a very artful woman. + </p> + <p> + With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting-pad over + the dedication, and then, “Pray be seated,” I said coldly, but she + remained standing, all in a twitter and very much afraid of me, and I know + that her hands were pressed together within the muff. Had there been any + dignified means of escape, I think we would both have taken it. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have come,” she said nervously, and then seemed to wait for + some response, so I bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I was terrified to come, indeed I was,” she assured me with obvious + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “But I have come,” she finished rather baldly. + </p> + <p> + “It is an epitome, ma'am,” said I, seeing my chance, “of your whole life,” + and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + </p> + <p> + She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and of some + little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have done for her when + I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as soft as her muff. She had + also an affecting way of pronouncing all her r's as w's, just as the + fairies do. “And so,” she said, “as you would not come to me to be + thanked, I have come to you to thank you.” Whereupon she thanked me most + abominably. She also slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though she + was smiling her eyes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, ma'am,” said I in desperation, but I did not take her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am not very strong yet,” she said with low cunning. She said this to + make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted it a little. + Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth is, I begun to think + uncomfortably of the dedication. + </p> + <p> + I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to address + her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something that would sting + her. + </p> + <p> + “When you have quite done, ma'am,” I said, after a long pause, “perhaps + you will allow me to say a word.” + </p> + <p> + I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's face, that + she had given him a quick look which did not imply that she was stung. + Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, that though she was agitated and + in some fear of me, she was also enjoying herself considerably. + </p> + <p> + In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-bank, so + I said, rather off my watch, “If I have done all this for you, why did I + do it?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the chair, so + that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this that she was now + holding herself conceitedly and trying to look modest. “Not a bit of it, + ma'am,” said I sharply, “that was not the reason at all.” + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + </p> + <p> + “I never said it was,” she retorted with spirit, “I never thought for a + moment that it was.” She added, a trifle too late in the story, “Besides, + I don't know what you are talking of.” + </p> + <p> + I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, and + became quite little in the chair again. + </p> + <p> + “David,” said I mercilessly, “did you ever see your mother blush?” + </p> + <p> + “What is blush?” + </p> + <p> + “She goes a beautiful pink colour.” + </p> + <p> + David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head office, + crossed to his mother expectantly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't, David,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said I, “she will do it now,” and with the instinct of a + gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but presently + David exclaimed admiringly, “Oh, mother, do it again!” + </p> + <p> + As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel-glass + whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most candid face on + me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. Perhaps no look given by + woman to man affects him quite so much. “You see,” she said radiantly and + with a gesture that disclosed herself to me, “I can forgive even that. You + long ago earned the right to hurt me if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an uncommon + drawing to her. + </p> + <p> + “And if I did think that for a little while—,” she went on, with an + unsteady smile. + </p> + <p> + “Think what?” I asked, but without the necessary snap. + </p> + <p> + “What we were talking of,” she replied wincing, but forgiving me again. + “If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it lasted and it lasted + but a little time. I have long been sure that your kindness to me was due + to some other reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am,” said I very honestly, “I know not what was the reason. My concern + for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a selfish thing, yet + not altogether selfish, for I think that what first stirred it was the + joyous sway of the little nursery governess as she walked down Pall Mall + to meet her lover. It seemed such a mighty fine thing to you to be loved + that I thought you had better continue to be loved for a little longer. + And perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter I was charmed by + the ease with which you could be helped, for you must know that I am one + who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and smiled. “On my soul,” I assured her, “I can think + of no other reason.” + </p> + <p> + “A kind heart,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “More likely a whim,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Or another woman,” said she. + </p> + <p> + I was very much taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “More than twenty years ago,” she said with a soft huskiness in her voice, + and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know that in twenty years + all love stories are grown mouldy. + </p> + <p> + On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude for Mary + was one that had never struck me, but the more I pondered it now—. I + raised her hand and touched it with my lips, as we whimsical old fellows + do when some gracious girl makes us to hear the key in the lock of long + ago. “Why, ma'am,” I said, “it is a pretty notion, and there may be + something in it. Let us leave it at that.” + </p> + <p> + But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you remember, beneath + the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire to crush her with it. I + wished that she had succeeded in writing the book on which her longings + had been so set. + </p> + <p> + “If only you had been less ambitious,” I said, much troubled that she + should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted all the dear delicious things,” she admitted contritely. + </p> + <p> + “It was unreasonable,” I said eagerly, appealing to her intellect. + “Especially this last thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I know.” And then to my amazement she added + triumphantly, “But I got it.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued apologetically but + still as if she really thought hers had been a romantic career, “I know I + have not deserved it, but I got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma'am,” I cried reproachfully, “reflect. You have not got the great + thing.” I saw her counting the great things in her mind, her wondrous + husband and his obscure success, David, Barbara, and the other trifling + contents of her jewel-box. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Come, madam,” I cried a little nettled, “you know that there is lacking + the one thing you craved for most of all.” + </p> + <p> + Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when I had + told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, “The book? I had + forgotten all about the book!” And then after reflection she added, + “Pooh!” Had she not added Pooh I might have spared her, but as it was I + raised the blotting-pad rather haughtily and presented her with the sheet + beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am,” said I, swelling, “it is a Dedication,” and I walked majestically + to the window. + </p> + <p> + There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. Yet if + indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in almost the same + moment she was looking large-eyed at me and tapping my sleeve impulsively + with her fingers, just as David does when he suddenly likes you. + </p> + <p> + “How characteristic of you,” she said at the window. + </p> + <p> + “Characteristic,” I echoed uneasily. “Ha!” + </p> + <p> + “And how kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you say kind, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you + know very well,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, but + how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very + depressed. + </p> + <p> + “And there is another mistake,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one.” + </p> + <p> + “It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. “It was + of your little white bird,” she said, “it was of a little boy whose name + was Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into + another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little + book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for + me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of us + would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject as + ourselves, but said she, “How wrong you are in thinking this book is about + me and mine, it is really all about Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I considered I saw + that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this very + clever woman. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he + makes a great discovery, “it proves to be my book after all.” + </p> + <p> + “With all your pretty thoughts left out,” I answered, properly humbled. + </p> + <p> + She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. “I had only one + pretty thought for the book,” she said, “I was to give it a happy ending.” + She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when she added + with extraordinary boldness, “The little white bird was to bear an + olive-leaf in its mouth.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which she + had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get + admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young + thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind + her that I was forty-seven years of age. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite young for a man,” she said brazenly. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” said I, “was not forty-seven when he died, and I remember + thinking him an old man.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't think so now, do you?” she persisted, “you feel young + occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in the + Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Mary A——,” I cried, grown afraid of the woman, “I forbid you + to make any more discoveries to-day.” + </p> + <p> + But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought + her to my rooms. “They are very dear women,” said she coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” I said, “they must be dear women if they are friends of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not exactly young,” she faltered, “and perhaps they are not very + pretty—” + </p> + <p> + But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that + she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind + against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had + thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all the + land. + </p> + <p> + My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the + little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came back + to the present together. + </p> + <p> + I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no + longer ago than yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, ma'am,” I said, trying to put a brave face on it, “I will come + to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she + wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that the + youthful romances are the best. + </p> + <p> + It was now my turn to comfort her. “In twenty years,” I said, smiling at + her tears, “a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great fund + of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the word + of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got to care + for me I shall be very proud.” Despite her semblance of delight I knew + that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it was true. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1376 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dca4aba --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1376 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1376) diff --git a/old/1376-0.txt b/old/1376-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b00c0cf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1376-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7217 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. Barrie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Little White Bird + or Adventures In Kensington Gardens + +Author: J. M. Barrie + +Posting Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #1376] +Release Date: July, 1998 +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + +OR ADVENTURES IN KENSINGTON GARDENS + +By J.M. Barrie + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + II. The Little Nursery Governess + III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an + Inventory of Her Furniture. + IV. A Night-Piece + V. The Fight For Timothy + VI. A Shock + VII. The Last of Timothy + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + X. Sporting Reflections + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + XIV. Peter Pan + XV. The Thrush's Nest + XVI. Lock-Out Time + XVII. The Little House + XVIII. Peter's Goat + XIX. An Interloper + XX. David and Porthos Compared + XXI. William Paterson + XXII. Joey + XXIII. Pilkington's + XXIV. Barbara + XXV. The Cricket Match + XXVI. The Dedication + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + + + + +I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + +Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an invitation +from his mother: “I shall be so pleased if you will come and see me,” + and I always reply in some such words as these: “Dear madam, I decline.” + And if David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no +desire to meet the woman. + +“Come this time, father,” he urged lately, “for it is her birthday, and +she is twenty-six,” which is so great an age to David, that I think he +fears she cannot last much longer. + +“Twenty-six, is she, David?” I replied. “Tell her I said she looks +more.” + +I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was twenty-six, +which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a place called +my home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking hours, and when I +alighted at the station a dear lost love was waiting for me, and we went +away together. She met me in no ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised +to find her there; it was as if we had been married for years and parted +for a day. I like to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + +Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I have +never in my life addressed one word, she would droop her head and raise +it bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but very proud, and she +would be wishful to lend me her absurd little pocket handkerchief. And +then, had I the heart, I might make a disclosure that would startle her, +for it is not the face of David's mother that I see in my dreams. + +Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty woman +who thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed down under +a hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have been pursued for +several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of the tender-hearted and +virtuous Mary A----. When we pass in the street the poor deluded soul +subdues her buoyancy, as if it were shame to walk happy before one she +has lamed, and at such times the rustle of her gown is whispered words +of comfort to me, and her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little +boy like David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am +unaware of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint +note of challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says why +don't you? and a mouth that says I rather wish you could: such is the +portrait of Mary A---- as she and I pass by. + +Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David that I +had spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and she asked would +I tell her the time please, just as children ask, and forget as they +run back with it to their nurse. But I was prepared even for this, and +raising my hat I pointed with my staff to a clock in the distance. She +should have been overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I +thought with displeasure that I heard her laughing. + +Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in order to +hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. She has been +putting qualities into David, altering him, turning him forever on a +lathe since the day she first knew him, and indeed long before, and all +so deftly that he is still called a child of nature. When you release +David's hand he is immediately lost like an arrow from the bow. No +sooner do you cast eyes on him than you are thinking of birds. It is +difficult to believe that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always +seems to have alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he +would come and peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the +doing of that timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly surprised by +it. He strikes a hundred gallant poses in a day; when he tumbles, which +is often, he comes to the ground like a Greek god; so Mary A---- has +willed it. But how she suffers that he may achieve! I have seen him +climbing a tree while she stood beneath in unutterable anguish; she had +to let him climb, for boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she +watched him, she fell from every branch. + +David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she will be +able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. Otherwise he would +trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she has discovered this; for, as +I learn from him, she warned him lately that she is not such a dear as +he thinks her. + +“I am very sure of it,” I replied. + +“Is she such a dear as you think her?” he asked me. + +“Heaven help her,” I said, “if she be not dearer than that.” + +Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their boy +will certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day when every +mother stands revealed before her little son. That dread hour ticks +between six and seven; when children go to bed later the revelation has +ceased to come. He is lapt in for the night now and lies quietly there, +madam, with great, mysterious eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing +up your day. Nothing in the revelations that kept you together and +yet apart in play time can save you now; you two are of no age, no +experience of life separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have +come up for judgment. “Have I done well to-day, my son?” You have got to +say it, and nothing may you hide from him; he knows all. How like your +voice has grown to his, but more tremulous, and both so solemn, so +unlike the voice of either of you by day. + +“You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you not, +mother?” + +Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands and +answer him. + +“Yes, my son, I was. I thought--” + +But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + +“Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and then +pretend it was six before it was quite six?” + +“No, it was very unfair. I thought--” + +“Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?” + +“Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again.” + +“No, mother, please don't.” + +“My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?” + +Suppose he were unable to say yes. + +These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a little +thing to be false to the agreement you signed when you got the boy? +There are mothers who avoid their children in that hour, but this will +not save them. Why is it that so many women are afraid to be left alone +with their thoughts between six and seven? I am not asking this of +you, Mary. I believe that when you close David's door softly there is a +gladness in your eyes, and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom +little boys say their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + +I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and has had +his first fight with another young Christian who challenged him to the +jump and prayed for victory, which David thought was taking an unfair +advantage. + +“So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell her that I +am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two.” + +He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. When I +pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing for our meeting. +She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so much of her when +she is fifty-two, meaning that she will not be so pretty then. So little +does the sex know of beauty. Surely a spirited old lady may be the +prettiest sight in the world. For my part, I confess that it is they, +and not the young ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was +about to fall in love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. +Indeed, I cannot see a likely young creature without impatiently +considering her chances for, say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious girls, +when you are fifty-two we shall find you out; you must come into the +open then. If the mouth has fallen sourly yours the blame: all the +meannesses your youth concealed have been gathering in your face. But +the pretty thoughts and sweet ways and dear, forgotten kindnesses linger +there also, to bloom in your twilight like evening primroses. + +Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about his +mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I reflect, what +sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him cruelly: “Boy, you are +uncommonly like your mother.” + +To which David: “Is that why you are so kind to me?” + +I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his mother, +but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour as a soldier, +there is nothing more in it than that. I must not let him know this, for +it would make him conscious, and so break the spell that binds him and +me together. Oftenest I am but Captain W---- to him, and for the best of +reasons. He addresses me as father when he is in a hurry only, and never +have I dared ask him to use the name. He says, “Come, father,” with an +accursed beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little while +longer. + +I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in shops he +asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and which drawer he +keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he like Achilles, of whom +David has lately heard, and is so enamoured that he wants to die to meet +him. At such times the shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot +explain the peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds +then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away +before he volunteers the information, “He is not really my father.” + +When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little boy will +take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to some +Round Pond. + +One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following letter: +“Dear David: If you really want to know how it began, will you come and +have a chop with me to-day at the club?” + +Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her consent, +and, I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what happened so that he +might repeat it to her, for despite her curiosity she knows not how +it began herself. I chuckled, guessing that she expected something +romantic. + +He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually +solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great +coat. There was a shawl round his neck. “You can take some of them off,” + I said, “when we come to summer.” + +“Shall we come to summer?” he asked, properly awed. + +“To many summers,” I replied, “for we are going away back, David, to see +your mother as she was in the days before there was you.” + +We hailed a hansom. “Drive back six years,” I said to the cabby, “and +stop at the Junior Old Fogies' Club.” + +He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + +The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For +instance, the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I dropped +David a hint of what was going on. + +“It doesn't make me littler, does it?” he asked anxiously; and then, +with a terrible misgiving: “It won't make me too little, will it, +father?” by which he meant that he hoped it would not do for him +altogether. He slipped his hand nervously into mine, and I put it in my +pocket. + +You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals of the +club. + + + + +II. The Little Nursery Governess + +As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David vanishing +into nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago at two in the +afternoon. I ring for coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy, and take my +chair by the window, just as the absurd little nursery governess comes +tripping into the street. I always feel that I have rung for her. + +While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall into the +cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the one suitable +lump of sugar she is taking six last looks at the letter; with the aid +of William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-reading the delicious +address. I lie back in my chair, and by this time she has dropped the +letter down the slit. I toy with my liqueur, and she is listening to +hear whether the postal authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at +a fellow-member who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and +her two little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When +I look out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for her +to-morrow at two sharp. + +She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. I know +not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. She is taking +the little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. James's Park, as +their hoops tell me, and she ought to look crushed and faded. No doubt +her mistress overworks her. It must enrage the other servants to see her +deporting herself as if she were quite the lady. + +I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that +the posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, +plebeians all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I have even seen +her blow a kiss after it. + +Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it rather +than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it through her +glove to make sure that it was still there. She took off the glove and +raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not it was the cheapest +trinket. She viewed it from afar by stretching out her hand; she stooped +to see how it looked near the ground; she considered its effect on the +right of her and on the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even +when you saw that she had made up her mind to think hard of something +else, the little silly would take another look. + +I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + +No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man +loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was the merest nobody, +she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her +tackle and ticketed with the insufferable air of an engaged woman. At +first her complacency disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my +life at two o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now +comes the tragedy. + +Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every Thursday for +her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is probably paid several +pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself once a week. And what does +she with it? Attend classes for making her a more accomplished person? +Not she. This is what she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her +pretty things, including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle +of expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On +ordinary days she at least tries to look demure, but on a Thursday she +has had the assurance to use the glass door of the club as a mirror in +which to see how she likes her engaging trifle of a figure to-day. + +In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the +post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always wears +the same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever make him free of +the company of gentlemen. He is one of your lean, clean Englishmen, +who strip so well, and I fear me he is handsome; I say fear, for your +handsome men have always annoyed me, and had I lived in the duelling +days I swear I would have called every one of them out. He seems to be +quite unaware that he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary +knows it. I conclude that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is +so easily elated and depressed; and because he carries his left thumb +curiously, as if it were feeling for the hole of a palette, I have +entered his name among the painters. I find pleasure in deciding that +they are shocking bad pictures, for obviously no one buys them. I feel +sure Mary says they are splendid, she is that sort of woman. Hence the +rapture with which he greets her. Her first effect upon him is to make +him shout with laughter. He laughs suddenly haw from an eager exulting +face, then haw again, and then, when you are thanking heaven that it is +at last over, comes a final haw, louder than the others. I take them to +be roars of joy because Mary is his, and they have a ring of youth +about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive him everything save his +youth, but it is so aggressive that I have sometimes to order William +testily to close the window. + +How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery governess. +The moment she comes into sight she looks at the post-office and sees +him. Then she looks straight before her, and now she is observed, and he +rushes across to her in a glory, and she starts--positively starts--as +if he had taken her by surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her +wicked little heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. +He gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, and +as she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then away they +strut, Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall to wondering what +they will look like when they grow up. + +What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each other. +You can see that they are to be married when he has twopence. + +Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom London is +famous only as the residence of a young man who mistakes her for someone +else, but her happiness had become part of my repast at two P.M., and +when one day she walked down Pall Mall without gradually posting a +letter I was most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. +Her two charges were as surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to +the slit, at which she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, +exactly like a sad baby, and so passed from the street. + +Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit +through my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there might +be an end of this annoyance, but no, neither of them appeared on that +acquainted ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes +were red every day, and heavy was her foolish little heart. Love had put +out his lights, and the little nursery governess walked in darkness. + +I felt I could complain to the committee. + +Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to her, +won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. + +Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be joyous as +of old during the five minutes of the day when you are anything to me, +and for the rest of the time, so far as I am concerned, you may be as +wretched as you list. Show some courage. I assure you he must be a very +bad painter; only the other day I saw him looking longingly into the +window of a cheap Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush +down his aspirations with two penny scones. + +You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + +All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from morning +till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she lost that +little. They are all like this. + +Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure till +you die, you might at least do it in another street. + +Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on ordinary +days, but I have discovered that every Thursday from two to three she +stands afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic post-office where she +and he shall meet no more. In these windy days she is like a homeless +leaf blown about by passers-by. + +There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + +At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet Thursday, +and from the window where I was writing letters I saw the forlorn soul +taking up her position at the top of the street: in a blast of fury I +rose with the one letter I had completed, meaning to write the others in +my chambers. She had driven me from the club. + +I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom should I +strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, but I hit out at +him savagely, as I always do when I run into anyone in the street. Then +I looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; he was muddy; there was not a haw +left in him. I never saw a more abject young man; he had not even the +spirit to resent the testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But +this is the important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office +and thus in a twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. +Whatever had been their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up as she, +and perhaps he had been here every Thursday while she was round the +corner in Pall Mall, each watching the post-office for an apparition. +But from where they hovered neither could see the other. + +I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen at his +feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a gentleman who finds +a letter on the pavement feels bound to post it, and I presumed that he +would naturally go to the nearest office. + +With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was just in +time to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I looked for +the little nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone as ever; then, +suddenly--oh, you poor little soul, and has it really been as bad as +that! + +She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It was a +disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently explode if he +could not make use of his arms. She must die if she could not lay her +head upon his breast. I must admit that he rose to the occasion; he +hailed a hansom. + +“William,” said I gaily, “coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy.” + + +As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to ask +what I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran eagerly to +the window, but he reached it just too late to see the lady who was to +become his mother. What I told him of her doings, however, interested +him greatly; and he intimated rather shyly that he was acquainted with +the man who said, “Haw-haw-haw.” On the other hand, he irritated me by +betraying an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to +regard as the hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How +old were they? Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or just wooden +hoops? Who gave them their hoops? + +“You don't seem to understand, my boy,” I said tartly, “that had I not +dropped that letter, there would never have been a little boy called +David A----.” But instead of being appalled by this he asked, sparkling, +whether I meant that he would still be a bird flying about in the +Kensington Gardens. + +David knows that all children in our part of London were once birds in +the Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are bars on nursery +windows and a tall fender by the fire is because very little people +sometimes forget that they have no longer wings, and try to fly away +through the window or up the chimney. + +Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows that many +people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon is to go with me +to some spot in the Gardens where these unfortunates may be seen trying +to catch one with small pieces of cake. + +That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even +a little undecided about which is the better life, is obvious to every +student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty perambulator under the +trees and watch from a distance, you will see the birds boarding it and +hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excitement; they +are trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. + +Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray from +the tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not +a grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, +and all the time such a jabbering and laughing from both sides of the +railing. They are comparing notes and inquiring for old friends, and so +on; but what they say I cannot determine, for when I approach they all +fly away. + +The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the Baby's Walk. +He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot day by a hose which +lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of water, and David was on +his back in the water, kicking up his legs. He used to enjoy being told +of this, having forgotten all about it, and gradually it all came back +to him, with a number of other incidents that had escaped my memory, +though I remember that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long +string and a cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never +tires of this story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me +rather than I to him, and when we come to the string he rubs his little +leg as if it still smarted. + +So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he called +out to me quickly: “Don't drop the letter!” and there were tree-tops in +his eyes. + +“Think of your mother,” I said severely. + +He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he would do +would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and +have a drink. + +“Tell her, father,” he said with horrid heartlessness, “always to have +plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I might fall +in and be drownded.” + +“Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother without +her boy!” + +It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, he would +hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck at her mouth. + +“And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a bird +instead of a boy.” + +This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. “You can drop it,” + he said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I have already +mentioned; and that is how it all began. + + + + +III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her +Furniture + +A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my way to +certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed +haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of +a shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire system. I had the merest +glimpse of them, but there was an extraordinary rapture on her face, and +his head was thrown proudly back, and all because they had been ordering +a piano on the hire system. + +So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptible, +but I passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she is unhappy that +this woman disturbs me, owing to a clever way she has at such times of +looking more fragile than she really is. + +When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window of the +sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most deliciously dramatic +spots in London. Mary was taking notes feverishly on a slip of paper +while he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily +without buying anything. I was in high feather. “Match abandoned, +ma'am,” I said to myself; “outlook hopeless; another visit to the +Governesses' Agency inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen +shovel.” But I was imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + +A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is +something artful about her skirts by which I always know her, though +I can't say what it is. She was carrying an enormous parcel that might +have been a bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, and she took it into +a bric-a-brac shop and came out without it. She then ran rather than +walked in the direction of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Now mystery +of any kind is detestable to me, and I went into the bric-a-brac +shop, ostensibly to look at the cracked china; and there, still on the +counter, with the wrapping torn off it, was the article Mary had sold +in order to furnish on the proceeds. What do you think it was? It was a +wonderful doll's house, with dolls at tea downstairs and dolls going to +bed upstairs, and a doll showing a doll out at the front door. Loving +lips had long ago licked most of the paint off, but otherwise the thing +was in admirable preservation; obviously the joy of Mary's childhood, it +had now been sold by her that she might get married. + +“Lately purchased by us,” said the shopwoman, seeing me look at the toy, +“from a lady who has no further use for it.” + +I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought the doll's +house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at this shop that I +first learned her name) I instructed them to send it back to her with +the following letter, which I wrote in the shop: “Dear madam, don't be +ridiculous. You will certainly have further use for this. I am, etc., +the Man Who Dropped the Letter.” + +It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to reflect +that I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I saw her she had +been married for some months. The time was nine o'clock of a November +evening, and we were in a street of shops that has not in twenty years +decided whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it minces in the +fashion, but take a step onward and its tongue is in the cup of the +ice-cream man. I usually rush this street, which is not far from my +rooms, with the glass down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in +front of me, leaning in a somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they +were chatting excitedly. She seemed to be remonstrating with him for +going forward, yet more than half admiring him for not turning back, and +I wondered why. + +And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out to do? +To buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been trying to persuade +him, I decided, that they were living too lavishly. That was why she +sought to draw him back. But in her heart she loves audacity, and that +is why she admired him for pressing forward. + +No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like two +gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace them to their +home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that night I composed the +following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to overtake a pretty young +woman carrying pork chops. I was now determined to be done with her. +First, however, to find out their abode, which was probably within easy +distance of the shop. I even conceived them lured into taking their +house by the advertisement, “Conveniently situated for the Pork +Emporium.” + +Well, one day--now this really is romantic and I am rather proud of +it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an anxiously +polite street between which and mine are little yards called, I think, +gardens. They are so small that if you have the tree your neighbour has +the shade from it. I was looking out at my back window on the day +we have come to when whom did I see but the whilom nursery governess +sitting on a chair in one of these gardens. I put up my eye-glass to +make sure, and undoubtedly it was she. But she sat there doing nothing, +which was by no means my conception of the jade, so I brought a +fieldglass to bear and discovered that the object was merely a lady's +jacket. It hung on the back of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry +thing, and, I must suppose, was suspended there for an airing. + +I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as it +was not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her wear such +a jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell why. Do clothes +absorb a little of the character of their wearer, so that I recognised +this jacket by a certain coquetry? If she has a way with her skirts that +always advertises me of her presence, quite possibly she is as cunning +with jackets. Or perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little +tucks of herself. + +Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on my +hat and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge from the +house to which I had calculated that garden belonged. Now am I clever, +or am I not? + +When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and a +droll house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist of a door +and a window, though above them the trained eye may detect another +window, the air-hole of some apartment which it would be just like +Mary's grandiloquence to call her bedroom. The houses on each side of +this bandbox are tall, and I discovered later that it had once been +an open passage to the back gardens. The story and a half of which it +consists had been knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather +than masons, and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that +has stuck for ever on its way through the passage. + +The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall ones +that I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their builders, +but this house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call itself a house, +for over the door was a board with the inscription “This space to be +sold,” and I remembered, as I rang the bell, that this notice had been +up for years. On avowing that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an +elderly, somewhat dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not +on scale with her surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first +remark was explanatory. + +“They get me cheap,” she said, “because I drink.” + +I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether I have +described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a picture of +that sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How can she have found +the money to pay for it all! which is always your first reflection when +you see Mary herself a-tripping down the street. + +I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim-whams +with which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn bell-rope which +pulled no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that contained no cigars. +The floor was of a delicious green with exquisite oriental rugs; green +and white, I think, was the lady's scheme of colour, something cool, you +observe, to keep the sun under. The window-curtains were of some rare +material and the colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor +grandly and suggested a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano +we may ignore, for I knew it to be hired, but there were many dainty +pieces, mostly in green wood, a sofa, a corner cupboard, and a most +captivating desk, which was so like its owner that it could have sat +down at her and dashed off a note. The writing paper on this desk had +the word Mary printed on it, implying that if there were other Marys +they didn't count. There were many oil-paintings on the walls, mostly +without frames, and I must mention the chandelier, which was obviously +of fabulous worth, for she had encased it in a holland bag. + +“I perceive, ma'am,” said I to the stout maid, “that your master is in +affluent circumstances.” + +She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed to +catch. + +“You wish to indicate,” I hazarded, “that he married a fortune.” + +This time I caught the words. They were “Tinned meats,” and having +uttered them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + +“Nevertheless,” I said, “this room must have cost a pretty penny.” + +“She done it all herself,” replied my new friend, with concentrated +scorn. + +“But this green floor, so beautifully stained--” + +“Boiling oil,” said she, with a flush of honest shame, “and a +shillingsworth o' paint.” + +“Those rugs--” + +“Remnants,” she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been pieced +together. + +“The curtains--” + +“Remnants.” + +“At all events the sofa--” + +She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of packing +cases. + +“The desk--” + +I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see the +drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for books, the +pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + +“She made it out of three orange boxes,” said the lady, at last a little +awed herself. + +I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the holland +covering. “There is a fine chandelier in that holland bag,” I said +coaxingly. + +She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. +“Forbear, ma'am,” I cried with authority, “I prefer to believe in that +bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost faith in +everything.” I think all the pretty things that the little nursery +governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand for letting the +chandelier off. + +“But, good God, ma'am,” said I to madam, “what an exposure.” + +She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + +“So there is a stair,” said I, and then, suspiciously, “did she make +it?” + +No, but how she had altered it. + +The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at that, +nor at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + +“Did she build the studio with her own hands?” + +No, but how she had altered it. + +“How she alters everything,” I said. “Do you think you are safe, ma'am?” + +She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me with some +of her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband +was not, it appeared, one on which any self-respecting domestic could +reflect with pride. They got the house very cheap on the understanding +that they were to vacate it promptly if anyone bought it for building +purposes, and because they paid so little they had to submit to the +indignity of the notice-board. Mary A---- detested the words “This space +to be sold,” and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as +elated about her house as if it were a real house, and always trembled +when any possible purchaser of spaces called. + +As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to record +that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of art. “The +difficulty,” she said, “is not to paint pictures, but to get frames for +them.” A home thrust this. + +She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's work. +Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned meats. + +Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was +constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even been +caught whispering fiercely to a friend, “Praise it, praise it, praise +it!” This was when the painter was sunk in gloom. Never, as I could well +believe, was such a one as Mary for luring a man back to cheerfulness. + +“A dangerous woman,” I said, with a shudder, and fell to examining a +painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of a man, and had +impressed me favourably because it was framed. + +“A friend of hers,” my guide informed me, “but I never seed him.” + +I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the picture +drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and these were the +words: “Fancy portrait of our dear unknown.” Could it be meant for me? I +cannot tell you how interested I suddenly became. + +It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day more +than thirty. + +“A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?” I asked quite shakily. “How do +you know that, if you have never seen him?” + +“When master was painting of it,” she said, “in the studio, he used to +come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What colour would you +make his eyes?'” + +“And her reply, ma'am?” I asked eagerly. + +“She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't make it +a handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very handsome face.' And +says he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, 'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him +saying, 'A little bald on the top?' and she says, says she, 'Not at +all.'” + +The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + +“I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture,” said the maid. + +Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + +Pooh! + +I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I could +write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. “I think she has +known him since she were a babby,” she was saying, “for this here was a +present he give her.” + +She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the sofa, +where it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, “I shall slip +the insulting message into this.” But I did not, and I shall tell you +why. It was because the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving +hands; there were fresh gowns for all the inhabitants, and the paint on +the furniture was scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready +for further use. + +I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. “Put it back,” + I said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, and I left the +house dejectedly, with a profound conviction that the little nursery +governess had hooked on to me again. + + + + +IV. A Night-Piece + +There came a night when the husband was alone in that street waiting. He +can do nothing for you now, little nursery governess, you must fight it +out by yourself; when there are great things to do in the house the man +must leave. Oh, man, selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, +thy woman's hour has come; get thee gone. + +He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, +chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? +It is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindness +to stalk the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still +might he not sometimes have been a little kinder? + +Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a +little kinder than is necessary? + +Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, +to sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, to send you +a reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, if you are not to +meet again, still to send you a reassuring, trembling smile. + +Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders the +streets thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. In her great +hour the man is nothing to the woman; their love is trivial now. + +He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become familiar +ground to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me in which Mary +A---- walked. Here was the morning after my only entry into her house. +The agent had promised me to have the obnoxious notice-board removed, +but I apprehended that as soon as the letter announcing his intention +reached her she would remove it herself, and when I passed by in the +morning there she was on a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it +with a hammer. When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + +There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the +postman. I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate of a +picture. He dogged the postman from door to door like an assassin or a +guardian angel; never had he the courage to ask if there was a letter +for him, but almost as it fell into the box he had it out and tore it +open, and then if the door closed despairingly the woman who had been at +the window all this time pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news +was good they might emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the +direction of the pork emporium. + +One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of them +through the open window, when she sat at the piano singing and playing +to him. Or while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for +him to grasp. She was so joyously happy, and she had such a romantic +mind. I conceived her so sympathetic that she always laughed before he +came to the joke, and I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start +of a pathetic story. + +And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery +governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, mysterious. I +suppose a man soon becomes used to the great change, and cannot recall a +time when there were no babes sprawling in his Mary's face. + +I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young husband on +the other side of the street. “If the barrier is to be crossed to-night +may I not go with her? She is not so brave as you think her. When she +talked so gaily a few hours ago, O my God, did she deceive even you?” + +Plain questions to-night. “Why should it all fall on her? What is the +man that he should be flung out into the street in this terrible hour? +You have not been fair to the man.” + +Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. If she +lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will die triumphant +and serene. Life and death, the child and the mother, are ever meeting +as the one draws into harbour and the other sets sail. They exchange a +bright “All's well” and pass on. + +But afterward? + +The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead young +mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is no other +inducement great enough to bring the departed back. They glide into the +acquainted room when day and night, their jailers, are in the grip, and +whisper, “How is it with you, my child?” but always, lest a strange face +should frighten him, they whisper it so low that he may not hear. They +bend over him to see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet +arm beneath the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many +little vests he has. They love to do these things. + +What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their child. They +expect him to be just as he was when they left him, and they are easily +bewildered, and search for him from room to room, and hate the unknown +boy he has become. Poor, passionate souls, they may even do him an +injury. These are the ghosts that go wailing about old houses, and +foolish wild stories are invented to explain what is all so pathetic and +simple. I know of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early +home to pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair +by the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's face appear. +She always looked at him very vindictively, and then vanished. Strange +things happened in this house. Windows were opened in the night. The +curtains of his bed were set fire to. A step on the stair was loosened. +The covering of an old well in a corridor where he walked was cunningly +removed. And when he fell ill the wrong potion was put in the glass by +his bedside, and he died. How could the pretty young mother know that +this grizzled interloper was the child of whom she was in search? + +All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty as lost +wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we are not nearly +so afraid of them as they are of us. + +One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp burned +steadily in the little window across the way. I know not how it +happened, whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, but, after +being for a long time as the echo of each other's steps, we were +together now. I can have had no desire to deceive him, but some reason +was needed to account for my vigil, and I may have said something that +he misconstrued, for above my words he was always listening for other +sounds. But however it came about he had conceived the idea that I was +an outcast for a reason similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, +it seemed to matter so little and to draw us together so naturally. +We talked together of many things, such as worldly ambition. For long +ambition has been like an ancient memory to me, some glorious day +recalled from my springtime, so much a thing of the past that I must +make a railway journey to revisit it as to look upon the pleasant fields +in which that scene was laid. But he had been ambitious yesterday. + +I mentioned worldly ambition. “Good God!” he said with a shudder. + +There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one o'clock +passed and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. And now? It is +still twenty past two. + +I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. “We +have a friend--” he began and paused, and then rambled into a not very +understandable story about a letter and a doll's house and some unknown +man who had bought one of his pictures, or was supposed to have done so, +in a curiously clandestine manner. I could not quite follow the story. + +“It is she who insists that it is always the same person,” he said. “She +thinks he will make himself known to me if anything happens to her.” His +voice suddenly went husky. “She told me,” he said, “if she died and I +discovered him, to give him her love.” + +At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the night, +to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of some things +she had asked him to do should she not get over this, but what they were +I know not, for they engulfed him at the first step. He would draw back +from them as ill-omened things, and next moment he was going over them +to himself like a child at lessons. A child! In that short year she had +made him entirely dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their +first deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few +men happily married who can knock in a nail. + +But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had not +degenerated so much. + +Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At eighteen +minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. He boasts about +it to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he +ever did was to look at the clock. + +An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to +my companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a wall, +hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss +me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I shook him by the hand, +but by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so abominably that a disgust of +him swelled up within me, and with it a passionate desire to jeer once +more at Mary A-- + +“It is little she will care for you now,” I said to the fellow; “I +know the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she has to +distinguish her from the brutes) are so imperfectly developed that she +will be a crazy thing about that boy for the next three years. She has +no longer occasion for you, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted +out.” + +But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if +one alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs +that lead to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to +the hilarity of the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I +wandered from chamber to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were +alike empty and desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought +I heard a pebble strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father +standing beneath. I had told him that I lived in this street, and I +suppose my lights had guided him to my window. + +“I could not lie down,” he called up hoarsely, “until I heard your news. +Is it all right?” + +For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: “Yes, all +is right.” + +“Both doing well?” he inquired. + +“Both,” I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window. +It was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was +nevertheless in a passion with him. + +“Boy or girl?” persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity. + +“Boy,” I said, very furiously. + +“Splendid,” he called out, and I think he added something else, but by +that time I had closed the window with a slam. + + + + +V. The Fight For Timothy + +Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of +exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a +life of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of +the street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were +some entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I +had not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that +every time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + +I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always +sulky, and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein +lies her heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a +student of her face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so +she has struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when +night falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy +natural state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even +sulkily? + +But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be +seen, and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a +rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though I have always +been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which over-excite him. +Hitherto the toys I had bought had always been for him, and as we durst +not admit this to the saleswoman we were both horribly self-conscious +when in the shop. A score of times I have told him that he had much +better not come, I have announced fiercely that he is not to come. He +then lets go of his legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making +the noise of a sack of coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head +between his front paws, stares at me through the red haws that make his +eyes so mournful. He will do this for an hour without blinking, for he +knows that in time it will unman me. My dog knows very little, but what +little he does know he knows extraordinarily well. One can get out of my +chambers by a back way, and I sometimes steal softly--but I can't +help looking back, and there he is, and there are those haws asking +sorrowfully, “Is this worthy of you?” + +“Curse you,” I say, “get your hat,” or words to that effect. + +He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so exactly +like some respected member that he makes everybody most uncomfortable. +I forget how I became possessor of him. I think I cut him out of an old +number of Punch. He costs me as much as an eight-roomed cottage in the +country. + +He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced him +to toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own amusement. It +represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her little son over her +head with one hand and catching him in the other, and I was entertaining +myself on the hearth-rug with this pretty domestic scene when I heard +an unwonted sound from Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and +melancholic countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for +putting the toy away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with +his, and signed that I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always +came, I found, when the poor lady dropped her babe, but the whole thing +entranced him; he tried to keep his excitement down by taking huge +draughts of water; he forgot all his niceties of conduct; he sat in holy +rapture with the toy between his paws, took it to bed with him, ate it +in the night, and searched for it so longingly next day that I had to go +out and buy him the man with the scythe. After that we had everything of +note, the bootblack boy, the toper with bottle, the woolly rabbit +that squeaks when you hold it in your mouth; they all vanished as +inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell him my suspicions, for he +suspected also and his gentle heart would have mourned had I confirmed +his fears. + +The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want them +for a little boy and calls him “the precious” and “the lamb,” the while +Porthos is standing gravely by my side. She is a motherly soul, but +over-talkative. + +“And how is the dear lamb to-day?” she begins, beaming. + +“Well, ma'am, well,” I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + +“This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?” + +“No, ma'am, not at all.” (She would be considerably surprised if +informed that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three +cabbages, and is suspected of a leg of mutton.) + +“I hope he loves his toys?” + +“He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am.” (Has the one we +bought yesterday with him now, though you might not think it to look at +him.) + +“What do you say to a box of tools this time?” + +“I think not, ma'am.” + +“Is the deary fond of digging?” + +“Very partial to digging.” (We shall find the leg of mutton some day.) + +“Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?” + +She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was so +insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got home. He +detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly prejudiced in +its favour we have had to try other shops. We went to the Lowther Arcade +for the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered +agape among thy enchanted palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and +Porthos and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, +unless it be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet +smiling entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrances, +and with much to be sung in laudation of that which opens from the +Strand I yet on the whole prefer the other as the more truly romantic, +because it is there the tattered ones congregate, waiting to see the +Davids emerge with the magic lamp. We have always a penny for them, +and I have known them, before entering the Arcade with it, retire (but +whither?) to wash; surely the prettiest of all the compliments that are +paid to the home of toys. + +And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we are told +that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an eating-house or a hive +for usurers, something rankly useful. All thy delights are under notice +to quit. The Noah's arks are packed one within another, with clockwork +horses harnessed to them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing +their hands to the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left +behind them; all the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who +is overful of drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their wings; the +man with the scythe mows his way through the crowd; the balloons tug +at their strings; the ships rock under a swell of sail, everything is +getting ready for the mighty exodus into the Strand. Tears will be shed. + +So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who thought it +was for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent to the bandbox +house anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to meet +Mary's husband in Kensington, so I asked him what he had called his +little girl. + +“It is a boy,” he replied, with intolerable good-humour, “we call him +David.” + +And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my boy. + +I flicked my glove. “Timothy,” said I. + +I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy was as +good a name as David. “I like it,” he assured me, and expressed a hope +that they would become friends. I boiled to say that I really could not +allow Timothy to mix with boys of the David class, but I refrained, and +listened coldly while he told me what David did when you said his toes +were pigs going to market or returning from it, I forget which. He +also boasted of David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly +touchy at the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + +But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a +forlorn little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for him, and +I became his champion and hinted something about teething, but withdrew +it when it seemed too surprising, and tried to get on to safer ground, +such as bibs and general intelligence, but the painter fellow was so +willing to let me have my say, and knew so much more about babies than +is fitting for men to know, that I paled before him and wondered why the +deuce he was listening to me so attentively. + +You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous friend. +“His latest,” said he now, “is to send David a rocking-horse!” + +I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. “Picture it,” said he, +“a rocking-horse for a child not three months old!” + +I was about to say fiercely: “The stirrups are adjustable,” but thought +it best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that Mary had +laughed, though heaven knows I have often laughed at her. + +“But women are odd,” he said unexpectedly, and explained. It appears +that in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave and said to +him quite haughtily, “I see nothing to laugh at.” Then she had kissed +the horse solemnly on the nose and said, “I wish he was here to see +me do it.” There are moments when one cannot help feeling a drawing to +Mary. + +But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a particularly +odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to hunt Mr. Anon down. + +“She won't succeed,” I said, sneering but nervous. + +“Then it will be her first failure,” said he. + +“But she knows nothing about the man.” + +“You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She says he is +a gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor.” + +“Old?” I cried. + +“Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't take +care. He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of children, but +has never had one to play with.” + +“Could not play with a child though there was one,” I said brusquely; +“has forgotten the way; could stand and stare only.” + +“Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were alone +with the child he could come out strong.” + +“How the deuce--” I began + +“That is what she says,” he explained, apologetically. “I think she will +prove to be too clever for him.” + +“Pooh,” I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next time +I met him he quite frightened me. “Do you happen to know any one,” he +said, “who has a St. Bernard dog?” + +“No,” said I, picking up my stick. + +“He has a St. Bernard dog.” + +“How have you found that out?” + +“She has found it out.” + +“But how?” + +“I don't know.” + +I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. The +mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I engaged +a boy to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him these +instructions: “Should you find yourself followed by a young woman +wheeling a second-hand perambulator, instantly hand her over to the +police on the charge of attempting to steal the dog.” + +Now then, Mary. + +“By the way,” her husband said at our next meeting, “that rocking-horse +I told you of cost three guineas.” + +“She has gone to the shop to ask?” + +“No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's +appearance.” + +Oh, Mary, Mary. + +Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:--looked +like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; fine Roman +nose (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all); +hair thin and thoughtfully distributed over the head like fiddlestrings, +as if to make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair with handkerchief +before sitting down on it, and had other oldmaidish ways (I should like +to know what they are); tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age +forty-five if a day (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog +with sore eyes. (They always think the haws are sore eyes.) + +“Do you know anyone who is like that?” Mary's husband asked me +innocently. + +“My dear man,” I said, “I know almost no one who is not like that,” and +it was true, so like each other do we grow at the club. I was pleased, +on the whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had +come to know of the St. Bernard, but anxiety returned when one day from +behind my curtains I saw Mary in my street with an inquiring eye on +the windows. She stopped a nurse who was carrying a baby and went into +pretended ecstasies over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any +chance it was called Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any +other nurse who had charge of a Timothy. + +Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to Timothy, +though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; for I still met +that other father occasionally, and he always stopped to compare notes +about the boys. And the questions he asked were so intimate, how Timothy +slept, how he woke up, how he fell off again, what we put in his bath. +It is well that dogs and little boys have so much in common, for it was +really of Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke +up (supposed to be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with one +little hand on his nose), but I glided past what we put in his bath +(carbolic and a mop). + +The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it reasonable +to hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I straitened in +my mind. For it might be that she was only biding her time to strike +suddenly, and this attached me the more to Timothy, as if I feared she +might soon snatch him from me. As was indeed to be the case. + + + + +VI. A Shock + +It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the +first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded +an Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily +married who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's +glorious return; and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a +bored smile saw nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic +Felicities. Oh, Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little +plot? + +Hallo! + +No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she +was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her +covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable, +set off nervously on some mysterious adventure. + +“The deuce!” thought I, and followed her. + +Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her +watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do +not give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once +she kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little +watch, which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but +why kiss it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in +your leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or +any day, the watch your husband gave you? + +It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts +to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination, +a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly +and shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of +shame; and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary +A----. Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would +have felled her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was +waiting for him, wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I +believe I clutched my stick. + +Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there +was some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her +husband, as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and +was ashamed to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be +to save, not herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have +been Mary's. Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy +from the consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? +Could that laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open forehead, +the curly locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways +which we carry with us out of childhood, they may all remain when the +innocence has fled, but surely the laugh of the morning of life must go. +I have never known the devil retain his grip on that. + +But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame had +possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the entanglement +was her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But without conviction, for, +after all, what did I know of women? I have some distant memories of +them, some vain inventions. But of men--I have known one man indifferent +well for over forty years, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), +shuddered at him, wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to +jog along with him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know +something of men, and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + +Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed that were +better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you foolish, soft heart, +and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate one, you saw the look on +your husband's face as he left you. It is the studio light by which he +paints and still sees to hope, despite all the disappointments of his +not ignoble ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he +is a wealthy man if it does not flicker. + +So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times she made +little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that detestable +street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the weasel. Again she +looked at her watch and kissed it. + +Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + +Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrified look +round, she popped into a pawnshop. + +Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the door +rang and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a street where she +was unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred shop before +desperately venturing in, why she looked so often at the watch she might +never see again. So desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little +house over her head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling +face for her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures +were going. + +It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light-hearted +again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had left her watch, +and I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn she had become, as +if her baby was grown too big for her slight arms, even then I was +light-hearted. Without attempting to follow her, I sauntered homeward +humming a snatch of song with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in +it, for I can never remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby +linen shop or some nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what +she had popped her watch; but what cared I? I continued to sing most +beautifully. I lunged gayly with my stick at a lamp-post and missed +it, whereat a street-urchin grinned, and I winked at him and slipped +twopence down his back. + + +I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given me, but +fate willed that I should meet the husband on his homeward journey, and +his first remark inspired me to a folly. + +“How is Timothy?” he asked; and the question opened a way so attractive +that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour could have +resisted it. + +“He is no more,” I replied impulsively. + +The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath of +pity, and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my little +boy was gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all my efforts to +shelter him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down the wind. + + + + +VII. The Last of Timothy + +So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that I +made away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinafores +and shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuch +at me for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathy +ran free I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by a +mere selfish desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are +parents. + +He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and, +of course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it I +doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reason +to know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at the +first hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the +many little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to look +upon, and he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house +with its little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but he +had not a sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsiveness +had plunged me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Was +there no profession in this age of specialism for taking away children's +garments from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could I +sell them? Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose of +them for gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had already +refused them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of +Timothy, and I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he +made the offer I was waiting for. + +I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage with +both him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adopted +this means in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out. +Timothy's hold on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of the +slightest, and I suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to the +obscure. He could never have penetrated into the open. It was no life +for a boy. + +Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seem +to remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommon +tenderness (following the setting sun that was to take him away), and +telling him with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave me +because another child was in need of all his pretty things; and as the +sun, his true father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love to +a lady of long ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowing +in his innocence that the little white birds are the birds that never +have a mother. I wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possession +of me) that before he went he could have played once in the Kensington +Gardens, and have ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to me +to look; that he could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond; +fain would I have had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughing +avenues of childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a long +summer-day, emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun +to pay for; and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolate +chambers) he knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that the +reason he never did these things was not that he was afraid, for he +would have loved to do them all, but because he was not quite like other +boys; and, so saying, he let go my finger and faded from before my eyes +into another and golden ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been +quite like other boys there would have been none braver than my Timothy. + +I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so far +as I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient. +So I discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit, +and found myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at the +pawnbroker's. The shop for little garments seems very alarming when you +reach the door; a man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to a +finer sense of the proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but +apparently I could not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering +shops of any kind, save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I +fear I go too frequently. + +So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself, +and it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I had +been brazen at half-past two all would now be over. + +To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man +whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I had +drawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned +he was still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smoked +my purpose. Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icy +politeness, “You have the advantage of me, sir.” + +“I beg your pardon,” said he, and I am now persuaded that my words +turned his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I was +sure some impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer. + +“I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance,” I barked. + +“No one regrets it more than I do,” he replied, laughing. + +“I mean, sir,” said I, “that I shall wait here until you retire,” and +with that I put my back to a shop-window. + +By this time he was grown angry, and said he, “I have no engagement,” + and he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedly +determined to tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. We +also felt it, for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away, +we shook hands cordially and agreed to call hansoms. + +Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who would +make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, rather +than explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in this +despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hicking +heartened me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine and +decoy by which David should procure his outfit. + +You must be told who they were. + + + + +VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + +They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had been +disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I deferred dining +several minutes that I might have the attendance of this ingrate. His +efforts to reserve the window-table for me were satisfactory, and I +used to allow him privileges, as to suggest dishes; I have given him +information, as that someone had startled me in the reading-room by +slamming a door; I have shown him how I cut my finger with a piece +of string. William was none of your assertive waiters. We could have +plotted a murder safely before him. It was one member who said to him +that Saucy Sarah would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy +Sarah had no chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The +excellent fellow (as I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be +smoked from either end. + +I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the window. I had +to repeat my order “Devilled kidney,” and instead of answering brightly, +“Yes, sir,” as if my selection of devilled kidney was a personal +gratification to him, which is the manner one expects of a waiter, he +gazed eagerly out at the window, and then, starting, asked, “Did you +say devilled kidney, sir?” A few minutes afterward I became aware that +someone was leaning over the back of my chair, and you may conceive my +indignation on discovering that this rude person was William. Let me +tell, in the measured words of one describing a past incident, what next +took place. To get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder. +“William,” I said, “you are not attending to me!” + +To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his audacious +apology, “Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of something else.” + +And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from him +passionately, “For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, tell me if +you have seen a little girl looking up at the club-windows.” + +Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed out the +girl to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the middle of Pall +Mall, regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed to pass over her), +nodded her head significantly three times and then disappeared (probably +on a stretcher). She was the tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, +but seemed to have brought relief to William. “Thank God!” said he +fervently, and in the worst taste. + +I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. “Bread, +William,” I said sharply. + +“You are not vexed with me, sir?” he had the hardihood to whisper. + +“It was a liberty,” I said. + +“I know, sir, but I was beside myself.” + +“That was a liberty again.” + +“It is my wife, sir, she--” + +So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I +felt that this was the greatest liberty of all. + +I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes +after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I +desired to be told by William that the signals meant her return to +health. He answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the +worst. + +“Bah, the doctor,” I said in a rage. + +“Yes, sir,” said William. + +“What is her confounded ailment?” + +“She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you +see, sir, she has had a baby-girl lately--” + +“William, how dare you,” I said, but in the same moment I saw that this +father might be useful to me. “How does your baby sleep, William?” I +asked in a low voice, “how does she wake up? what do you put in her +bath?” + +I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an +answer. “That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?” + +“Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means +that the missus is a little better.” + +“There were three nods to-day?” + +“Yes, sir. + +“I suppose you live in some low part, William?” + +The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. “Off Drury +Lane,” he said, flushing, “but it isn't low. And now,” he groaned, +“she's afeared she will die without my being there to hold her hand.” + +“She should not say such things.” + +“She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling stronger. +But I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the house in the +morning, for then she looks at me from her bed, and I looks at her from +the door--oh, my God, sir!” + +“William!” + +At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him to beg +my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some unsuccessful dish. +I tried to forget his vulgar story in billiards, but he had spoiled +my game, and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another +waiter. As I had the window-seat, however, I could not but see that the +little girl was late, and though this mattered nothing to me and I had +finished my dinner, I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three +times but waved her hat, and I arose, having now finished my dinner. + +William came stealthily toward me. “Her temperature has gone down, sir,” + he said, rubbing his hands together. + +“To whom are you referring?” I asked coldly, and retired to the +billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + +I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his maunderings, but +I observed the girl nightly, and once, instead of nodding, she shook her +head, and that evening I could not get into a pocket. Next evening +there was no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had +happened. But, chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I +was surprised to see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room +practically to ourselves, for though several members sat on chairs +holding books in their hands they were all asleep, and William descended +the ladder to tell me his blasting tale. He had sworn at a member! + +“I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her so +weakly that--” + +I stamped my foot. + +“I beg your pardon for speaking of her,” he had the grace to say. “But +Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she came about +four o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of blinded me, sir, and +I stumbled against a member, Mr. B----, and he said, 'Damn you!' Well, +sir, I had but touched him after all, and I was so broken it sort of +stung me to be treated so and I lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'” + +His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the readers +shuddered in their sleep. + +“I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until the +committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am willing to go +on my knees to Mr. B----” + +How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a +week? + +“For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just fall back +and die.” + +“I forbid your speaking to me of that woman,” I cried wryly, “unless you +can speak pleasantly,” and I left him to his fate and went off to +look for B----. “What is this story about your swearing at one of the +waiters?” I asked him. + +“You mean about his swearing at me,” said B----, reddening. + +“I am glad that was it,” I said, “for I could not believe you guilty of +such bad form. The version which reached me was that you swore at each +other, and that he was to be dismissed and you reprimanded.” + +“Who told you that?” asked B----, who is a timid man. + +“I am on the committee,” I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of +other matters, but presently B----, who had been reflecting, said: “Do +you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me, +and I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow.” + +I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without +my having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he +would not be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows, +which are at the back of the club. I was looking down at her, but +she refrained from signalling because she could not see William, and +irritated by her stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was. + +“My,” she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, “I b'lieve you are +one of them!” and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William +tells them of our splendid doings. + +The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child +wanted to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to +indicate this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall +Mall. I gave the little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club +disgusted. + +“By the way, William,” I said, “Mr. B---- is to inform the committee +that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to him, so +you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow.” + +I had to add immediately, “Remember your place, William.” + +“But Mr. B---- knows I swore,” he insisted. + +“A gentleman,” I replied stiffly, “cannot remember for many hours what a +waiter has said to him.” + +“No, sir, but--” + +To stop him I had to say, “And--ah--William, your wife is decidedly +better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it.” + +“How can you know, sir?” + +“By an accident.” + +“Irene signed to the window?” + +“No.” + +“Then you saw her and went out and--” + +“How dare you, William?” + +“Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl--” + +“William.” + +He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I +seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us +were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so +illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on +Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen +Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a +woful state of relapse on Thursday. + +“Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?” I asked, as soon as I had +drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + +“My!” she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass between her +and a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neighbour. + +I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like nothing +but a dead one till she got the brandy. + +“Hush, child,” I said, shocked. “You don't know how the dead look.” + +“Bless yer!” she replied. + +Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by +Irene's intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous +information, as that William's real name was Mr. Hicking, but that he +was known in their street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff +Hicking. That the street held he should get away from the club before +two in the morning, for his missus needed him more than the club needed +him. That William replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of +waiters at supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for +their marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, and +pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. That what +she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the kid was in another +part of London (in charge of a person called the old woman), because +there was an epidemic in Irene's street. + +“And what does the doctor say about your mother?” + +“He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her kid +back.” + +“Nonsense.” + +“And if she was took to the country.” + +“Then why does not William take her?” + +“My! And if she drank porty wine.” + +“Doesn't she?” + +“No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks it.” + +I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + +“Ain't yer going to do it this time?” she demanded with a falling face. +“You done it last time. I tell her you done it”--she pointed to her +friend who was looking wistfully at me--“ain't you to let her see you +doing of it?” + +For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but by a +piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my hat to her. +So I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her head in the air and +her neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. These little creatures are +really not without merit. + +About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a newspaper +before my face lest anyone should see me in company of a waiter and his +wife. William was taking her into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of +mine, and Irene was with us, wearing the most outrageous bonnet. + +I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her pride in +the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a regrettable scene +when it was brought to her, because “she had been feared it would not +know her again.” I could have told her that they know no one for years +had I not been in terror of Irene, who dandled the child on her knees +and talked to it all the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy +than this Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as “Oo +know who gave me this bonnet?” and answered them herself. “It was +the pretty gentleman there,” and several times I had to affect sleep, +because she announced, “Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman.” + +Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered +still more acutely when we reached our destination, where disagreeable +circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a waiter's family. William +knew that I regarded thanks from persons of his class as an outrage, yet +he looked them though he dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down +at the table by my orders than he remembered that I was a member of the +club and jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again +and again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, “How are you now? +You don't feel faint?” and when she said she felt like another woman +already, his face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude +from the way she let the baby pound her that she was stronger than she +pretended. + +I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to say to +William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he announced +that it was time for him to catch a train back to London, at which his +wife paled, I delivered the message. + +“William,” I said, backing away from him, “the head-waiter asked me to +say that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages will be paid +as usual.” + +Confound him. + +“William,” I cried furiously, “go away.” + +Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be left +alone with me. + +“William,” I cried in a panic, “stay where you are.” + +But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were filmy. Her +class are fond of scenes. “If you please, ma'am!” I said imploringly. + +But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + +“It can be only the memory of some woman,” said she, “that makes you so +kind to me and mine.” + +Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I suppose I +really am quite elderly. + +“I should like to know her name, sir,” she said, “that I may mention her +with loving respect in my prayers.” + +I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. “But she has +a home,” I said, “as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, ma'am, it would +be better worth your while to mention me.” + + +It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the purchase of +the outfits, “one for a boy of six months,” I explained to her, “and one +for a boy of a year,” for the painter had boasted to me of David's rapid +growth. I think she was a little surprised to find that both outfits +were for the same house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity +about the mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat +than a fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her daughter +enjoyed themselves hugely in the shops, from one of which I shall never +forget Irene emerging proudly with a commissionaire, who conducted her +under an umbrella to the cab where I was lying in wait. I think that was +the most celestial walk of Irene's life. + +I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill-treatment +that they might not look quite new, at which she exclaimed, not being in +my secret, and then to forward them to me. I then sent them to Mary and +rejoiced in my devilish cunning all the evening, but chagrin came in the +morning with a letter from her which showed she knew all, that I was her +Mr. Anon, and that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never +so gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + +Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her letter +at once and have seldom read it since. No married lady should have +indited such an epistle to a single man. It said, with other things +which I decline to repeat, that I was her good fairy. As a sample of the +deliberate falsehoods in it, I may mention that she said David loved me +already. She hoped that I would come in often to see her husband, who +was very proud of my friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my +first visit to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to +know, he is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she wanted +first to meet me alone, so that she might draw the delicious, respectful +romance out of me, and afterward repeat it to him, with sighs and little +peeps at him over her pocket-handkerchief. + +She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me upon the +paper, but I should not wonder though they were only artful drops of +water. + +I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any communication +with her. + + + + +IX. A Confirmed Spinster + +I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows, +which I so little desire that I have got me into my writing-chair to +combat the charge, but, having sat for an unconscionable time with pen +poised, I am come agitatedly to the fear that there may be something in +it. + +So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the ardours +of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty doors) for the +beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I seem ever to see this +same man until I am back in those wonderful months which were half of +my life, when, indeed, I know that I was otherwise than I am now; no +whimsical fellow then, for that was one of the possibilities I put to +myself while seeking for the explanation of things, and found to be +inadmissible. Having failed in those days to discover why I was driven +from the garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of +some dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect +unnoticed. + +It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up glorious +once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is humorously known +at the club as a “confirmed spinster.” I remember him well when his +years told four and twenty; on my soul the proudest subaltern of my +acquaintance, and with the most reason to be proud. There was nothing he +might not do in the future, having already done the biggest thing, this +toddler up club-steps to-day. + +Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, and most +inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of the ladies who +smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it +seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I forget when I first began to notice +that smile and to be made uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and +in some vague way it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but +I hope I am still your loyal, obedient servant. + +You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I once had +a fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my smile? I swear I +have not noticed that it was gone till now; I am like one who revisiting +his school feels suddenly for his old knife. I first heard of my smile +from another boy, whose sisters had considered all the smiles they knew +and placed mine on top. My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to +mention the plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. +I feel lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to look for +it in my mirror. + +I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some other +forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference between that +man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, telling me it was my +one adornment, and taking it from me, so to speak, for a moment to let +me see how she looked in it; she delighted to make sport of me when she +was in a wayward mood, and to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice +and gesture, exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a +star calling to the earth: “See, I will show you how you hobble round,” + and always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to stop her if I +dared, and upon them, when she was most audacious, lay a sweet mist. + +They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, to +tell her what love is, and she listened with a noble frankness, having, +indeed, the friendliest face for all engaged in this pursuit that can +ever have sat on woman. I have heard ladies call her coquette, not +understanding that she shone softly upon all who entered the lists +because, with the rarest intuition, she foresaw that they must go away +broken men and already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds +incurred for love were dear to her; at every true utterance about love +she exulted with grave approval, or it might be a with a little “ah!” or +“oh!” like one drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been more fair, +for she was for the first comer who could hit the target, which was her +heart. + +She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so +that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty; had she +had no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would +still have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful. + +And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive her; +I think had there been one it would have proved that there was a flaw in +her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping because all the pretty +things were said and done with, or she was making doleful confessions +about herself, so impulsive and generous and confidential, and so devoid +of humour, that they compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a +looking-glass of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all +to blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back so +that they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his lack of +skill to seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that she was always +waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there was +nothing to forgive, or very little, just the little that makes a dear +girl dearer, and often afterward, I believe, they have laughed fondly +when thinking of her, like boys brought back. You ladies who are +everything to your husbands save a girl from the dream of youth, have +you never known that double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in +a reverie and start up, as if he fancied he were being hailed from +far-away? + +I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her laugh is +what comes first across the years; so high-spirited that she would have +wept like Mary of Scots because she could not lie on the bare plains +like the men. I hear her, but it is only as an echo; I see her, but it +is as a light among distant trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no +nearer; she was only for the boys. There was a month when I could have +shown her to you in all her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from +that moment I understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was +never clear to me again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear +heart willing to give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was +so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but she was as young +as if she were the first woman. The world must have rung with gallant +deeds and grown lovely thoughts for numberless centuries before she +could be; she was the child of all the brave and wistful imaginings of +men. She was as mysterious as night when it fell for the first time upon +the earth. She was the thing we call romance, which lives in the little +hut beyond the blue haze of the pine-woods. + +No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, +her attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably gracious, her +movements indolently active, her face so candid that you must swear her +every thought lived always in the open. Yet, with it all, she was a wild +thing, alert, suspicious of the lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, +more curious about it than about aught else in the world; her quivering +delight was to see it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome +was she that she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it +was closing round her; she scorned, however her heart might be beating, +to run from her pursuers; she took only the one step backward, which +still left her near them but always out of reach; her head on high now, +but her face as friendly, her manner as gracious as before, she is yours +for the catching. That was ever the unspoken compact between her and the +huntsmen. + +It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, but +again I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought that all this +was for me could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of the gods, +but I won it. I found myself with one foot across the magic circle +wherein she moved, and which none but I had entered; and so, I think, I +saw her in revelation, not as the wild thing they had all conceived +her, but as she really was. I saw no tameless creature, nothing wild +or strange. I saw my sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I +brushed aside the haze and she was truly seen for the first time, she +raised her head, like one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted +eyes. I told her what had been revealed to me as I looked upon her, and +she trembled, knowing she was at last found, and fain would she have +fled away, but that her fear was less than her gladness. She came to me +slowly; no incomprehensible thing to me now, but transparent as a pool, +and so restful to look upon that she was a bath to the eyes, like banks +of moss. + +Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him +who can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in which she +walked, but I had pierced it and found the woman. I could anticipate her +every thought and gesture, I could have flashed and rippled and mocked +for her, and melted for her and been dear disdain for her. She would +forget this and be suddenly conscious of it as she began to speak, when +she gave me a look with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I +was already waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the +blush of the eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her +very finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I loved even her +naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, which she could +not do without also gnashing her teeth, like a child trying to look +fearsome. How pretty was that gnashing of her teeth! All her tormentings +of me turned suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this +exquisite fury, wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to +anyone, while I wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may +be that I wondered over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + +It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I brought +her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but then she came +willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly tamed, but he who knows +her will always be able to bring her back. + +I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know not how +it was, though in the twilight of my life that then began I groped for +reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is that she had ceased to +love me; I had won her love, but I could not keep it. The discovery came +to me slowly, as if I were a most dull-witted man; at first I knew only +that I no longer understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what +she had meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to +puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I had +strayed outside the magic circle. + +When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief that there +was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me assisted in that poor +pretence. She sought to glide to me with swimming eyes as before, but it +showed only that this caressing movement was still within her compass, +but never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she +touched mine, but no longer could they convey the message. The current +was broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. +She could tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she was +scarcely less anxious than I that I should make her love me again, and, +as I have said, she waited with a wonderful tolerance while I strove +futilely to discover in what I was lacking and to remedy it. And when, +at last, she had to leave me, it was with compassionate cries and little +backward flights. + +The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so +altered by it had I known what was the defect in me through which I let +her love escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than the loss of her. +Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak honestly to you) that I do +not repent me those dallyings in enchanted fields. It may not have been +so always, for I remember a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down +in an oarless boat and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant +moans do not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the +waters bring him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to +know that, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from +another. + +I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman playing +with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty one, and I saw the +gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the dear pretty way I can't +forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting for her shoulders, brought +the whole group joyously to the ground. She picked herself up in the old +leisurely manner, lazily active, and looked around her benignantly, +like a cow: our dear wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of +children. I meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the +old wound broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a +few poor drops, which fell because I found that she was even a little +sweeter than I had thought. + + + + +X. Sporting Reflections + +I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear it +would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat's +light keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Mary +to her lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman +to her consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mind +when I dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks, +which have all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject to +cold feet, I have sometimes toyed with it since. + +Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remain +true to the unattainable she? + +I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend of +mine, whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her lover +died. It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying to +point the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came +another youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well known +to me, and I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend once +more a matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like +one made young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale +daughter in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she cast +rice after the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chanced +upon her in her room, and she was on her knees in tears before the +spirit of the dead lover. “Forgive me,” she besought him, “for I am old, +and life is gray to friendless girls.” The pardon she wanted was for +pretending to her daughter that women should act thus. + +I am sure she felt herself soiled. + +But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty years +had elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like a +sack of returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. + +“They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopes +that you will find something in them about yourself.” It would have +sounded oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, and +something might have come of it. + +On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood of +the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both back +there. The easiness of it tempted me. + +Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They all +do, you see. + +And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost my +smile? + +And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + +I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + + + + +XI. The Runaway Perambulator + +I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, +where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face +and glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always +stalked by, meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me +very hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, +but fear I had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, +as, would I not call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which +moment, it seemed, he was at his best. + +No, I would not. + +“He says tick-tack to the clock,” Irene said, trying to snare me. + +“Pooh!” said I. + +“Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'” she told me, with a flush of +pride. + +“I prefer 'tick-tick,'” I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + +Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, I would +have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait until he could +walk, when it would be more easy to waylay him. However, he was a +cautious little gorbal who, after many threats to rise, always seemed to +come to the conclusion that he might do worse than remain where he was, +and when he had completed his first year I lost patience with him. + +“When I was his age,” I said to Irene, “I was running about.” I +consulted them casually about this matter at the club, and they had all +been running about at a year old. + +I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the dilatory +boy to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I would look at +him. At first Mary, to whom the offer was passed on, rejected it with +hauteur, but presently she wavered, and the upshot was that Irene, +looking scornful and anxious, arrived one day with the perambulator. +Without casting eyes on its occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: “In +half-an-hour,” I said. + +She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, and so +on, but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of a passionately +affectionate farewell to her charge, which was really all directed +against me, and ended with these powerful words: “And if he takes off +your socks, my pretty, may he be blasted for evermore.” + +“I shall probably take off her socks,” I said carelessly to this. + +Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + +“It is a girl, is it not?” I asked, thus neatly depriving her of +coherent speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round to--to +begin, and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down behind the hood of +his carriage. My plan was to accustom him to his new surroundings before +bursting on the scene myself. + +I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him +wake naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not said +quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I +should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but he took no notice. +I remember trying to persuade myself that if I never budged till Irene's +return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still +there was no response. Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not +there. + +I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly noticed a +covert movement somewhere near the middle of the carriage, and heard a +low gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. I stopped dead at this sharp +reminder that I was probably not the only curious person in the room, +and for a long moment we both lay low, after which, I am glad to +remember, I made the first advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged +some likely articles on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of +keys, and two war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these +(as something to fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking +(I fear now) a little like a professor of legerdemain. David was sitting +up, and he immediately fixed his eyes on me. + +It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to you, +for of course I know really nothing about children, so I shall say only +this, that I thought him very like what Timothy would have been had he +ever had a chance. + +I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself being +judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed so natural +that I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving to hear him +signify that I would do. I have stood up before other keen judges and +deceived them all, but I made no effort to deceive David; I wanted to, +but dared not. Those unblinking eyes were too new to the world to be +hooded by any of its tricks. In them I saw my true self. They opened for +me that pedler's pack of which I have made so much ado, and I found +that it was weighted less with pretty little sad love-tokens than with +ignoble thoughts and deeds and an unguided life. I looked dejectedly at +David, not so much, I think, because I had such a sorry display for him, +as because I feared he would not have me in his service. I seemed to +know that he was making up his mind once and for all. + +And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so frightened, +but the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself a fine fellow at +once. It was a long smile, too, opening slowly to its fullest extent (as +if to let me in), and then as slowly shutting. + +Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or +because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could +do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. This made him slide +down the perambulator, and I saw at once that it was very necessary to +replace him. But never before had I come into such close contact with +a child; the most I had ever done was, when they were held up to me, to +shut my eyes and kiss a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he +was eternally being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it +was contrived, and yet we managed it between us quite easily. His +body instinctively assumed a certain position as I touched him, which +compelled my arms to fall into place, and the thing was done. I felt +absurdly pleased, but he was already considering what he should do next. + +He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to +its being contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he +proposed to repeat his first performance, but in this I did him an +injustice, for, unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to do the same +feat twice; perhaps, like the conjurors, he knew that the audience were +more on the alert the second time. + +I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + +Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say that I +felt uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And what dire thing +could happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but +he signed to me to look sharp, and I removed the sock. The part of him +thus revealed gave David considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a +curious thing, that he seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + +However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after giving me +a glance which said “Now observe!” he raised his bare foot and ran his +mouth along the toes, like one playing on a barbaric instrument. He then +tossed his foot aside, smiled his long triumphant smile and intimated +that it was now my turn to do something. I thought the best thing I +could do would be to put his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried +to do so I discovered why Irene had warned me so portentously against +taking it off. I should say that she had trouble in socking him every +morning. + +Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what to do +with my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do nothing with it +myself, put it under a wine-glass, for instance, and make it turn into +a rabbit, which so many people can do. In the meantime David, occupied +with similar thoughts, very nearly made it disappear altogether, and I +was thankful to be able to pull it back by the chain. + +“Haw-haw-haw!” + +Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to me, a +trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, Mary had not +given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said that five and twenty +minutes had passed, and looking out I saw Irene at one end of the street +staring up at my window, and at the other end Mary's husband staring up +at my window, and beneath me Mary staring up at my window. They had all +broken their promise. + +I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give +me a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I was in despair. Then +the smile came, and I knew that he was teasing me only. He now nodded +his head about six times. + +This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty that, +contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my arms to him, and +first he shook his head, and then after a long pause (to frighten me), +he nodded it. + +But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her +husband and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from me, and +acting under an impulse I whipped him into the perambulator and was off +with it without a license down the back staircase. To the Kensington +Gardens we went; it may have been Manitoba we started for, but we +arrived at the Kensington Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated +and smartly carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in +the street, to make sure that I was wearing a hat. + +I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet made +up his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown +suddenly indifferent to public comment, and my elation increased when +I discovered that I was being pursued. They drew a cordon round me near +Margot Meredith's tree, but I broke through it by a strategic movement +to the south, and was next heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both +ends of this passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped +through their fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. +Cowering at St. Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up the Hump, +and when they had crossed to the Round Pond we paraded gaily in the +Broad Walk, not feeling the tiniest bit sorry for anybody. + +Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after all, I +was a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until they were the +size of my medals, and then, with the deliberation that distinguishes +his smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw all his forces gathering +in his face, and I had nothing to oppose to them; it was an unarmed man +against a regiment. + +Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I who had +dropped the letter. + +I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, for +who else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous manipulation +of the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth form? I alone of +boys had been able to elevate and lower my eyebrows separately; when +the one was climbing my forehead the other descended it, like the two +buckets in the well. + +Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, and +immediately David checked his forces and considered my unexpected +movement without prejudice. His face remained as it was, his mouth open +to emit the howl if I did not surpass expectation. I saw that, like the +fair-minded boy he has always been, he was giving me my chance, and +I worked feverishly, my chief fear being that, owing to his youth, +he might not know how marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an +appeal to the intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth +can do it except myself. + +When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with unchanged +face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decided +whether it was funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it +I went once more, till I saw his forces wavering, when I sent my left +eyebrow up almost farther than I could bring it back, and with that I +had him, the smile broke through the clouds. + +In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + +I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but had not +dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to my annoyance +that I was the centre of a deeply interested gathering of children. +There was, in particular, one vulgar little street-boy-- + +However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon to +triumph gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me down on one +of the garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand resting carelessly on the +perambulator, in imitation of the nurses, it was so pleasant to assume +the air of one who walked with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw +Mary approaching with quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that +flight would have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded +toward me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing that I +had observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + +I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a visitor +at her house, though never can I forget the shock I got the first time +I saw him strolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he has +avoided it, crossing to the other side when I go that way, and rejoining +me farther on, so I conclude that Mary's husband is painting him. + +I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and noted +that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat shabbily, gave +her the end of a smile which had been begun for me. It seemed to relieve +her, for what one may call the wild maternal look left her face, and +trying to check little gasps of breath, the result of unseemly running, +she signed to her confederates to remain in the background, and turned +curious eyes on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her +words would have been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth puckered +as David's does before he sets forth upon his smile, and I saw that she +thought she had me in a parley at last. + +“I could not help being a little anxious,” she said craftily, but I must +own, with some sweetness. + +I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David--I +cannot understand why the movement was so hasty--and lowered her face +to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, he seized her +face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows up and down with the +other. He failed, and his obvious disappointment in his mother was as +nectar to me. + +“I don't understand what you want, darling,” said she in distress, and +looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he wanted, and let +her see that I understood. Had I been prepared to converse with her, I +should have said elatedly that, had she known what he wanted, still she +could not have done it, though she had practised for twenty years. + +I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + +It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most +perfect confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly gave her +my back, but the effect on David was miraculous; he signed to her to go, +for he was engaged for the afternoon. + +What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great moment I +had strength of character to raise my hat for the third time and walk +away, leaving the child to judge between us. I walked slowly, for I knew +I must give him time to get it out, and I listened eagerly, but that +was unnecessary, for when it did come it was a very roar of anguish. I +turned my head, and saw David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he +might have one last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and +nodded repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, +and I walked on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since +relentlessly pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the boy, +expose her to him in all her vagaries, take him utterly from her and +make him mine. + + + + +XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + +All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + +Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much longer, +for soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it came to him to +be up and doing, and he up and did in the Broad Walk itself, where he +would stand alone most elaborately poised, signing imperiously to the +British public to time him, and looking his most heavenly just before he +fell. He fell with a dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended +that this was his funny way of finishing. + +That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of the +Gold King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, and +on Wednesday he struck three and went into knickerbockers. For the +Kensington Gardens, you must know, are full of short cuts, familiar to +all who play there; and the shortest leads from the baby in long +clothes to the little boy of three riding on the fence. It is called the +Mother's Tragedy. + +If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of their +own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, in which you +may read the ages of their young. When he is three they are said to wear +the knickerbocker face, and you may take it from me that Mary assumed +that face with a sigh; fain would she have kept her boy a baby longer, +but he insisted on his rights, and I encouraged him that I might notch +another point against her. I was now seeing David once at least every +week, his mother, who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, +having instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, +and we had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever a +threatening shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not improve +with acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, chiefly, I think, +because she now wore a nurse's cap with streamers, of which the little +creature was ludicrously proud. She assumed the airs of an official +person, and always talked as if generations of babies had passed through +her hands. She was also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying +disapproval of my methods that led to many coldnesses and even +bickerings between us, which I now see to have been undignified. I +brought the following accusations against her: + +That she prated too much about right and wrong. + +That she was a martinet. + +That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when she knew +Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I regret having +used this argument, but it was the only one that really damped her. + +On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + +Of not thinking of his future. + +Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such things. + +Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + +Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, when it +really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my person by a +piece of elastic. + +To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a pathetic +faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely +an affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I naturally cast +about for similar diversions when it ceased to attract. It lost its hold +on David suddenly, as I was to discover was the fate of all of them; +twenty times would he call for my latest, and exult in it, and the +twenty-first time (and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if +wondering what the man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the +great joke was explained to her, said coldly, “We are not amused,” and, +I assure you, it is a humiliating thing to perform before an infant who +intimates, after giving you ample time to make your points, that he is +not amused. I hoped that when David was able to talk--and not merely +to stare at me for five minutes and then say “hat”--his spoken verdict, +however damning, would be less expressive than his verdict without +words, but I was disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, +when he could keep up such spirited conversations with himself that he +had little need for any of us, promising him to do something exceedingly +funny with a box and two marbles, and after he had watched for a long +time he said gravely, “Tell me when it begins to be funny.” + +I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, in a +dimly lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young man with a +long neck and a pimply face, who as I entered took a barber's pole from +my pocket, saying at the same time, “Come, come, sir, this will never +do.” Whether because he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, +he was the most depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of +the artist's joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give +pleasure to thousands not caring a dump about it. + +The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, but the +difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a barber's pole +in the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there always being polite +children hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The +young man, again, had said that anyone would lend me a bottle or a +lemon, but though these were articles on which he seemed ever able to +lay his hand, I found (what I had never noticed before) that there is +a curious dearth of them in the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually +carried about with me, and with its connivance I did some astonishing +things with pennies, but even the penny that costs sixpence is +uncertain, and just when you are saying triumphantly that it will +be found in the egg-cup, it may clatter to the ground, whereon some +ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of fibbing and +corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through clenched +teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she understood no jokes +except her own, of which she had the most immoderately high opinion, +and that would have mattered little to me had not David liked them also. +There were times when I could not but think less of the boy, seeing +him rock convulsed over antics of Irene that have been known to every +nursemaid since the year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give +me the ecstatic look that meant, “Irene is really very entertaining, +isn't she?” + +We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous fairness, and +I admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her gutta-percha tooth. In +earlier days one of her front teeth, as she told me, had fallen out, but +instead of then parting with it, the resourceful child had hammered it +in again with a hair-brush, which she offered to show me, with the dents +on it. This tooth, having in time passed away, its place was supplied by +one of gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when +she sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign that the +cold was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the room she knew she +was in for something notable. Irene's tooth was very favourably known +in the Gardens, where the perambulators used to gather round her to hear +whether it had been doing anything to-day, and I would not have grudged +David his proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that +Irene's one poor little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was +without intellectual merit. I have sometimes stalked away from him, +intimating that if his regard was to be got so cheaply I begged to +retire from the competition, but the Gardens are the pleasantest club in +London, and I soon returned. How I scoured the Gardens looking for him, +and how skilful I became at picking him out far away among the trees, +though other mothers imitated the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's +indignation. I also cut Irene's wings (so to speak) by taking her to a +dentist. + +And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as +receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want +at the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets, +without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching +home--a tin-soldier, or a pistol--when I put it on my mantle-shelf +and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I had been +over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some time David +up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I favour other +dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, looking +very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was David's +first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + +Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace +at the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of +which David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the +Round Pond to persons coming from the north. + +You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty. +When next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at +first she bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she +burst into tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had +I lifted my hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now +learned to my surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our +tiffs, but I have never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. +I also made her promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, +saying I was taking my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I +tell you, Irene has one of the prettiest and most touching little bows +imaginable; it is half to the side (if I may so express myself), which +has always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by +watching Mary. + +I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I +look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that +was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms, +and even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that +until he was three years old I sought merely to amuse him. God forgive +me, but I had only one day a week in which to capture him, and I was +very raw at the business. + +I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, but +really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with children I +learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved almost more +profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was this little mother +that she had always room near her for one more, and often have I seen +her in the Gardens, the centre of a dozen mites who gazed awestruck at +her while she told them severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. +They were children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but +they believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little ladies +and gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these romantic creatures +keep themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait till they come to a gate, +the more they admired them, though their faces showed how profoundly +they felt that to be little ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You +can't think what hopeless little faces they were. + +Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do puppies care +only for play? That wistful look, which the merriest of them sometimes +wear, I wonder whether it means that they would like to hear about the +good puppies? + +As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising the +telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring feats, while +Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has any other fairy-tale +been told in my hearing. It was the prettiest of them all, and was +recited by the heroine. + +“Why were the king and queen not at home?” David would ask her +breathlessly. + +“I suppose,” said Irene, thinking it out, “they was away buying the +victuals.” + +She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David thought it +was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and when she came +to its great moments her little bosom heaved. Never shall I forget the +concentrated scorn with which the prince said to the sisters, “Neither +of you ain't the one what wore the glass slipper.” + +“And then--and then--and then--,” said Irene, not artistically to +increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious to her. + +“Tell me--tell me quick,” cried David, though he knew the tale by heart. + +“She sits down like,” said Irene, trembling in second-sight, “and she +tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, +he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true love, Cinderella, +what now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'” + +Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the grandees of +the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. “Her, as was only a kitchen +drudge,” she would say in a strange soft voice and with shining eyes, +“but was true and faithful in word and deed, such was her reward.” + +I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and touched +Irene with her wand, David would have been interested rather than +astonished. As for myself, I believe I have surprised this little girl's +secret. She knows there are no fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes +that if she is always true and faithful she may some day turn into a +lady in word and deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + +It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an amount of +heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in this sad London of +ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + +Good luck to you, Irene. + + + + +XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + +You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow our +adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens, as they +now became known to David. They are in London, where the King lives, and +you go to them every day unless you are looking decidedly flushed, but +no one has ever been in the whole of the Gardens, because it is so soon +time to turn back. The reason it is soon time to turn back is that you +sleep from twelve to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep +from twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + +The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of omnibuses, +over which Irene has such authority that if she holds up her finger +to any one of them it stops immediately. She then crosses with you in +safety to the other side. There are more gates to the Gardens than one +gate, but that is the one you go in at, and before you go in you speak +to the lady with the balloons, who sits just outside. This is as near to +being inside as she may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold +of the railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she +would be flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are always +tugging at her, and the strain has given her quite a red face. Once she +was a new one, because the old one had let go, and David was very sorry +for the old one, but as she did let go, he wished he had been there to +see. + +The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of +trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there, +for the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden +to mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend, +because they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves +contemptuously called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key +to the manners and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when +I tell you that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel +Fig climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel +Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate. +She was the only really celebrated Fig. + +We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other +walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began +little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the +other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted +him very much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a +perambulator. In the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth +knowing, and there is usually a grown-up with them to prevent their +going on the damp grass, and to make them stand disgraced at the corner +of a seat if they have been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish +is to behave like a girl, whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or +simpering with your thumb in your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, +but to be mad-dog is to kick out at everything, and there is some +satisfaction in that. + +If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad +Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply +wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called +Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has +been a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the +walk is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is +no more awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, +who had been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to +appear in the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in +the little wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him +knickerbockers with pockets. + +You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they +are not really manly, and they make you look the other way, at the Big +Penny and the Baby's Palace. She was the most celebrated baby of the +Gardens, and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, so +people rang the bell, and up she got out of her bed, though it was past +six o'clock, and she lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, +and then they all cried with great rejoicings, “Hail, Queen of England!” + What puzzled David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. +The Big Penny is a statue about her. + +Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk where all +the big races are run, and even though you had no intention of running +you do run when you come to the Hump, it is such a fascinating, +slide-down kind of place. Often you stop when you have run about +half-way down it, and then you are lost, but there is another little +wooden house near here, called the Lost House, and so you tell the man +that you are lost and then he finds you. It is glorious fun racing down +the Hump, but you can't do it on windy days because then you are not +there, but the fallen leaves do it instead of you. There is almost +nothing that has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf. + +From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel Grey, +the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always two nurses with +her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a long time she was a +pattern-child who always coughed off the table and said, “How do you +do?” to the other Figs, and the only game she played at was flinging a +ball gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one +day she tired of it all and went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she +really was mad-dog, she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her +tongue east, west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a +puddle and danced on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, +after which she climbed the fence and had a series of incredible +adventures, one of the least of which was that she kicked off both her +boots. At last she came to the gate that is now called after her, out of +which she ran into streets David and I have never been in though we have +heard them roaring, and still she ran on and would never again have been +heard of had not her mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. +It all happened, I should say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey +whom David knows. + +Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, which is +so full of perambulators that you could cross from side to side stepping +on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. From this walk a passage +called Bunting's Thumb, because it is that length, leads into Picnic +Street, where there are real kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into +your mug as you are drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, +and the blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + +Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm the +Bold fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let her put her +arm round his neck in public because she was a widow, but he was also +partial to adventures and liked to play with a chimney-sweep who had +killed a good many bears. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day when +they were playing near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have been +drowned had not Sooty dived in and rescued him, and the water had washed +Sooty clean and he now stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So +Malcolm would not let his mother put her arm round his neck any more. + +Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and +frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is +scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he +is out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are +wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something +else. The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which +is real cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a racquet +and the governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when you +are watching their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them. +Nevertheless, there was a very disagreeable incident one day when some +forward girls challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called +Angela Clare sent down so many yorkers that--However, instead of telling +you the result of that regrettable match I shall pass on hurriedly to +the Round Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the Gardens going. + +It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when +you are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good +all the time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good in +the Broad Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason +is that you forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that you may +as well be wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, +such big boats that they bring them in barrows and sometimes in +perambulators, and then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children +in the Gardens are these who had to walk too soon because their father +needed the perambulator. + +You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the +end your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the first +day is splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is +splendid, but soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest +craft that slips her moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a +stick-boat, because she is rather like a stick until she is in the water +and you are holding the string. Then as you walk round, pulling her, +you see little men running about her deck, and sails rise magically and +catch the breeze, and you put in on dirty nights at snug harbours which +are unknown to the lordly yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again +your rakish craft noses for the wind, whales spout, you glide over +buried cities, and have brushes with pirates and cast anchor on coral +isles. You are a solitary boy while all this is taking place, for two +boys together cannot adventure far upon the Round Pond, and though you +may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, giving orders and executing +them with dispatch, you know not, when it is time to go home, where you +have been or what swelled your sails; your treasure-trove is all locked +away in your hold, so to speak, which will be opened, perhaps, by +another little boy many years afterward. + +But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return to this +haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to sail it? Oh, no. +It is the stick-boat that is freighted with memories. The yachts are +toys, their owner a fresh-water mariner, they can cross and recross +a pond only while the stick-boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your +wands, who think we are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only +accidents of this place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the +ducks the real business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + +Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are +ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are made by men +with their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide at one spot and at +another so narrow that you can stand astride them. They are called Paths +that have Made Themselves, and David did wish he could see them doing +it. But, like all the most wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, +it is done, we concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have +also decided that the paths make themselves because it is their only +chance of getting to the Round Pond. + +One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get their +hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, I am told, he +said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary has never been quite +the same bright creature since, so he despises the sheep as they run +from their shearer and calls out tauntingly, “Cowardy, cowardy custard!” + But when the man grips them between his legs David shakes a fist at him +for using such big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man +turns back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look +suddenly like ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are so +frightened by the shearing that it makes them quite white and thin, and +as soon as they are set free they begin to nibble the grass at once, +quite anxiously, as if they feared that they would never be worth +eating. David wonders whether they know each other, now that they are +so different, and if it makes them fight with the wrong ones. They are +great fighters, and thus so unlike country sheep that every year they +give Porthos a shock. He can make a field of country sheep fly by merely +announcing his approach, but these town sheep come toward him with no +promise of gentle entertainment, and then a light from last year breaks +upon Porthos. He cannot with dignity retreat, but he stops and looks +about him as if lost in admiration of the scenery, and presently he +strolls away with a fine indifference and a glint at me from the corner +of his eye. + +The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a +drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the edge you can +see the trees all growing upside down, and they say that at night there +are also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter Pan sees them when he is +sailing across the lake in the Thrush's Nest. A small part only of the +Serpentine is in the Gardens, for soon it passes beneath a bridge to +far away where the island is on which all the birds are born that become +baby boys and girls. No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is +only half human), can land on the island, but you may write what you +want (boy or girl, dark or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist +it into the shape of a boat and slip it into the water, and it reaches +Peter Pan's island after dark. + +We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence that +we can go to so many of the places in one day. I should have had to be +carrying David long ago and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford. +That was what we called him, because he always talked to us of a lovely +place called Salford where he had been born. He was a crab-apple of +an old gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat +trying to fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of +Salford, and when we had known him for a year or more we actually did +meet another aged solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in +Salford. He was meek and timid and carried his address inside his hat, +and whatever part of London he was in search of he always went to the +General Post-office first as a starting-point. Him we carried in triumph +to our other friend, with the story of that Saturday to Monday, and +never shall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at +him. They have been cronies ever since, and I notice that Mr. Salford, +who naturally does most of the talking, keeps tight grip of the other +old man's coat. + +The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery +and the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's +Cemetery is, as Porthos is always with us. The nest is very sad. It +is quite white, and the way we found it was wonderful. We were having +another look among the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead +of the ball we found a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing +four eggs, with scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we +think they must have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones +inside. Every day we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest, +taking care that no cruel boy should see us, and we dropped crumbs, +and soon the bird knew us as friends, and sat in the nest looking at us +kindly with her shoulders hunched up. But one day when we went, there +were only two eggs in the nest, and the next time there were none. The +saddest part of it was that the poor little chaffinch fluttered about +the bushes, looking so reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we +had done it, and though David tried to explain to her, it was so +long since he had spoken the bird language that I fear she did not +understand. He and I left the Gardens that day with our knuckles in our +eyes. + + + + +XIV. Peter Pan + +If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a +little girl she will say, “Why, of course, I did, child,” and if you +ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, “What +a foolish question to ask; certainly he did.” Then if you ask your +grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she +also says, “Why, of course, I did, child,” but if you ask her whether he +rode on a goat in those days, she says she never heard of his having a +goat. Perhaps she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name +and calls you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she could +hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there was +no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in +telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people +do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest. + +Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really +always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age +is one week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a +birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The +reason is that he escaped from being a human when he was seven days' +old; he escaped by the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + +If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows +how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard +this story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, +but I told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, +and when he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly +remembered a youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that +memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as +soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way +up the chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would +press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before +they were human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few +weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So +David tells me. + +I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: +First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding +being that it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his +additions, and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more +his story or mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald +narrative and most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, +for this boy can be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the +ways and customs of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences +of David's, recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking +hard. + +Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing +on the ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the +Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that +he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the +houses to the Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, +but the place itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we +were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter +Pan that evening. + +He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace and the +Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. +He was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he +was a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and +when he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he +missed it was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, +of course, a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past +Lock-out Time, for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy +to notice him; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, +drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails made him +thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, +and dipped his beak in the pond; he thought it was his beak, but, of +course, it was only his nose, and, therefore, very little water came up, +and that not so refreshing as usual, so next he tried a puddle, and he +fell flop into it. When a real bird falls in flop, he spreads out his +feathers and pecks them dry, but Peter could not remember what was +the thing to do, and he decided, rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the +weeping beech in the Baby Walk. + +At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch, but +presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long before +morning, shivering, and saying to himself, “I never was out in such a +cold night;” he had really been out in colder nights when he was a bird, +but, of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird +is a cold night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely +uncomfortable, as if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made +him look round sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There +was something he wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted it, he +could not think what it was. What he wanted so much was his mother to +blow his nose, but that never struck him, so he decided to appeal to the +fairies for enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal. + +There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms +round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The +fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil +answer to a civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran +away the moment they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair, +reading a postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he heard +Peter's voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip. + +To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled from +him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed away, +leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail upside down +and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies +were running this away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was +afraid, lights were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds +of Queen Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the royal +guard had been called out. A regiment of Lancers came charging down +the Broad Walk, armed with holly-leaves, with which they jog the enemy +horribly in passing. Peter heard the little people crying everywhere +that there was a human in the Gardens after Lock-out Time, but he never +thought for a moment that he was the human. He was feeling stuffier and +stuffier, and more and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his +nose, but he pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid +creatures ran from him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up +the Hump, turned swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that they saw +him there. + +Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but now he +remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the weeping beech had +flown away when he alighted on it, and though that had not troubled him +at the time, he saw its meaning now. Every living thing was shunning +him. Poor little Peter Pan, he sat down and cried, and even then he did +not know that, for a bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a +blessing that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith +in his power to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you +cease forever to be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we can't +is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have +wings. + +Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the Serpentine, +for the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, and there +are stakes round it, standing up in the water, on each of which a +bird-sentinel sits by day and night. It was to the island that Peter now +flew to put his strange case before old Solomon Caw, and he alighted on +it with relief, much heartened to find himself at last at home, as the +birds call the island. All of them were asleep, including the sentinels, +except Solomon, who was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly +to Peter's adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + +“Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me,” Solomon said, +and with staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at the +sleeping birds. Not one of them wore anything. + +“How many of your toes are thumbs?” said Solomon a little cruelly, and +Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes were fingers. The +shock was so great that it drove away his cold. + +“Ruffle your feathers,” said that grim old Solomon, and Peter tried most +desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he rose +up, quaking, and for the first time since he stood on the window-ledge, +he remembered a lady who had been very fond of him. + +“I think I shall go back to mother,” he said timidly. + +“Good-bye,” replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + +But Peter hesitated. “Why don't you go?” the old one asked politely. + +“I suppose,” said Peter huskily, “I suppose I can still fly?” + +You see, he had lost faith. + +“Poor little half-and-half,” said Solomon, who was not really +hard-hearted, “you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy +days. You must live here on the island always.” + +“And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?” Peter asked tragically. + +“How could you get across?” said Solomon. He promised very kindly, +however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by +one of such an awkward shape. + +“Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?” Peter asked. + +“No.” + +“Nor exactly a bird?” + +“No.” + +“What shall I be?” + +“You will be a Betwixt-and-Between,” Solomon said, and certainly he was +a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + +The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them +every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds +that were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at +once, then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out +of other eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when +they tired of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break +their shells a day before the right time by whispering to them that now +was their chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands +gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch +the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts +they flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the +mouth. All his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's +orders by the birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they +thought very silly of him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. +Thus, when you cry out, “Greedy! Greedy!” to the bird that flies away +with the big crust, you know now that you ought not to do this, for he +is very likely taking it to Peter Pan. + +Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him +for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured, +he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left +of it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he +was cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason +was that Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many of the bird +ways. To be easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing +something, and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of vast +importance. Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build their +nests; soon he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly as well +as a blackbird, though never did he satisfy the finches, and he made +nice little water-troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the young +ones with his fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and +knew an east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the +grass growing and hear the insects walking about inside the tree-trunks. +But the best thing Solomon had done was to teach him to have a glad +heart. All birds have glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as +they were the only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it was easy to him +to teach Peter how to have one. + +Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, +just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he needed an +instrument, so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to sit by the shore +of the island of an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the +ripple of the water, and catching handfuls of the shine of the moon, and +he put them all in his pipe and played them so beautifully that even the +birds were deceived, and they would say to each other, “Was that a fish +leaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his pipe?” + and sometimes he played the birth of birds, and then the mothers would +turn round in their nests to see whether they had laid an egg. If you +are a child of the Gardens you must know the chestnut-tree near the +bridge, which comes out in flower first of all the chestnuts, but +perhaps you have not heard why this tree leads the way. It is because +Peter wearies for summer and plays that it has come, and the chestnut +being so near, hears him and is cheated. + +But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he sometimes +fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad also, and the +reason of all this sadness was that he could not reach the Gardens, +though he could see them through the arch of the bridge. He knew he +could never be a real human again, and scarcely wanted to be one, but +oh, how he longed to play as other children play, and of course there +is no such lovely place to play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him +news of how boys and girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's +eyes. + +Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was that he +could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no one on the island +knew the way except the ducks, and they are so stupid. They were quite +willing to teach him, but all they could say about it was, “You sit down +on the top of the water in this way, and then you kick out like that.” + Peter tried it often, but always before he could kick out he sank. What +he really needed to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, +and they said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as +that. Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give them +all his day's food and then ask them how they sat on the water, but as +soon as he had no more to give them the hateful things hissed at him and +sailed away. + +Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the Gardens. +A wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, floated high over +the island and then tumbled, rolling over and over after the manner of a +bird that has broken its wing. Peter was so frightened that he hid, but +the birds told him it was only a kite, and what a kite is, and that it +must have tugged its string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After +that they laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it +so much that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was +pathetic and pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it had +belonged to a real boy. + +To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt +grateful to him at this time because he had nursed a number of +fledglings through the German measles, and they offered to show him how +birds fly a kite. So six of them took the end of the string in their +beaks and flew away with it; and to his amazement it flew after them and +went even higher than they. + +Peter screamed out, “Do it again!” and with great good-nature they did +it several times, and always instead of thanking them he cried, “Do it +again!” which shows that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was +to be a boy. + +At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he begged +them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and now a hundred +flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the tail, meaning to drop +off when he was over the Gardens. But the kite broke to pieces in the +air, and he would have drowned in the Serpentine had he not caught hold +of two indignant swans and made them carry him to the island. After this +the birds said that they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + +Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of +Shelley's boat, as I am now to tell you. + + + + +XV. The Thrush's Nest + +Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect to +be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people +who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had all that +and five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, +he made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the +Serpentine. + +It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to Solomon +Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a message from a +lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her have a good one. +They always ask for the best one he has, and if he likes the letter he +sends one from Class A; but if it ruffles him he sends very funny ones +indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at another time he sends a +nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to +leave it all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he +will see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to send +another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little boy who wants +a baby-sister, always take pains to write your address clearly. You +can't think what a lot of babies Solomon has sent to the wrong house. + +Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took +counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with +their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided +that it came from some greedy person who wanted five. They thought this +because there was a large five printed on it. “Preposterous!” cried +Solomon in a rage, and he presented it to Peter; anything useless which +drifted upon the island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + +But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what it +was at once, having been very observant during the week when he was an +ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he could surely at last +contrive to reach the Gardens, and he considered all the possible ways, +and decided (wisely, I think) to choose the best way. But, first, he had +to tell the birds of the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were +too honest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they +cast such black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, +that he flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed +with his head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon +was on your side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so +he followed him and tried to hearten him. + +Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's good +will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office +all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his +green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs +which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his +stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had +been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a +hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper +and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he +would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He +cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick. + +This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted +together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently +why thrushes only were invited. + +The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did +most of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people +talked. He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the +superior ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this +put them into good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the +quarrels between birds are about the best way of building nests. Other +birds, said Solomon, omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a +result they did not hold water. Here he cocked his head as if he had +used an unanswerable argument; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come +to the meeting uninvited, and she squeaked out, “We don't build nests to +hold water, but to hold eggs,” and then the thrushes stopped cheering, +and Solomon was so perplexed that he took several sips of water. + +“Consider,” he said at last, “how warm the mud makes the nest.” + +“Consider,” cried Mrs. Finch, “that when water gets into the nest it +remains there and your little ones are drowned.” + +The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in +reply to this, but again he was perplexed. + +“Try another drink,” suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her name, and +all Kates are saucy. + +Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. “If,” said he, “a +finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and breaks to pieces, +but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup of a swan's back.” + +How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their nests +with mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, “We don't place our nests on +the Serpentine,” they did what they should have done at first: chased +her from the meeting. After this it was most orderly. What they had been +brought together to hear, said Solomon, was this: their young friend, +Peter Pan, as they well knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to +the Gardens, and he now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + +At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble for his +scheme. + +Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the cumbrous +boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be simply a thrush's +nest large enough to hold Peter. + +But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. “We are very busy +people,” they grumbled, “and this would be a big job.” + +“Quite so,” said Solomon, “and, of course, Peter would not allow you +to work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in comfortable +circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you have never been +paid before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that you shall all be paid +sixpence a day.” + +Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun the +celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business fell into +arrears. It was the time of year when they should have been pairing, but +not a thrush's nest was built except this big one, and so Solomon soon +ran short of thrushes with which to supply the demand from the mainland. +The stout, rather greedy children, who look so well in perambulators +but get puffed easily when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and +ladies often ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He +sent over to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to +lay their eggs in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the ladies +and swore they were all thrushes! It was known afterward on the island +as the Sparrows' Year, and so, when you meet, as you doubtless sometimes +do, grown-up people who puff and blow as if they thought themselves +bigger than they are, very likely they belong to that year. You ask +them. + +Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. They +stood in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper +sixpences out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and +then each bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got sixpence. +It must have been a fine sight. + +And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the +deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great +thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept by +its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was +lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps in +his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it +is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a +kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, +being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls +are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which +came off the thrushes while they were building. + +The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not +balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the +water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that +Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other +in dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a +sail, and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had +fashioned out of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a +night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full, +and all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis +Pretty would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew +not why, he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that moment +his eyes were pinned to the west. + +He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with them +to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens beckoning to +him beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face was flushed, but +he never looked back; there was an exultation in his little breast that +drove out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who +have sailed westward to meet the Unknown? + +At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the +place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of +the sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze, to +his no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was +drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the +dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown +and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which +bore him westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke +against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the bridge +and came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the delectable +Gardens. But having tried to cast anchor, which was a stone at the end +of a piece of the kite-string, he found no bottom, and was fain to hold +off, seeking for moorage, and, feeling his way, he buffeted against a +sunken reef that cast him overboard by the greatness of the shock, and +he was near to being drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There +now arose a mighty storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he +had never heard the like, and he was tossed this way and that, and +his hands so numbed with the cold that he could not close them. Having +escaped the danger of which, he was mercifully carried into a small bay, +where his boat rode at peace. + +Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark, +he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest +his landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past +Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and +also a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in the +Gardens, and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + +Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an +ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be their +friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no temper +to draw off therefrom, and he warned them if they sought to mischief him +to stand to their harms. + +So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with +intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women, +and it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's +night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that +their laps were too small, the which I cannot explain, except by saying +that such is the way of women. The men-fairies now sheathed their +weapons on observing the behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence +they set great store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who +conferred upon him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and +henceforth Peter could go whither he chose, and the fairies had orders +to put him in comfort. + +Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the +antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But Peter +never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under the +bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should see +him hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in the +Thrush's Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to paddle. +I shall tell you presently how he got his paddle. + +Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back +to the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all +that), but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real +children play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic +things about him that he often plays quite wrongly. + +You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the +fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know nothing, +and though the birds pretended that they could tell him a great deal, +when the time for telling came, it was wonderful how little they really +knew. They told him the truth about hide-and-seek, and he often plays +it by himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to +him what it is that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night +the ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number of +pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and say that +cake is not what it was in their young days. + +So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played ships +at the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had found on +the grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he wondered what +you play at with them, and decided that you play at pretending they +are boats. This hoop always sank at once, but he waded in for it, and +sometimes he dragged it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was +quite proud to think that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + +Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for +sitting in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get out of +it. Also he found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the Hump, quite as +if it was having a game by itself, and he caught it after an exciting +chase. But he thought it was a ball, and Jenny Wren had told him that +boys kick balls, so he kicked it; and after that he could not find it +anywhere. + +Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. It was +under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's Winter Palace +(which is within the circle of the seven Spanish chestnuts), and Peter +approached it warily, for the birds had never mentioned such things to +him. Lest it was alive, he addressed it politely, and then, as it gave +no answer, he went nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little +push, and it ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after +all; but, as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched out +his hand to pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and he was so +alarmed that he leapt the railing and scudded away to his boat. You must +not think, however, that he was a coward, for he came back next night +with a crust in one hand and a stick in the other, but the perambulator +had gone, and he never saw another one. I have promised to tell you also +about his paddle. It was a child's spade which he had found near St. +Govor's Well, and he thought it was a paddle. + +Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think it +rather silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must pity him +now and then, but to pity him all the time would be impertinence. He +thought he had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you +have it is almost quite as good as really to have it. He played without +ceasing, while you often waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He +could be neither of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do +you think he is to be pitied for that? + +Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, as you +are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a spinning-top, +from sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound leaping the fences of +the Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + +And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at night +write to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the Gardens, but +it is really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he had no mother--at +least, what use was she to him? You can be sorry for him for that, but +don't be too sorry, for the next thing I mean to tell you is how he +revisited her. It was the fairies who gave him the chance. + + + + +XVI. Lock-Out Time + +It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost +the only thing known for certain is that there are fairies wherever +there are children. Long ago children were forbidden the Gardens, and +at that time there was not a fairy in the place; then the children were +admitted, and the fairies came trooping in that very evening. They can't +resist following the children, but you seldom see them, partly because +they live in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not allowed +to go, and also partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit +cunning after Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + +When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember +a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you +can't write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children +who declared that they had never once seen a fairy. Very likely if they +said this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a +fairy all the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended +to be something else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually +pretend to be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, +and there are so many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, that +a flower is the thing least likely to attract attention. They dress +exactly like flowers, and change with the seasons, putting on white when +lilies are in and blue for blue-bells, and so on. They like crocus and +hyacinth time best of all, as they are partial to a bit of colour, but +tulips (except white ones, which are the fairy-cradles) they consider +garish, and they sometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so +that the beginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catch +them. + +When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty lively, but +if you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stand quite +still, pretending to be flowers. Then, after you have passed without +knowing that they were fairies, they rush home and tell their mothers +they have had such an adventure. The Fairy Basin, you remember, is all +covered with ground-ivy (from which they make their castor-oil), with +flowers growing in it here and there. Most of them really are flowers, +but some of them are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good +plan is to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. +Another good plan, which David and I sometimes follow, is to stare them +down. After a long time they can't help winking, and then you know for +certain that they are fairies. + +There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a +famous gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. Once +twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girls' +school out for a walk with the governess, and all wearing hyacinth +gowns, when she suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they +all stood still on an empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. +Unfortunately, what the governess had heard was two gardeners coming to +plant new flowers in that very bed. They were wheeling a handcart with +the flowers in it, and were quite surprised to find the bed occupied. +“Pity to lift them hyacinths,” said the one man. “Duke's orders,” + replied the other, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the +boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things in it in five rows. +Of course, neither the governess nor the girls dare let on that they +were fairies, so they were carted far away to a potting-shed, out of +which they escaped in the night without their shoes, but there was a +great row about it among the parents, and the school was ruined. + +As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they are +the exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by day but you +can't see them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you +can't see them by day, for they are the colour of night, and I never +heard of anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not +mean that they are black, for night has its colours just as day has, +but ever so much brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours +with a light behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured +glasses, and is quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but the +queen sometimes complains because the common people will peep in to see +what she is doing. They are very inquisitive folk, and press quite hard +against the glass, and that is why their noses are mostly snubby. The +streets are miles long and very twisty, and have paths on each side made +of bright worsted. The birds used to steal the worsted for their nests, +but a policeman has been appointed to hold on at the other end. + +One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they +never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first +time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping +about. That was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, +you know, as if they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask +them what they are doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are +frightfully ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have +a postman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, +and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the +youngest child being chief person is always elected mistress, and when +she has called the roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back. +It is a very noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest +is always chief person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and +children remember this, and think it must be so among humans also, and +that is why they are often made uneasy when they come upon their mother +furtively putting new frills on the basinette. + +You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all sorts +of things that your mother and her nurse want her not to do: to stand up +at sitting-down time, and to sit down at standing-up time, for instance, +or to wake up when she should fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when +she is wearing her best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down +to naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as +she has seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, and +it takes about two years to get her into the human ways. Her fits of +passion, which are awful to behold, and are usually called teething, +are no such thing; they are her natural exasperation, because we don't +understand her, though she is talking an intelligible language. She is +talking fairy. The reason mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, +before other people know, as that “Guch” means “Give it to me at once,” + while “Wa” is “Why do you wear such a funny hat?” is because, mixing so +much with babies, they have picked up a little of the fairy language. + +Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with +his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of their +phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He had heard +them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I suggested to him +that perhaps it is really bird language he is remembering, he says not, +for these phrases are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of +nothing but nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used +to go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the +different nests and saying, “Not my colour, my dear,” and “How would +that do with a soft lining?” and “But will it wear?” and “What hideous +trimming!” and so on. + +The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first +things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry +when you do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what +is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the +grass. It is not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing +round and round. Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and +these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. +The chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these little +people leave behind them, and they would remove even these were they not +so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very moment of the opening +of the gates. David and I once found a fairy-ring quite warm. + +But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes +place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to +close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the +board on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at +six-thirty for instance, instead of at seven. This enables them to get +begun half an hour earlier. + +If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the famous +Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, hundreds of +lovely fairies hastening to the ball, the married ones wearing their +wedding-rings round their waists, the gentlemen, all in uniform, holding +up the ladies' trains, and linkmen running in front carrying winter +cherries, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put +on their silver slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers +streaming up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because +they can lend a pin, the supper-table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, +and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on +which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time. + +The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is made +of chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is this: The men, +scores of them, climb up the trees and shake the branches, and the +blossom falls like snow. Then the lady servants sweep it together by +whisking their skirts until it is exactly like a table-cloth, and that +is how they get their table-cloth. + +They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, blackthorn +wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen pours out, but the +bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to pour out. There is bread +and butter to begin with, of the size of a threepenny bit; and cakes to +end with, and they are so small that they have no crumbs. The fairies +sit round on mushrooms, and at first they are very well-behaved and +always cough off the table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so +well-behaved and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got +from the roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the +table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their tongues. When +the Queen sees them doing this she signs to the servants to wash up and +put away, and then everybody adjourns to the dance, the Queen walking in +front while the Lord Chamberlain walks behind her, carrying two little +pots, one of which contains the juice of wall-flower and the other the +juice of Solomon's Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers +who fall to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for +bruises. They bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster +they foot it till they fall down in fits. For, as you know without my +telling you, Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He sits in the middle +of the ring, and they would never dream of having a smart dance nowadays +without him. “P. P.” is written on the corner of the invitation-cards +sent out by all really good families. They are grateful little people, +too, and at the princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their +second birthday and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish +of his heart. + +The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, and then +said that for playing so beautifully she would give him the wish of his +heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to hear what was the wish of +his heart, but for a long time he hesitated, not being certain what it +was himself. + +“If I chose to go back to mother,” he asked at last, “could you give me +that wish?” + +Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother they +should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose contemptuously and +said, “Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than that.” + +“Is that quite a little wish?” he inquired. + +“As little as this,” the Queen answered, putting her hands near each +other. + +“What size is a big wish?” he asked. + +She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome length. + +Then Peter reflected and said, “Well, then, I think I shall have two +little wishes instead of one big one.” + +Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather +shocked them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his +mother, but with the right to return to the Gardens if he found her +disappointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve. + +They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + +“I can give you the power to fly to her house,” the Queen said, “but I +can't open the door for you. + +“The window I flew out at will be open,” Peter said confidently. “Mother +always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back.” + +“How do you know?” they asked, quite surprised, and, really, Peter could +not explain how he knew. + +“I just do know,” he said. + +So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way they gave +him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and +soon he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and +higher and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. + +It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old home he +skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and back by the river +and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached his mother's window he had +quite made up his mind that his second wish should be to become a bird. + +The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he +fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted softly +on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look at her. +She lay with her head on her hand, and the hollow in the pillow was like +a nest lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he had +long forgotten it, that she always gave her hair a holiday at night. How +sweet the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a +pretty mother. + +But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her arms +moved as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew what it wanted +to go round. + +“Oh, mother,” said Peter to himself, “if you just knew who is sitting on +the rail at the foot of the bed.” + +Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he could +see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to say “Mother” + ever so softly, and she would wake up. They always wake up at once if it +is you that says their name. Then she would give such a joyous cry +and squeeze him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh, how +exquisitely delicious it would be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter +regarded it. In returning to his mother he never doubted that he was +giving her the greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more +splendid, he thought, than to have a little boy of your own. How proud +of him they are; and very right and proper, too. + +But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell his +mother that he has come back? + +I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds. +Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked +longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy +again, but, on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens! +Was he so sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off +the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They +were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The +socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet? He was +about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great adventure. +Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother woke up, for +he heard her say “Peter,” as if it was the most lovely word in the +language. He remained sitting on the floor and held his breath, +wondering how she knew that he had come back. If she said “Peter” again, +he meant to cry “Mother” and run to her. But she spoke no more, she +made little moans only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more +asleep, with tears on her face. + +It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first +thing he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a +beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself +out of the way she said “Peter,” and he never stopped playing until she +looked happy. + +He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening +her to hear her say, “Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you play.” However, as +she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You must +not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He had +quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning +to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant +to make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed +wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without returning to +the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too long it might +go bad. He asked himself if he had not been hardhearted to fly away +without saying good-bye to Solomon. “I should like awfully to sail in my +boat just once more,” he said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite +argued with her as if she could hear him. “It would be so splendid to +tell the birds of this adventure,” he said coaxingly. “I promise to come +back,” he said solemnly and meant it, too. + +And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from the +window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight of it +might waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on his pipe, and +then he flew back to the Gardens. + +Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies for his +second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he delayed so long. +One reason was that he had so many good-byes to say, not only to his +particular friends, but to a hundred favourite spots. Then he had his +last sail, and his very last sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. +Again, a number of farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another +comfortable reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his +mother would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason displeased +old Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds to procrastinate. +Solomon had several excellent mottoes for keeping them at their work, +such as “Never put off laying to-day, because you can lay to-morrow,” + and “In this world there are no second chances,” and yet here was Peter +gaily putting off and none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out +to each other, and fell into lazy habits. + +But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his mother, +he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution +with the fairies. They were most anxious that he should remain in the +Gardens to play to them, and to bring this to pass they tried to trick +him into making such a remark as “I wish the grass was not so wet,” and +some of them danced out of time in the hope that he might cry, “I do +wish you would keep time!” Then they would have said that this was his +second wish. But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he +began, “I wish--” he always stopped in time. So when at last he said +to them bravely, “I wish now to go back to mother for ever and always,” + they had to tickle his shoulders and let him go. + +He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his mother was +crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried for, and that a +hug from her splendid Peter would quickly make her to smile. Oh, he felt +sure of it, and so eager was he to be nestling in her arms that this +time he flew straight to the window, which was always to be open for +him. + +But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and peering +inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm round another +little boy. + +Peter called, “Mother! mother!” but she heard him not; in vain he beat +his little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, sobbing, to +the Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a glorious boy he had +meant to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have made the great mistake, how +differently we should all act at the second chance. But Solomon was +right; there is no second chance, not for most of us. When we reach the +window it is Lock-out Time. The iron bars are up for life. + + + + +XVII. The Little House + +Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which +is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for +humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and +they have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it +you never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but +it is there when you wake up and step outside. + +In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really +it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out +Time. David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the +trees as we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw +it the night he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of +his father's office. Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted +because then she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, +she saw hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the +fairies building the house, for they build it every night and always +in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of the lights was +bigger than the others, though she was not quite sure, for they jumped +about so, and it might have been another one that was bigger. But if it +was the same one, it was Peter Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen +the light, so that is nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one +for whom the house was first built. + +Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she +was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was +the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a +magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him +in the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered +rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting +she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you +that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the +daytime. + +But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt +for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there +came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. +It was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy +glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which +he always took away from her next morning) and she accepted them with a +disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so +mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to +bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do +it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened her, but +Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were +alone with their night-light she would start up in bed crying “Hsh! what +was that?” Tony beseeches her! “It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!” + and pulls the sheet over his head. “It is coming nearer!” she cries; +“Oh, look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is +boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!” and she desists not until he rushes +downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they came up to whip +Maimie they usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you +know, but really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest little angel, +which seems to me to make it almost worse. + +But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then +Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he +was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would +have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And +at no time did she admire him more than when he told her, as he often +did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in +the Gardens after the gates were closed. + +“Oh, Tony,” she would say, with awful respect, “but the fairies will be +so angry!” + +“I daresay,” replied Tony, carelessly. + +“Perhaps,” she said, thrilling, “Peter Pan will give you a sail in his +boat!” + +“I shall make him,” replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + +But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were +overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which +the little people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a +marked boy. They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down +he came on the back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his +boot-lace and bribed the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty +accidents you meet with in the Gardens occur because the fairies have +taken an ill-will to you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you +say about them. + +Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things, +but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to +remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, “Just +some day;” he was quite vague about which day except when she asked +“Will it be to-day?” and then he could always say for certain that it +would not be to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good +chance. + +This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow, +and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but +at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many +bright little boys and girls were doing that. + +When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond, +but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said +this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that +night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs +continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but +she was not to laugh much more that day. + +Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the +time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for +closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the +fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they +had changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said +there was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as +they trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their +little breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. +Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance. + +He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager +eyes asked the question, “Is it to-day?” and he gasped and then nodded. +Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold. +She did a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him! +“In case you should feel cold,” she whispered. Her face was aglow, but +Tony's was very gloomy. + +As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, “I'm afraid +Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it.” + +Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their +ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said +aloud, “Tony, I shall race you to the gate,” and in a whisper, “Then you +can hide,” and off they ran. + +Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him +speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might +have more time to hide. “Brave, brave!” her doting eyes were crying when +she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the +gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful +of darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain +she could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she +ran to St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + +When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her +other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores +and hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always +has to run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight +and glued them with passionate tears. When she opened them something +very cold ran up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart. +It was the stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from +another part clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of +the Gates. + +Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice +say, “So that's all right.” It had a wooden sound and seemed to come +from above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out +its arms and yawning. + +She was about to say, “I never knew you could speak!” when a metallic +voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the +elm, “I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?” and the elm replied, “Not +particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg,” and he +flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. +Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were +doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and +crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders +but did not seem to mind her. + +She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse +and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her +dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far +away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a +ball. She was about forty round the waist. + +There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in +time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set +off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but +that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the +walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had +crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and +shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never +known what they were for until to-night. + +She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy +fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way +he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut +like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with snow. “Oh, you +naughty, naughty child!” Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it +was to have a dripping umbrella about your ears. + +Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the +chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly “Hoity-toity, +what is this?” that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole +vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + +“Of course it is no affair of ours,” a spindle tree said after they had +whispered together, “but you know quite well you ought not to be here, +and perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think +yourself?” + +“I think you should not,” Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that +they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. “I wouldn't ask it +of you,” she assured them, “if I thought it was wrong,” and of +course after this they could not well carry tales. They then said, +“Well-a-day,” and “Such is life!” for they can be frightfully sarcastic, +but she felt sorry for those of them who had no crutches, and she said +good-naturedly, “Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take +you for a walk one at a time; you can lean on me, you know.” + +At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby +Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round +the very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and +treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though +she could not understand a word they said. + +They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not +taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others +jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a +lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off +to the ball, but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more +fear was that it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, +Maimie was always rather strange. + +They were now loath to let her go, for, “If the fairies see you,” they +warned her, “they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you +to nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an +evergreen oak.” As they said this they looked with affected pity at an +evergreen oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens. + +“Oh, la!” replied the oak bitingly, “how deliciously cosy it is to stand +here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!” + +This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves, +and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced +her if she insisted on going to the ball. + +She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual +good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the +Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a +dreadful complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried +many ladies in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them. +Queen Mab, who rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls +would bewitch him, but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. +This rather irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the +Duke's heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always +shook his bald head and murmured, “Cold, quite cold!” Naturally Queen +Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of ordering the court +into tears for nine minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed +that they should wear fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen +heart. + +“How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!” + Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the +Cupids hate to be laughed at. + +It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held, +as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the +Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting +their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on +the snow. + +Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting +anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her +surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just +time to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and +pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and +six behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held +up by two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a +lovely girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She +was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her +neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course +showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified +it. The high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their +skin, which lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you +cannot imagine anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' +busts in the jewellers' windows. + +Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion, +tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt +them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the +doctor had said “Cold, quite cold!” + +Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a +dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb +out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly +went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and +explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street +singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her. + +“Of course,” she said, “I am rather plain,” and this made Maimie +uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite +plain for a fairy. + +It was difficult to know what to reply. + +“I see you think I have no chance,” Brownie said falteringly. + +“I don't say that,” Maimie answered politely, “of course your face is +just a tiny bit homely, but--” Really it was quite awkward for her. + +Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone +to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London +were on view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home +instead of being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, “You +can't think, my dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again.” + +Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously, +indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose +her. So she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to +follow lest the Queen should mischief her. + +But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven +Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until +she was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree. + +The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed +of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming +a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little +people looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared +to the glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so +bewilderingly bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she +looked at them. + +It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas +Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love +his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the +Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling +ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were +told to pass on, and by his own most dreary face. + +Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and +hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly +sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure +places and, every time they heard that “Cold, quite cold,” bowed their +disgraced little heads. + +She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you +now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got +wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which +he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle. + +The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so +heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad +and remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies +never say “We feel happy”: what they say is, “We feel dancey.” + +Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke +out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was +insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke. + +Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she +had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie +herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his +grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart, +which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his +diamond shirt, had begun to say mechanically, “Cold, qui--,” when he +stopped abruptly. + +“What's this?” he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and +then put his ear to it. + +“Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, and by this time of course the +excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right +and left. + +Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled +and looked as if he would like to run away. “Good gracious me!” the +doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for +he had to jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth. + +The suspense was awful! + +Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, “My Lord Duke,” said the physician +elatedly, “I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace +is in love.” + +You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the +Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of +the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of +her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything. +Thus in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you +leap into each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman +has to be present. + +How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and +immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were +ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring. +Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps +from their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went +and spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight +over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward +and cried in an ecstasy, “Oh, Brownie, how splendid!” + +Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in +the time you may take to say “Oh dear!” An awful sense of her peril +came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a +place where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the +gates, she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand +swords flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + +How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head. +Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. +Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew +she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must +never cease to run, and she thought she was still running long after she +had dropped in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes +falling on her face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought +her coverlet of snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her +head. And when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was +mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she slept. +But it was the fairies. + +I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief +her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as “Slay +her!” “Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!” and so on, but the +pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front, +and this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and +demand a boon. + +Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's +life. “Anything except that,” replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the +fairies chanted “Anything except that.” But when they learned how Maimie +had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their +great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and +set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front +and the canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her +footprints in the snow. + +But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible +to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the +form of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and +read her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They +also cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they +saw she was in danger of perishing of cold. + +“Turn her into something that does not mind the cold,” seemed a good +suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of +that does not mind cold was a snowflake. “And it might melt,” the Queen +pointed out, so that idea had to be given up. + +A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but +though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all +the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids +had a lovely idea. “Build a house round her,” they cried, and at once +everybody perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred +fairy sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round +Maimie, measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, +seventy-five masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen +laid it, overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings +were run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning +lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting +in the windows. + +The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of +her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they +built a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were +the size of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it +would be easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as +is their custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, +and they were all so madly in love with the little house that they could +not bear to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many +little extra touches, and even then they added more extra touches. + +For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + +“Now we fear it is quite finished,” they sighed. But no, for another two +ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney. + +“That certainly finishes it,” they cried reluctantly. + +“Not at all,” cried a glow-worm, “if she were to wake without seeing a +night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light.” + +“Wait one moment,” said a china merchant, “and I shall make you a +saucer.” + +Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + +Oh, dear no! + +“Gracious me,” cried a brass manufacturer, “there's no handle on the +door,” and he put one on. + +An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat. +Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on +painting it. + +Finished at last! + +“Finished! how can it be finished,” the plumber demanded scornfully, +“before hot and cold are put in?” and he put in hot and cold. Then an +army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and +bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the +right of the verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and +clematis on the walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes +all these dear things were in full bloom. + +Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished +true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They +all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was +Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream +down the chimney. + +All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs +taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream +was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was +breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then +she called out, “Tony,” for she thought she was at home in the nursery. +As Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, +and it opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all +around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in +the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched +her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her +that she was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now +everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to +her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had +she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over +the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the +night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else. + +“Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!” she cried. + +Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew +that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to +grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it +was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It +always remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller, +and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer, +lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little +dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke +and the door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete. +The glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. “Darling, +loveliest, don't go!” Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little +house was now the size of a reel of thread, but still quite complete. +But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all +sides until it met itself, and where the little house had been was now +one unbroken expanse of snow. + +Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her +eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, “Don't cry, pretty human, don't +cry,” and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy +regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan. + + + + +XVIII. Peter's Goat + +Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + +“I hope you have had a good night,” he said earnestly. + +“Thank you,” she replied, “I was so cosy and warm. But you”--and she +looked at his nakedness awkwardly--“don't you feel the least bit cold?” + +Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, “I think +not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactly +a boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between.” + +“So that is what it is called,” said Maimie thoughtfully. + +“That's not my name,” he explained, “my name is Peter Pan.” + +“Yes, of course,” she said, “I know, everybody knows.” + +You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the people +outside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what they +knew and what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this time +on a fallen tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he sat +on a snowy bit himself. + +“Squeeze closer,” Maimie said. + +“What is that?” he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. They +talked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him, +but not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and been +barred out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for it +still humiliated him. + +“Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?” he asked very +proudly. “Oh, Maimie, please tell them!” But when he revealed how he +played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simply +horrified. + +“All your ways of playing,” she said with her big eyes on him, “are +quite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!” + +Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the first +time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, and +lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to do +with it, so she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and then +gave it back to him, saying “Now you do it,” but instead of wiping his +own eyes he wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this was +what she had meant. + +She said, out of pity for him, “I shall give you a kiss if you like,” + but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and he +replied, “Thank you,” and held out his hand, thinking she had offered to +put something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt she +could not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy she +gave Peter a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretended +that it was a kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to this +day he wears it on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who +needs a thimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was +really years and years since he had seen his mother, and I daresay the +baby who had supplanted him was now a man with whiskers. + +But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than to +admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was very +much mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her of +his adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the island +and the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + +“How romantic,” Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, and +he hung his head thinking she was despising him. + +“I suppose Tony would not have done that?” he said very humbly. + +“Never, never!” she answered with conviction, “he would have been +afraid.” + +“What is afraid?” asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be some +splendid thing. “I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie,” + he said. + +“I believe no one could teach that to you,” she answered adoringly, but +Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tony +and of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knew +quite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning and +said, “Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony.” + +It quite irritated her. “You are twenty thousand times braver than +Tony,” she said, “you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!” + +He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe he +screamed with joy. + +“And if you want very much to give me a kiss,” Maimie said, “you can do +it.” + +Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. He +thought she wanted it back. + +“I don't mean a kiss,” she said hurriedly, “I mean a thimble.” + +“What's that?” Peter asked. + +“It's like this,” she said, and kissed him. + +“I should love to give you a thimble,” Peter said gravely, so he gave +her one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightful +idea came into his head! “Maimie,” he said, “will you marry me?” + +Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same time +into Maimie's head. “I should like to,” she answered, “but will there be +room in your boat for two?” + +“If you squeeze close,” he said eagerly. + +“Perhaps the birds would be angry?” + +He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am not so +certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter. +“Of course they might want your clothes,” he had to admit rather +falteringly. + +She was somewhat indignant at this. + +“They are always thinking of their nests,” he said apologetically, “and +there are some bits of you”--he stroked the fur on her pelisse--“that +would excite them very much.” + +“They sha'n't have my fur,” she said sharply. + +“No,” he said, still fondling it, however, “no! Oh, Maimie,” he said +rapturously, “do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a +beautiful nest.” + +Somehow this made her uneasy. “I think you are speaking more like a bird +than a boy now,” she said, holding back, and indeed he was even +looking rather like a bird. “After all,” she said, “you are only a +Betwixt-and-Between.” But it hurt him so much that she immediately +added, “It must be a delicious thing to be.” + +“Come and be one then, dear Maimie,” he implored her, and they set off +for the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. “And you are not +a bit like a nest,” he whispered to please her. + +“But I think it is rather nice to be like one,” she said in a woman's +contradictory way. “And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, I +wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with little +spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!” + +But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said, +“Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as +if I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least like +that.” + +“Oh, no,” answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very like +that, and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fear +of losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live without +her. “She will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me,” he kept +saying to himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by the +way. + +But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over its +loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. “You know +quite well, Peter, don't you,” she said, “that I wouldn't come unless +I knew for certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, +say it!” + +He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + +“If you are sure your mother will always want you,” he added rather +sourly. + +“The idea of mother's not always wanting me!” Maimie cried, and her face +glistened. + +“If she doesn't bar you out,” said Peter huskily. + +“The door,” replied Maimie, “will always, always be open, and mother +will always be waiting at it for me.” + +“Then,” said Peter, not without grimness, “step in, if you feel so sure +of her,” and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + +“But why don't you look at me?” she asked, taking him by the arm. + +Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave a great +gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow. + +She went to him. “What is it, dear, dear Peter?” she said, wondering. + +“Oh, Maimie,” he cried, “it isn't fair to take you with me if you think +you can go back. Your mother”--he gulped again--“you don't know them as +well as I do.” + +And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, and +she gasped all the time. “But my mother,” she said, “my mother”-- + +“Yes, she would,” said Peter, “they are all the same. I daresay she is +looking for another one already.” + +Maimie said aghast, “I can't believe it. You see, when you went away +your mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they are +satisfied when they have one.” + +Peter replied bitterly, “You should see the letters Solomon gets from +ladies who have six.” + +Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, all +round the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumped +nervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, and +he was trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully. + +“If I should be too late,” she called in agony, “oh, Peter, if she has +got another one already!” + +Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. “I shall come and +look for you to-night,” he said, squeezing close, “but if you hurry away +I think you will be in time.” + +Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and covered +his face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + +“Dear Peter!” she cried. + +“Dear Maimie!” cried the tragic boy. + +She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, and +then she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you may +be sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded, +but he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For long +he hoped that some night she would come back to him; often he thought he +saw her waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew +to land, but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid +that if she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger with +him too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But she +often talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him, +and one day when she was wondering what Easter present he would like, +her mother made a suggestion. + +“Nothing,” she said thoughtfully, “would be so useful to him as a goat.” + +“He could ride on it,” cried Maimie, “and play on his pipe at the same +time!” + +“Then,” her mother asked, “won't you give him your goat, the one you +frighten Tony with at night?” + +“But it isn't a real goat,” Maimie said. + +“It seems very real to Tony,” replied her mother. + +“It seems frightfully real to me too,” Maimie admitted, “but how could I +give it to Peter?” + +Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was really +quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went to +the Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then her +mother, who was a rather gifted lady, said, + + “My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?” + +To which Maimie replied, + + “I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide.” + +She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and turned +round three times. + +Next Tony said, + + “If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?” + +And Maimie answered, + + “By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere.” + +She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining what she +had done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into one +convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, for +Peter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for the +fairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Peter +got the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playing +sublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened +Tony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another +animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presents +for Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play with +them), and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, for +instance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, and +we shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before +Porthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one of +them. + +Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, and +often in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrily +on the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memory +that he was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to the +house-swallows when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are the +spirits of little children who have died. They always build in the eaves +of the houses where they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they +try to fly in at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves +them best of all the birds. + +And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every night +except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest there +should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marshes +looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goat +to the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when they +step out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because it +is so pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because he +still loves to do just as he believes real boys would do. + +But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees the +little house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardens +after Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be out +that night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they are +not, you may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. He +has been too late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runs +back to the Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him +the true use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little +tombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He does this at +once because he thinks it is what real boys would do, and you must have +noticed the little stones and that there are always two together. He +puts them in twos because it seems less lonely. I think that quite the +most touching sight in the Gardens is the two tombstones of Walter +Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. They stand together at the spot +where the parishes of Westminster St. Mary's is said to meet the parish +of Paddington. Here Peter found the two babes, who had fallen unnoticed +from their perambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walter +probably still younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy about +putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and the simple +inscriptions read + + +-----------+ +-----------+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +-----------+ +-----------+ + +David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves. + +But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at the +opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetest +little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with his +spade. It is all rather sad. + + + + +XIX. An Interloper + +David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed the night +with me. We had often talked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary +consented to our having it. + +The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted hour of +six P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of sandwiches, but proved +to be his requisites for the night done up in a neat paper parcel. We +were both so excited that, at the moment of greeting, neither of us +could be apposite to the occasion in words, so we communicated our +feelings by signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there +was no chair, which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and +is borrowed, I think, from the frogs, and we then made the extraordinary +faces which mean, “What a tremendous adventure!” + +We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done every +evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know how it was such +an adventure to David. But I have now said enough to show you what an +adventure it was to me. + +For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the delicacy +of a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from asking +why one of them was not a Victoria Cross. He is very troubled because I +never won the Victoria Cross, for it lowers his status in the Gardens. +He never says in the Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of +his year who says I didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each +other. + +At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, and +covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, “Half-past +six; time for little boys to be in bed.” I said it in the matter-of-fact +voice of one made free of the company of parents, as if I had said it +often before, and would have to say it often again, and as if there was +nothing particularly delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried +to say it in that way. + +And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his little foot, +and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a +matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the floor when lighted, are the +greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is +a place with a roaring bonfire. + +Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle +bored by the dull routine of putting my little boys to bed, and +conducted him to the night nursery, which had lately been my private +chamber. There was an extra bed in it tonight, very near my own, +but differently shaped, and scarcely less conspicuous was the new +mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of milk, with a biscuit on top of it, +and a chocolate riding on the biscuit. To enter the room without seeing +the tumbler at once was impossible. I had tried it several times, +and David saw and promptly did his frog business, the while, with an +indescribable emotion, I produced a night-light from my pocket and +planted it in a saucer on the wash-stand. + +David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon made a +noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had no longer +use for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off his +boots. I took them off with all the coolness of an old hand, and then +I placed him on my knee and removed his blouse. This was a delightful +experience, but I think I remained wonderfully calm until I came +somewhat too suddenly to his little braces, which agitated me +profoundly. + +I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + +Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from the +night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a man peered +in at the little figure on the bed. However softly I opened the door, an +inch at a time, his bright eyes turned to me at once, and he always made +the face which means, “What a tremendous adventure!” + +“Are you never to fall asleep, David?” I always said. + +“When are you coming to bed?” he always replied, very brave but in +a whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When +little boys are in bed there is nothing between them and bears and +wolves but the night-light. + +I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with +his face to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the door, +listening. + +Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, and I +knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after what seemed +a long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said in a cautious +whisper, “Irene!” + +“You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David,” I said. + +“I didn't know,” he replied, a little troubled but trying not to be a +nuisance. + +“You remember you are with me?” I asked. + +After a moment's hesitation he replied, “I nearly remember,” and +presently he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had +whispered to him, “I remember now.” + +I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, “Is it +going on now?” + +“What?” + +“The adventure.” + +“Yes, David.” + +Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, “You are not +frightened, are you?” + +“Am I not?” he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping in the +darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. + +“I am not frightened now,” he whispered. + +“And there is nothing else you want?” + +“Is there not?” he again asked politely. “Are you sure there's not?” he +added. + +“What can it be, David?” + +“I don't take up very much room,” the far-away voice said. + +“Why, David,” said I, sitting up, “do you want to come into my bed?” + +“Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first,” he +squeaked. + +“It is what I have been wanting all the time,” said I, and then without +more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at me. For the +rest of the night he lay on me and across me, and sometimes his feet +were at the bottom of the bed and sometimes on the pillow, but he always +retained possession of my finger, and occasionally he woke me to say +that he was sleeping with me. I had not a good night. I lay thinking. + +Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I undressed him, +had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + +Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently daring. + +Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I essayed to +catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + +Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet breathing, +had stood so long that I forgot his name and called him Timothy. + + + + +XX. David and Porthos Compared + +But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the morning, by +inquiring too curiously into his person and discovering that I had put +his combinations on him with the buttons to the front. For this I +wrote her the following insulting letter. When Mary does anything +that specially annoys me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a +photograph taken of David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You +can't think of all the subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman with +the spirit of a crow would stand it. + +“Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you walk +in the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for encomiums of him +and of your fanciful dressing of him by passers-by, storing them in your +heart the while you make vain pretence to regard them not: wherefore +lest you be swollen by these very small things I, who now know David +both by day and by night, am minded to compare him and Porthos the +one with the other, both in this matter and in other matters of graver +account. And touching this matter of outward show, they are both very +lordly, and neither of them likes it to be referred to, but they endure +in different ways. For David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times hits +out, but Porthos droops his tail and lets them have their say. Yet is he +extolled as beautiful and a darling ten times for the once that David is +extolled. + +“The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners of +David, who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree sometimes +comes not in search, and on emerging tamely from my concealment I find +him playing other games entirely forgetful of my existence. Whereas +Porthos always comes in search. Also if David wearies of you he scruples +not to say so, but Porthos, in like circumstances, offers you his paw, +meaning 'Farewell,' and to bearded men he does this all the time (I +think because of a hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive +him to be enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to +go. Thus while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be argued +that those of David are more efficacious. + +“In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the one +shoves and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the other, who +is noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his size, remonstrates +not, even when they cling in froth and fury to his chest, but carries +them along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, +David will not unbend when in the company of babies, expecting them +unreasonably to rise to his level, but contrariwise Porthos, though +terrible to tramps, suffers all things of babies, even to an exploration +of his mouth in an attempt to discover what his tongue is like at +the other end. The comings and goings of David are unnoticed by +perambulators, which lie in wait for the advent of Porthos. The strong +and wicked fear Porthos but no little creature fears him, not the +hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, nor the sparrows +that steal his straw from under him. + +“In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the rabbit. +Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country Porthos was elated +to discover at last something small that ran from him, and developing +at once into an ecstatic sportsman he did pound hotly in pursuit, though +always over-shooting the mark by a hundred yards or so and wondering +very much what had become of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from +the top of which the rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of +Porthos was to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to +give me a knowing look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did +something tricky with a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore onwards in +full faith that the game was being played fairly, and always returned +panting and puzzling but glorious. + +“I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch the +rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he did catch +it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of +which he was in chase. I found him with it, his brows furrowed in the +deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cowered beneath +him. Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame +of mind. 'What is the next thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle +with him, and the position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, +which several times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. +Whereupon Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and +again fell to pondering. The strain on me was very great. + +“At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked over his +shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first slowly and then +in a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a search for it, but you +cannot think how relieved he looked. He even tried to brazen out his +disgrace before me and waved his tail appealingly. But he could not +look me in the face, and when he saw that this was what I insisted on he +collapsed at my feet and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and +I was touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could +do, and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so long as +I am pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matters to Porthos. I +told this story to David, having first extracted a promise from him that +he would not think the less of Porthos, and now I must demand the same +promise of you. Also, an admission that in innocence of heart, for which +David has been properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos +nothing, but on the contrary may learn much from him. + +“And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over +Porthos--the first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene +(pretentiously called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and envies +every ragged boy who can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos would have every +class keep its place, and though fond of going down into the kitchen, +always barks at the top of the stairs for a servile invitation before +he graciously descends. Most of the servants in our street have had +the loan of him to be photographed with, and I have but now seen him +stalking off for that purpose with a proud little housemaid who is +looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom she had paid a +shilling. + +“Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due to the +one and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I have noticed, +loves to splash in his bath and to slip back into it from the hands that +would transfer him to a towel. But Porthos stands in his bath drooping +abjectly like a shamed figure cut out of some limp material. + +“Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of Porthos, who +cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to take a solitary +walk, while David invents playfully all day long. Lastly, when David is +discovered of some offence and expresses sorrow therefor, he does +that thing no more for a time, but looks about him for other offences, +whereas Porthos incontinently repeats his offence, in other words, he +again buries his bone in the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know +it, although his nose be crusted with earth. + +“Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David excels +Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no more than a match +for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if a parcel comes +into my chambers Porthos is miserable until it is opened, and I have +noticed the same thing of David. + +“Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all +gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the other way, but if +I say I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he skips joyfully, +yet thinks he still has a right to a chocolate, and when I remarked +disparagingly on this to David he looked so shy that there was revealed +to me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + +“A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of punishments, +and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in this matter +to be your mouthpiece) complains that I am not sufficiently severe with +David, and do leave the chiding of him for offences against myself to +her in the hope that he will love her less and me more thereby. Which we +have hotly argued in the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I +here say that if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is +that I dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat +the one the same with the other. + +“Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his great +heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that all is not well +between him and me, and having struck him once some years ago never can +I forget the shudder which passed through him when he saw it was I +who had struck, and I shall strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is +detected in any unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my +writing table in his presence, and even this punishment is almost more +than he can bear. Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on David +encourages him but to enter upon fresh trespasses (as the girl Irene +avers), the reason must be that his heart is not like unto that of the +noble Porthos. + +“And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, and +so demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, what is the +manner of severity meted out to him at home? And lest you should shuffle +in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my +ears. + +“As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered +it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal +punishment, whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David +continuing to rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly +of a cane, but the mother rushed between the combatants. That the +problematical chastisement became to David an object of romantic +interest. That this darkened the happy home. That casting from his +path a weeping mother, the goaded father at last dashed from the house +yelling that he was away to buy a cane. That he merely walked the +streets white to the lips because of the terror David must now be +feeling. And that when he returned, it was David radiant with hope who +opened the door and then burst into tears because there was no cane. +Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax me with want of severity. +Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am comparing +with Porthos. + +“But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever +wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking +up from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate +attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which +comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to +their masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for +this, while I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David +has of making me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of +me as a matter of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the +depths of Porthos. Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie +down beside him on the floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my +soul, ma'am, a protecting arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew +what was the want of the other. + +“Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the +worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we +shall both be pleased.” + + + + +XXI. William Paterson + +We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the +fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may +say. It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some +sheets of newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my +housekeeper, who thinks dogs should lie on the floor. + +Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want them to +give you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, for all the +r's should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so often that David +believes I should find difficulty in making myself understood. + +“What would you say,” he asked me, “if you wanted them to turn you +into a hollyhock?” He thinks the ease with which they can turn you into +things is their most engaging quality. + +The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me this I +again forgot the lukka. + +“I should never dream,” I said (to cover my discomfiture), “of asking +them to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I should soon +wither, David.” + +He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, but +now he seemed to think it merely silly. “Just before the time to wither +begins,” he said airily, “you say to them Fairy me bola.” + +Fairy me bola means “Turn me back again,” and David's discovery made +me uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his distance of +the fairies mainly because of a feeling that their conversions are +permanent. + +So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms under the +care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown to them, but they +have no need of me, for at such times nothing would induce Porthos to +depart from the care of David. If anyone addresses them he growls softly +and shows the teeth that crunch bones as if they were biscuits. Thus +amicably the two pass on to Mary's house, where Porthos barks his +knock-and-ring bark till the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in +with David, but on this occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing +remarkable in this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next +day nor in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore +his knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos--at +least--well--something disquieting happened. I don't quite know what to +think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall think +as you choose. + +My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and got +locked in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was over I was +there to make inquiries. But there was no news of Porthos, though +I learned that someone was believed to have spent the night in the +Gardens, a young gentleman who walked out hastily the moment the gates +were opened. He had said nothing, however, of having seen a dog. I +feared an accident now, for I knew no thief could steal him, yet even an +accident seemed incredible, he was always so cautious at crossings; also +there could not possibly have been an accident to Porthos without there +being an accident to something else. + +David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the great blank +and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities that when he knew +he was about to cry he turned aside to do it and I always respected his +privacy and waited for him. Of course being but a little boy he was +soon playing again, but his sudden floods of feeling, of which we never +spoke, were dear to me in those desolate days. + +We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back to +that, meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos used to +squat, but we could not help looking at it sideways, and to our distress +a man was sitting on the acquainted spot. He rose at our approach and +took two steps toward us, so quick that they were almost jumps, then +as he saw that we were passing indignantly I thought I heard him give a +little cry. + +I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure +strangers into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on the +Story-seat itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was dandiacally +dressed, seemed to tell something under twenty years and had a handsome +wistful face atop of a heavy, lumbering, almost corpulent figure, which +however did not betoken inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of +his mother's of which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we +neared him he leapt the railings without touching them and was back with +it in three seconds; only instead of delivering it straightway he seemed +to expect David to chase him for it. + +You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings without +touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his name) was at +once our friend. We often found him waiting for us at the Story-seat, +and the great stout fellow laughed and wept over our tales like a +three-year-old. Often he said with extraordinary pride, “You are telling +the story to me quite as much as to David, ar'n't you?” He was of an +innocence such as you shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at +which even David blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David +said that of course these things did not really happen, and unable to +resist that appeal I would reply that they really did. I never saw him +irate except when David was still sceptical, but then he would say quite +warningly “He says it is true, so it must be true.” This brings me to +that one of his qualities, which at once gratified and pained me, his +admiration for myself. His eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were +ever fixed upon me fondly except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and +said that death alone could have kept him so long from my side. Then +Paterson's sympathy was such that he had to look away. He was shy of +speaking of himself so I asked him no personal questions, but concluded +that his upbringing must have been lonely, to account for his ignorance +of affairs, and loveless, else how could he have felt such a drawing to +me? + +I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely monstrous, +suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been blown, the three of +us, to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was also, I think, the first time +Paterson had entered them. “Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson,” I said, as +I drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were off +him. Then I saw that, before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading +the day's paper over it. “Whatever makes you do that?” I asked, and he +started like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed +the paper aside. + +David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, and, +despite my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be roused from +it by a feeling that Paterson was looking at me covertly. Pooh! what +vapours of the imagination were these. I blew them from me, and to prove +to myself, so to speak, that they were dissipated, I asked him to +see David home. As soon as I was alone, I flung me down on the floor +laughing, then as quickly jumped up and was after them, and very sober +too, for it was come to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had +set off without asking where David lived. + +Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. They were +walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps nothing remarkable +happened until they reached David's door. I say perhaps, for something +did occur. A lady, who has several pretty reasons for frequenting the +Gardens, recognised David in the street, and was stooping to address +him, when Paterson did something that alarmed her. I was too far off +to see what it was, but had he growled “Hands off!” she could not have +scurried away more precipitately. He then ponderously marched his +charge to the door, where, assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead of +knocking or ringing, he stood on the step and called out sharply, “Hie, +hie, hie!” until the door was opened. + +The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my sleep that +night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the pillow. + +I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to me +charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking hands. He now +did it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew him his arm had +described a circle, and the hand had sometimes missed mine and come +heavily upon my chest instead. His walk, again, might more correctly +have been called a waddle. + +There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without thanking me +with an intensity that was out of proportion to the little I had done +for him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever to take the sward rather +than the seats, perhaps a wise preference, but he had an unusual way of +sitting down. I can describe it only by saying that he let go of himself +and went down with a thud. + +I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. We had +cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat finicking manner; +yet having left the table for a moment to consult the sweets-card, +I saw, when I returned, that there was now no bone on his plate. The +waiters were looking at him rather curiously. + +David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat singular +manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I remembered, also, that +while David shouted to me or Irene to attract our attention, he usually +whistled to Paterson, he could not explain why. + +These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but often +when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, unsupported, +they would have disturbed me little by day. Day, however, had its +reflections, and they came to me while I was shaving, that ten minutes +when, brought face to face with the harsher realities of life, we see +things most clearly as they are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson +loomed offensively, and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to +nigh twenty years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He +could not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean motives +for generous acts. He had not a single base story about women. It all +seemed inhuman. + +What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's faith +in me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. An easy task, +you may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a change had come over +the youth. I am now arrived at a time when the light-heartedness had +gone out of him; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the +eyes that were once so certain. He was not doubtful of me, not then, but +of human nature in general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He +mixed with boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how +could he retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He heard your +talk of yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the edifice went down. +I have not the heart to follow him in all his discoveries. Sometimes +he went in flame at them, but for the most part he stood looking on, +bewildered and numbed, like one moaning inwardly. + +He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to breathe +upon the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born with a man's +powers, and when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment +longer to you, the woman of whom, before he saw you, he had heard so +much. How you would strive to cheat him, even as I strove to hide my +real self from Paterson, and still you would strive as I strove after +you knew the game was up. + +The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days when I +could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long ceased to be +a vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for hours he and I would +be together without speaking. It was so upon the last day, one of those +innumerable dreary days when David, having sneezed the night before, +was kept at home in flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the +Story-seat. At last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what +chained our tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, for +soon the gates would close, but when I looked at him I saw that he was +more mournful than ever before; he shut his eyes so tightly that a drop +of blood fell from them. + +“It was all over, Paterson, long ago,” I broke out harshly, “why do we +linger?” + +He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing looks +that had much affection in them. + +“You expected too much of me,” I told him, and he bowed his head. “I +don't know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women from. I +don't want to know,” I added hastily. + +“But it must have been from a prettier world than this,” I said: “are +you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?” + +He rose and sat down again. “I wanted to know you,” he replied slowly, +“I wanted to be like you.” + +“And now you know me,” I said, “do you want to be like me still? I am a +curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even +David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very +hard to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even +now I am not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson, +David will grow out of me.” + +The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but “No,” said I, “you have +found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the +loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?” + +He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far +away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + +For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew +not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I +switched on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do +in the early morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened, +and the dear Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his +bark, but whence he came no one knew. + +He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all +points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside +him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the +old adoring eyes. + +But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + + + + +XXII. Joey + +Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in +her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their +fortunate papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused +by their mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust +to your father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to +every one of the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a +delicious little tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is +pretty (but dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering +together the babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and +bring a hansom, but others go from street to street in private 'buses, +and even wear false noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon +them as you grew more and more like your sweet cruel mamma. + +So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my reasoning, +for I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, pausing on the +threshold to peer through the hole in the little house called “Pay +Here,” which he thought was Red Riding Hood's residence, and asked +politely whether he might see her, but they said she had gone to the +wood, and it was quite true, for there she was in the wood gathering a +stick for her grandmother's fire. She sang a beautiful song about the +Boys and their dashing ways, which flattered David considerably, but she +forgot to take away the stick after all. Other parts of the play were +not so nice, but David thought it all lovely, he really did. + +Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in the +darkest corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him he struck +me. + +The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so fair. He +had asked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in the +middle of a song) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and +when at last Joey did come he screamed out, “How do you do, Joey!” and +went into convulsions of mirth. + +Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, pocketing the +sausages for which their family has such a fatal weakness, and so when +the butcher engaged Joey as his assistant there was soon not a sausage +left. However, this did not matter, for there was a box rather like an +ice-cream machine, and you put chunks of pork in at one end and turned +a handle and they came out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite +enjoyed doing this, and you could see that the sausages were excellent +by the way he licked his fingers after touching them, but soon +there were no more pieces of pork, and just then a dear little Irish +terrier-dog came trotting down the street, so what did Joey do but pop +it into the machine and it came out at the other end as sausages. + +It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and drove +us weeping to our growler. + +Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as Joey told +me afterward, it is very difficult to say what they will think funny and +what barbarous. I was forced to admit to him that David had perceived +only the joyous in the pokering of the policeman's legs, and had called +out heartily “Do it again!” every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down +with one kick and helped him up with another. + +“It hurts the poor chap,” I was told by Joey, whom I was agreeably +surprised to find by no means wanting in the more humane feelings, “and +he wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the laugh to encourage him.” + +He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + +However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father and nurse +combined could not comfort him, though they swore that the dog was still +alive and kicking, which might all have been very well had not David +seen the sausages. It was to inquire whether anything could be done to +atone that in considerable trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, +and the result of our talk was that he invited me and David to have tea +with him on Thursday next at his lodgings. + +“I sha'n't laugh,” David said, nobly true to the memory of the little +dog, “I sha'n't laugh once,” and he closed his jaws very tightly as we +drew near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But he also gripped my +hand, like one who knew that it would be an ordeal not to laugh. + +The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a convenient +sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) and we saw a +policeman in the street looking the other way, as they always do look +just before you rub them. A woman wearing the same kind of clothes as +people in other houses wear, told us to go up to the second floor, and +she grinned at David, as if she had heard about him; so up we went, +David muttering through his clenched teeth, “I sha'n't laugh,” and as +soon as we knocked a voice called out, “Here we are again!” at which a +shudder passed through David as if he feared that he had set himself an +impossible task. In we went, however, and though the voice had certainly +come from this room we found nobody there. I looked in bewilderment at +David, and he quickly put his hand over his mouth. + +It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might expect; +there were droll things in it, but they did nothing funny, you could +see that they were just waiting for Joey. There were padded chairs +with friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a +horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing +happened to us. + +The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with a very +lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and a notice on +the top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. David tried to pull the +stocking out of the hole, but it was so long that it never came to an +end, and when it measured six times the length of the room he had to +cover his mouth again. + +“I'm not laughing,” he said to me, quite fiercely. He even managed not +to laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on the mantelpiece a +photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the garments he wore before he +became a clown. You can't think how absurd he looked in them. But David +didn't laugh. + +Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more +sudden though he had come from beneath the table, and he was wearing his +pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were the only clothes he +had) and his red and white face was so funny that David made gurgling +sounds, which were his laugh trying to force a passage. + +I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, instead of +taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this was so droll that +David had again to save himself by clapping his hand over his mouth. +Joey thought he had toothache, so I explained what it really meant, +and then Joey said, “Oh, I shall soon make him laugh,” whereupon the +following conversation took place between them: + +“No, you sha'n't,” said David doggedly. + +“Yes, I shall.” + +“No, you sha'n't not.” + +“Yes, I shall so.” + +“Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't.” + +“Shall, shall, shall.” + +“You shut up.” + +“You're another.” + +By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was getting +the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's laugh in his +pocket, and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey searched his +pockets and brought out the most unexpected articles, including a duck +and a bunch of carrots; and you could see by his manner that the simple +soul thought these were things which all boys carried loose in their +pockets. + +I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a +half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight of it reminded +him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he howled, and Joey's heart +was touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped his eyes with the +duck. + +It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also +dressed as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a +trayful of sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he +announced, in his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that +had lately been the dog. + +Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so +impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the sausages, +and said that they were two short, and he found the missing two up the +pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the room and came back with the +sausage-machine; and what do you think he did? He put all the sausages +into the end of the machine that they had issued from, and turned the +handle backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + +Can you picture the joy of David? + +He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we noticed that +there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must +have put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the machine had not worked +quite smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which +distressed David, for he saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its +bark outside, and we were considering what should be done when the dog +closed the discussion by swallowing the sausage. + +After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, entering +into the childish pleasures of this family as heartily as if he had been +brought up on sausages, and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You +must not think that he did this viciously; he did it to please the old +gentleman, who begged him to do it, and always shook hands warmly and +said “Thank you,” when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + +Joey called David and me “Sonny,” and asked David, who addressed him as +“Mr. Clown,” to call him Joey. He also told us that the pantaloon's name +was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the harlequin's Joeykin. + +We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. +This was because his memory is so bad that he often forgets whether it +is your head or your feet you should stand on, and he usually begins the +day by standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus +he requires constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw +attention to his mistake, he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No +sooner had Joey told us this than the poor old fellow began to turn +upside down and stood on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and +talked about the weather until he came to. + +Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this time, +for they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, and danced off +and on most of the time. Even in the middle of what they were saying +they would begin to flutter; it was not so much that they meant to +dance as that the slightest thing set them going, such as sitting in a +draught; and David found he could blow them about the room like pieces +of paper. You could see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was +very young indeed, and at first this made him shy, as he always is when +introduced formally to little girls, and he stood sucking his thumb, and +so did she, but soon the stiffness wore off and they sat together on the +sofa, holding each other's hands. + +All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, and +David requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is such an +adept, and first he said he would, and then he said better not, for the +last time he did it the people in the next house had made such a fuss. +David had to admit that it must be rather startling to the people on the +other side of the wall, but he was sorry. + +By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered to ask +if you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly as her mother +would have asked. There was nothing to eat, of course, except sausages, +but what a number of them there were! hundreds at least, strings of +sausages, and every now and then Joey jumped up and played skipping rope +with them. David had been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt +greedy, and he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey +and even Josy eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed +nobler feelings, for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love with +each other across the table, but unaffected by this pretty picture, Joey +continued to put whole sausages in his mouth at a time, and then rubbed +himself a little lower down, while old Joey secreted them about his +person; and when David wasn't looking they both pounced on his sausages, +and yet as they gobbled they were constantly running to the top of the +stair and screaming to the servant to bring up more sausages. + +You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your plate) +was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that sausages were a +passion with him. + +He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of +sausages. They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. He told +us how, even in those days, his mother had feared for him, though fond +of a sausage herself; how he had bought a sausage with his first penny, +and hoped to buy one with his last (if they could not be got in any +other way), and that he always slept with a string of them beneath his +pillow. + +While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes came +to rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a horrid gleam +in them, on the little dog, which was fooling about on the top of the +sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward it convulsively, whereat +David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gallantly clenched +his other fist, and then Joey begged his pardon and burst into tears, +each one of which he flung against the wall, where it exploded with a +bang. + +David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to look in +that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were nothing to him +when he was short of sausages, and so his wisest course would be to +present the dog to David. Oh, the joy of David when he understood that +the little dog he had saved was his very own! I can tell you he was now +in a hurry to be off before Joey had time to change his mind. + +“All I ask of you,” Joey said with a break in his voice, “is to call him +after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a Saturday night.” + +There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed that he +might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal passion. + +The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at +us in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand +like a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We could not exactly see +old Joey, but we saw his feet, and so feared the worst. Of course they +are not everything they should be, but one can't help liking them. + + + + +XXIII. Pilkington's + +On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away from the +Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them they are ladies +and gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail a hansom. + +Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I suppose, to +put up their hair, but the boys have gone to Pilkington's. He is a man +with a cane. You may not go to Pilkington's in knickerbockers made +by your mother, make she ever so artfully. They must be real +knickerbockers. It is his stern rule. Hence the fearful fascination of +Pilkington's. + +He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real +knickerbockers, fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him but a +pool swarming with small fry. + +Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the flesh, +sir, but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a lean tortuous +habit of body, that moves ever with a swish. Every morning, I swear, +thou readest avidly the list of male births in thy paper, and then are +thy hands rubbed gloatingly the one upon the other. 'Tis fear of thee +and thy gown and thy cane, which are part of thee, that makes the +fairies to hide by day; wert thou to linger but once among their haunts +between the hours of Lock-out and Open Gates there would be left not one +single gentle place in all the Gardens. The little people would flit. +How much wiser they than the small boys who swim glamoured to thy crafty +hook. Thou devastator of the Gardens, I know thee, Pilkington. + +I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. + +This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the Gardens, +and without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the completion +of his seventh year at a time when David seemed unable to get beyond +half-past five. I have to speak of him in the past tense, for gone is +Oliver from the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) but he is still a name +among us, and some lordly deeds are remembered of him, as that his +father shaved twice a day. Oliver himself was all on that scale. + +His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked upon +an island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it insinuatingly in his +prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that a boy with such an outlook +should fascinate David. I am proud, therefore, to be able to state on +wood that it was Oliver himself who made the overture. + +On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked Islands, +as they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully that he supposed +you needed to be very very good before you had any chance of being +wrecked, and the remark was conveyed to Oliver, on whom it made +an uncomfortable impression. For a time he tried to evade it, but +ultimately David was presented to him and invited gloomily to say +it again. The upshot was that Oliver advertised the Gardens of his +intention to be good until he was eight, and if he had not been wrecked +by that time, to be as jolly bad as a boy could be. He was naturally so +bad that at the Kindergarten Academy, when the mistress ordered whoever +had done the last naughty deed to step forward, Oliver's custom had been +to step forward, not necessarily because he had done it, but because he +presumed he very likely had. + +The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I thought +Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an equal; he also +walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved him for delinquencies +like a loving elder brother. But 'tis a gray world even in the Gardens, +for I found that a new arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to +life-size. He had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, +to his friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being +good until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely that the +one could not be wrecked without the other. + +When this was made known to me it was already too late to break the +spell of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith, I +began to find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver was frankly bored +by me and even David seemed to think it would be convenient if I went +and sat with Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really distressed and +lonely, and rather bitter; and how humble I became. Sometimes when the +dog Joey is unable, by frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, +he stands on his hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I +was sometimes as humble as Joey. Then David would insist on my being +suffered to join them, but it was plain that he had no real occasion for +me. + +It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I had +been fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed though she was +advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I now to be knocked out +so easily by a seven year old? I reconsidered my weapons, and I fought +Oliver and beat him. Figure to yourself those two boys become as +faithful to me as my coat-tails. + +With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious way by +telling them a story which might last an hour, and favoured by many an +unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. It started as the wreck of +the simple Swiss family who looked up and saw the butter tree, but soon +a glorious inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David +A---- and Oliver Bailey. At first it was what they were to do when they +were wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent +much of my time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories +in the booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for +I found that the titles were even more helpful than the stories. We +wrecked everybody of note, including all Homer's most taking characters +and the hero of Paradise Lost. But we suffered them not to land. We +stripped them of what we wanted and left them to wander the high seas +naked of adventure. And all this was merely the beginning. + +By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own +proposal, but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for me with +Oliver. They found me among the breakers with a large dog, which had +kept me afloat throughout that terrible night. I was the sole survivor +of the ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted was I that they had to carry +me to their hut, and great was my gratitude when on opening my eyes, I +found myself in that romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. +As we walked in the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and +they were inflated but not surprised. On the other hand they looked for +surprise from me. + +“Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?” asked Oliver, +reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously told them. + +“You did.” + +“Who turned it?” demanded David, not as one who needed information but +after the manner of a schoolmaster. + +“It was turned,” I said, “by David A----, the younger of the two +youths.” + +“Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?” asked the older of the +two youths. + +“Oliver Bailey,” I replied. + +“Was it Oliver,” asked David sharply, “that found the cocoa-nut-tree +first?” + +“On the contrary,” I answered, “it was first observed by David, +who immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the +cocos-nucifera, for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns supporting +the crown of leaves which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.'” + +“That's what I said,” remarked David with a wave of his hand. + +“I said things like that, too,” Oliver insisted. + +“No, you didn't then,” said David. + +“Yes, I did so.” + +“No, you didn't so.” + +“Shut up.” + +“Well, then, let's hear one you said.” + +Oliver looked appealingly at me. “The following,” I announced, “is +one that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils of these +happenings are great, and our privations calculated to break the +stoutest heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights I would endure +still greater trials and still rejoice even as the bird on yonder +bough.'” + +“That's one I said!” crowed Oliver. + +“I shot the bird,” said David instantly. + +“What bird?” + +“The yonder bird.” + +“No, you didn't.” + +“Did I not shoot the bird?” + +“It was David who shot the bird,” I said, “but it was Oliver who saw +by its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the Psittacidae, an +excellent substitute for partridge.” + +“You didn't see that,” said Oliver, rather swollen. + +“Yes, I did.” + +“What did you see?” + +“I saw that.” + +“What?” + +“You shut up.” + +“David shot it,” I summed up, “and Oliver knew its name, but I ate it. +Do you remember how hungry I was?” + +“Rather!” said David. + +“I cooked it,” said Oliver. + +“It was served up on toast,” I reminded them. + +“I toasted it,” said David. + +“Toast from the bread-fruit-tree,” I said, “which (as you both remarked +simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a year, and also +affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoes.” + +“I pitched mine best,” said Oliver. + +“I pitched mine farthest,” said David. + +“And when I had finished my repast,” said I, “you amazed me by handing +me a cigar from the tobacco-plant.” + +“I handed it,” said Oliver. + +“I snicked off the end,” said David. + +“And then,” said I, “you gave me a light.” + +“Which of us?” they cried together. + +“Both of you,” I said. “Never shall I forget my amazement when I saw you +get that light by rubbing two sticks together.” + +At this they waggled their heads. “You couldn't have done it!” said +David. + +“No, David,” I admitted, “I can't do it, but of course I know that all +wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did it.” + +But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not shown +everything. + +David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an +island, while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to argue it +out together and among their friends. As I unfolded the story Oliver +listened with an open knife in his hand, and David who was not allowed +to have a knife wore a pirate-string round his waist. Irene in her usual +interfering way objected to this bauble and dropped disparaging remarks +about wrecked islands which were little to her credit. I was for defying +her, but David, who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he +craftily proposed that we “should let Irene in,” in short, should wreck +her, and though I objected, she proved a great success and recognised +the yucca filamentosa by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined +us. Thereafter we had no more scoffing from Irene, who listened to the +story as hotly as anybody. + +This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, though +they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt he did. They +were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was very soft-hearted and +knew that while he was on the island they must be missing him very much +at home. So we let them in, and there was no part of the story he liked +better than that which told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of +another woman at any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and +Mary, I can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly +being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept at +plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff to cliff +with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a Saturday in which +David did not kill his man. + +I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as true +as true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero himself. I +had described to them how the savages had tattooed David's father, and +Oliver informed me that one night shortly afterward David was discovered +softly lifting the blankets off his father's legs to have a look at the +birds and reptiles etched thereon. + +Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may be +asking where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy +fishing, though I was as yet unaware of his existence. Most suddenly I +heard the whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a fish. I remember that +grim day with painful vividness, it was a wet day, indeed I think it has +rained for me more or less ever since. As soon as they joined me I saw +from the manner of the two boys that they had something to communicate. +Oliver nudged David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me +solemnly, + +“Oliver is going to Pilkington's.” + +I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little did I +understand the import of David's remark that I called out jocularly, “I +hope he won't swish you, Oliver.” + +Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances and +retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned to say +with emphasis, + +“He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all real +ones.” + +“Well done, Oliver!” said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once +more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided that the +time for plain speaking was come, for now David announced bluntly: + +“He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer.” + +“What shall I call him?” + +“Bailey.” + +“But why?” + +“He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more after +next Saturday.” + +“Why not?” + +“He's going to Pilkington's.” + +So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver +stretching himself consciously, and methought that even David walked +with a sedater air. + +“David,” said I, with a sinking, “are you going to Pilkington's?” + +“When I am eight,” he replied. + +“And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the +Gardens any more?” + +He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + +“Oh, no,” said David cheerily. + +Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. Strange +that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his hand and walked +on in silence, and presently I did my most churlish to hurt him by +ending the story abruptly in a very cruel way. “Ten years have elapsed,” + said I, “since I last spoke, and our two heroes, now gay young men, +are revisiting the wrecked island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck +ourselves,' said one, 'or was there someone to help us?' And the other +who was the younger, replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, +a man with a dog. I think he used to tell me stories in the Kensington +Gardens, but I forget all about him; I don't remember even his name.'” + +This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but David +still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I knew a storm +was brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. “It's not true,” he +cried, “it's a lie!” He gripped my hand. “I sha'n't never forget you, +father.” + +Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + +Yet I could go on. “You will forget, David, but there was once a boy who +would have remembered.” + +“Timothy?” said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, and is +very jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood alone and +wept passionately, while I waited for him. You may be sure I begged his +pardon, and made it all right with him, and had him laughing and happy +again before I let him go. But nevertheless what I said was true. David +is not my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + + + + +XXIV. Barbara + +Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + +For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey now. At +long intervals we met him on our way to or from the Gardens, and, if +there was none from Pilkington's to mark him, methought he looked at us +somewhat longingly, as if beneath his real knickerbockers a morsel of +the egg-shell still adhered. Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly +kick in passing, and called him “youngster.” That was about all. + +When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had lofted +him out of the story, and did very well without him, extending our +operations to the mainland, where they were on so vast a scale that we +were rapidly depopulating the earth. And then said David one day, + +“Shall we let Barbara in?” + +We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to some +other child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having sought +election, even with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + +“Who is she?” I asked. + +“She's my sister.” + +You may imagine how I gaped. + +“She hasn't come yet,” David said lightly, “but she's coming.” + + +I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for though +I had always suspicioned Mary A---- as one who harboured the craziest +ambitions when she looked most humble, of such presumption as this I had +never thought her capable. + +I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she was +wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about Mary's +husband and his manner the last time we met, for though I have had no +opportunity to say so, we still meet now and again, and he has even +dined with me at the club. On these occasions the subject of Timothy is +barred, and if by any unfortunate accident Mary's name is mentioned, we +immediately look opposite ways and a silence follows, in which I feel +sure he is smiling, and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I +remembered now that I had last seen him when I was dining with him at +his club (for he is become member of a club of painter fellows, and +Mary is so proud of this that she has had it printed on his card), when +undoubtedly he had looked preoccupied. It had been the look, I saw now, +of one who shared a guilty secret. + +As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at +myself, for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of late. +Always foolishly inflated about David, she had been grudging him even to +me during these last weeks, and I had forgiven her, putting it down to a +mother's love. I knew from the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been +giving him; I had seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her +every act, in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to +whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could I, not +being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying good-bye to him? + +Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about the +house at this time, on the understanding that everything was going on +as usual. Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, especially the engine +she bought him yesterday? + +Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? I envy +you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he wrapped you round +for it. That childish confidence of his to me, in which unwittingly he +betrayed you, indicates that at last you have been preparing him for the +great change, and I suppose you are capable of replying to me that David +is still happy, and even interested. But does he know from you what it +really means to him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not +scruple to give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands +for Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, what do +you think of this tricking of a little boy? + +Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, are +you sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an unwritten compact +in such matters between a mother and her first-born, and I desire to +point out to you that he never breaks it. Again, what will the other +boys say when they know? You are outside the criticism of the Gardens, +but David is not. Faith, madam, I believe you would have been kinder to +wait and let him run the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + +You think your husband is a great man now because they are beginning to +talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the newspaper columns +that nobody reads. I know you have bought him a velvet coat, and that +he has taken a large, airy and commodious studio in Mews Lane, where you +are to be found in a soft material on first and third Wednesdays. Times +are changing, but shall I tell you a story here, just to let you see +that I am acquainted with it? + +Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist a +picture which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But no one +spoke of the picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made an offer for +it. Crushed was the artist, sorry for the denseness of connoisseurs was +his wife, till the work was bought by a dealer for an anonymous client, +and then elated were they both, and relieved also to discover that I was +not the buyer. He came to me at once to make sure of this, and remained +to walk the floor gloriously as he told me what recognition means to +gentlemen of the artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + +But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is usually +kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden away. His wife +backed into a corner and made trembling confession. How could she submit +to see her dear's masterpiece ignored by the idiot public, and her dear +himself plunged into gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had +they not been married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers +for recognition, and so with her savings she bought the great work +anonymously and stored it away in a closet. At first, I believe, the man +raved furiously, but by-and-by he was on his knees at the feet of this +little darling. You know who she was, Mary, but, bless me, I seem to be +praising you, and that was not the enterprise on which I set out. What +I intended to convey was that though you can now venture on small +extravagances, you seem to be going too fast. Look at it how one may, +this Barbara idea is undoubtedly a bad business. + +How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my lucky day I +did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I have scarcely as yet +dared to hint, lest by discovering it I should spoil my plot. For there +has been a plot all the time. + +For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a book, my +informant being David, who, because I have published a little volume +on Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one on the same subject +(which I shall never finish), likes to watch my methods of composition, +how I dip, and so on, his desire being to help her. He may have done +this on his own initiative, but it is also quite possible that in her +desperation she urged him to it; he certainly implied that she had +taken to book-writing because it must be easy if I could do it. She +also informed him (very inconsiderately), that I did not print my books +myself, and this lowered me in the eyes of David, for it was for the +printing he had admired me and boasted of me in the Gardens. + +“I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the labels,” he +said to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in everything. + +I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the token +whereof is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each labelled +with a letter of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, I drop its into +the A box, and so on, much to the satisfaction of David, who likes to +drop them in for me. I had now to admit that Wheeler & Gibb made the +boxes. + +“But I made the labels myself, David.” + +“They are not so well made as the boxes,” he replied. + +Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as I +presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, “Tell her +about the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book until they are +all full. That will frighten her.” + +Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + +“One box!” I said with a sneer. + +“She made it herself,” retorted David hotly. + +I got little real information from him about the work, partly because +David loses his footing when he descends to the practical, and perhaps +still more because he found me unsympathetic. But when he blurted out +the title, “The Little White Bird,” I was like one who had read the +book to its last page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little +daughter Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she +would like to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, and +so long as she had the modesty to see that she could not have one, I +sympathised with her deeply, whatever I may have said about her book to +David. + +In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little book, and +they came to her mostly in the morning when she was only three-parts +awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all flew away like startled +birds. I gathered from David that this depressed her exceedingly. + +Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show themselves +to anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding within you. If they +could come into the open they would not be a book, they would be little +Barbara. + +But that was not the message I sent her. “She will never be able to +write it,” I explained to David. “She has not the ability. Tell her I +said that.” + +I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her +ambitious project, so I questioned David and discovered that it was +abandoned. He could not say why, nor was it necessary that he should, +the trivial little reason was at once so plain to me. From that moment +all my sympathy with Mary was spilled, and I searched for some means of +exulting over her until I found it. It was this. I decided, unknown even +to David, to write the book “The Little White Bird,” of which she had +proved herself incapable, and then when, in the fulness of time, she +held her baby on high, implying that she had done a big thing, I was to +hold up the book. I venture to think that such a devilish revenge was +never before planned and carried out. + +Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching completion. +She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + +I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to +an abrupt end. “And it really is the end this time, David,” I said +severely. (I always say that.) + +It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot the +great Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we found his +size to have been under-estimated. David, his father and I had flung +our limbs upon the beach and were having a last pipe before turning in, +while Mary, attired in barbaric splendour, sang and danced before us. +It was a lovely evening, and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at +the pretty creature. + +The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths in the +distance. + +By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the light of +her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had been harpooned by +David earlier in the day. + +Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace crept over +us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was uttered by Irene, +who came speeding to us, bearing certain articles, a watch, a pair of +boots, a newspaper, which she had discovered in the interior of the +shark. What was our surprise to find in the newspaper intelligence of +the utmost importance to all of us. It was nothing less than this, the +birth of a new baby in London to Mary. + +How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + +The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of excitement, and +next morning we set sail for England. Soon we came within sight of the +white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not sit down for a moment, so hot was +she to see her child. She paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + +“So did I!” cried David, when I had reached this point in the story. + +On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + +“Never, David,” I said, “shall I forget your mother's excitement. She +kept putting her head out of the window and calling to the cabby to go +quicker, quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last he drew up at your +house, and then your mother, springing out, flew up the steps and beat +with her hands upon the door.” + +David was quite carried away by the reality of it. “Father has the key!” + he screamed. + +“He opened the door,” I said grandly, “and your mother rushed in, and +next moment her Benjamin was in her arms.” + +There was a pause. + +“Barbara,” corrected David. + +“Benjamin,” said I doggedly. + +“Is that a girl's name?” + +“No, it's a boy's name.” + +“But mother wants a girl,” he said, very much shaken. + +“Just like her presumption,” I replied testily. “It is to be a boy, +David, and you can tell her I said so.” + +He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would +have suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was +pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy. + +“Barbara,” he repeatedly implored me. + +“Benjamin,” I replied firmly. + +For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed +to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, +and if I won it was to be a boy. + + + + +XXV. The Cricket Match + +I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when +Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the +daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon +played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A +lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of +our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little +thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive +Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies +every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic +match of the Gardens. + +David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is +familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted +on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We +could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens, +but there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them +throughout the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat +near one of these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected +is a ragged yew which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and +I viewed the ground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly +at about four yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my +style of bowling. + +I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first +knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this +occasion I strode to the crease in an almost eerie silence. David had +taken off his blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were +set, so I knew he would begin by sending me down some fast ones. + +His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes tries a +round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder at square leg. +He has not a good length, but he varies his action bewilderingly, and +has one especially teasing ball which falls from the branches just as +you have stepped out of your ground to look for it. It was not, however, +with his teaser that he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and +two singles, when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two +minds and I played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a really +grassy wicket for such a meagre score, and as David and I changed places +without a word, there was a cheery look on his face that I found very +galling. He ran in to my second ball and cut it neatly to the on for a +single, and off my fifth and sixth he had two pretty drives for three, +both behind the wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of +him, for he now hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at +nine I beat him with my shooter. + +The look was now on my face. + +I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, for +I knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, and then +when he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. What cared I +though David's lips were twitching. + +When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which broke +awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that he needed +twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. As I gave him +the bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on my hand, and then a +sudden fear seized me lest David should not win. + +At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and soon +fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed him a Yorker +which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon as it had reached +the tree. “Not out,” I cried hastily, for the face he turned to me was +terrible. + +Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always recall +with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the bat, and I just +missed the catch. “Dash it all!” said I irritably, and was about to +resume bowling, when I noticed that he was unhappy. He hesitated, took +up his position at the wicket, and then came to me manfully. “I am a +cad,” he said in distress, “for when the ball was in the air I prayed.” + He had prayed that I should miss the catch, and as I think I have +already told you, it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for +victory. + +My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but he has +a noble sense of fairness. “We shall call it a no-ball, David,” I said +gravely. + +I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and therefore I +shall say at once that David won the match with two lovely fours, the +one over my head and the other to leg all along the ground. When I came +back from fielding this last ball I found him embracing his bat, and +to my sour congratulations he could at first reply only with hysterical +sounds. But soon he was pelting home to his mother with the glorious +news. + +And that is how we let Barbara in. + + + + +XXVI. The Dedication + +It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks after +the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even then it was +not quite finished, for there remained the dedication, at which I set +to elatedly. I think I have never enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my +opinion that I wrote the book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + +“Madam” (I wrote wittily), “I have no desire to exult over you, yet I +should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things were I not +to dedicate this little work to you. For its inception was yours, and +in your more ambitious days you thought to write the tale of the little +white bird yourself. Why you so early deserted the nest is not for me +to inquire. It now appears that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, +madam, you chose the lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining +the Bird. May I point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that +in the meantime I am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, +to me the substance. Trusting that you will accept my little offering in +a Christian spirit, I am, dear madam,” etc. + +It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design plainly +through the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, when, without +warning, the door burst open and a little boy entered, dragging in a +faltering lady. + +“Father,” said David, “this is mother.” + +Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the +electric light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as was very +fitting, Mary and I may be said to have met for the first time to the +accompaniment of flashes of lightning. I think she was arrayed in little +blue feathers, but if such a costume is not seemly, I swear there were, +at least, little blue feathers in her too coquettish cap, and that she +was carrying a muff to match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than +her muff, and as muffs are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I +saw in a twink, that she had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. +I am also of opinion that she remembered she had worn blue in the days +when I watched her from the club-window. Undoubtedly Mary is an engaging +little creature, though not my style. She was paler than is her wont, +and had the touching look of one whom it would be easy to break. I +daresay this was a trick. Her skirts made music in my room, but perhaps +this was only because no lady had ever rustled in it before. It was +disquieting to me to reflect that despite her obvious uneasiness, she +was a very artful woman. + +With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting-pad +over the dedication, and then, “Pray be seated,” I said coldly, but she +remained standing, all in a twitter and very much afraid of me, and I +know that her hands were pressed together within the muff. Had there +been any dignified means of escape, I think we would both have taken it. + +“I should not have come,” she said nervously, and then seemed to wait +for some response, so I bowed. + +“I was terrified to come, indeed I was,” she assured me with obvious +sincerity. + +“But I have come,” she finished rather baldly. + +“It is an epitome, ma'am,” said I, seeing my chance, “of your whole +life,” and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + +She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and of +some little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have done for +her when I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as soft as her muff. +She had also an affecting way of pronouncing all her r's as w's, just as +the fairies do. “And so,” she said, “as you would not come to me to be +thanked, I have come to you to thank you.” Whereupon she thanked me most +abominably. She also slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though +she was smiling her eyes were wet. + +“Pooh, ma'am,” said I in desperation, but I did not take her hand. + +“I am not very strong yet,” she said with low cunning. She said this to +make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted it a little. +Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth is, I begun to think +uncomfortably of the dedication. + +I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to address +her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something that would sting +her. + +“When you have quite done, ma'am,” I said, after a long pause, “perhaps +you will allow me to say a word.” + +I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's face, +that she had given him a quick look which did not imply that she was +stung. Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, that though she +was agitated and in some fear of me, she was also enjoying herself +considerably. + +In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-bank, +so I said, rather off my watch, “If I have done all this for you, why +did I do it?” + +She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the chair, so +that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this that she was now +holding herself conceitedly and trying to look modest. “Not a bit of it, +ma'am,” said I sharply, “that was not the reason at all.” + +I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + +“I never said it was,” she retorted with spirit, “I never thought for +a moment that it was.” She added, a trifle too late in the story, +“Besides, I don't know what you are talking of.” + +I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, and +became quite little in the chair again. + +“David,” said I mercilessly, “did you ever see your mother blush?” + +“What is blush?” + +“She goes a beautiful pink colour.” + +David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head office, +crossed to his mother expectantly. + +“I don't, David,” she cried. + +“I think,” said I, “she will do it now,” and with the instinct of a +gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but presently +David exclaimed admiringly, “Oh, mother, do it again!” + +As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel-glass +whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most candid face +on me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. Perhaps no look +given by woman to man affects him quite so much. “You see,” she said +radiantly and with a gesture that disclosed herself to me, “I can +forgive even that. You long ago earned the right to hurt me if you want +to.” + +It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an +uncommon drawing to her. + +“And if I did think that for a little while--,” she went on, with an +unsteady smile. + +“Think what?” I asked, but without the necessary snap. + +“What we were talking of,” she replied wincing, but forgiving me again. +“If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it lasted and it +lasted but a little time. I have long been sure that your kindness to me +was due to some other reason.” + +“Ma'am,” said I very honestly, “I know not what was the reason. My +concern for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a selfish +thing, yet not altogether selfish, for I think that what first stirred +it was the joyous sway of the little nursery governess as she walked +down Pall Mall to meet her lover. It seemed such a mighty fine thing to +you to be loved that I thought you had better continue to be loved for a +little longer. And perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter +I was charmed by the ease with which you could be helped, for you must +know that I am one who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty +years.” + +She shook her head and smiled. “On my soul,” I assured her, “I can think +of no other reason.” + +“A kind heart,” said she. + +“More likely a whim,” said I. + +“Or another woman,” said she. + +I was very much taken aback. + +“More than twenty years ago,” she said with a soft huskiness in her +voice, and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know that in +twenty years all love stories are grown mouldy. + +On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude for +Mary was one that had never struck me, but the more I pondered it now--. +I raised her hand and touched it with my lips, as we whimsical old +fellows do when some gracious girl makes us to hear the key in the lock +of long ago. “Why, ma'am,” I said, “it is a pretty notion, and there may +be something in it. Let us leave it at that.” + +But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you remember, +beneath the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire to crush her with +it. I wished that she had succeeded in writing the book on which her +longings had been so set. + +“If only you had been less ambitious,” I said, much troubled that she +should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + +“I wanted all the dear delicious things,” she admitted contritely. + +“It was unreasonable,” I said eagerly, appealing to her intellect. +“Especially this last thing.” + +“Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I know.” And then to my amazement she added +triumphantly, “But I got it.” + +I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued apologetically but +still as if she really thought hers had been a romantic career, “I know +I have not deserved it, but I got it.” + +“Oh, ma'am,” I cried reproachfully, “reflect. You have not got the great +thing.” I saw her counting the great things in her mind, her wondrous +husband and his obscure success, David, Barbara, and the other trifling +contents of her jewel-box. + +“I think I have,” said she. + +“Come, madam,” I cried a little nettled, “you know that there is lacking +the one thing you craved for most of all.” + +Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when I had +told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, “The book? I +had forgotten all about the book!” And then after reflection she added, +“Pooh!” Had she not added Pooh I might have spared her, but as it was +I raised the blotting-pad rather haughtily and presented her with the +sheet beneath it. + +“What is this?” she asked. + +“Ma'am,” said I, swelling, “it is a Dedication,” and I walked +majestically to the window. + +There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. Yet if +indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in almost the +same moment she was looking large-eyed at me and tapping my sleeve +impulsively with her fingers, just as David does when he suddenly likes +you. + +“How characteristic of you,” she said at the window. + +“Characteristic,” I echoed uneasily. “Ha!” + +“And how kind.” + +“Did you say kind, ma'am?” + +“But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you +know very well,” said she. + +Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, +but how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very +depressed. + +“And there is another mistake,” said she. + +“Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one.” + +“It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write,” she said. + +I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. “It +was of your little white bird,” she said, “it was of a little boy whose +name was Timothy.” + +She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into +another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little +book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for +me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of +us would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject +as ourselves, but said she, “How wrong you are in thinking this book is +about me and mine, it is really all about Timothy.” + +At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I considered I +saw that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this +very clever woman. + +“And so,” said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he +makes a great discovery, “it proves to be my book after all.” + +“With all your pretty thoughts left out,” I answered, properly humbled. + +She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. “I had only +one pretty thought for the book,” she said, “I was to give it a happy +ending.” She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when +she added with extraordinary boldness, “The little white bird was to +bear an olive-leaf in its mouth.” + +For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which +she had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get +admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young +thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind +her that I was forty-seven years of age. + +“It is quite young for a man,” she said brazenly. + +“My father,” said I, “was not forty-seven when he died, and I remember +thinking him an old man.” + +“But you don't think so now, do you?” she persisted, “you feel young +occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in +the Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?” + +“Mary A----,” I cried, grown afraid of the woman, “I forbid you to make +any more discoveries to-day.” + +But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought +her to my rooms. “They are very dear women,” said she coaxingly. + +“I am sure,” I said, “they must be dear women if they are friends of +yours.” + +“They are not exactly young,” she faltered, “and perhaps they are not +very pretty--” + +But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that +she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind +against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had +thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all +the land. + +My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the +little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came +back to the present together. + +I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no +longer ago than yesterday. + +“Very well, ma'am,” I said, trying to put a brave face on it, “I will +come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see.” + +It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she +wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that +the youthful romances are the best. + +It was now my turn to comfort her. “In twenty years,” I said, smiling +at her tears, “a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great +fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the +word of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got +to care for me I shall be very proud.” Despite her semblance of delight +I knew that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it +was true. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. 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Barrie + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. Barrie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Little White Bird + or Adventures In Kensington Gardens + +Author: J. M. Barrie + +Release Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #1376] +Last Updated: March 10, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + </h1> + <h2> + OR ADVENTURES IN KENSINGTON GARDENS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By J.M. Barrie + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. The Little Nursery Governess </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite,<br /> + and an + Inventory of Her Furniture </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. A Night-Piece </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. The Fight For Timothy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. A Shock </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. The Last of Timothy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. A Confirmed Spinster </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. Sporting Reflections </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. The Runaway Perambulator </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. The Pleasantest Club in London </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. Peter Pan </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. The Thrush's Nest </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. Lock-Out Time </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII. The Little House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII. Peter's Goat </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX. An Interloper </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX. David and Porthos Compared </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI. William Paterson </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXII. Joey </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIII. Pilkington's </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIV. Barbara </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXV. The Cricket Match </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXVI. The Dedication </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + </h2> + <p> + Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an invitation from + his mother: “I shall be so pleased if you will come and see me,” and I + always reply in some such words as these: “Dear madam, I decline.” And if + David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no desire to + meet the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Come this time, father,” he urged lately, “for it is her birthday, and + she is twenty-six,” which is so great an age to David, that I think he + fears she cannot last much longer. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-six, is she, David?” I replied. “Tell her I said she looks more.” + </p> + <p> + I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was twenty-six, + which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a place called my + home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking hours, and when I alighted + at the station a dear lost love was waiting for me, and we went away + together. She met me in no ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised to find + her there; it was as if we had been married for years and parted for a + day. I like to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + </p> + <p> + Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I have never + in my life addressed one word, she would droop her head and raise it + bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but very proud, and she would + be wishful to lend me her absurd little pocket handkerchief. And then, had + I the heart, I might make a disclosure that would startle her, for it is + not the face of David's mother that I see in my dreams. + </p> + <p> + Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty woman who + thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed down under a + hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have been pursued for + several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of the tender-hearted and + virtuous Mary A——. When we pass in the street the poor deluded + soul subdues her buoyancy, as if it were shame to walk happy before one + she has lamed, and at such times the rustle of her gown is whispered words + of comfort to me, and her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little + boy like David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am unaware + of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint note of + challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says why don't you? and + a mouth that says I rather wish you could: such is the portrait of Mary A—— + as she and I pass by. + </p> + <p> + Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David that I had + spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and she asked would I tell + her the time please, just as children ask, and forget as they run back + with it to their nurse. But I was prepared even for this, and raising my + hat I pointed with my staff to a clock in the distance. She should have + been overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I thought with + displeasure that I heard her laughing. + </p> + <p> + Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in order to + hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. She has been + putting qualities into David, altering him, turning him forever on a lathe + since the day she first knew him, and indeed long before, and all so + deftly that he is still called a child of nature. When you release David's + hand he is immediately lost like an arrow from the bow. No sooner do you + cast eyes on him than you are thinking of birds. It is difficult to + believe that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always seems to have + alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he would come and + peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the doing of that + timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly surprised by it. He strikes a + hundred gallant poses in a day; when he tumbles, which is often, he comes + to the ground like a Greek god; so Mary A—— has willed it. But + how she suffers that he may achieve! I have seen him climbing a tree while + she stood beneath in unutterable anguish; she had to let him climb, for + boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she watched him, she fell from + every branch. + </p> + <p> + David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she will be + able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. Otherwise he would + trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she has discovered this; for, as I + learn from him, she warned him lately that she is not such a dear as he + thinks her. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sure of it,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Is she such a dear as you think her?” he asked me. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven help her,” I said, “if she be not dearer than that.” + </p> + <p> + Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their boy will + certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day when every mother + stands revealed before her little son. That dread hour ticks between six + and seven; when children go to bed later the revelation has ceased to + come. He is lapt in for the night now and lies quietly there, madam, with + great, mysterious eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing up your day. + Nothing in the revelations that kept you together and yet apart in play + time can save you now; you two are of no age, no experience of life + separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have come up for judgment. + “Have I done well to-day, my son?” You have got to say it, and nothing may + you hide from him; he knows all. How like your voice has grown to his, but + more tremulous, and both so solemn, so unlike the voice of either of you + by day. + </p> + <p> + “You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you not, + mother?” + </p> + <p> + Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands and answer + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my son, I was. I thought—” + </p> + <p> + But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + </p> + <p> + “Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and then + pretend it was six before it was quite six?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was very unfair. I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, mother, please don't.” + </p> + <p> + “My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?” + </p> + <p> + Suppose he were unable to say yes. + </p> + <p> + These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a little thing + to be false to the agreement you signed when you got the boy? There are + mothers who avoid their children in that hour, but this will not save + them. Why is it that so many women are afraid to be left alone with their + thoughts between six and seven? I am not asking this of you, Mary. I + believe that when you close David's door softly there is a gladness in + your eyes, and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom little boys + say their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + </p> + <p> + I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and has had + his first fight with another young Christian who challenged him to the + jump and prayed for victory, which David thought was taking an unfair + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell her that I + am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two.” + </p> + <p> + He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. When I + pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing for our meeting. + She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so much of her when she + is fifty-two, meaning that she will not be so pretty then. So little does + the sex know of beauty. Surely a spirited old lady may be the prettiest + sight in the world. For my part, I confess that it is they, and not the + young ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was about to fall in + love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. Indeed, I cannot see a + likely young creature without impatiently considering her chances for, + say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious girls, when you are fifty-two we shall + find you out; you must come into the open then. If the mouth has fallen + sourly yours the blame: all the meannesses your youth concealed have been + gathering in your face. But the pretty thoughts and sweet ways and dear, + forgotten kindnesses linger there also, to bloom in your twilight like + evening primroses. + </p> + <p> + Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about his + mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I reflect, what + sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him cruelly: “Boy, you are + uncommonly like your mother.” + </p> + <p> + To which David: “Is that why you are so kind to me?” + </p> + <p> + I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his mother, + but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour as a soldier, there + is nothing more in it than that. I must not let him know this, for it + would make him conscious, and so break the spell that binds him and me + together. Oftenest I am but Captain W—— to him, and for the + best of reasons. He addresses me as father when he is in a hurry only, and + never have I dared ask him to use the name. He says, “Come, father,” with + an accursed beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little + while longer. + </p> + <p> + I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in shops he + asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and which drawer he + keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he like Achilles, of whom + David has lately heard, and is so enamoured that he wants to die to meet + him. At such times the shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot + explain the peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds + then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away before + he volunteers the information, “He is not really my father.” + </p> + <p> + When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little boy will + take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to some + Round Pond. + </p> + <p> + One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following letter: “Dear + David: If you really want to know how it began, will you come and have a + chop with me to-day at the club?” + </p> + <p> + Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her consent, and, + I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what happened so that he might + repeat it to her, for despite her curiosity she knows not how it began + herself. I chuckled, guessing that she expected something romantic. + </p> + <p> + He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually + solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great coat. + There was a shawl round his neck. “You can take some of them off,” I said, + “when we come to summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall we come to summer?” he asked, properly awed. + </p> + <p> + “To many summers,” I replied, “for we are going away back, David, to see + your mother as she was in the days before there was you.” + </p> + <p> + We hailed a hansom. “Drive back six years,” I said to the cabby, “and stop + at the Junior Old Fogies' Club.” + </p> + <p> + He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + </p> + <p> + The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For instance, + the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I dropped David a hint of + what was going on. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't make me littler, does it?” he asked anxiously; and then, with + a terrible misgiving: “It won't make me too little, will it, father?” by + which he meant that he hoped it would not do for him altogether. He + slipped his hand nervously into mine, and I put it in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals of the + club. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. The Little Nursery Governess + </h2> + <p> + As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David vanishing into + nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago at two in the afternoon. + I ring for coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy, and take my chair by the + window, just as the absurd little nursery governess comes tripping into + the street. I always feel that I have rung for her. + </p> + <p> + While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall into the + cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the one suitable lump + of sugar she is taking six last looks at the letter; with the aid of + William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-reading the delicious + address. I lie back in my chair, and by this time she has dropped the + letter down the slit. I toy with my liqueur, and she is listening to hear + whether the postal authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at a + fellow-member who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and her + two little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When I look + out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for her to-morrow at + two sharp. + </p> + <p> + She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. I know + not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. She is taking the + little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. James's Park, as their + hoops tell me, and she ought to look crushed and faded. No doubt her + mistress overworks her. It must enrage the other servants to see her + deporting herself as if she were quite the lady. + </p> + <p> + I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that the + posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, plebeians + all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I have even seen her blow a + kiss after it. + </p> + <p> + Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it rather + than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it through her + glove to make sure that it was still there. She took off the glove and + raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not it was the cheapest + trinket. She viewed it from afar by stretching out her hand; she stooped + to see how it looked near the ground; she considered its effect on the + right of her and on the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even + when you saw that she had made up her mind to think hard of something + else, the little silly would take another look. + </p> + <p> + I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + </p> + <p> + No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man + loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was the merest nobody, + she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her + tackle and ticketed with the insufferable air of an engaged woman. At + first her complacency disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my + life at two o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now + comes the tragedy. + </p> + <p> + Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every Thursday for + her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is probably paid several + pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself once a week. And what does she + with it? Attend classes for making her a more accomplished person? Not + she. This is what she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her + pretty things, including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle of + expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On ordinary + days she at least tries to look demure, but on a Thursday she has had the + assurance to use the glass door of the club as a mirror in which to see + how she likes her engaging trifle of a figure to-day. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the + post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always wears the + same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever make him free of the + company of gentlemen. He is one of your lean, clean Englishmen, who strip + so well, and I fear me he is handsome; I say fear, for your handsome men + have always annoyed me, and had I lived in the duelling days I swear I + would have called every one of them out. He seems to be quite unaware that + he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary knows it. I conclude + that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is so easily elated and + depressed; and because he carries his left thumb curiously, as if it were + feeling for the hole of a palette, I have entered his name among the + painters. I find pleasure in deciding that they are shocking bad pictures, + for obviously no one buys them. I feel sure Mary says they are splendid, + she is that sort of woman. Hence the rapture with which he greets her. Her + first effect upon him is to make him shout with laughter. He laughs + suddenly haw from an eager exulting face, then haw again, and then, when + you are thanking heaven that it is at last over, comes a final haw, louder + than the others. I take them to be roars of joy because Mary is his, and + they have a ring of youth about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive + him everything save his youth, but it is so aggressive that I have + sometimes to order William testily to close the window. + </p> + <p> + How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery governess. + The moment she comes into sight she looks at the post-office and sees him. + Then she looks straight before her, and now she is observed, and he rushes + across to her in a glory, and she starts—positively starts—as + if he had taken her by surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her + wicked little heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. + He gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, and as + she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then away they strut, + Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall to wondering what they will + look like when they grow up. + </p> + <p> + What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each other. You + can see that they are to be married when he has twopence. + </p> + <p> + Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom London is + famous only as the residence of a young man who mistakes her for someone + else, but her happiness had become part of my repast at two P.M., and when + one day she walked down Pall Mall without gradually posting a letter I was + most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. Her two charges + were as surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to the slit, at which + she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, exactly like a sad + baby, and so passed from the street. + </p> + <p> + Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit through + my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there might be an end of + this annoyance, but no, neither of them appeared on that acquainted + ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes were red + every day, and heavy was her foolish little heart. Love had put out his + lights, and the little nursery governess walked in darkness. + </p> + <p> + I felt I could complain to the committee. + </p> + <p> + Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to her, won't + you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. + </p> + <p> + Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be joyous as of + old during the five minutes of the day when you are anything to me, and + for the rest of the time, so far as I am concerned, you may be as wretched + as you list. Show some courage. I assure you he must be a very bad + painter; only the other day I saw him looking longingly into the window of + a cheap Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush down his + aspirations with two penny scones. + </p> + <p> + You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + </p> + <p> + All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from morning + till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she lost that little. + They are all like this. + </p> + <p> + Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure till you + die, you might at least do it in another street. + </p> + <p> + Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on ordinary days, + but I have discovered that every Thursday from two to three she stands + afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic post-office where she and he + shall meet no more. In these windy days she is like a homeless leaf blown + about by passers-by. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + </p> + <p> + At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet Thursday, and + from the window where I was writing letters I saw the forlorn soul taking + up her position at the top of the street: in a blast of fury I rose with + the one letter I had completed, meaning to write the others in my + chambers. She had driven me from the club. + </p> + <p> + I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom should I + strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, but I hit out at him + savagely, as I always do when I run into anyone in the street. Then I + looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; he was muddy; there was not a haw left + in him. I never saw a more abject young man; he had not even the spirit to + resent the testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But this is the + important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office and thus in a + twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. Whatever had been + their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up as she, and perhaps he had + been here every Thursday while she was round the corner in Pall Mall, each + watching the post-office for an apparition. But from where they hovered + neither could see the other. + </p> + <p> + I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen at his + feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a gentleman who finds a + letter on the pavement feels bound to post it, and I presumed that he + would naturally go to the nearest office. + </p> + <p> + With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was just in time + to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I looked for the little + nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone as ever; then, suddenly—oh, + you poor little soul, and has it really been as bad as that! + </p> + <p> + She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It was a + disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently explode if he + could not make use of his arms. She must die if she could not lay her head + upon his breast. I must admit that he rose to the occasion; he hailed a + hansom. + </p> + <p> + “William,” said I gaily, “coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy.” + </p> + <p> + As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to ask what + I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran eagerly to the + window, but he reached it just too late to see the lady who was to become + his mother. What I told him of her doings, however, interested him + greatly; and he intimated rather shyly that he was acquainted with the man + who said, “Haw-haw-haw.” On the other hand, he irritated me by betraying + an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to regard as the + hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How old were they? + Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or just wooden hoops? Who gave + them their hoops? + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem to understand, my boy,” I said tartly, “that had I not + dropped that letter, there would never have been a little boy called David + A——.” But instead of being appalled by this he asked, + sparkling, whether I meant that he would still be a bird flying about in + the Kensington Gardens. + </p> + <p> + David knows that all children in our part of London were once birds in the + Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are bars on nursery windows + and a tall fender by the fire is because very little people sometimes + forget that they have no longer wings, and try to fly away through the + window or up the chimney. + </p> + <p> + Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows that many + people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon is to go with me + to some spot in the Gardens where these unfortunates may be seen trying to + catch one with small pieces of cake. + </p> + <p> + That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even a + little undecided about which is the better life, is obvious to every + student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty perambulator under the + trees and watch from a distance, you will see the birds boarding it and + hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excitement; they are + trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. + </p> + <p> + Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray from the + tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not a + grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, and all + the time such a jabbering and laughing from both sides of the railing. + They are comparing notes and inquiring for old friends, and so on; but + what they say I cannot determine, for when I approach they all fly away. + </p> + <p> + The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the Baby's Walk. + He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot day by a hose which lay + on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of water, and David was on his + back in the water, kicking up his legs. He used to enjoy being told of + this, having forgotten all about it, and gradually it all came back to + him, with a number of other incidents that had escaped my memory, though I + remember that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long string and a + cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never tires of this + story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me rather than I to + him, and when we come to the string he rubs his little leg as if it still + smarted. + </p> + <p> + So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he called out + to me quickly: “Don't drop the letter!” and there were tree-tops in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Think of your mother,” I said severely. + </p> + <p> + He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he would do + would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and have + a drink. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, father,” he said with horrid heartlessness, “always to have + plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I might fall in + and be drownded.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother without her + boy!” + </p> + <p> + It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, he would + hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck at her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a bird + instead of a boy.” + </p> + <p> + This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. “You can drop it,” he + said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I have already + mentioned; and that is how it all began. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her + Furniture + </h2> + <p> + A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my way to + certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed + haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of a + shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire system. I had the merest + glimpse of them, but there was an extraordinary rapture on her face, and + his head was thrown proudly back, and all because they had been ordering a + piano on the hire system. + </p> + <p> + So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptible, but I + passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she is unhappy that this woman + disturbs me, owing to a clever way she has at such times of looking more + fragile than she really is. + </p> + <p> + When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window of the + sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most deliciously dramatic + spots in London. Mary was taking notes feverishly on a slip of paper while + he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily without + buying anything. I was in high feather. “Match abandoned, ma'am,” I said + to myself; “outlook hopeless; another visit to the Governesses' Agency + inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen shovel.” But I was + imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + </p> + <p> + A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is something + artful about her skirts by which I always know her, though I can't say + what it is. She was carrying an enormous parcel that might have been a + bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, and she took it into a bric-a-brac shop + and came out without it. She then ran rather than walked in the direction + of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Now mystery of any kind is detestable to + me, and I went into the bric-a-brac shop, ostensibly to look at the + cracked china; and there, still on the counter, with the wrapping torn off + it, was the article Mary had sold in order to furnish on the proceeds. + What do you think it was? It was a wonderful doll's house, with dolls at + tea downstairs and dolls going to bed upstairs, and a doll showing a doll + out at the front door. Loving lips had long ago licked most of the paint + off, but otherwise the thing was in admirable preservation; obviously the + joy of Mary's childhood, it had now been sold by her that she might get + married. + </p> + <p> + “Lately purchased by us,” said the shopwoman, seeing me look at the toy, + “from a lady who has no further use for it.” + </p> + <p> + I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought the doll's + house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at this shop that I + first learned her name) I instructed them to send it back to her with the + following letter, which I wrote in the shop: “Dear madam, don't be + ridiculous. You will certainly have further use for this. I am, etc., the + Man Who Dropped the Letter.” + </p> + <p> + It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to reflect that + I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I saw her she had been + married for some months. The time was nine o'clock of a November evening, + and we were in a street of shops that has not in twenty years decided + whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it minces in the fashion, + but take a step onward and its tongue is in the cup of the ice-cream man. + I usually rush this street, which is not far from my rooms, with the glass + down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in front of me, leaning in a + somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they were chatting excitedly. She + seemed to be remonstrating with him for going forward, yet more than half + admiring him for not turning back, and I wondered why. + </p> + <p> + And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out to do? To + buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been trying to persuade him, I + decided, that they were living too lavishly. That was why she sought to + draw him back. But in her heart she loves audacity, and that is why she + admired him for pressing forward. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like two + gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace them to their + home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that night I composed the + following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to overtake a pretty young woman + carrying pork chops. I was now determined to be done with her. First, + however, to find out their abode, which was probably within easy distance + of the shop. I even conceived them lured into taking their house by the + advertisement, “Conveniently situated for the Pork Emporium.” + </p> + <p> + Well, one day—now this really is romantic and I am rather proud of + it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an anxiously + polite street between which and mine are little yards called, I think, + gardens. They are so small that if you have the tree your neighbour has + the shade from it. I was looking out at my back window on the day we have + come to when whom did I see but the whilom nursery governess sitting on a + chair in one of these gardens. I put up my eye-glass to make sure, and + undoubtedly it was she. But she sat there doing nothing, which was by no + means my conception of the jade, so I brought a fieldglass to bear and + discovered that the object was merely a lady's jacket. It hung on the back + of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry thing, and, I must suppose, was + suspended there for an airing. + </p> + <p> + I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as it was + not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her wear such a + jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell why. Do clothes absorb + a little of the character of their wearer, so that I recognised this + jacket by a certain coquetry? If she has a way with her skirts that always + advertises me of her presence, quite possibly she is as cunning with + jackets. Or perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little tucks of + herself. + </p> + <p> + Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on my hat + and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge from the house + to which I had calculated that garden belonged. Now am I clever, or am I + not? + </p> + <p> + When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and a droll + house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist of a door and a + window, though above them the trained eye may detect another window, the + air-hole of some apartment which it would be just like Mary's + grandiloquence to call her bedroom. The houses on each side of this + bandbox are tall, and I discovered later that it had once been an open + passage to the back gardens. The story and a half of which it consists had + been knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather than masons, + and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that has stuck for + ever on its way through the passage. + </p> + <p> + The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall ones that + I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their builders, but this + house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call itself a house, for over the + door was a board with the inscription “This space to be sold,” and I + remembered, as I rang the bell, that this notice had been up for years. On + avowing that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an elderly, somewhat + dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not on scale with her + surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first remark was + explanatory. + </p> + <p> + “They get me cheap,” she said, “because I drink.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether I have + described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a picture of that + sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How can she have found the + money to pay for it all! which is always your first reflection when you + see Mary herself a-tripping down the street. + </p> + <p> + I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim-whams with + which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn bell-rope which pulled + no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that contained no cigars. The floor + was of a delicious green with exquisite oriental rugs; green and white, I + think, was the lady's scheme of colour, something cool, you observe, to + keep the sun under. The window-curtains were of some rare material and the + colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor grandly and suggested + a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano we may ignore, for I knew + it to be hired, but there were many dainty pieces, mostly in green wood, a + sofa, a corner cupboard, and a most captivating desk, which was so like + its owner that it could have sat down at her and dashed off a note. The + writing paper on this desk had the word Mary printed on it, implying that + if there were other Marys they didn't count. There were many oil-paintings + on the walls, mostly without frames, and I must mention the chandelier, + which was obviously of fabulous worth, for she had encased it in a holland + bag. + </p> + <p> + “I perceive, ma'am,” said I to the stout maid, “that your master is in + affluent circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed to + catch. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to indicate,” I hazarded, “that he married a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + This time I caught the words. They were “Tinned meats,” and having uttered + them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” I said, “this room must have cost a pretty penny.” + </p> + <p> + “She done it all herself,” replied my new friend, with concentrated scorn. + </p> + <p> + “But this green floor, so beautifully stained—” + </p> + <p> + “Boiling oil,” said she, with a flush of honest shame, “and a + shillingsworth o' paint.” + </p> + <p> + “Those rugs—” + </p> + <p> + “Remnants,” she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been pieced + together. + </p> + <p> + “The curtains—” + </p> + <p> + “Remnants.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events the sofa—” + </p> + <p> + She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of packing + cases. + </p> + <p> + “The desk—” + </p> + <p> + I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see the + drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for books, the + pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + </p> + <p> + “She made it out of three orange boxes,” said the lady, at last a little + awed herself. + </p> + <p> + I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the holland + covering. “There is a fine chandelier in that holland bag,” I said + coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. + “Forbear, ma'am,” I cried with authority, “I prefer to believe in that + bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost faith in + everything.” I think all the pretty things that the little nursery + governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand for letting the + chandelier off. + </p> + <p> + “But, good God, ma'am,” said I to madam, “what an exposure.” + </p> + <p> + She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “So there is a stair,” said I, and then, suspiciously, “did she make it?” + </p> + <p> + No, but how she had altered it. + </p> + <p> + The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at that, nor + at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Did she build the studio with her own hands?” + </p> + <p> + No, but how she had altered it. + </p> + <p> + “How she alters everything,” I said. “Do you think you are safe, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me with some of + her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband was + not, it appeared, one on which any self-respecting domestic could reflect + with pride. They got the house very cheap on the understanding that they + were to vacate it promptly if anyone bought it for building purposes, and + because they paid so little they had to submit to the indignity of the + notice-board. Mary A—— detested the words “This space to be + sold,” and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as elated + about her house as if it were a real house, and always trembled when any + possible purchaser of spaces called. + </p> + <p> + As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to record + that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of art. “The + difficulty,” she said, “is not to paint pictures, but to get frames for + them.” A home thrust this. + </p> + <p> + She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's work. + Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned meats. + </p> + <p> + Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was + constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even been caught + whispering fiercely to a friend, “Praise it, praise it, praise it!” This + was when the painter was sunk in gloom. Never, as I could well believe, + was such a one as Mary for luring a man back to cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “A dangerous woman,” I said, with a shudder, and fell to examining a + painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of a man, and had + impressed me favourably because it was framed. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers,” my guide informed me, “but I never seed him.” + </p> + <p> + I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the picture + drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and these were the words: + “Fancy portrait of our dear unknown.” Could it be meant for me? I cannot + tell you how interested I suddenly became. + </p> + <p> + It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day more than + thirty. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?” I asked quite shakily. “How do you + know that, if you have never seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “When master was painting of it,” she said, “in the studio, he used to + come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What colour would you + make his eyes?'” + </p> + <p> + “And her reply, ma'am?” I asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't make it a + handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very handsome face.' And says + he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, 'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him saying, 'A + little bald on the top?' and she says, says she, 'Not at all.'” + </p> + <p> + The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + </p> + <p> + “I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + </p> + <p> + Pooh! + </p> + <p> + I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I could + write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. “I think she has known + him since she were a babby,” she was saying, “for this here was a present + he give her.” + </p> + <p> + She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the sofa, where + it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, “I shall slip the + insulting message into this.” But I did not, and I shall tell you why. It + was because the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving hands; there + were fresh gowns for all the inhabitants, and the paint on the furniture + was scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready for further + use. + </p> + <p> + I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. “Put it back,” I + said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, and I left the house + dejectedly, with a profound conviction that the little nursery governess + had hooked on to me again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. A Night-Piece + </h2> + <p> + There came a night when the husband was alone in that street waiting. He + can do nothing for you now, little nursery governess, you must fight it + out by yourself; when there are great things to do in the house the man + must leave. Oh, man, selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, thy + woman's hour has come; get thee gone. + </p> + <p> + He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, + chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? It + is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindness to stalk + the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still might he not + sometimes have been a little kinder? + </p> + <p> + Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a + little kinder than is necessary? + </p> + <p> + Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, to + sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, to send you a + reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, if you are not to meet + again, still to send you a reassuring, trembling smile. + </p> + <p> + Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders the streets + thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. In her great hour the + man is nothing to the woman; their love is trivial now. + </p> + <p> + He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become familiar ground + to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me in which Mary A—— + walked. Here was the morning after my only entry into her house. The agent + had promised me to have the obnoxious notice-board removed, but I + apprehended that as soon as the letter announcing his intention reached + her she would remove it herself, and when I passed by in the morning there + she was on a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it with a hammer. + When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + </p> + <p> + There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the postman. + I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate of a picture. He + dogged the postman from door to door like an assassin or a guardian angel; + never had he the courage to ask if there was a letter for him, but almost + as it fell into the box he had it out and tore it open, and then if the + door closed despairingly the woman who had been at the window all this + time pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news was good they might + emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the direction of the pork + emporium. + </p> + <p> + One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of them through + the open window, when she sat at the piano singing and playing to him. Or + while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for him to grasp. + She was so joyously happy, and she had such a romantic mind. I conceived + her so sympathetic that she always laughed before he came to the joke, and + I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start of a pathetic story. + </p> + <p> + And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery + governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, mysterious. I + suppose a man soon becomes used to the great change, and cannot recall a + time when there were no babes sprawling in his Mary's face. + </p> + <p> + I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young husband on the + other side of the street. “If the barrier is to be crossed to-night may I + not go with her? She is not so brave as you think her. When she talked so + gaily a few hours ago, O my God, did she deceive even you?” + </p> + <p> + Plain questions to-night. “Why should it all fall on her? What is the man + that he should be flung out into the street in this terrible hour? You + have not been fair to the man.” + </p> + <p> + Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. If she + lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will die triumphant + and serene. Life and death, the child and the mother, are ever meeting as + the one draws into harbour and the other sets sail. They exchange a bright + “All's well” and pass on. + </p> + <p> + But afterward? + </p> + <p> + The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead young + mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is no other + inducement great enough to bring the departed back. They glide into the + acquainted room when day and night, their jailers, are in the grip, and + whisper, “How is it with you, my child?” but always, lest a strange face + should frighten him, they whisper it so low that he may not hear. They + bend over him to see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet arm + beneath the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many little + vests he has. They love to do these things. + </p> + <p> + What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their child. They + expect him to be just as he was when they left him, and they are easily + bewildered, and search for him from room to room, and hate the unknown boy + he has become. Poor, passionate souls, they may even do him an injury. + These are the ghosts that go wailing about old houses, and foolish wild + stories are invented to explain what is all so pathetic and simple. I know + of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early home to pass the + evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair by the fire he saw + the door open softly and a woman's face appear. She always looked at him + very vindictively, and then vanished. Strange things happened in this + house. Windows were opened in the night. The curtains of his bed were set + fire to. A step on the stair was loosened. The covering of an old well in + a corridor where he walked was cunningly removed. And when he fell ill the + wrong potion was put in the glass by his bedside, and he died. How could + the pretty young mother know that this grizzled interloper was the child + of whom she was in search? + </p> + <p> + All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty as lost + wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we are not nearly so + afraid of them as they are of us. + </p> + <p> + One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp burned + steadily in the little window across the way. I know not how it happened, + whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, but, after being for a + long time as the echo of each other's steps, we were together now. I can + have had no desire to deceive him, but some reason was needed to account + for my vigil, and I may have said something that he misconstrued, for + above my words he was always listening for other sounds. But however it + came about he had conceived the idea that I was an outcast for a reason + similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, it seemed to matter so + little and to draw us together so naturally. We talked together of many + things, such as worldly ambition. For long ambition has been like an + ancient memory to me, some glorious day recalled from my springtime, so + much a thing of the past that I must make a railway journey to revisit it + as to look upon the pleasant fields in which that scene was laid. But he + had been ambitious yesterday. + </p> + <p> + I mentioned worldly ambition. “Good God!” he said with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one o'clock passed + and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. And now? It is still twenty + past two. + </p> + <p> + I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. “We have + a friend—” he began and paused, and then rambled into a not very + understandable story about a letter and a doll's house and some unknown + man who had bought one of his pictures, or was supposed to have done so, + in a curiously clandestine manner. I could not quite follow the story. + </p> + <p> + “It is she who insists that it is always the same person,” he said. “She + thinks he will make himself known to me if anything happens to her.” His + voice suddenly went husky. “She told me,” he said, “if she died and I + discovered him, to give him her love.” + </p> + <p> + At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the night, + to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of some things she + had asked him to do should she not get over this, but what they were I + know not, for they engulfed him at the first step. He would draw back from + them as ill-omened things, and next moment he was going over them to + himself like a child at lessons. A child! In that short year she had made + him entirely dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their first + deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few men + happily married who can knock in a nail. + </p> + <p> + But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had not + degenerated so much. + </p> + <p> + Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At eighteen + minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. He boasts about it + to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he ever + did was to look at the clock. + </p> + <p> + An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to my + companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a wall, + hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss + me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I shook him by the hand, but + by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so abominably that a disgust of him + swelled up within me, and with it a passionate desire to jeer once more at + Mary A— + </p> + <p> + “It is little she will care for you now,” I said to the fellow; “I know + the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she has to distinguish + her from the brutes) are so imperfectly developed that she will be a crazy + thing about that boy for the next three years. She has no longer occasion + for you, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted out.” + </p> + <p> + But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if one + alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs that lead + to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to the hilarity of + the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I wandered from chamber + to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were alike empty and + desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought I heard a pebble + strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father standing beneath. + I had told him that I lived in this street, and I suppose my lights had + guided him to my window. + </p> + <p> + “I could not lie down,” he called up hoarsely, “until I heard your news. + Is it all right?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: “Yes, all is + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Both doing well?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Both,” I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window. It + was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was + nevertheless in a passion with him. + </p> + <p> + “Boy or girl?” persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Boy,” I said, very furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid,” he called out, and I think he added something else, but by + that time I had closed the window with a slam. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. The Fight For Timothy + </h2> + <p> + Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of + exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a life + of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of the + street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were some + entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I had + not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that every + time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + </p> + <p> + I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always sulky, + and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein lies her + heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a student of her + face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so she has + struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when night + falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy natural + state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even sulkily? + </p> + <p> + But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be seen, + and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a + rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though I have always + been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which over-excite him. Hitherto + the toys I had bought had always been for him, and as we durst not admit + this to the saleswoman we were both horribly self-conscious when in the + shop. A score of times I have told him that he had much better not come, I + have announced fiercely that he is not to come. He then lets go of his + legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making the noise of a sack of + coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head between his front paws, + stares at me through the red haws that make his eyes so mournful. He will + do this for an hour without blinking, for he knows that in time it will + unman me. My dog knows very little, but what little he does know he knows + extraordinarily well. One can get out of my chambers by a back way, and I + sometimes steal softly—but I can't help looking back, and there he + is, and there are those haws asking sorrowfully, “Is this worthy of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Curse you,” I say, “get your hat,” or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so exactly + like some respected member that he makes everybody most uncomfortable. I + forget how I became possessor of him. I think I cut him out of an old + number of Punch. He costs me as much as an eight-roomed cottage in the + country. + </p> + <p> + He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced him to + toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own amusement. It + represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her little son over her head + with one hand and catching him in the other, and I was entertaining myself + on the hearth-rug with this pretty domestic scene when I heard an unwonted + sound from Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and melancholic + countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for putting the toy + away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with his, and signed that + I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always came, I found, when the poor + lady dropped her babe, but the whole thing entranced him; he tried to keep + his excitement down by taking huge draughts of water; he forgot all his + niceties of conduct; he sat in holy rapture with the toy between his paws, + took it to bed with him, ate it in the night, and searched for it so + longingly next day that I had to go out and buy him the man with the + scythe. After that we had everything of note, the bootblack boy, the toper + with bottle, the woolly rabbit that squeaks when you hold it in your + mouth; they all vanished as inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell + him my suspicions, for he suspected also and his gentle heart would have + mourned had I confirmed his fears. + </p> + <p> + The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want them for a + little boy and calls him “the precious” and “the lamb,” the while Porthos + is standing gravely by my side. She is a motherly soul, but + over-talkative. + </p> + <p> + “And how is the dear lamb to-day?” she begins, beaming. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, well,” I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + </p> + <p> + “This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, not at all.” (She would be considerably surprised if informed + that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three cabbages, and is + suspected of a leg of mutton.) + </p> + <p> + “I hope he loves his toys?” + </p> + <p> + “He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am.” (Has the one we bought + yesterday with him now, though you might not think it to look at him.) + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to a box of tools this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the deary fond of digging?” + </p> + <p> + “Very partial to digging.” (We shall find the leg of mutton some day.) + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?” + </p> + <p> + She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was so + insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got home. He + detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly prejudiced in its + favour we have had to try other shops. We went to the Lowther Arcade for + the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered agape + among thy enchanted palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and Porthos + and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, unless it + be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet smiling + entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrances, and with + much to be sung in laudation of that which opens from the Strand I yet on + the whole prefer the other as the more truly romantic, because it is there + the tattered ones congregate, waiting to see the Davids emerge with the + magic lamp. We have always a penny for them, and I have known them, before + entering the Arcade with it, retire (but whither?) to wash; surely the + prettiest of all the compliments that are paid to the home of toys. + </p> + <p> + And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we are told + that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an eating-house or a hive for + usurers, something rankly useful. All thy delights are under notice to + quit. The Noah's arks are packed one within another, with clockwork horses + harnessed to them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing their hands + to the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left behind them; all + the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who is overful of + drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their wings; the man with the + scythe mows his way through the crowd; the balloons tug at their strings; + the ships rock under a swell of sail, everything is getting ready for the + mighty exodus into the Strand. Tears will be shed. + </p> + <p> + So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who thought it was + for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent to the bandbox house + anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to meet Mary's + husband in Kensington, so I asked him what he had called his little girl. + </p> + <p> + “It is a boy,” he replied, with intolerable good-humour, “we call him + David.” + </p> + <p> + And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my boy. + </p> + <p> + I flicked my glove. “Timothy,” said I. + </p> + <p> + I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy was as + good a name as David. “I like it,” he assured me, and expressed a hope + that they would become friends. I boiled to say that I really could not + allow Timothy to mix with boys of the David class, but I refrained, and + listened coldly while he told me what David did when you said his toes + were pigs going to market or returning from it, I forget which. He also + boasted of David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly touchy + at the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + </p> + <p> + But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a forlorn + little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for him, and I became + his champion and hinted something about teething, but withdrew it when it + seemed too surprising, and tried to get on to safer ground, such as bibs + and general intelligence, but the painter fellow was so willing to let me + have my say, and knew so much more about babies than is fitting for men to + know, that I paled before him and wondered why the deuce he was listening + to me so attentively. + </p> + <p> + You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous friend. “His + latest,” said he now, “is to send David a rocking-horse!” + </p> + <p> + I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. “Picture it,” said he, “a + rocking-horse for a child not three months old!” + </p> + <p> + I was about to say fiercely: “The stirrups are adjustable,” but thought it + best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that Mary had laughed, + though heaven knows I have often laughed at her. + </p> + <p> + “But women are odd,” he said unexpectedly, and explained. It appears that + in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave and said to him quite + haughtily, “I see nothing to laugh at.” Then she had kissed the horse + solemnly on the nose and said, “I wish he was here to see me do it.” There + are moments when one cannot help feeling a drawing to Mary. + </p> + <p> + But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a particularly + odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to hunt Mr. Anon down. + </p> + <p> + “She won't succeed,” I said, sneering but nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Then it will be her first failure,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “But she knows nothing about the man.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She says he is a + gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + “Old?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't take care. + He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of children, but has + never had one to play with.” + </p> + <p> + “Could not play with a child though there was one,” I said brusquely; “has + forgotten the way; could stand and stare only.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were alone + with the child he could come out strong.” + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce—” I began + </p> + <p> + “That is what she says,” he explained, apologetically. “I think she will + prove to be too clever for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh,” I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next time I + met him he quite frightened me. “Do you happen to know any one,” he said, + “who has a St. Bernard dog?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, picking up my stick. + </p> + <p> + “He has a St. Bernard dog.” + </p> + <p> + “How have you found that out?” + </p> + <p> + “She has found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. The + mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I engaged a boy + to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him these instructions: + “Should you find yourself followed by a young woman wheeling a second-hand + perambulator, instantly hand her over to the police on the charge of + attempting to steal the dog.” + </p> + <p> + Now then, Mary. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” her husband said at our next meeting, “that rocking-horse I + told you of cost three guineas.” + </p> + <p> + “She has gone to the shop to ask?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's + appearance.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, Mary. + </p> + <p> + Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:—looked + like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; fine Roman nose + (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all); hair thin + and thoughtfully distributed over the head like fiddlestrings, as if to + make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair with handkerchief before sitting + down on it, and had other oldmaidish ways (I should like to know what they + are); tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age forty-five if a day + (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog with sore eyes. (They + always think the haws are sore eyes.) + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anyone who is like that?” Mary's husband asked me innocently. + </p> + <p> + “My dear man,” I said, “I know almost no one who is not like that,” and it + was true, so like each other do we grow at the club. I was pleased, on the + whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had come to know + of the St. Bernard, but anxiety returned when one day from behind my + curtains I saw Mary in my street with an inquiring eye on the windows. She + stopped a nurse who was carrying a baby and went into pretended ecstasies + over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any chance it was called + Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any other nurse who had + charge of a Timothy. + </p> + <p> + Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to Timothy, + though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; for I still met that + other father occasionally, and he always stopped to compare notes about + the boys. And the questions he asked were so intimate, how Timothy slept, + how he woke up, how he fell off again, what we put in his bath. It is well + that dogs and little boys have so much in common, for it was really of + Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke up (supposed to + be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with one little hand on his + nose), but I glided past what we put in his bath (carbolic and a mop). + </p> + <p> + The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it reasonable to + hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I straitened in my mind. + For it might be that she was only biding her time to strike suddenly, and + this attached me the more to Timothy, as if I feared she might soon snatch + him from me. As was indeed to be the case. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. A Shock + </h2> + <p> + It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the + first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded an + Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily married + who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's glorious return; + and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a bored smile saw + nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic Felicities. Oh, + Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little plot? + </p> + <p> + Hallo! + </p> + <p> + No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she + was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her + covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable, + set off nervously on some mysterious adventure. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” thought I, and followed her. + </p> + <p> + Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her + watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do not + give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once she + kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little watch, + which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but why kiss + it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in your + leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or any day, + the watch your husband gave you? + </p> + <p> + It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts + to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination, a + street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly and + shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of shame; + and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary A——. + Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would have felled + her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was waiting for him, + wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I believe I clutched + my stick. + </p> + <p> + Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there was + some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her husband, + as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and was ashamed + to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be to save, not + herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have been Mary's. + Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy from the + consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? Could that + laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open forehead, the curly + locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways which we carry + with us out of childhood, they may all remain when the innocence has fled, + but surely the laugh of the morning of life must go. I have never known + the devil retain his grip on that. + </p> + <p> + But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame had + possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the entanglement was + her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But without conviction, for, after + all, what did I know of women? I have some distant memories of them, some + vain inventions. But of men—I have known one man indifferent well + for over forty years, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), shuddered + at him, wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to jog along with + him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know something of men, + and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + </p> + <p> + Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed that were + better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you foolish, soft heart, + and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate one, you saw the look on your + husband's face as he left you. It is the studio light by which he paints + and still sees to hope, despite all the disappointments of his not ignoble + ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he is a wealthy + man if it does not flicker. + </p> + <p> + So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times she made + little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that detestable + street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the weasel. Again she + looked at her watch and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrified look + round, she popped into a pawnshop. + </p> + <p> + Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the door rang + and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a street where she was + unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred shop before + desperately venturing in, why she looked so often at the watch she might + never see again. So desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little house + over her head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling face for + her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures were going. + </p> + <p> + It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light-hearted + again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had left her watch, and + I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn she had become, as if her + baby was grown too big for her slight arms, even then I was light-hearted. + Without attempting to follow her, I sauntered homeward humming a snatch of + song with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in it, for I can never + remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby linen shop or some + nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what she had popped her watch; + but what cared I? I continued to sing most beautifully. I lunged gayly + with my stick at a lamp-post and missed it, whereat a street-urchin + grinned, and I winked at him and slipped twopence down his back. + </p> + <p> + I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given me, but + fate willed that I should meet the husband on his homeward journey, and + his first remark inspired me to a folly. + </p> + <p> + “How is Timothy?” he asked; and the question opened a way so attractive + that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour could have resisted + it. + </p> + <p> + “He is no more,” I replied impulsively. + </p> + <p> + The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath of pity, + and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my little boy was + gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all my efforts to shelter + him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down the wind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. The Last of Timothy + </h2> + <p> + So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that I made + away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinafores and + shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuch at me + for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathy ran free + I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by a mere selfish + desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are parents. + </p> + <p> + He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and, of + course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it I + doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reason to + know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at the first + hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the many + little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to look upon, and + he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house with its + little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but he had not a + sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsiveness had plunged + me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Was there no + profession in this age of specialism for taking away children's garments + from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could I sell them? + Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose of them for + gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had already refused + them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of Timothy, and + I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he made the offer + I was waiting for. + </p> + <p> + I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage with both + him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adopted this means + in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out. Timothy's hold + on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of the slightest, and I + suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to the obscure. He could + never have penetrated into the open. It was no life for a boy. + </p> + <p> + Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seem to + remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommon tenderness + (following the setting sun that was to take him away), and telling him + with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave me because another + child was in need of all his pretty things; and as the sun, his true + father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love to a lady of long + ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowing in his innocence + that the little white birds are the birds that never have a mother. I + wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possession of me) that before + he went he could have played once in the Kensington Gardens, and have + ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to me to look; that he + could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond; fain would I have + had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughing avenues of + childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a long summer-day, + emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun to pay for; + and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolate chambers) he + knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that the reason he never + did these things was not that he was afraid, for he would have loved to do + them all, but because he was not quite like other boys; and, so saying, he + let go my finger and faded from before my eyes into another and golden + ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been quite like other boys there + would have been none braver than my Timothy. + </p> + <p> + I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so far as + I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient. So I + discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit, and found + myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at the pawnbroker's. The + shop for little garments seems very alarming when you reach the door; a + man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to a finer sense of the + proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but apparently I could + not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering shops of any kind, + save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I fear I go too + frequently. + </p> + <p> + So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself, and + it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I had been + brazen at half-past two all would now be over. + </p> + <p> + To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man + whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I had drawn + valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned he was + still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smoked my purpose. + Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icy politeness, “You + have the advantage of me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said he, and I am now persuaded that my words turned + his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I was sure some + impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance,” I barked. + </p> + <p> + “No one regrets it more than I do,” he replied, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sir,” said I, “that I shall wait here until you retire,” and with + that I put my back to a shop-window. + </p> + <p> + By this time he was grown angry, and said he, “I have no engagement,” and + he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedly determined to + tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. We also felt it, + for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away, we shook hands + cordially and agreed to call hansoms. + </p> + <p> + Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who would + make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, rather than + explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in this + despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hicking heartened + me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine and decoy by which + David should procure his outfit. + </p> + <p> + You must be told who they were. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + </h2> + <p> + They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had been + disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I deferred dining + several minutes that I might have the attendance of this ingrate. His + efforts to reserve the window-table for me were satisfactory, and I used + to allow him privileges, as to suggest dishes; I have given him + information, as that someone had startled me in the reading-room by + slamming a door; I have shown him how I cut my finger with a piece of + string. William was none of your assertive waiters. We could have plotted + a murder safely before him. It was one member who said to him that Saucy + Sarah would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy Sarah had no + chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The excellent fellow (as + I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be smoked from either end. + </p> + <p> + I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the window. I had + to repeat my order “Devilled kidney,” and instead of answering brightly, + “Yes, sir,” as if my selection of devilled kidney was a personal + gratification to him, which is the manner one expects of a waiter, he + gazed eagerly out at the window, and then, starting, asked, “Did you say + devilled kidney, sir?” A few minutes afterward I became aware that someone + was leaning over the back of my chair, and you may conceive my indignation + on discovering that this rude person was William. Let me tell, in the + measured words of one describing a past incident, what next took place. To + get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder. “William,” I + said, “you are not attending to me!” + </p> + <p> + To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his audacious + apology, “Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of something else.” + </p> + <p> + And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from him + passionately, “For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, tell me if you + have seen a little girl looking up at the club-windows.” + </p> + <p> + Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed out the girl + to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the middle of Pall Mall, + regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed to pass over her), nodded her + head significantly three times and then disappeared (probably on a + stretcher). She was the tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, but + seemed to have brought relief to William. “Thank God!” said he fervently, + and in the worst taste. + </p> + <p> + I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. “Bread, + William,” I said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You are not vexed with me, sir?” he had the hardihood to whisper. + </p> + <p> + “It was a liberty,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, but I was beside myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a liberty again.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my wife, sir, she—” + </p> + <p> + So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I felt + that this was the greatest liberty of all. + </p> + <p> + I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes + after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I desired + to be told by William that the signals meant her return to health. He + answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the worst. + </p> + <p> + “Bah, the doctor,” I said in a rage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said William. + </p> + <p> + “What is her confounded ailment?” + </p> + <p> + “She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you see, + sir, she has had a baby-girl lately—” + </p> + <p> + “William, how dare you,” I said, but in the same moment I saw that this + father might be useful to me. “How does your baby sleep, William?” I asked + in a low voice, “how does she wake up? what do you put in her bath?” + </p> + <p> + I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an answer. + “That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means + that the missus is a little better.” + </p> + <p> + “There were three nods to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you live in some low part, William?” + </p> + <p> + The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. “Off Drury + Lane,” he said, flushing, “but it isn't low. And now,” he groaned, “she's + afeared she will die without my being there to hold her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “She should not say such things.” + </p> + <p> + “She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling stronger. But + I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the house in the morning, + for then she looks at me from her bed, and I looks at her from the door—oh, + my God, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “William!” + </p> + <p> + At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him to beg + my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some unsuccessful dish. I + tried to forget his vulgar story in billiards, but he had spoiled my game, + and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another waiter. As I + had the window-seat, however, I could not but see that the little girl was + late, and though this mattered nothing to me and I had finished my dinner, + I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three times but waved her + hat, and I arose, having now finished my dinner. + </p> + <p> + William came stealthily toward me. “Her temperature has gone down, sir,” + he said, rubbing his hands together. + </p> + <p> + “To whom are you referring?” I asked coldly, and retired to the + billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + </p> + <p> + I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his maunderings, but I + observed the girl nightly, and once, instead of nodding, she shook her + head, and that evening I could not get into a pocket. Next evening there + was no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had happened. + But, chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I was surprised to + see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room practically to + ourselves, for though several members sat on chairs holding books in their + hands they were all asleep, and William descended the ladder to tell me + his blasting tale. He had sworn at a member! + </p> + <p> + “I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her so weakly + that—” + </p> + <p> + I stamped my foot. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for speaking of her,” he had the grace to say. “But + Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she came about four + o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of blinded me, sir, and I + stumbled against a member, Mr. B——, and he said, 'Damn you!' + Well, sir, I had but touched him after all, and I was so broken it sort of + stung me to be treated so and I lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'” + </p> + <p> + His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the readers + shuddered in their sleep. + </p> + <p> + “I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until the + committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am willing to go on + my knees to Mr. B——” + </p> + <p> + How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a + week? + </p> + <p> + “For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just fall back + and die.” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid your speaking to me of that woman,” I cried wryly, “unless you + can speak pleasantly,” and I left him to his fate and went off to look for + B——. “What is this story about your swearing at one of the + waiters?” I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “You mean about his swearing at me,” said B——, reddening. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that was it,” I said, “for I could not believe you guilty of + such bad form. The version which reached me was that you swore at each + other, and that he was to be dismissed and you reprimanded.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that?” asked B——, who is a timid man. + </p> + <p> + “I am on the committee,” I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of other + matters, but presently B——, who had been reflecting, said: “Do + you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me, and + I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without my + having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he would not + be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows, which are at the + back of the club. I was looking down at her, but she refrained from + signalling because she could not see William, and irritated by her + stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was. + </p> + <p> + “My,” she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, “I b'lieve you are one + of them!” and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William tells + them of our splendid doings. + </p> + <p> + The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child wanted + to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to indicate + this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall Mall. I gave the + little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club disgusted. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, William,” I said, “Mr. B—— is to inform the + committee that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to + him, so you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + I had to add immediately, “Remember your place, William.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. B—— knows I swore,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman,” I replied stiffly, “cannot remember for many hours what a + waiter has said to him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, but—” + </p> + <p> + To stop him I had to say, “And—ah—William, your wife is + decidedly better. She has eaten the tapioca—all of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you know, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “By an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Irene signed to the window?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you saw her and went out and—” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you, William?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl—” + </p> + <p> + “William.” + </p> + <p> + He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I + seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us + were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so + illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on + Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen + Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a + woful state of relapse on Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?” I asked, as soon as I had + drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + </p> + <p> + “My!” she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass between her and + a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neighbour. + </p> + <p> + I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like nothing + but a dead one till she got the brandy. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, child,” I said, shocked. “You don't know how the dead look.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless yer!” she replied. + </p> + <p> + Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by Irene's + intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous information, as + that William's real name was Mr. Hicking, but that he was known in their + street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff Hicking. That the + street held he should get away from the club before two in the morning, + for his missus needed him more than the club needed him. That William + replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of waiters at + supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for their + marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, and + pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. That what + she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the kid was in another + part of London (in charge of a person called the old woman), because there + was an epidemic in Irene's street. + </p> + <p> + “And what does the doctor say about your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her kid back.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “And if she was took to the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why does not William take her?” + </p> + <p> + “My! And if she drank porty wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks it.” + </p> + <p> + I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't yer going to do it this time?” she demanded with a falling face. + “You done it last time. I tell her you done it”—she pointed to her + friend who was looking wistfully at me—“ain't you to let her see you + doing of it?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but by a + piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my hat to her. So + I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her head in the air and her + neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. These little creatures are really + not without merit. + </p> + <p> + About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a newspaper before + my face lest anyone should see me in company of a waiter and his wife. + William was taking her into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of mine, and + Irene was with us, wearing the most outrageous bonnet. + </p> + <p> + I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her pride in + the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a regrettable scene + when it was brought to her, because “she had been feared it would not know + her again.” I could have told her that they know no one for years had I + not been in terror of Irene, who dandled the child on her knees and talked + to it all the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy than this + Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as “Oo know who gave + me this bonnet?” and answered them herself. “It was the pretty gentleman + there,” and several times I had to affect sleep, because she announced, + “Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered still + more acutely when we reached our destination, where disagreeable + circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a waiter's family. William + knew that I regarded thanks from persons of his class as an outrage, yet + he looked them though he dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down at + the table by my orders than he remembered that I was a member of the club + and jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again and + again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, “How are you now? You don't + feel faint?” and when she said she felt like another woman already, his + face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude from the way she + let the baby pound her that she was stronger than she pretended. + </p> + <p> + I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to say to + William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he announced that + it was time for him to catch a train back to London, at which his wife + paled, I delivered the message. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I said, backing away from him, “the head-waiter asked me to say + that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages will be paid as + usual.” + </p> + <p> + Confound him. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I cried furiously, “go away.” + </p> + <p> + Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be left alone + with me. + </p> + <p> + “William,” I cried in a panic, “stay where you are.” + </p> + <p> + But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were filmy. Her + class are fond of scenes. “If you please, ma'am!” I said imploringly. + </p> + <p> + But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + </p> + <p> + “It can be only the memory of some woman,” said she, “that makes you so + kind to me and mine.” + </p> + <p> + Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I suppose I + really am quite elderly. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know her name, sir,” she said, “that I may mention her + with loving respect in my prayers.” + </p> + <p> + I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. “But she has a + home,” I said, “as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, ma'am, it would be + better worth your while to mention me.” + </p> + <p> + It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the purchase of + the outfits, “one for a boy of six months,” I explained to her, “and one + for a boy of a year,” for the painter had boasted to me of David's rapid + growth. I think she was a little surprised to find that both outfits were + for the same house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity about + the mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat than a + fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her daughter enjoyed + themselves hugely in the shops, from one of which I shall never forget + Irene emerging proudly with a commissionaire, who conducted her under an + umbrella to the cab where I was lying in wait. I think that was the most + celestial walk of Irene's life. + </p> + <p> + I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill-treatment + that they might not look quite new, at which she exclaimed, not being in + my secret, and then to forward them to me. I then sent them to Mary and + rejoiced in my devilish cunning all the evening, but chagrin came in the + morning with a letter from her which showed she knew all, that I was her + Mr. Anon, and that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never so + gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + </p> + <p> + Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her letter at + once and have seldom read it since. No married lady should have indited + such an epistle to a single man. It said, with other things which I + decline to repeat, that I was her good fairy. As a sample of the + deliberate falsehoods in it, I may mention that she said David loved me + already. She hoped that I would come in often to see her husband, who was + very proud of my friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my first + visit to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to know, he + is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she wanted first to + meet me alone, so that she might draw the delicious, respectful romance + out of me, and afterward repeat it to him, with sighs and little peeps at + him over her pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me upon the + paper, but I should not wonder though they were only artful drops of + water. + </p> + <p> + I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any communication + with her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + </h2> + <p> + I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows, + which I so little desire that I have got me into my writing-chair to + combat the charge, but, having sat for an unconscionable time with pen + poised, I am come agitatedly to the fear that there may be something in + it. + </p> + <p> + So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the ardours + of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty doors) for the + beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I seem ever to see this + same man until I am back in those wonderful months which were half of my + life, when, indeed, I know that I was otherwise than I am now; no + whimsical fellow then, for that was one of the possibilities I put to + myself while seeking for the explanation of things, and found to be + inadmissible. Having failed in those days to discover why I was driven + from the garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of some + dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect + unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up glorious + once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is humorously known at + the club as a “confirmed spinster.” I remember him well when his years + told four and twenty; on my soul the proudest subaltern of my + acquaintance, and with the most reason to be proud. There was nothing he + might not do in the future, having already done the biggest thing, this + toddler up club-steps to-day. + </p> + <p> + Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, and most + inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of the ladies who + smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it + seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I forget when I first began to notice + that smile and to be made uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and + in some vague way it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but I + hope I am still your loyal, obedient servant. + </p> + <p> + You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I once had a + fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my smile? I swear I have + not noticed that it was gone till now; I am like one who revisiting his + school feels suddenly for his old knife. I first heard of my smile from + another boy, whose sisters had considered all the smiles they knew and + placed mine on top. My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to mention + the plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. I feel + lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to look for it in my + mirror. + </p> + <p> + I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some other + forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference between that + man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, telling me it was my + one adornment, and taking it from me, so to speak, for a moment to let me + see how she looked in it; she delighted to make sport of me when she was + in a wayward mood, and to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice and + gesture, exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a star + calling to the earth: “See, I will show you how you hobble round,” and + always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to stop her if I dared, and + upon them, when she was most audacious, lay a sweet mist. + </p> + <p> + They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, to tell + her what love is, and she listened with a noble frankness, having, indeed, + the friendliest face for all engaged in this pursuit that can ever have + sat on woman. I have heard ladies call her coquette, not understanding + that she shone softly upon all who entered the lists because, with the + rarest intuition, she foresaw that they must go away broken men and + already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds incurred for love + were dear to her; at every true utterance about love she exulted with + grave approval, or it might be a with a little “ah!” or “oh!” like one + drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been more fair, for she was for + the first comer who could hit the target, which was her heart. + </p> + <p> + She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so + that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty; had she had + no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would still + have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful. + </p> + <p> + And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive her; I + think had there been one it would have proved that there was a flaw in + her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping because all the pretty + things were said and done with, or she was making doleful confessions + about herself, so impulsive and generous and confidential, and so devoid + of humour, that they compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a + looking-glass of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all to + blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back so that + they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his lack of skill to + seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that she was always waiting + tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there was nothing to + forgive, or very little, just the little that makes a dear girl dearer, + and often afterward, I believe, they have laughed fondly when thinking of + her, like boys brought back. You ladies who are everything to your + husbands save a girl from the dream of youth, have you never known that + double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in a reverie and start up, + as if he fancied he were being hailed from far-away? + </p> + <p> + I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her laugh is what + comes first across the years; so high-spirited that she would have wept + like Mary of Scots because she could not lie on the bare plains like the + men. I hear her, but it is only as an echo; I see her, but it is as a + light among distant trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no nearer; she + was only for the boys. There was a month when I could have shown her to + you in all her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from that moment I + understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was never clear to me + again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear heart willing to + give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was so picturesque that + she was the last word of art, but she was as young as if she were the + first woman. The world must have rung with gallant deeds and grown lovely + thoughts for numberless centuries before she could be; she was the child + of all the brave and wistful imaginings of men. She was as mysterious as + night when it fell for the first time upon the earth. She was the thing we + call romance, which lives in the little hut beyond the blue haze of the + pine-woods. + </p> + <p> + No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, her + attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably gracious, her + movements indolently active, her face so candid that you must swear her + every thought lived always in the open. Yet, with it all, she was a wild + thing, alert, suspicious of the lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, more + curious about it than about aught else in the world; her quivering delight + was to see it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome was she + that she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it was closing + round her; she scorned, however her heart might be beating, to run from + her pursuers; she took only the one step backward, which still left her + near them but always out of reach; her head on high now, but her face as + friendly, her manner as gracious as before, she is yours for the catching. + That was ever the unspoken compact between her and the huntsmen. + </p> + <p> + It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, but again + I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought that all this was for + me could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of the gods, but I won + it. I found myself with one foot across the magic circle wherein she + moved, and which none but I had entered; and so, I think, I saw her in + revelation, not as the wild thing they had all conceived her, but as she + really was. I saw no tameless creature, nothing wild or strange. I saw my + sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I brushed aside the haze and + she was truly seen for the first time, she raised her head, like one + caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted eyes. I told her what had + been revealed to me as I looked upon her, and she trembled, knowing she + was at last found, and fain would she have fled away, but that her fear + was less than her gladness. She came to me slowly; no incomprehensible + thing to me now, but transparent as a pool, and so restful to look upon + that she was a bath to the eyes, like banks of moss. + </p> + <p> + Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him who + can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in which she walked, + but I had pierced it and found the woman. I could anticipate her every + thought and gesture, I could have flashed and rippled and mocked for her, + and melted for her and been dear disdain for her. She would forget this + and be suddenly conscious of it as she began to speak, when she gave me a + look with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I was already + waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the blush of the + eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her very + finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I loved even her + naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, which she could not do + without also gnashing her teeth, like a child trying to look fearsome. How + pretty was that gnashing of her teeth! All her tormentings of me turned + suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this exquisite fury, + wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to anyone, while I + wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may be that I wondered + over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + </p> + <p> + It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I brought + her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but then she came + willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly tamed, but he who knows + her will always be able to bring her back. + </p> + <p> + I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know not how it + was, though in the twilight of my life that then began I groped for + reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is that she had ceased to + love me; I had won her love, but I could not keep it. The discovery came + to me slowly, as if I were a most dull-witted man; at first I knew only + that I no longer understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what + she had meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to + puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I had + strayed outside the magic circle. + </p> + <p> + When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief that there + was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me assisted in that poor + pretence. She sought to glide to me with swimming eyes as before, but it + showed only that this caressing movement was still within her compass, but + never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she + touched mine, but no longer could they convey the message. The current was + broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. She could + tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she was scarcely less + anxious than I that I should make her love me again, and, as I have said, + she waited with a wonderful tolerance while I strove futilely to discover + in what I was lacking and to remedy it. And when, at last, she had to + leave me, it was with compassionate cries and little backward flights. + </p> + <p> + The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so altered + by it had I known what was the defect in me through which I let her love + escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than the loss of her. + Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak honestly to you) that I do + not repent me those dallyings in enchanted fields. It may not have been so + always, for I remember a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down in an + oarless boat and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant moans do + not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the waters bring + him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to know that, once + upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from another. + </p> + <p> + I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman playing + with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty one, and I saw the + gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the dear pretty way I can't + forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting for her shoulders, brought the + whole group joyously to the ground. She picked herself up in the old + leisurely manner, lazily active, and looked around her benignantly, like a + cow: our dear wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of children. I + meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the old wound + broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a few poor drops, + which fell because I found that she was even a little sweeter than I had + thought. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. Sporting Reflections + </h2> + <p> + I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear it + would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat's light + keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Mary to her + lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman to her + consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mind when I + dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks, which have + all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject to cold feet, I + have sometimes toyed with it since. + </p> + <p> + Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remain + true to the unattainable she? + </p> + <p> + I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend of mine, + whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her lover died. + It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying to point + the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came another + youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well known to me, and + I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend once more a + matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like one made + young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale daughter + in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she cast rice after + the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chanced upon her in + her room, and she was on her knees in tears before the spirit of the dead + lover. “Forgive me,” she besought him, “for I am old, and life is gray to + friendless girls.” The pardon she wanted was for pretending to her + daughter that women should act thus. + </p> + <p> + I am sure she felt herself soiled. + </p> + <p> + But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty years had + elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like a sack of + returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. + </p> + <p> + “They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopes that + you will find something in them about yourself.” It would have sounded + oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, and something might + have come of it. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood of + the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both back + there. The easiness of it tempted me. + </p> + <p> + Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They all do, + you see. + </p> + <p> + And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost my smile? + </p> + <p> + And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + </p> + <p> + I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + </h2> + <p> + I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, + where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face and + glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always stalked by, + meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me very + hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, but fear I + had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, as, would I not + call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which moment, it + seemed, he was at his best. + </p> + <p> + No, I would not. + </p> + <p> + “He says tick-tack to the clock,” Irene said, trying to snare me. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'” she told me, with a flush of + pride. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer 'tick-tick,'” I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + </p> + <p> + Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, I would + have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait until he could walk, + when it would be more easy to waylay him. However, he was a cautious + little gorbal who, after many threats to rise, always seemed to come to + the conclusion that he might do worse than remain where he was, and when + he had completed his first year I lost patience with him. + </p> + <p> + “When I was his age,” I said to Irene, “I was running about.” I consulted + them casually about this matter at the club, and they had all been running + about at a year old. + </p> + <p> + I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the dilatory boy + to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I would look at him. At + first Mary, to whom the offer was passed on, rejected it with hauteur, but + presently she wavered, and the upshot was that Irene, looking scornful and + anxious, arrived one day with the perambulator. Without casting eyes on + its occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: “In half-an-hour,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, and so on, + but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of a passionately + affectionate farewell to her charge, which was really all directed against + me, and ended with these powerful words: “And if he takes off your socks, + my pretty, may he be blasted for evermore.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably take off her socks,” I said carelessly to this. + </p> + <p> + Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + </p> + <p> + “It is a girl, is it not?” I asked, thus neatly depriving her of coherent + speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round to—to begin, + and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down behind the hood of his + carriage. My plan was to accustom him to his new surroundings before + bursting on the scene myself. + </p> + <p> + I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him wake + naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not said + quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I + should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but he took no notice. I + remember trying to persuade myself that if I never budged till Irene's + return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still + there was no response. Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not + there. + </p> + <p> + I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly noticed a + covert movement somewhere near the middle of the carriage, and heard a low + gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. I stopped dead at this sharp + reminder that I was probably not the only curious person in the room, and + for a long moment we both lay low, after which, I am glad to remember, I + made the first advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged some likely + articles on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of keys, and two + war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these (as something to + fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking (I fear now) a little + like a professor of legerdemain. David was sitting up, and he immediately + fixed his eyes on me. + </p> + <p> + It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to you, for of + course I know really nothing about children, so I shall say only this, + that I thought him very like what Timothy would have been had he ever had + a chance. + </p> + <p> + I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself being + judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed so natural that + I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving to hear him signify that + I would do. I have stood up before other keen judges and deceived them + all, but I made no effort to deceive David; I wanted to, but dared not. + Those unblinking eyes were too new to the world to be hooded by any of its + tricks. In them I saw my true self. They opened for me that pedler's pack + of which I have made so much ado, and I found that it was weighted less + with pretty little sad love-tokens than with ignoble thoughts and deeds + and an unguided life. I looked dejectedly at David, not so much, I think, + because I had such a sorry display for him, as because I feared he would + not have me in his service. I seemed to know that he was making up his + mind once and for all. + </p> + <p> + And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so frightened, but + the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself a fine fellow at once. + It was a long smile, too, opening slowly to its fullest extent (as if to + let me in), and then as slowly shutting. + </p> + <p> + Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or + because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could + do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. This made him slide down + the perambulator, and I saw at once that it was very necessary to replace + him. But never before had I come into such close contact with a child; the + most I had ever done was, when they were held up to me, to shut my eyes + and kiss a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he was eternally + being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it was contrived, and + yet we managed it between us quite easily. His body instinctively assumed + a certain position as I touched him, which compelled my arms to fall into + place, and the thing was done. I felt absurdly pleased, but he was already + considering what he should do next. + </p> + <p> + He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to its being + contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he proposed to + repeat his first performance, but in this I did him an injustice, for, + unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to do the same feat twice; perhaps, + like the conjurors, he knew that the audience were more on the alert the + second time. + </p> + <p> + I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + </p> + <p> + Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say that I felt + uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And what dire thing could + happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but he signed + to me to look sharp, and I removed the sock. The part of him thus revealed + gave David considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a curious thing, that + he seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + </p> + <p> + However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after giving me a + glance which said “Now observe!” he raised his bare foot and ran his mouth + along the toes, like one playing on a barbaric instrument. He then tossed + his foot aside, smiled his long triumphant smile and intimated that it was + now my turn to do something. I thought the best thing I could do would be + to put his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried to do so I discovered + why Irene had warned me so portentously against taking it off. I should + say that she had trouble in socking him every morning. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what to do with + my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do nothing with it myself, put + it under a wine-glass, for instance, and make it turn into a rabbit, which + so many people can do. In the meantime David, occupied with similar + thoughts, very nearly made it disappear altogether, and I was thankful to + be able to pull it back by the chain. + </p> + <p> + “Haw-haw-haw!” + </p> + <p> + Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to me, a + trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, Mary had not + given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said that five and twenty + minutes had passed, and looking out I saw Irene at one end of the street + staring up at my window, and at the other end Mary's husband staring up at + my window, and beneath me Mary staring up at my window. They had all + broken their promise. + </p> + <p> + I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give me + a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I was in despair. Then the + smile came, and I knew that he was teasing me only. He now nodded his head + about six times. + </p> + <p> + This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty that, + contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my arms to him, and + first he shook his head, and then after a long pause (to frighten me), he + nodded it. + </p> + <p> + But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her husband + and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from me, and acting + under an impulse I whipped him into the perambulator and was off with it + without a license down the back staircase. To the Kensington Gardens we + went; it may have been Manitoba we started for, but we arrived at the + Kensington Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated and smartly + carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in the street, to + make sure that I was wearing a hat. + </p> + <p> + I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet made up + his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown suddenly + indifferent to public comment, and my elation increased when I discovered + that I was being pursued. They drew a cordon round me near Margot + Meredith's tree, but I broke through it by a strategic movement to the + south, and was next heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both ends of + this passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped through their + fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. Cowering at St. + Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up the Hump, and when they had + crossed to the Round Pond we paraded gaily in the Broad Walk, not feeling + the tiniest bit sorry for anybody. + </p> + <p> + Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after all, I was + a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until they were the size + of my medals, and then, with the deliberation that distinguishes his + smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw all his forces gathering in his + face, and I had nothing to oppose to them; it was an unarmed man against a + regiment. + </p> + <p> + Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I who had + dropped the letter. + </p> + <p> + I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, for who + else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous manipulation of + the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth form? I alone of boys had + been able to elevate and lower my eyebrows separately; when the one was + climbing my forehead the other descended it, like the two buckets in the + well. + </p> + <p> + Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, and + immediately David checked his forces and considered my unexpected movement + without prejudice. His face remained as it was, his mouth open to emit the + howl if I did not surpass expectation. I saw that, like the fair-minded + boy he has always been, he was giving me my chance, and I worked + feverishly, my chief fear being that, owing to his youth, he might not + know how marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an appeal to the + intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth can do it except + myself. + </p> + <p> + When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with unchanged + face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decided whether + it was funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it I went once + more, till I saw his forces wavering, when I sent my left eyebrow up + almost farther than I could bring it back, and with that I had him, the + smile broke through the clouds. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + </p> + <p> + I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but had not + dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to my annoyance + that I was the centre of a deeply interested gathering of children. There + was, in particular, one vulgar little street-boy— + </p> + <p> + However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon to triumph + gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me down on one of the + garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand resting carelessly on the + perambulator, in imitation of the nurses, it was so pleasant to assume the + air of one who walked with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw Mary + approaching with quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that flight + would have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded toward + me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing that I had + observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + </p> + <p> + I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a visitor at + her house, though never can I forget the shock I got the first time I saw + him strolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he has avoided + it, crossing to the other side when I go that way, and rejoining me + farther on, so I conclude that Mary's husband is painting him. + </p> + <p> + I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and noted + that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat shabbily, gave her + the end of a smile which had been begun for me. It seemed to relieve her, + for what one may call the wild maternal look left her face, and trying to + check little gasps of breath, the result of unseemly running, she signed + to her confederates to remain in the background, and turned curious eyes + on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her words would have + been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth puckered as David's does + before he sets forth upon his smile, and I saw that she thought she had me + in a parley at last. + </p> + <p> + “I could not help being a little anxious,” she said craftily, but I must + own, with some sweetness. + </p> + <p> + I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David—I + cannot understand why the movement was so hasty—and lowered her face + to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, he seized her + face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows up and down with the + other. He failed, and his obvious disappointment in his mother was as + nectar to me. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand what you want, darling,” said she in distress, and + looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he wanted, and let her see + that I understood. Had I been prepared to converse with her, I should have + said elatedly that, had she known what he wanted, still she could not have + done it, though she had practised for twenty years. + </p> + <p> + I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + </p> + <p> + It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most perfect + confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly gave her my back, + but the effect on David was miraculous; he signed to her to go, for he was + engaged for the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great moment I had + strength of character to raise my hat for the third time and walk away, + leaving the child to judge between us. I walked slowly, for I knew I must + give him time to get it out, and I listened eagerly, but that was + unnecessary, for when it did come it was a very roar of anguish. I turned + my head, and saw David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he might + have one last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and nodded + repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, and I walked + on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since relentlessly + pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the boy, expose her to him + in all her vagaries, take him utterly from her and make him mine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + </h2> + <h3> + All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + </h3> + <p> + Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much longer, for + soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it came to him to be up + and doing, and he up and did in the Broad Walk itself, where he would + stand alone most elaborately poised, signing imperiously to the British + public to time him, and looking his most heavenly just before he fell. He + fell with a dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended that this + was his funny way of finishing. + </p> + <p> + That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of the Gold + King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, and on Wednesday + he struck three and went into knickerbockers. For the Kensington Gardens, + you must know, are full of short cuts, familiar to all who play there; and + the shortest leads from the baby in long clothes to the little boy of + three riding on the fence. It is called the Mother's Tragedy. + </p> + <p> + If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of their + own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, in which you + may read the ages of their young. When he is three they are said to wear + the knickerbocker face, and you may take it from me that Mary assumed that + face with a sigh; fain would she have kept her boy a baby longer, but he + insisted on his rights, and I encouraged him that I might notch another + point against her. I was now seeing David once at least every week, his + mother, who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, having + instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, and we + had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever a threatening + shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not improve with + acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, chiefly, I think, because + she now wore a nurse's cap with streamers, of which the little creature + was ludicrously proud. She assumed the airs of an official person, and + always talked as if generations of babies had passed through her hands. + She was also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying disapproval of + my methods that led to many coldnesses and even bickerings between us, + which I now see to have been undignified. I brought the following + accusations against her: + </p> + <p> + That she prated too much about right and wrong. + </p> + <p> + That she was a martinet. + </p> + <p> + That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when she knew + Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I regret having used + this argument, but it was the only one that really damped her. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + </p> + <p> + Of not thinking of his future. + </p> + <p> + Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such things. + </p> + <p> + Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + </p> + <p> + Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, when it + really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my person by a piece + of elastic. + </p> + <p> + To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a pathetic + faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely an + affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I naturally cast about + for similar diversions when it ceased to attract. It lost its hold on + David suddenly, as I was to discover was the fate of all of them; twenty + times would he call for my latest, and exult in it, and the twenty-first + time (and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if wondering what the + man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the great joke was + explained to her, said coldly, “We are not amused,” and, I assure you, it + is a humiliating thing to perform before an infant who intimates, after + giving you ample time to make your points, that he is not amused. I hoped + that when David was able to talk—and not merely to stare at me for + five minutes and then say “hat”—his spoken verdict, however damning, + would be less expressive than his verdict without words, but I was + disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, when he could keep up + such spirited conversations with himself that he had little need for any + of us, promising him to do something exceedingly funny with a box and two + marbles, and after he had watched for a long time he said gravely, “Tell + me when it begins to be funny.” + </p> + <p> + I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, in a dimly + lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young man with a long neck + and a pimply face, who as I entered took a barber's pole from my pocket, + saying at the same time, “Come, come, sir, this will never do.” Whether + because he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, he was the + most depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of the artist's + joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give pleasure to + thousands not caring a dump about it. + </p> + <p> + The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, but the + difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a barber's pole in + the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there always being polite children + hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The young man, + again, had said that anyone would lend me a bottle or a lemon, but though + these were articles on which he seemed ever able to lay his hand, I found + (what I had never noticed before) that there is a curious dearth of them + in the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually carried about with me, and + with its connivance I did some astonishing things with pennies, but even + the penny that costs sixpence is uncertain, and just when you are saying + triumphantly that it will be found in the egg-cup, it may clatter to the + ground, whereon some ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of + fibbing and corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through + clenched teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she understood no + jokes except her own, of which she had the most immoderately high opinion, + and that would have mattered little to me had not David liked them also. + There were times when I could not but think less of the boy, seeing him + rock convulsed over antics of Irene that have been known to every + nursemaid since the year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give me + the ecstatic look that meant, “Irene is really very entertaining, isn't + she?” + </p> + <p> + We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous fairness, and I + admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her gutta-percha tooth. In + earlier days one of her front teeth, as she told me, had fallen out, but + instead of then parting with it, the resourceful child had hammered it in + again with a hair-brush, which she offered to show me, with the dents on + it. This tooth, having in time passed away, its place was supplied by one + of gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when she + sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign that the cold + was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the room she knew she was in + for something notable. Irene's tooth was very favourably known in the + Gardens, where the perambulators used to gather round her to hear whether + it had been doing anything to-day, and I would not have grudged David his + proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that Irene's one poor + little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was without intellectual + merit. I have sometimes stalked away from him, intimating that if his + regard was to be got so cheaply I begged to retire from the competition, + but the Gardens are the pleasantest club in London, and I soon returned. + How I scoured the Gardens looking for him, and how skilful I became at + picking him out far away among the trees, though other mothers imitated + the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's indignation. I also cut Irene's + wings (so to speak) by taking her to a dentist. + </p> + <p> + And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as + receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want at + the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets, + without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching + home—a tin-soldier, or a pistol—when I put it on my + mantle-shelf and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I + had been over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some + time David up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I + favour other dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, + looking very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was + David's first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + </p> + <p> + Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace at + the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of which + David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the Round Pond + to persons coming from the north. + </p> + <p> + You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty. When + next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at first she + bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she burst into + tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had I lifted my + hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now learned to my + surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our tiffs, but I have + never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. I also made her + promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, saying I was taking + my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I tell you, Irene has one + of the prettiest and most touching little bows imaginable; it is half to + the side (if I may so express myself), which has always been my favourite + bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by watching Mary. + </p> + <p> + I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I + look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that + was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms, and + even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that until + he was three years old I sought merely to amuse him. God forgive me, but I + had only one day a week in which to capture him, and I was very raw at the + business. + </p> + <p> + I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, but + really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with children I + learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved almost more + profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was this little mother + that she had always room near her for one more, and often have I seen her + in the Gardens, the centre of a dozen mites who gazed awestruck at her + while she told them severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. They + were children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but they + believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little ladies and + gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these romantic creatures keep + themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait till they come to a gate, the + more they admired them, though their faces showed how profoundly they felt + that to be little ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You can't think + what hopeless little faces they were. + </p> + <p> + Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do puppies care + only for play? That wistful look, which the merriest of them sometimes + wear, I wonder whether it means that they would like to hear about the + good puppies? + </p> + <p> + As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising the + telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring feats, while + Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has any other fairy-tale + been told in my hearing. It was the prettiest of them all, and was recited + by the heroine. + </p> + <p> + “Why were the king and queen not at home?” David would ask her + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Irene, thinking it out, “they was away buying the + victuals.” + </p> + <p> + She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David thought it + was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and when she came to its + great moments her little bosom heaved. Never shall I forget the + concentrated scorn with which the prince said to the sisters, “Neither of + you ain't the one what wore the glass slipper.” + </p> + <p> + “And then—and then—and then—,” said Irene, not + artistically to increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—tell me quick,” cried David, though he knew the tale by + heart. + </p> + <p> + “She sits down like,” said Irene, trembling in second-sight, “and she + tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, + he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true love, Cinderella, what + now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'” + </p> + <p> + Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the grandees of + the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. “Her, as was only a kitchen + drudge,” she would say in a strange soft voice and with shining eyes, “but + was true and faithful in word and deed, such was her reward.” + </p> + <p> + I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and touched + Irene with her wand, David would have been interested rather than + astonished. As for myself, I believe I have surprised this little girl's + secret. She knows there are no fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes + that if she is always true and faithful she may some day turn into a lady + in word and deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + </p> + <p> + It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an amount of + heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in this sad London of + ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Good luck to you, Irene. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + </h2> + <p> + You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow our + adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens, as they + now became known to David. They are in London, where the King lives, and + you go to them every day unless you are looking decidedly flushed, but no + one has ever been in the whole of the Gardens, because it is so soon time + to turn back. The reason it is soon time to turn back is that you sleep + from twelve to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep from + twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + </p> + <p> + The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of omnibuses, + over which Irene has such authority that if she holds up her finger to any + one of them it stops immediately. She then crosses with you in safety to + the other side. There are more gates to the Gardens than one gate, but + that is the one you go in at, and before you go in you speak to the lady + with the balloons, who sits just outside. This is as near to being inside + as she may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold of the + railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she would be + flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are always tugging at + her, and the strain has given her quite a red face. Once she was a new + one, because the old one had let go, and David was very sorry for the old + one, but as she did let go, he wished he had been there to see. + </p> + <p> + The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of + trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there, for + the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden to + mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend, because + they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves contemptuously + called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key to the manners + and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when I tell you that + cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel Fig climbs over the + fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel Grey, of whom I shall + tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate. She was the only really + celebrated Fig. + </p> + <p> + We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other + walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began + little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the + other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted him very + much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a perambulator. In + the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth knowing, and there is + usually a grown-up with them to prevent their going on the damp grass, and + to make them stand disgraced at the corner of a seat if they have been + mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish is to behave like a girl, + whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or simpering with your thumb in + your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, but to be mad-dog is to kick out + at everything, and there is some satisfaction in that. + </p> + <p> + If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad + Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply + wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called + Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has been + a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the walk + is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is no more + awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, who had + been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to appear in + the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in the little + wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him knickerbockers + with pockets. + </p> + <p> + You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they are + not really manly, and they make you look the other way, at the Big Penny + and the Baby's Palace. She was the most celebrated baby of the Gardens, + and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, so people rang + the bell, and up she got out of her bed, though it was past six o'clock, + and she lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, and then they + all cried with great rejoicings, “Hail, Queen of England!” What puzzled + David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. The Big Penny is + a statue about her. + </p> + <p> + Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk where all + the big races are run, and even though you had no intention of running you + do run when you come to the Hump, it is such a fascinating, slide-down + kind of place. Often you stop when you have run about half-way down it, + and then you are lost, but there is another little wooden house near here, + called the Lost House, and so you tell the man that you are lost and then + he finds you. It is glorious fun racing down the Hump, but you can't do it + on windy days because then you are not there, but the fallen leaves do it + instead of you. There is almost nothing that has such a keen sense of fun + as a fallen leaf. + </p> + <p> + From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel Grey, + the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always two nurses with + her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a long time she was a + pattern-child who always coughed off the table and said, “How do you do?” + to the other Figs, and the only game she played at was flinging a ball + gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one day she + tired of it all and went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she really was + mad-dog, she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her tongue east, + west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a puddle and danced + on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, after which she + climbed the fence and had a series of incredible adventures, one of the + least of which was that she kicked off both her boots. At last she came to + the gate that is now called after her, out of which she ran into streets + David and I have never been in though we have heard them roaring, and + still she ran on and would never again have been heard of had not her + mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. It all happened, I should + say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey whom David knows. + </p> + <p> + Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, which is + so full of perambulators that you could cross from side to side stepping + on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. From this walk a passage + called Bunting's Thumb, because it is that length, leads into Picnic + Street, where there are real kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into your + mug as you are drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, and the + blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + </p> + <p> + Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm the Bold + fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let her put her arm + round his neck in public because she was a widow, but he was also partial + to adventures and liked to play with a chimney-sweep who had killed a good + many bears. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day when they were playing + near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have been drowned had not Sooty + dived in and rescued him, and the water had washed Sooty clean and he now + stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So Malcolm would not let his + mother put her arm round his neck any more. + </p> + <p> + Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and + frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is + scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he is + out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are + wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something else. + The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which is real + cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a racquet and the + governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when you are watching + their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them. Nevertheless, there + was a very disagreeable incident one day when some forward girls + challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called Angela Clare + sent down so many yorkers that—However, instead of telling you the + result of that regrettable match I shall pass on hurriedly to the Round + Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the Gardens going. + </p> + <p> + It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when you + are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good all the + time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good in the Broad + Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason is that you + forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that you may as well be + wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, such big boats + that they bring them in barrows and sometimes in perambulators, and then + the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children in the Gardens are these who + had to walk too soon because their father needed the perambulator. + </p> + <p> + You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the end + your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the first day is + splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is splendid, but + soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest craft that slips her + moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a stick-boat, because she is + rather like a stick until she is in the water and you are holding the + string. Then as you walk round, pulling her, you see little men running + about her deck, and sails rise magically and catch the breeze, and you put + in on dirty nights at snug harbours which are unknown to the lordly + yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again your rakish craft noses for the + wind, whales spout, you glide over buried cities, and have brushes with + pirates and cast anchor on coral isles. You are a solitary boy while all + this is taking place, for two boys together cannot adventure far upon the + Round Pond, and though you may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, + giving orders and executing them with dispatch, you know not, when it is + time to go home, where you have been or what swelled your sails; your + treasure-trove is all locked away in your hold, so to speak, which will be + opened, perhaps, by another little boy many years afterward. + </p> + <p> + But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return to this + haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to sail it? Oh, no. It + is the stick-boat that is freighted with memories. The yachts are toys, + their owner a fresh-water mariner, they can cross and recross a pond only + while the stick-boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your wands, who think + we are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only accidents of this + place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the ducks the real + business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + </p> + <p> + Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are + ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are made by men with + their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide at one spot and at another + so narrow that you can stand astride them. They are called Paths that have + Made Themselves, and David did wish he could see them doing it. But, like + all the most wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, it is done, we + concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have also decided that + the paths make themselves because it is their only chance of getting to + the Round Pond. + </p> + <p> + One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get their + hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, I am told, he + said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary has never been quite + the same bright creature since, so he despises the sheep as they run from + their shearer and calls out tauntingly, “Cowardy, cowardy custard!” But + when the man grips them between his legs David shakes a fist at him for + using such big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man turns + back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look suddenly like + ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are so frightened by the + shearing that it makes them quite white and thin, and as soon as they are + set free they begin to nibble the grass at once, quite anxiously, as if + they feared that they would never be worth eating. David wonders whether + they know each other, now that they are so different, and if it makes them + fight with the wrong ones. They are great fighters, and thus so unlike + country sheep that every year they give Porthos a shock. He can make a + field of country sheep fly by merely announcing his approach, but these + town sheep come toward him with no promise of gentle entertainment, and + then a light from last year breaks upon Porthos. He cannot with dignity + retreat, but he stops and looks about him as if lost in admiration of the + scenery, and presently he strolls away with a fine indifference and a + glint at me from the corner of his eye. + </p> + <p> + The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a + drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the edge you can see + the trees all growing upside down, and they say that at night there are + also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter Pan sees them when he is sailing + across the lake in the Thrush's Nest. A small part only of the Serpentine + is in the Gardens, for soon it passes beneath a bridge to far away where + the island is on which all the birds are born that become baby boys and + girls. No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is only half human), + can land on the island, but you may write what you want (boy or girl, dark + or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist it into the shape of a boat + and slip it into the water, and it reaches Peter Pan's island after dark. + </p> + <p> + We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence that we + can go to so many of the places in one day. I should have had to be + carrying David long ago and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford. + That was what we called him, because he always talked to us of a lovely + place called Salford where he had been born. He was a crab-apple of an old + gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat trying to + fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of Salford, and + when we had known him for a year or more we actually did meet another aged + solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in Salford. He was meek and + timid and carried his address inside his hat, and whatever part of London + he was in search of he always went to the General Post-office first as a + starting-point. Him we carried in triumph to our other friend, with the + story of that Saturday to Monday, and never shall I forget the gloating + joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at him. They have been cronies ever + since, and I notice that Mr. Salford, who naturally does most of the + talking, keeps tight grip of the other old man's coat. + </p> + <p> + The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery and + the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's Cemetery + is, as Porthos is always with us. The nest is very sad. It is quite white, + and the way we found it was wonderful. We were having another look among + the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead of the ball we found + a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing four eggs, with + scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we think they must + have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones inside. Every day + we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest, taking care that no + cruel boy should see us, and we dropped crumbs, and soon the bird knew us + as friends, and sat in the nest looking at us kindly with her shoulders + hunched up. But one day when we went, there were only two eggs in the + nest, and the next time there were none. The saddest part of it was that + the poor little chaffinch fluttered about the bushes, looking so + reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we had done it, and though + David tried to explain to her, it was so long since he had spoken the bird + language that I fear she did not understand. He and I left the Gardens + that day with our knuckles in our eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. Peter Pan + </h2> + <p> + If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a + little girl she will say, “Why, of course, I did, child,” and if you ask + her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, “What a foolish + question to ask; certainly he did.” Then if you ask your grandmother + whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she also says, “Why, + of course, I did, child,” but if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in + those days, she says she never heard of his having a goat. Perhaps she has + forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and calls you Mildred, + which is your mother's name. Still, she could hardly forget such an + important thing as the goat. Therefore there was no goat when your + grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in telling the story of + Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people do) is as silly as to + put on your jacket before your vest. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really + always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age is one + week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a birthday, nor + is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The reason is that + he escaped from being a human when he was seven days' old; he escaped by + the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + </p> + <p> + If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows how + completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard this + story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, but I + told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, and when + he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly remembered a + youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that memory came + others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as soon as his + mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up the + chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would press + their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before they were + human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few weeks, and + very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So David tells + me. + </p> + <p> + I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: First, + I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding being that + it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his additions, + and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more his story or + mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and + most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can + be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs + of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David's, recalled + by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing on the + ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the Kensington + Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that he was now a + little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the houses to the + Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, but the place + itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we were as + dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Pan that + evening. + </p> + <p> + He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace and the + Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. He + was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he was + a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and when + he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he missed it + was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, of course, + a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past Lock-out Time, + for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy to notice him; they + were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, drawing water, and so + on, and the sight of the water-pails made him thirsty, so he flew over to + the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, and dipped his beak in the + pond; he thought it was his beak, but, of course, it was only his nose, + and, therefore, very little water came up, and that not so refreshing as + usual, so next he tried a puddle, and he fell flop into it. When a real + bird falls in flop, he spreads out his feathers and pecks them dry, but + Peter could not remember what was the thing to do, and he decided, rather + sulkily, to go to sleep on the weeping beech in the Baby Walk. + </p> + <p> + At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch, but + presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long before + morning, shivering, and saying to himself, “I never was out in such a cold + night;” he had really been out in colder nights when he was a bird, but, + of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird is a cold + night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely uncomfortable, as + if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made him look round + sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There was something he + wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted it, he could not think + what it was. What he wanted so much was his mother to blow his nose, but + that never struck him, so he decided to appeal to the fairies for + enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal. + </p> + <p> + There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms + round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The fairies + have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil answer to a + civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran away the moment + they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair, reading a + postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he heard Peter's + voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip. + </p> + <p> + To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled from + him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed away, + leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail upside down + and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies were + running this away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was afraid, + lights were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds of Queen + Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the royal guard had + been called out. A regiment of Lancers came charging down the Broad Walk, + armed with holly-leaves, with which they jog the enemy horribly in + passing. Peter heard the little people crying everywhere that there was a + human in the Gardens after Lock-out Time, but he never thought for a + moment that he was the human. He was feeling stuffier and stuffier, and + more and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his nose, but he + pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid creatures ran from + him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up the Hump, turned + swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that they saw him there. + </p> + <p> + Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but now he + remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the weeping beech had + flown away when he alighted on it, and though that had not troubled him at + the time, he saw its meaning now. Every living thing was shunning him. + Poor little Peter Pan, he sat down and cried, and even then he did not + know that, for a bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a blessing + that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith in his power + to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to + be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply that + they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings. + </p> + <p> + Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the Serpentine, for + the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, and there are stakes + round it, standing up in the water, on each of which a bird-sentinel sits + by day and night. It was to the island that Peter now flew to put his + strange case before old Solomon Caw, and he alighted on it with relief, + much heartened to find himself at last at home, as the birds call the + island. All of them were asleep, including the sentinels, except Solomon, + who was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly to Peter's + adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me,” Solomon said, and with + staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at the sleeping + birds. Not one of them wore anything. + </p> + <p> + “How many of your toes are thumbs?” said Solomon a little cruelly, and + Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes were fingers. The shock + was so great that it drove away his cold. + </p> + <p> + “Ruffle your feathers,” said that grim old Solomon, and Peter tried most + desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he rose up, + quaking, and for the first time since he stood on the window-ledge, he + remembered a lady who had been very fond of him. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall go back to mother,” he said timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + </p> + <p> + But Peter hesitated. “Why don't you go?” the old one asked politely. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Peter huskily, “I suppose I can still fly?” + </p> + <p> + You see, he had lost faith. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little half-and-half,” said Solomon, who was not really + hard-hearted, “you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy + days. You must live here on the island always.” + </p> + <p> + “And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?” Peter asked tragically. + </p> + <p> + “How could you get across?” said Solomon. He promised very kindly, + however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by + one of such an awkward shape. + </p> + <p> + “Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor exactly a bird?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I be?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be a Betwixt-and-Between,” Solomon said, and certainly he was a + wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + </p> + <p> + The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them + every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds that + were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at once, + then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out of other + eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when they tired + of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break their shells + a day before the right time by whispering to them that now was their + chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands gathered + round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch the + peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts they + flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the mouth. All + his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's orders by the + birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they thought very silly of + him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. Thus, when you cry out, + “Greedy! Greedy!” to the bird that flies away with the big crust, you know + now that you ought not to do this, for he is very likely taking it to + Peter Pan. + </p> + <p> + Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him + for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured, he + could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left of + it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he was + cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason was + that Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many of the bird ways. To + be easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing something, + and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of vast importance. + Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build their nests; soon + he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly as well as a + blackbird, though never did he satisfy the finches, and he made nice + little water-troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the young ones + with his fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and knew an + east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the grass + growing and hear the insects walking about inside the tree-trunks. But the + best thing Solomon had done was to teach him to have a glad heart. All + birds have glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as they were the + only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it was easy to him to teach Peter + how to have one. + </p> + <p> + Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, just as + the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he needed an instrument, + so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to sit by the shore of the island + of an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the ripple of the + water, and catching handfuls of the shine of the moon, and he put them all + in his pipe and played them so beautifully that even the birds were + deceived, and they would say to each other, “Was that a fish leaping in + the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his pipe?” and sometimes + he played the birth of birds, and then the mothers would turn round in + their nests to see whether they had laid an egg. If you are a child of the + Gardens you must know the chestnut-tree near the bridge, which comes out + in flower first of all the chestnuts, but perhaps you have not heard why + this tree leads the way. It is because Peter wearies for summer and plays + that it has come, and the chestnut being so near, hears him and is + cheated. + </p> + <p> + But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he sometimes + fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad also, and the reason + of all this sadness was that he could not reach the Gardens, though he + could see them through the arch of the bridge. He knew he could never be a + real human again, and scarcely wanted to be one, but oh, how he longed to + play as other children play, and of course there is no such lovely place + to play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him news of how boys and + girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was that he + could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no one on the island + knew the way except the ducks, and they are so stupid. They were quite + willing to teach him, but all they could say about it was, “You sit down + on the top of the water in this way, and then you kick out like that.” + Peter tried it often, but always before he could kick out he sank. What he + really needed to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, and + they said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as that. + Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give them all his + day's food and then ask them how they sat on the water, but as soon as he + had no more to give them the hateful things hissed at him and sailed away. + </p> + <p> + Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the Gardens. A + wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, floated high over the + island and then tumbled, rolling over and over after the manner of a bird + that has broken its wing. Peter was so frightened that he hid, but the + birds told him it was only a kite, and what a kite is, and that it must + have tugged its string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After that + they laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it so much + that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was pathetic and + pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it had belonged to a real + boy. + </p> + <p> + To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt grateful + to him at this time because he had nursed a number of fledglings through + the German measles, and they offered to show him how birds fly a kite. So + six of them took the end of the string in their beaks and flew away with + it; and to his amazement it flew after them and went even higher than + they. + </p> + <p> + Peter screamed out, “Do it again!” and with great good-nature they did it + several times, and always instead of thanking them he cried, “Do it + again!” which shows that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was + to be a boy. + </p> + <p> + At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he begged + them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and now a hundred + flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the tail, meaning to drop off + when he was over the Gardens. But the kite broke to pieces in the air, and + he would have drowned in the Serpentine had he not caught hold of two + indignant swans and made them carry him to the island. After this the + birds said that they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of Shelley's + boat, as I am now to tell you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. The Thrush's Nest + </h2> + <p> + Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect to + be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people + who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had all that and + five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, he + made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the Serpentine. + </p> + <p> + It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to Solomon + Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a message from a + lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her have a good one. + They always ask for the best one he has, and if he likes the letter he + sends one from Class A; but if it ruffles him he sends very funny ones + indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at another time he sends a + nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to + leave it all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he will + see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to send + another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little boy who wants a + baby-sister, always take pains to write your address clearly. You can't + think what a lot of babies Solomon has sent to the wrong house. + </p> + <p> + Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took + counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with + their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided that + it came from some greedy person who wanted five. They thought this because + there was a large five printed on it. “Preposterous!” cried Solomon in a + rage, and he presented it to Peter; anything useless which drifted upon + the island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + </p> + <p> + But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what it was + at once, having been very observant during the week when he was an + ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he could surely at last + contrive to reach the Gardens, and he considered all the possible ways, + and decided (wisely, I think) to choose the best way. But, first, he had + to tell the birds of the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were too + honest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they cast such + black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, that he + flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed with his + head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon was on your + side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so he followed + him and tried to hearten him. + </p> + <p> + Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's good + will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office + all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his + green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs + which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his + stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had + been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a + hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper + and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he + would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He + cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick. + </p> + <p> + This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted + together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently why + thrushes only were invited. + </p> + <p> + The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did most + of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people talked. + He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the superior + ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this put them into + good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the quarrels between + birds are about the best way of building nests. Other birds, said Solomon, + omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a result they did not hold + water. Here he cocked his head as if he had used an unanswerable argument; + but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come to the meeting uninvited, and + she squeaked out, “We don't build nests to hold water, but to hold eggs,” + and then the thrushes stopped cheering, and Solomon was so perplexed that + he took several sips of water. + </p> + <p> + “Consider,” he said at last, “how warm the mud makes the nest.” + </p> + <p> + “Consider,” cried Mrs. Finch, “that when water gets into the nest it + remains there and your little ones are drowned.” + </p> + <p> + The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in reply + to this, but again he was perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Try another drink,” suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her name, and + all Kates are saucy. + </p> + <p> + Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. “If,” said he, “a + finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and breaks to pieces, + but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup of a swan's back.” + </p> + <p> + How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their nests with + mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, “We don't place our nests on the + Serpentine,” they did what they should have done at first: chased her from + the meeting. After this it was most orderly. What they had been brought + together to hear, said Solomon, was this: their young friend, Peter Pan, + as they well knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to the Gardens, + and he now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + </p> + <p> + At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble for his + scheme. + </p> + <p> + Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the cumbrous + boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be simply a thrush's nest + large enough to hold Peter. + </p> + <p> + But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. “We are very busy + people,” they grumbled, “and this would be a big job.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Solomon, “and, of course, Peter would not allow you to + work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in comfortable + circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you have never been paid + before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that you shall all be paid sixpence + a day.” + </p> + <p> + Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun the + celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business fell into + arrears. It was the time of year when they should have been pairing, but + not a thrush's nest was built except this big one, and so Solomon soon ran + short of thrushes with which to supply the demand from the mainland. The + stout, rather greedy children, who look so well in perambulators but get + puffed easily when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and ladies + often ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He sent over + to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to lay their eggs + in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the ladies and swore they + were all thrushes! It was known afterward on the island as the Sparrows' + Year, and so, when you meet, as you doubtless sometimes do, grown-up + people who puff and blow as if they thought themselves bigger than they + are, very likely they belong to that year. You ask them. + </p> + <p> + Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. They stood + in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper sixpences + out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and then each + bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got sixpence. It must + have been a fine sight. + </p> + <p> + And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the + deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great + thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept by + its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was + lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps in + his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it + is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a + kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, + being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls + are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which + came off the thrushes while they were building. + </p> + <p> + The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not + balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the + water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that + Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other in + dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a sail, + and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had + fashioned out of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a + night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full, and + all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis Pretty + would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew not why, + he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that moment his eyes + were pinned to the west. + </p> + <p> + He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with them + to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens beckoning to him + beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face was flushed, but he + never looked back; there was an exultation in his little breast that drove + out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who have + sailed westward to meet the Unknown? + </p> + <p> + At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the + place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of the + sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze, to his + no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was + drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the + dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown + and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which + bore him westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke + against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the bridge and + came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the delectable Gardens. + But having tried to cast anchor, which was a stone at the end of a piece + of the kite-string, he found no bottom, and was fain to hold off, seeking + for moorage, and, feeling his way, he buffeted against a sunken reef that + cast him overboard by the greatness of the shock, and he was near to being + drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There now arose a mighty + storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he had never heard the + like, and he was tossed this way and that, and his hands so numbed with + the cold that he could not close them. Having escaped the danger of which, + he was mercifully carried into a small bay, where his boat rode at peace. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark, + he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest his + landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past + Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and also + a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in the Gardens, + and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + </p> + <p> + Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an + ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be their + friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no temper to + draw off therefrom, and he warned them if they sought to mischief him to + stand to their harms. + </p> + <p> + So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with + intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women, and + it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's + night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that their + laps were too small, the which I cannot explain, except by saying that + such is the way of women. The men-fairies now sheathed their weapons on + observing the behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence they set + great store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who conferred upon + him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and henceforth Peter + could go whither he chose, and the fairies had orders to put him in + comfort. + </p> + <p> + Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the + antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But Peter + never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under the + bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should see him + hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in the Thrush's + Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to paddle. I shall + tell you presently how he got his paddle. + </p> + <p> + Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back to + the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all that), + but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real children + play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic things about + him that he often plays quite wrongly. + </p> + <p> + You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the + fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know nothing, + and though the birds pretended that they could tell him a great deal, when + the time for telling came, it was wonderful how little they really knew. + They told him the truth about hide-and-seek, and he often plays it by + himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to him + what it is that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night the + ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number of + pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and say that + cake is not what it was in their young days. + </p> + <p> + So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played ships at + the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had found on the + grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he wondered what you play + at with them, and decided that you play at pretending they are boats. This + hoop always sank at once, but he waded in for it, and sometimes he dragged + it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was quite proud to think + that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + </p> + <p> + Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for sitting + in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get out of it. Also he + found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the Hump, quite as if it was + having a game by itself, and he caught it after an exciting chase. But he + thought it was a ball, and Jenny Wren had told him that boys kick balls, + so he kicked it; and after that he could not find it anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. It was + under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's Winter Palace + (which is within the circle of the seven Spanish chestnuts), and Peter + approached it warily, for the birds had never mentioned such things to + him. Lest it was alive, he addressed it politely, and then, as it gave no + answer, he went nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little push, + and it ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after all; but, + as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched out his hand to + pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and he was so alarmed that he + leapt the railing and scudded away to his boat. You must not think, + however, that he was a coward, for he came back next night with a crust in + one hand and a stick in the other, but the perambulator had gone, and he + never saw another one. I have promised to tell you also about his paddle. + It was a child's spade which he had found near St. Govor's Well, and he + thought it was a paddle. + </p> + <p> + Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think it rather + silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must pity him now and + then, but to pity him all the time would be impertinence. He thought he + had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you have it is + almost quite as good as really to have it. He played without ceasing, + while you often waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He could be + neither of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do you think + he is to be pitied for that? + </p> + <p> + Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, as you + are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a spinning-top, from + sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound leaping the fences of the + Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + </p> + <p> + And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at night write + to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the Gardens, but it is + really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he had no mother—at least, + what use was she to him? You can be sorry for him for that, but don't be + too sorry, for the next thing I mean to tell you is how he revisited her. + It was the fairies who gave him the chance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. Lock-Out Time + </h2> + <p> + It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost the + only thing known for certain is that there are fairies wherever there are + children. Long ago children were forbidden the Gardens, and at that time + there was not a fairy in the place; then the children were admitted, and + the fairies came trooping in that very evening. They can't resist + following the children, but you seldom see them, partly because they live + in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not allowed to go, and + also partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit cunning after + Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + </p> + <p> + When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember a + good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you can't + write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children who + declared that they had never once seen a fairy. Very likely if they said + this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a fairy all + the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended to be + something else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually pretend to + be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, and there are so + many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, that a flower is the + thing least likely to attract attention. They dress exactly like flowers, + and change with the seasons, putting on white when lilies are in and blue + for blue-bells, and so on. They like crocus and hyacinth time best of all, + as they are partial to a bit of colour, but tulips (except white ones, + which are the fairy-cradles) they consider garish, and they sometimes put + off dressing like tulips for days, so that the beginning of the tulip + weeks is almost the best time to catch them. + </p> + <p> + When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty lively, but if + you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stand quite still, + pretending to be flowers. Then, after you have passed without knowing that + they were fairies, they rush home and tell their mothers they have had + such an adventure. The Fairy Basin, you remember, is all covered with + ground-ivy (from which they make their castor-oil), with flowers growing + in it here and there. Most of them really are flowers, but some of them + are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good plan is to walk by + looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. Another good plan, + which David and I sometimes follow, is to stare them down. After a long + time they can't help winking, and then you know for certain that they are + fairies. + </p> + <p> + There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a famous + gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. Once twenty-four + of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girls' school out for + a walk with the governess, and all wearing hyacinth gowns, when she + suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they all stood still on an + empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. Unfortunately, what the governess + had heard was two gardeners coming to plant new flowers in that very bed. + They were wheeling a handcart with the flowers in it, and were quite + surprised to find the bed occupied. “Pity to lift them hyacinths,” said + the one man. “Duke's orders,” replied the other, and, having emptied the + cart, they dug up the boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things + in it in five rows. Of course, neither the governess nor the girls dare + let on that they were fairies, so they were carted far away to a + potting-shed, out of which they escaped in the night without their shoes, + but there was a great row about it among the parents, and the school was + ruined. + </p> + <p> + As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they are the + exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by day but you can't + see them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you can't + see them by day, for they are the colour of night, and I never heard of + anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not mean that + they are black, for night has its colours just as day has, but ever so + much brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours with a light + behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured glasses, and is + quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but the queen sometimes + complains because the common people will peep in to see what she is doing. + They are very inquisitive folk, and press quite hard against the glass, + and that is why their noses are mostly snubby. The streets are miles long + and very twisty, and have paths on each side made of bright worsted. The + birds used to steal the worsted for their nests, but a policeman has been + appointed to hold on at the other end. + </p> + <p> + One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they never + do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first time, his + laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping about. That + was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, you know, as if + they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they are + doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are frightfully + ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have a postman, but + he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, and though they + have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the youngest child + being chief person is always elected mistress, and when she has called the + roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back. It is a very + noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest is always chief + person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and children remember + this, and think it must be so among humans also, and that is why they are + often made uneasy when they come upon their mother furtively putting new + frills on the basinette. + </p> + <p> + You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all sorts of + things that your mother and her nurse want her not to do: to stand up at + sitting-down time, and to sit down at standing-up time, for instance, or + to wake up when she should fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when she + is wearing her best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down to + naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as she has + seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, and it takes + about two years to get her into the human ways. Her fits of passion, which + are awful to behold, and are usually called teething, are no such thing; + they are her natural exasperation, because we don't understand her, though + she is talking an intelligible language. She is talking fairy. The reason + mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, before other people know, + as that “Guch” means “Give it to me at once,” while “Wa” is “Why do you + wear such a funny hat?” is because, mixing so much with babies, they have + picked up a little of the fairy language. + </p> + <p> + Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with his + hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of their + phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He had heard + them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I suggested to him that + perhaps it is really bird language he is remembering, he says not, for + these phrases are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of + nothing but nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used to + go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the different + nests and saying, “Not my colour, my dear,” and “How would that do with a + soft lining?” and “But will it wear?” and “What hideous trimming!” and so + on. + </p> + <p> + The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first things + the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry when you + do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what is called a + fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the grass. It is + not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing round and round. + Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and these are fairy + chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. The chairs and the + rings are the only tell-tale marks these little people leave behind them, + and they would remove even these were they not so fond of dancing that + they toe it till the very moment of the opening of the gates. David and I + once found a fairy-ring quite warm. + </p> + <p> + But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes + place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to + close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the board + on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at six-thirty + for instance, instead of at seven. This enables them to get begun half an + hour earlier. + </p> + <p> + If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the famous + Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, hundreds of lovely + fairies hastening to the ball, the married ones wearing their + wedding-rings round their waists, the gentlemen, all in uniform, holding + up the ladies' trains, and linkmen running in front carrying winter + cherries, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put on + their silver slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers + streaming up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because + they can lend a pin, the supper-table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, + and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on + which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time. + </p> + <p> + The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is made of + chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is this: The men, scores + of them, climb up the trees and shake the branches, and the blossom falls + like snow. Then the lady servants sweep it together by whisking their + skirts until it is exactly like a table-cloth, and that is how they get + their table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, blackthorn + wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen pours out, but the + bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to pour out. There is bread + and butter to begin with, of the size of a threepenny bit; and cakes to + end with, and they are so small that they have no crumbs. The fairies sit + round on mushrooms, and at first they are very well-behaved and always + cough off the table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so + well-behaved and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got from + the roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the + table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their tongues. When the + Queen sees them doing this she signs to the servants to wash up and put + away, and then everybody adjourns to the dance, the Queen walking in front + while the Lord Chamberlain walks behind her, carrying two little pots, one + of which contains the juice of wall-flower and the other the juice of + Solomon's Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers who fall + to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for bruises. They + bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster they foot it + till they fall down in fits. For, as you know without my telling you, + Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He sits in the middle of the ring, + and they would never dream of having a smart dance nowadays without him. + “P. P.” is written on the corner of the invitation-cards sent out by all + really good families. They are grateful little people, too, and at the + princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their second birthday + and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish of his heart. + </p> + <p> + The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, and then + said that for playing so beautifully she would give him the wish of his + heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to hear what was the wish of his + heart, but for a long time he hesitated, not being certain what it was + himself. + </p> + <p> + “If I chose to go back to mother,” he asked at last, “could you give me + that wish?” + </p> + <p> + Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother they + should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose contemptuously and + said, “Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that quite a little wish?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “As little as this,” the Queen answered, putting her hands near each + other. + </p> + <p> + “What size is a big wish?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome length. + </p> + <p> + Then Peter reflected and said, “Well, then, I think I shall have two + little wishes instead of one big one.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather shocked + them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his mother, but with + the right to return to the Gardens if he found her disappointing. His + second wish he would hold in reserve. + </p> + <p> + They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + </p> + <p> + “I can give you the power to fly to her house,” the Queen said, “but I + can't open the door for you. + </p> + <p> + “The window I flew out at will be open,” Peter said confidently. “Mother + always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” they asked, quite surprised, and, really, Peter could + not explain how he knew. + </p> + <p> + “I just do know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way they gave + him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and soon + he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and higher + and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. + </p> + <p> + It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old home he + skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and back by the river + and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached his mother's window he had + quite made up his mind that his second wish should be to become a bird. + </p> + <p> + The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he + fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted softly on + the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look at her. She lay + with her head on her hand, and the hollow in the pillow was like a nest + lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he had long + forgotten it, that she always gave her hair a holiday at night. How sweet + the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a pretty + mother. + </p> + <p> + But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her arms moved + as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew what it wanted to go + round. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother,” said Peter to himself, “if you just knew who is sitting on + the rail at the foot of the bed.” + </p> + <p> + Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he could + see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to say “Mother” ever + so softly, and she would wake up. They always wake up at once if it is you + that says their name. Then she would give such a joyous cry and squeeze + him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh, how exquisitely + delicious it would be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter regarded it. + In returning to his mother he never doubted that he was giving her the + greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more splendid, he thought, + than to have a little boy of your own. How proud of him they are; and very + right and proper, too. + </p> + <p> + But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell his + mother that he has come back? + </p> + <p> + I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds. + Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked + longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy + again, but, on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens! + Was he so sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off + the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They + were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The + socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet? He was + about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great adventure. + Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother woke up, for he + heard her say “Peter,” as if it was the most lovely word in the language. + He remained sitting on the floor and held his breath, wondering how she + knew that he had come back. If she said “Peter” again, he meant to cry + “Mother” and run to her. But she spoke no more, she made little moans + only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more asleep, with tears + on her face. + </p> + <p> + It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first thing he + did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a beautiful + lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself out of the + way she said “Peter,” and he never stopped playing until she looked happy. + </p> + <p> + He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening + her to hear her say, “Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you play.” However, as + she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You must + not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He had + quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning + to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant to + make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed + wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without returning to the + fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too long it might go bad. + He asked himself if he had not been hardhearted to fly away without saying + good-bye to Solomon. “I should like awfully to sail in my boat just once + more,” he said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite argued with her + as if she could hear him. “It would be so splendid to tell the birds of + this adventure,” he said coaxingly. “I promise to come back,” he said + solemnly and meant it, too. + </p> + <p> + And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from the + window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight of it might + waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on his pipe, and then he + flew back to the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies for his + second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he delayed so long. + One reason was that he had so many good-byes to say, not only to his + particular friends, but to a hundred favourite spots. Then he had his last + sail, and his very last sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. Again, + a number of farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another + comfortable reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his mother + would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason displeased old + Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds to procrastinate. + Solomon had several excellent mottoes for keeping them at their work, such + as “Never put off laying to-day, because you can lay to-morrow,” and “In + this world there are no second chances,” and yet here was Peter gaily + putting off and none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out to each + other, and fell into lazy habits. + </p> + <p> + But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his mother, he + was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution with + the fairies. They were most anxious that he should remain in the Gardens + to play to them, and to bring this to pass they tried to trick him into + making such a remark as “I wish the grass was not so wet,” and some of + them danced out of time in the hope that he might cry, “I do wish you + would keep time!” Then they would have said that this was his second wish. + But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he began, “I wish—” + he always stopped in time. So when at last he said to them bravely, “I + wish now to go back to mother for ever and always,” they had to tickle his + shoulders and let him go. + </p> + <p> + He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his mother was + crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried for, and that a hug + from her splendid Peter would quickly make her to smile. Oh, he felt sure + of it, and so eager was he to be nestling in her arms that this time he + flew straight to the window, which was always to be open for him. + </p> + <p> + But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and peering + inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm round another + little boy. + </p> + <p> + Peter called, “Mother! mother!” but she heard him not; in vain he beat his + little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, sobbing, to the + Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a glorious boy he had meant + to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have made the great mistake, how + differently we should all act at the second chance. But Solomon was right; + there is no second chance, not for most of us. When we reach the window it + is Lock-out Time. The iron bars are up for life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. The Little House + </h2> + <p> + Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which + is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for + humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and they + have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it you + never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but it is + there when you wake up and step outside. + </p> + <p> + In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really it, + but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out Time. + David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the trees as + we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw it the night + he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of his father's office. + Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted because then she is + treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, she saw hundreds of + them all together, and this must have been the fairies building the house, + for they build it every night and always in a different part of the + Gardens. She thought one of the lights was bigger than the others, though + she was not quite sure, for they jumped about so, and it might have been + another one that was bigger. But if it was the same one, it was Peter + Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen the light, so that is nothing. + But Maimie Mannering was the famous one for whom the house was first + built. + </p> + <p> + Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she was + strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was the + ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a + magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him in + the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered rather + than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting she + would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you that she + was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the daytime. + </p> + <p> + But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt + for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there came + into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. It was also + a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy glances. Then he + would make her presents of his favourite toys (which he always took away + from her next morning) and she accepted them with a disturbing smile. The + reason he was now become so wheedling and she so mysterious was (in brief) + that they knew they were about to be sent to bed. It was then that Maimie + was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do it to-night, and the mother and + their coloured nurse threatened her, but Maimie merely smiled her + agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were alone with their night-light + she would start up in bed crying “Hsh! what was that?” Tony beseeches her! + “It was nothing—don't, Maimie, don't!” and pulls the sheet over his + head. “It is coming nearer!” she cries; “Oh, look at it, Tony! It is + feeling your bed with its horns—it is boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!” + and she desists not until he rushes downstairs in his combinations, + screeching. When they came up to whip Maimie they usually found her + sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and + looking like the sweetest little angel, which seems to me to make it + almost worse. + </p> + <p> + But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then Tony + did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he was a very + brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would have loved + to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And at no time did + she admire him more than when he told her, as he often did with splendid + firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in the Gardens after the + gates were closed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tony,” she would say, with awful respect, “but the fairies will be so + angry!” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay,” replied Tony, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, thrilling, “Peter Pan will give you a sail in his + boat!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall make him,” replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + </p> + <p> + But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were overheard + by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which the little + people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a marked boy. + They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down he came on the + back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his boot-lace and bribed + the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty accidents you meet with + in the Gardens occur because the fairies have taken an ill-will to you, + and so it behoves you to be careful what you say about them. + </p> + <p> + Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things, but + Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to remain + behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, “Just some day;” + he was quite vague about which day except when she asked “Will it be + to-day?” and then he could always say for certain that it would not be + to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good chance. + </p> + <p> + This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow, and + there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but at least + you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many bright + little boys and girls were doing that. + </p> + <p> + When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond, + but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said + this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that + night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs + continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but + she was not to laugh much more that day. + </p> + <p> + Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the + time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for + closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the + fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they had + changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said there + was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as they + trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their little + breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. Never, Tony + felt, could he hope for a better chance. + </p> + <p> + He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager eyes + asked the question, “Is it to-day?” and he gasped and then nodded. Maimie + slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold. She did + a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him! “In case you + should feel cold,” she whispered. Her face was aglow, but Tony's was very + gloomy. + </p> + <p> + As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, “I'm afraid + Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their + ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said aloud, + “Tony, I shall race you to the gate,” and in a whisper, “Then you can + hide,” and off they ran. + </p> + <p> + Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him + speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might + have more time to hide. “Brave, brave!” her doting eyes were crying when + she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the + gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful of + darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain she + could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she ran to + St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + </p> + <p> + When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her + other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores and + hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always has to + run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight and glued + them with passionate tears. When she opened them something very cold ran + up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart. It was the + stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from another part + clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of the Gates. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice + say, “So that's all right.” It had a wooden sound and seemed to come from + above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out its + arms and yawning. + </p> + <p> + She was about to say, “I never knew you could speak!” when a metallic + voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the elm, + “I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?” and the elm replied, “Not + particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg,” and he + flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. + Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were + doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and + crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders + but did not seem to mind her. + </p> + <p> + She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse + and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her + dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far + away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a + ball. She was about forty round the waist. + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in + time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set + off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but + that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the + walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had + crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and + shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never + known what they were for until to-night. + </p> + <p> + She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy fairy + who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way he did it + was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut like umbrellas, + deluging the little plants beneath with snow. “Oh, you naughty, naughty + child!” Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it was to have a + dripping umbrella about your ears. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the + chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly “Hoity-toity, + what is this?” that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole + vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is no affair of ours,” a spindle tree said after they had + whispered together, “but you know quite well you ought not to be here, and + perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you should not,” Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that + they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. “I wouldn't ask it of + you,” she assured them, “if I thought it was wrong,” and of course after + this they could not well carry tales. They then said, “Well-a-day,” and + “Such is life!” for they can be frightfully sarcastic, but she felt sorry + for those of them who had no crutches, and she said good-naturedly, + “Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take you for a walk + one at a time; you can lean on me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby + Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round the + very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and + treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though she + could not understand a word they said. + </p> + <p> + They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not + taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others jagged + her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a lady to cry + out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off to the ball, + but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more fear was that + it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, Maimie was always + rather strange. + </p> + <p> + They were now loath to let her go, for, “If the fairies see you,” they + warned her, “they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you to + nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an evergreen + oak.” As they said this they looked with affected pity at an evergreen + oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, la!” replied the oak bitingly, “how deliciously cosy it is to stand + here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!” + </p> + <p> + This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves, and + they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced her if + she insisted on going to the ball. + </p> + <p> + She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual good + temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the Duke of + Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a dreadful + complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried many ladies + in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them. Queen Mab, who + rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls would bewitch him, + but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. This rather + irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the Duke's heart + immediately after any lady was presented, and then always shook his bald + head and murmured, “Cold, quite cold!” Naturally Queen Mab felt disgraced, + and first she tried the effect of ordering the court into tears for nine + minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed that they should wear + fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen heart. + </p> + <p> + “How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!” + Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the + Cupids hate to be laughed at. + </p> + <p> + It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held, as + ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the + Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting + their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on the + snow. + </p> + <p> + Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting + anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her + surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just time + to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and + pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and six + behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held up by + two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a lovely + girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She was + dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her neck, + which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course showed off + her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified it. The + high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their skin, which + lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you cannot imagine + anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' busts in the + jewellers' windows. + </p> + <p> + Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion, + tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt + them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the doctor + had said “Cold, quite cold!” + </p> + <p> + Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a + dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb + out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly + went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and + explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street + singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she said, “I am rather plain,” and this made Maimie + uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite + plain for a fairy. + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to know what to reply. + </p> + <p> + “I see you think I have no chance,” Brownie said falteringly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't say that,” Maimie answered politely, “of course your face is just + a tiny bit homely, but—” Really it was quite awkward for her. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone to + a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London were on + view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home instead of + being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, “You can't think, my + dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously, indeed + she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose her. So + she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to follow lest + the Queen should mischief her. + </p> + <p> + But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven + Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until she + was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree. + </p> + <p> + The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed + of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming a + dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little people + looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared to the + glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so bewilderingly + bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she looked at them. + </p> + <p> + It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas + Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love + his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the + Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling + ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were told + to pass on, and by his own most dreary face. + </p> + <p> + Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and hear + him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly sorry for + the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure places and, every + time they heard that “Cold, quite cold,” bowed their disgraced little + heads. + </p> + <p> + She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you now + why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got wedged on + the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which he had to + break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle. + </p> + <p> + The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so + heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad and + remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies never + say “We feel happy”: what they say is, “We feel dancey.” + </p> + <p> + Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke + out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was + insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she had + really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie + herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his + grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart, + which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his diamond + shirt, had begun to say mechanically, “Cold, qui—,” when he stopped + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “What's this?” he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and + then put his ear to it. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, and by this time of course the + excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right and + left. + </p> + <p> + Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled and + looked as if he would like to run away. “Good gracious me!” the doctor was + heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for he had to + jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + The suspense was awful! + </p> + <p> + Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, “My Lord Duke,” said the physician + elatedly, “I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace is + in love.” + </p> + <p> + You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the Duke + and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of the Lord + Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of her + gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything. Thus + in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you leap into + each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman has to be + present. + </p> + <p> + How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and + immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were + ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring. + Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps from + their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went and + spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight over + her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward and + cried in an ecstasy, “Oh, Brownie, how splendid!” + </p> + <p> + Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in + the time you may take to say “Oh dear!” An awful sense of her peril came + upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a place + where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the gates, + she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand swords + flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + </p> + <p> + How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head. Many + times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. Her + little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew she was in + the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must never cease + to run, and she thought she was still running long after she had dropped + in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes falling on her + face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought her coverlet of + snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her head. And when she + heard talking through her dreams she thought it was mother bringing father + to the nursery door to look at her as she slept. But it was the fairies. + </p> + <p> + I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief + her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as “Slay + her!” “Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!” and so on, but the + pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front, and + this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and demand + a boon. + </p> + <p> + Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's + life. “Anything except that,” replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the + fairies chanted “Anything except that.” But when they learned how Maimie + had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their + great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and + set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front and the + canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her footprints + in the snow. + </p> + <p> + But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible + to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the form + of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and read + her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They also + cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they saw she + was in danger of perishing of cold. + </p> + <p> + “Turn her into something that does not mind the cold,” seemed a good + suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of that + does not mind cold was a snowflake. “And it might melt,” the Queen pointed + out, so that idea had to be given up. + </p> + <p> + A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but + though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all the + ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids had a + lovely idea. “Build a house round her,” they cried, and at once everybody + perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred fairy + sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round Maimie, + measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, seventy-five + masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen laid it, + overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings were run up, + the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning lathes, and by + this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting in the windows. + </p> + <p> + The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of her + arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they built + a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were the size + of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it would be + easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as is their + custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, and they + were all so madly in love with the little house that they could not bear + to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many little extra + touches, and even then they added more extra touches. + </p> + <p> + For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + </p> + <p> + “Now we fear it is quite finished,” they sighed. But no, for another two + ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney. + </p> + <p> + “That certainly finishes it,” they cried reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” cried a glow-worm, “if she were to wake without seeing a + night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment,” said a china merchant, “and I shall make you a saucer.” + </p> + <p> + Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + </p> + <p> + Oh, dear no! + </p> + <p> + “Gracious me,” cried a brass manufacturer, “there's no handle on the + door,” and he put one on. + </p> + <p> + An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat. + Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on + painting it. + </p> + <p> + Finished at last! + </p> + <p> + “Finished! how can it be finished,” the plumber demanded scornfully, + “before hot and cold are put in?” and he put in hot and cold. Then an army + of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and bulbs and + forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the right of the + verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and clematis on the + walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes all these dear + things were in full bloom. + </p> + <p> + Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished + true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They all + kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was + Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream + down the chimney. + </p> + <p> + All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs + taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream was + quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was + breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then she + called out, “Tony,” for she thought she was at home in the nursery. As + Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, and it + opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all around + her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in the + nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched her + cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her that she + was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now everything that + had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to her running away + from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had she got into this + funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over the garden, and then + she saw the dear house in which she had passed the night. It so entranced + her that she could think of nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew + that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to + grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it was + shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It always + remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller, and the + garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer, lapping house + and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little dog's kennel, and + now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke and the door-handle + and the roses on the wall, every one complete. The glow-worm light was + waning too, but it was still there. “Darling, loveliest, don't go!” Maimie + cried, falling on her knees, for the little house was now the size of a + reel of thread, but still quite complete. But as she stretched out her + arms imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself, and + where the little house had been was now one unbroken expanse of snow. + </p> + <p> + Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her + eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, “Don't cry, pretty human, don't + cry,” and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy + regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. Peter's Goat + </h2> + <h3> + Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + </h3> + <p> + “I hope you have had a good night,” he said earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she replied, “I was so cosy and warm. But you”—and she + looked at his nakedness awkwardly—“don't you feel the least bit + cold?” + </p> + <p> + Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, “I think + not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactly a + boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between.” + </p> + <p> + “So that is what it is called,” said Maimie thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “That's not my name,” he explained, “my name is Peter Pan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” she said, “I know, everybody knows.” + </p> + <p> + You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the people outside + the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what they knew and + what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this time on a fallen + tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he sat on a snowy bit + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Squeeze closer,” Maimie said. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. They + talked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him, but + not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and been barred + out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for it still + humiliated him. + </p> + <p> + “Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?” he asked very + proudly. “Oh, Maimie, please tell them!” But when he revealed how he + played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simply + horrified. + </p> + <p> + “All your ways of playing,” she said with her big eyes on him, “are quite, + quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the first time + for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, and lent him + her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to do with it, so + she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and then gave it back + to him, saying “Now you do it,” but instead of wiping his own eyes he + wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this was what she had + meant. + </p> + <p> + She said, out of pity for him, “I shall give you a kiss if you like,” but + though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and he replied, + “Thank you,” and held out his hand, thinking she had offered to put + something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt she could + not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy she gave Peter + a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretended that it was a + kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to this day he wears it + on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who needs a thimble so + little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was really years and years + since he had seen his mother, and I daresay the baby who had supplanted + him was now a man with whiskers. + </p> + <p> + But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than to + admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was very much + mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her of his + adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the island and + the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + </p> + <p> + “How romantic,” Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, and he + hung his head thinking she was despising him. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Tony would not have done that?” he said very humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Never, never!” she answered with conviction, “he would have been afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “What is afraid?” asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be some + splendid thing. “I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “I believe no one could teach that to you,” she answered adoringly, but + Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tony + and of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knew + quite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning and + said, “Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony.” + </p> + <p> + It quite irritated her. “You are twenty thousand times braver than Tony,” + she said, “you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!” + </p> + <p> + He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe he + screamed with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And if you want very much to give me a kiss,” Maimie said, “you can do + it.” + </p> + <p> + Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. He + thought she wanted it back. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean a kiss,” she said hurriedly, “I mean a thimble.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's like this,” she said, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “I should love to give you a thimble,” Peter said gravely, so he gave her + one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightful idea + came into his head! “Maimie,” he said, “will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same time into + Maimie's head. “I should like to,” she answered, “but will there be room + in your boat for two?” + </p> + <p> + “If you squeeze close,” he said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the birds would be angry?” + </p> + <p> + He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am not so + certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter. “Of + course they might want your clothes,” he had to admit rather falteringly. + </p> + <p> + She was somewhat indignant at this. + </p> + <p> + “They are always thinking of their nests,” he said apologetically, “and + there are some bits of you”—he stroked the fur on her pelisse—“that + would excite them very much.” + </p> + <p> + “They sha'n't have my fur,” she said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, still fondling it, however, “no! Oh, Maimie,” he said + rapturously, “do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a + beautiful nest.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow this made her uneasy. “I think you are speaking more like a bird + than a boy now,” she said, holding back, and indeed he was even looking + rather like a bird. “After all,” she said, “you are only a + Betwixt-and-Between.” But it hurt him so much that she immediately added, + “It must be a delicious thing to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and be one then, dear Maimie,” he implored her, and they set off for + the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. “And you are not a bit + like a nest,” he whispered to please her. + </p> + <p> + “But I think it is rather nice to be like one,” she said in a woman's + contradictory way. “And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, I + wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with little + spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!” + </p> + <p> + But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said, “Of + course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as if I was + saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very like that, + and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fear of losing + her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live without her. “She + will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me,” he kept saying to + himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by the way. + </p> + <p> + But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over its + loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. “You know quite + well, Peter, don't you,” she said, “that I wouldn't come unless I knew for + certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, say it!” + </p> + <p> + He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + </p> + <p> + “If you are sure your mother will always want you,” he added rather + sourly. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of mother's not always wanting me!” Maimie cried, and her face + glistened. + </p> + <p> + “If she doesn't bar you out,” said Peter huskily. + </p> + <p> + “The door,” replied Maimie, “will always, always be open, and mother will + always be waiting at it for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Peter, not without grimness, “step in, if you feel so sure of + her,” and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + </p> + <p> + “But why don't you look at me?” she asked, taking him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave a great + gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow. + </p> + <p> + She went to him. “What is it, dear, dear Peter?” she said, wondering. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Maimie,” he cried, “it isn't fair to take you with me if you think + you can go back. Your mother”—he gulped again—“you don't know + them as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, and + she gasped all the time. “But my mother,” she said, “my mother”— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she would,” said Peter, “they are all the same. I daresay she is + looking for another one already.” + </p> + <p> + Maimie said aghast, “I can't believe it. You see, when you went away your + mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they are satisfied + when they have one.” + </p> + <p> + Peter replied bitterly, “You should see the letters Solomon gets from + ladies who have six.” + </p> + <p> + Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, all round + the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumped nervously + into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, and he was + trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully. + </p> + <p> + “If I should be too late,” she called in agony, “oh, Peter, if she has got + another one already!” + </p> + <p> + Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. “I shall come and + look for you to-night,” he said, squeezing close, “but if you hurry away I + think you will be in time.” + </p> + <p> + Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and covered his + face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Peter!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Maimie!” cried the tragic boy. + </p> + <p> + She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, and then + she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you may be + sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded, but + he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For long he hoped + that some night she would come back to him; often he thought he saw her + waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew to land, + but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid that if she + saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger with him too long, + and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But she often talked + lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him, and one day + when she was wondering what Easter present he would like, her mother made + a suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she said thoughtfully, “would be so useful to him as a goat.” + </p> + <p> + “He could ride on it,” cried Maimie, “and play on his pipe at the same + time!” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” her mother asked, “won't you give him your goat, the one you + frighten Tony with at night?” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't a real goat,” Maimie said. + </p> + <p> + “It seems very real to Tony,” replied her mother. + </p> + <p> + “It seems frightfully real to me too,” Maimie admitted, “but how could I + give it to Peter?” + </p> + <p> + Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was really + quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went to the + Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then her mother, + who was a rather gifted lady, said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?” + </pre> + <p> + To which Maimie replied, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide.” + </pre> + <p> + She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and turned round + three times. + </p> + <p> + Next Tony said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?” + </pre> + <p> + And Maimie answered, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere.” + </pre> + <p> + She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining what she had + done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into one + convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, for + Peter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for the + fairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Peter + got the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playing + sublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened + Tony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another + animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presents for + Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play with them), + and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, for + instance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, and + we shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before + Porthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one of + them. + </p> + <p> + Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, and often + in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrily on the + grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memory that he + was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to the house-swallows + when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are the spirits of little + children who have died. They always build in the eaves of the houses where + they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they try to fly in at a + nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves them best of all the + birds. + </p> + <p> + And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every night + except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest there + should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marshes + looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goat to + the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when they step + out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because it is so + pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because he still + loves to do just as he believes real boys would do. + </p> + <p> + But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees the little + house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardens after + Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be out that + night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they are not, you + may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. He has been too + late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runs back to the + Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him the true use, + and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little tombstone and carves + the poor thing's initials on it. He does this at once because he thinks it + is what real boys would do, and you must have noticed the little stones + and that there are always two together. He puts them in twos because it + seems less lonely. I think that quite the most touching sight in the + Gardens is the two tombstones of Walter Stephen Matthews and Phoebe + Phelps. They stand together at the spot where the parishes of Westminster + St. Mary's is said to meet the parish of Paddington. Here Peter found the + two babes, who had fallen unnoticed from their perambulators, Phoebe aged + thirteen months and Walter probably still younger, for Peter seems to have + felt a delicacy about putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, + and the simple inscriptions read + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +—————-+ +—————-+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +—————-+ +—————-+ +</pre> + <p> + David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves. + </p> + <p> + But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at the + opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetest + little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with his + spade. It is all rather sad. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. An Interloper + </h2> + <p> + David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed the night + with me. We had often talked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary + consented to our having it. + </p> + <p> + The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted hour of six + P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of sandwiches, but proved to be + his requisites for the night done up in a neat paper parcel. We were both + so excited that, at the moment of greeting, neither of us could be + apposite to the occasion in words, so we communicated our feelings by + signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there was no chair, + which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and is borrowed, I + think, from the frogs, and we then made the extraordinary faces which + mean, “What a tremendous adventure!” + </p> + <p> + We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done every + evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know how it was such + an adventure to David. But I have now said enough to show you what an + adventure it was to me. + </p> + <p> + For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the delicacy of + a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from asking why one + of them was not a Victoria Cross. He is very troubled because I never won + the Victoria Cross, for it lowers his status in the Gardens. He never says + in the Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of his year who says I + didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each other. + </p> + <p> + At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, and + covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, “Half-past six; + time for little boys to be in bed.” I said it in the matter-of-fact voice + of one made free of the company of parents, as if I had said it often + before, and would have to say it often again, and as if there was nothing + particularly delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried to say it + in that way. + </p> + <p> + And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his little foot, + and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a + matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the floor when lighted, are the + greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is a + place with a roaring bonfire. + </p> + <p> + Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle bored + by the dull routine of putting my little boys to bed, and conducted him to + the night nursery, which had lately been my private chamber. There was an + extra bed in it tonight, very near my own, but differently shaped, and + scarcely less conspicuous was the new mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of + milk, with a biscuit on top of it, and a chocolate riding on the biscuit. + To enter the room without seeing the tumbler at once was impossible. I had + tried it several times, and David saw and promptly did his frog business, + the while, with an indescribable emotion, I produced a night-light from my + pocket and planted it in a saucer on the wash-stand. + </p> + <p> + David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon made a + noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had no longer use + for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off his boots. + I took them off with all the coolness of an old hand, and then I placed + him on my knee and removed his blouse. This was a delightful experience, + but I think I remained wonderfully calm until I came somewhat too suddenly + to his little braces, which agitated me profoundly. + </p> + <p> + I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + </p> + <p> + Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from the + night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a man peered in + at the little figure on the bed. However softly I opened the door, an inch + at a time, his bright eyes turned to me at once, and he always made the + face which means, “What a tremendous adventure!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you never to fall asleep, David?” I always said. + </p> + <p> + “When are you coming to bed?” he always replied, very brave but in a + whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When little + boys are in bed there is nothing between them and bears and wolves but the + night-light. + </p> + <p> + I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with his face + to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the door, listening. + </p> + <p> + Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, and I + knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after what seemed a + long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said in a cautious whisper, + “Irene!” + </p> + <p> + “You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know,” he replied, a little troubled but trying not to be a + nuisance. + </p> + <p> + “You remember you are with me?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + After a moment's hesitation he replied, “I nearly remember,” and presently + he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had whispered to him, “I + remember now.” + </p> + <p> + I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, “Is it + going on now?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, David.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, “You are not + frightened, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not?” he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping in the + darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. + </p> + <p> + “I am not frightened now,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “And there is nothing else you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there not?” he again asked politely. “Are you sure there's not?” he + added. + </p> + <p> + “What can it be, David?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't take up very much room,” the far-away voice said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, David,” said I, sitting up, “do you want to come into my bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first,” he squeaked. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I have been wanting all the time,” said I, and then without + more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at me. For the rest + of the night he lay on me and across me, and sometimes his feet were at + the bottom of the bed and sometimes on the pillow, but he always retained + possession of my finger, and occasionally he woke me to say that he was + sleeping with me. I had not a good night. I lay thinking. + </p> + <p> + Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I undressed him, + had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + </p> + <p> + Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently daring. + </p> + <p> + Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I essayed to + catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + </p> + <p> + Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet breathing, had + stood so long that I forgot his name and called him Timothy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. David and Porthos Compared + </h2> + <p> + But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the morning, by + inquiring too curiously into his person and discovering that I had put his + combinations on him with the buttons to the front. For this I wrote her + the following insulting letter. When Mary does anything that specially + annoys me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a photograph taken of + David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You can't think of all the + subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman with the spirit of a crow + would stand it. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you walk in + the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for encomiums of him and + of your fanciful dressing of him by passers-by, storing them in your heart + the while you make vain pretence to regard them not: wherefore lest you be + swollen by these very small things I, who now know David both by day and + by night, am minded to compare him and Porthos the one with the other, + both in this matter and in other matters of graver account. And touching + this matter of outward show, they are both very lordly, and neither of + them likes it to be referred to, but they endure in different ways. For + David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times hits out, but Porthos droops + his tail and lets them have their say. Yet is he extolled as beautiful and + a darling ten times for the once that David is extolled. + </p> + <p> + “The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners of David, + who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree sometimes comes not + in search, and on emerging tamely from my concealment I find him playing + other games entirely forgetful of my existence. Whereas Porthos always + comes in search. Also if David wearies of you he scruples not to say so, + but Porthos, in like circumstances, offers you his paw, meaning + 'Farewell,' and to bearded men he does this all the time (I think because + of a hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive him to be + enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to go. Thus + while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be argued that those + of David are more efficacious. + </p> + <p> + “In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the one shoves + and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the other, who is + noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his size, remonstrates not, + even when they cling in froth and fury to his chest, but carries them + along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, David will not + unbend when in the company of babies, expecting them unreasonably to rise + to his level, but contrariwise Porthos, though terrible to tramps, suffers + all things of babies, even to an exploration of his mouth in an attempt to + discover what his tongue is like at the other end. The comings and goings + of David are unnoticed by perambulators, which lie in wait for the advent + of Porthos. The strong and wicked fear Porthos but no little creature + fears him, not the hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, + nor the sparrows that steal his straw from under him. + </p> + <p> + “In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the rabbit. + Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country Porthos was elated to + discover at last something small that ran from him, and developing at once + into an ecstatic sportsman he did pound hotly in pursuit, though always + over-shooting the mark by a hundred yards or so and wondering very much + what had become of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from the top of + which the rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of Porthos was + to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to give me a knowing + look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did something tricky with + a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore onwards in full faith that the game + was being played fairly, and always returned panting and puzzling but + glorious. + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch the + rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he did catch + it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of + which he was in chase. I found him with it, his brows furrowed in the + deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cowered beneath him. + Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame of + mind. 'What is the next thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle with + him, and the position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, which + several times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. Whereupon + Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and again fell to + pondering. The strain on me was very great. + </p> + <p> + “At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked over his + shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first slowly and then in + a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a search for it, but you + cannot think how relieved he looked. He even tried to brazen out his + disgrace before me and waved his tail appealingly. But he could not look + me in the face, and when he saw that this was what I insisted on he + collapsed at my feet and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and I + was touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could do, + and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so long as I am + pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matters to Porthos. I told + this story to David, having first extracted a promise from him that he + would not think the less of Porthos, and now I must demand the same + promise of you. Also, an admission that in innocence of heart, for which + David has been properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos + nothing, but on the contrary may learn much from him. + </p> + <p> + “And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over Porthos—the + first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene (pretentiously + called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and envies every ragged boy who + can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos would have every class keep its place, and + though fond of going down into the kitchen, always barks at the top of the + stairs for a servile invitation before he graciously descends. Most of the + servants in our street have had the loan of him to be photographed with, + and I have but now seen him stalking off for that purpose with a proud + little housemaid who is looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom + she had paid a shilling. + </p> + <p> + “Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due to the one + and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I have noticed, loves + to splash in his bath and to slip back into it from the hands that would + transfer him to a towel. But Porthos stands in his bath drooping abjectly + like a shamed figure cut out of some limp material. + </p> + <p> + “Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of Porthos, who + cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to take a solitary walk, + while David invents playfully all day long. Lastly, when David is + discovered of some offence and expresses sorrow therefor, he does that + thing no more for a time, but looks about him for other offences, whereas + Porthos incontinently repeats his offence, in other words, he again buries + his bone in the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know it, although his + nose be crusted with earth. + </p> + <p> + “Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David excels + Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no more than a match + for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if a parcel comes into + my chambers Porthos is miserable until it is opened, and I have noticed + the same thing of David. + </p> + <p> + “Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all + gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the other way, but if I + say I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he skips joyfully, yet + thinks he still has a right to a chocolate, and when I remarked + disparagingly on this to David he looked so shy that there was revealed to + me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + </p> + <p> + “A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of punishments, + and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in this matter to + be your mouthpiece) complains that I am not sufficiently severe with + David, and do leave the chiding of him for offences against myself to her + in the hope that he will love her less and me more thereby. Which we have + hotly argued in the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I here + say that if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is that I + dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat the one the + same with the other. + </p> + <p> + “Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his great + heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that all is not well + between him and me, and having struck him once some years ago never can I + forget the shudder which passed through him when he saw it was I who had + struck, and I shall strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is detected in + any unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my writing table in + his presence, and even this punishment is almost more than he can bear. + Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on David encourages him but to + enter upon fresh trespasses (as the girl Irene avers), the reason must be + that his heart is not like unto that of the noble Porthos. + </p> + <p> + “And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, and so + demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, what is the + manner of severity meted out to him at home? And lest you should shuffle + in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my ears. + </p> + <p> + “As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered it + with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal punishment, + whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David continuing to + rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly of a cane, but + the mother rushed between the combatants. That the problematical + chastisement became to David an object of romantic interest. That this + darkened the happy home. That casting from his path a weeping mother, the + goaded father at last dashed from the house yelling that he was away to + buy a cane. That he merely walked the streets white to the lips because of + the terror David must now be feeling. And that when he returned, it was + David radiant with hope who opened the door and then burst into tears + because there was no cane. Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax + me with want of severity. Rather should you be giving thanks that it is + not you I am comparing with Porthos. + </p> + <p> + “But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever + wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking up + from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate + attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which + comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to their + masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for this, while + I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David has of making + me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of me as a matter + of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the depths of Porthos. + Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie down beside him on the + floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my soul, ma'am, a protecting + arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew what was the want of the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the + worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we + shall both be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. William Paterson + </h2> + <p> + We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the + fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may say. + It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some sheets of + newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my housekeeper, + who thinks dogs should lie on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want them to give + you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, for all the r's + should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so often that David + believes I should find difficulty in making myself understood. + </p> + <p> + “What would you say,” he asked me, “if you wanted them to turn you into a + hollyhock?” He thinks the ease with which they can turn you into things is + their most engaging quality. + </p> + <p> + The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me this I again + forgot the lukka. + </p> + <p> + “I should never dream,” I said (to cover my discomfiture), “of asking them + to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I should soon wither, + David.” + </p> + <p> + He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, but now he + seemed to think it merely silly. “Just before the time to wither begins,” + he said airily, “you say to them Fairy me bola.” + </p> + <p> + Fairy me bola means “Turn me back again,” and David's discovery made me + uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his distance of the fairies + mainly because of a feeling that their conversions are permanent. + </p> + <p> + So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms under the + care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown to them, but they + have no need of me, for at such times nothing would induce Porthos to + depart from the care of David. If anyone addresses them he growls softly + and shows the teeth that crunch bones as if they were biscuits. Thus + amicably the two pass on to Mary's house, where Porthos barks his + knock-and-ring bark till the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in with + David, but on this occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing + remarkable in this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next day + nor in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore his + knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos—at + least—well—something disquieting happened. I don't quite know + what to think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall + think as you choose. + </p> + <p> + My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and got locked + in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was over I was there to + make inquiries. But there was no news of Porthos, though I learned that + someone was believed to have spent the night in the Gardens, a young + gentleman who walked out hastily the moment the gates were opened. He had + said nothing, however, of having seen a dog. I feared an accident now, for + I knew no thief could steal him, yet even an accident seemed incredible, + he was always so cautious at crossings; also there could not possibly have + been an accident to Porthos without there being an accident to something + else. + </p> + <p> + David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the great blank + and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities that when he knew he + was about to cry he turned aside to do it and I always respected his + privacy and waited for him. Of course being but a little boy he was soon + playing again, but his sudden floods of feeling, of which we never spoke, + were dear to me in those desolate days. + </p> + <p> + We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back to that, + meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos used to squat, but + we could not help looking at it sideways, and to our distress a man was + sitting on the acquainted spot. He rose at our approach and took two steps + toward us, so quick that they were almost jumps, then as he saw that we + were passing indignantly I thought I heard him give a little cry. + </p> + <p> + I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure strangers + into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on the Story-seat + itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was dandiacally dressed, seemed + to tell something under twenty years and had a handsome wistful face atop + of a heavy, lumbering, almost corpulent figure, which however did not + betoken inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of his mother's of + which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we neared him he leapt + the railings without touching them and was back with it in three seconds; + only instead of delivering it straightway he seemed to expect David to + chase him for it. + </p> + <p> + You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings without + touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his name) was at once + our friend. We often found him waiting for us at the Story-seat, and the + great stout fellow laughed and wept over our tales like a three-year-old. + Often he said with extraordinary pride, “You are telling the story to me + quite as much as to David, ar'n't you?” He was of an innocence such as you + shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at which even David blinked. + Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David said that of course these + things did not really happen, and unable to resist that appeal I would + reply that they really did. I never saw him irate except when David was + still sceptical, but then he would say quite warningly “He says it is + true, so it must be true.” This brings me to that one of his qualities, + which at once gratified and pained me, his admiration for myself. His + eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were ever fixed upon me fondly + except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and said that death alone could + have kept him so long from my side. Then Paterson's sympathy was such that + he had to look away. He was shy of speaking of himself so I asked him no + personal questions, but concluded that his upbringing must have been + lonely, to account for his ignorance of affairs, and loveless, else how + could he have felt such a drawing to me? + </p> + <p> + I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely monstrous, + suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been blown, the three of us, + to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was also, I think, the first time + Paterson had entered them. “Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson,” I said, as I + drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were off him. + Then I saw that, before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading the + day's paper over it. “Whatever makes you do that?” I asked, and he started + like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed the paper + aside. + </p> + <p> + David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, and, despite + my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be roused from it by a + feeling that Paterson was looking at me covertly. Pooh! what vapours of + the imagination were these. I blew them from me, and to prove to myself, + so to speak, that they were dissipated, I asked him to see David home. As + soon as I was alone, I flung me down on the floor laughing, then as + quickly jumped up and was after them, and very sober too, for it was come + to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had set off without asking + where David lived. + </p> + <p> + Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. They were + walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps nothing remarkable + happened until they reached David's door. I say perhaps, for something did + occur. A lady, who has several pretty reasons for frequenting the Gardens, + recognised David in the street, and was stooping to address him, when + Paterson did something that alarmed her. I was too far off to see what it + was, but had he growled “Hands off!” she could not have scurried away more + precipitately. He then ponderously marched his charge to the door, where, + assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead of knocking or ringing, he + stood on the step and called out sharply, “Hie, hie, hie!” until the door + was opened. + </p> + <p> + The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my sleep that + night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the pillow. + </p> + <p> + I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to me + charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking hands. He now did + it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew him his arm had described a + circle, and the hand had sometimes missed mine and come heavily upon my + chest instead. His walk, again, might more correctly have been called a + waddle. + </p> + <p> + There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without thanking me + with an intensity that was out of proportion to the little I had done for + him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever to take the sward rather than the + seats, perhaps a wise preference, but he had an unusual way of sitting + down. I can describe it only by saying that he let go of himself and went + down with a thud. + </p> + <p> + I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. We had + cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat finicking manner; yet + having left the table for a moment to consult the sweets-card, I saw, when + I returned, that there was now no bone on his plate. The waiters were + looking at him rather curiously. + </p> + <p> + David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat singular + manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I remembered, also, that while + David shouted to me or Irene to attract our attention, he usually whistled + to Paterson, he could not explain why. + </p> + <p> + These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but often + when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, unsupported, they + would have disturbed me little by day. Day, however, had its reflections, + and they came to me while I was shaving, that ten minutes when, brought + face to face with the harsher realities of life, we see things most + clearly as they are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson loomed + offensively, and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to nigh + twenty years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He could + not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean motives for + generous acts. He had not a single base story about women. It all seemed + inhuman. + </p> + <p> + What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's faith in + me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. An easy task, you + may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a change had come over the + youth. I am now arrived at a time when the light-heartedness had gone out + of him; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the eyes that + were once so certain. He was not doubtful of me, not then, but of human + nature in general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He mixed with + boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how could he + retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He heard your talk of + yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the edifice went down. I have not + the heart to follow him in all his discoveries. Sometimes he went in flame + at them, but for the most part he stood looking on, bewildered and numbed, + like one moaning inwardly. + </p> + <p> + He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to breathe upon + the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born with a man's powers, and + when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment longer to you, + the woman of whom, before he saw you, he had heard so much. How you would + strive to cheat him, even as I strove to hide my real self from Paterson, + and still you would strive as I strove after you knew the game was up. + </p> + <p> + The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days when I + could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long ceased to be a + vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for hours he and I would be + together without speaking. It was so upon the last day, one of those + innumerable dreary days when David, having sneezed the night before, was + kept at home in flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the Story-seat. + At last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what chained our + tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, for soon the gates + would close, but when I looked at him I saw that he was more mournful than + ever before; he shut his eyes so tightly that a drop of blood fell from + them. + </p> + <p> + “It was all over, Paterson, long ago,” I broke out harshly, “why do we + linger?” + </p> + <p> + He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing looks that + had much affection in them. + </p> + <p> + “You expected too much of me,” I told him, and he bowed his head. “I don't + know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women from. I don't + want to know,” I added hastily. + </p> + <p> + “But it must have been from a prettier world than this,” I said: “are you + quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?” + </p> + <p> + He rose and sat down again. “I wanted to know you,” he replied slowly, “I + wanted to be like you.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you know me,” I said, “do you want to be like me still? I am a + curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even + David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very hard + to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even now I am + not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson, David will + grow out of me.” + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but “No,” said I, “you have found + me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the loss of + him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?” + </p> + <p> + He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far away + I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + </p> + <p> + For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew not + what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I switched + on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do in the early + morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened, and the dear + Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his bark, but whence + he came no one knew. + </p> + <p> + He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all + points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside + him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the + old adoring eyes. + </p> + <p> + But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. Joey + </h2> + <p> + Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in her + maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their fortunate + papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused by their + mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust to your + father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to every one of + the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a delicious little + tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is pretty (but + dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering together the + babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and bring a hansom, + but others go from street to street in private 'buses, and even wear false + noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon them as you grew more and + more like your sweet cruel mamma. + </p> + <p> + So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my reasoning, for + I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, pausing on the threshold + to peer through the hole in the little house called “Pay Here,” which he + thought was Red Riding Hood's residence, and asked politely whether he + might see her, but they said she had gone to the wood, and it was quite + true, for there she was in the wood gathering a stick for her + grandmother's fire. She sang a beautiful song about the Boys and their + dashing ways, which flattered David considerably, but she forgot to take + away the stick after all. Other parts of the play were not so nice, but + David thought it all lovely, he really did. + </p> + <p> + Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in the darkest + corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him he struck me. + </p> + <p> + The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so fair. He had + asked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in the middle + of a song) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and when at + last Joey did come he screamed out, “How do you do, Joey!” and went into + convulsions of mirth. + </p> + <p> + Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, pocketing the + sausages for which their family has such a fatal weakness, and so when the + butcher engaged Joey as his assistant there was soon not a sausage left. + However, this did not matter, for there was a box rather like an ice-cream + machine, and you put chunks of pork in at one end and turned a handle and + they came out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite enjoyed doing this, + and you could see that the sausages were excellent by the way he licked + his fingers after touching them, but soon there were no more pieces of + pork, and just then a dear little Irish terrier-dog came trotting down the + street, so what did Joey do but pop it into the machine and it came out at + the other end as sausages. + </p> + <p> + It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and drove us + weeping to our growler. + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as Joey told me + afterward, it is very difficult to say what they will think funny and what + barbarous. I was forced to admit to him that David had perceived only the + joyous in the pokering of the policeman's legs, and had called out + heartily “Do it again!” every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down with + one kick and helped him up with another. + </p> + <p> + “It hurts the poor chap,” I was told by Joey, whom I was agreeably + surprised to find by no means wanting in the more humane feelings, “and he + wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the laugh to encourage him.” + </p> + <p> + He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + </p> + <p> + However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father and nurse + combined could not comfort him, though they swore that the dog was still + alive and kicking, which might all have been very well had not David seen + the sausages. It was to inquire whether anything could be done to atone + that in considerable trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, and the + result of our talk was that he invited me and David to have tea with him + on Thursday next at his lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “I sha'n't laugh,” David said, nobly true to the memory of the little dog, + “I sha'n't laugh once,” and he closed his jaws very tightly as we drew + near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But he also gripped my hand, + like one who knew that it would be an ordeal not to laugh. + </p> + <p> + The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a convenient + sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) and we saw a policeman + in the street looking the other way, as they always do look just before + you rub them. A woman wearing the same kind of clothes as people in other + houses wear, told us to go up to the second floor, and she grinned at + David, as if she had heard about him; so up we went, David muttering + through his clenched teeth, “I sha'n't laugh,” and as soon as we knocked a + voice called out, “Here we are again!” at which a shudder passed through + David as if he feared that he had set himself an impossible task. In we + went, however, and though the voice had certainly come from this room we + found nobody there. I looked in bewilderment at David, and he quickly put + his hand over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might expect; + there were droll things in it, but they did nothing funny, you could see + that they were just waiting for Joey. There were padded chairs with + friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a + horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing + happened to us. + </p> + <p> + The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with a very + lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and a notice on the + top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. David tried to pull the + stocking out of the hole, but it was so long that it never came to an end, + and when it measured six times the length of the room he had to cover his + mouth again. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not laughing,” he said to me, quite fiercely. He even managed not to + laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on the mantelpiece a + photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the garments he wore before he + became a clown. You can't think how absurd he looked in them. But David + didn't laugh. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more sudden + though he had come from beneath the table, and he was wearing his + pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were the only clothes he + had) and his red and white face was so funny that David made gurgling + sounds, which were his laugh trying to force a passage. + </p> + <p> + I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, instead of + taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this was so droll that + David had again to save himself by clapping his hand over his mouth. Joey + thought he had toothache, so I explained what it really meant, and then + Joey said, “Oh, I shall soon make him laugh,” whereupon the following + conversation took place between them: + </p> + <p> + “No, you sha'n't,” said David doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you sha'n't not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall so.” + </p> + <p> + “Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall, shall, shall.” + </p> + <p> + “You shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “You're another.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was getting + the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's laugh in his pocket, + and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey searched his pockets and + brought out the most unexpected articles, including a duck and a bunch of + carrots; and you could see by his manner that the simple soul thought + these were things which all boys carried loose in their pockets. + </p> + <p> + I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a + half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight of it reminded + him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he howled, and Joey's heart was + touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped his eyes with the duck. + </p> + <p> + It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also dressed + as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a trayful of + sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he announced, in + his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that had lately been + the dog. + </p> + <p> + Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so + impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the sausages, + and said that they were two short, and he found the missing two up the + pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the room and came back with the + sausage-machine; and what do you think he did? He put all the sausages + into the end of the machine that they had issued from, and turned the + handle backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + </p> + <p> + Can you picture the joy of David? + </p> + <p> + He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we noticed that + there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must have + put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the machine had not worked quite + smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which + distressed David, for he saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its + bark outside, and we were considering what should be done when the dog + closed the discussion by swallowing the sausage. + </p> + <p> + After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, entering into + the childish pleasures of this family as heartily as if he had been + brought up on sausages, and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You + must not think that he did this viciously; he did it to please the old + gentleman, who begged him to do it, and always shook hands warmly and said + “Thank you,” when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + </p> + <p> + Joey called David and me “Sonny,” and asked David, who addressed him as + “Mr. Clown,” to call him Joey. He also told us that the pantaloon's name + was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the harlequin's Joeykin. + </p> + <p> + We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. This + was because his memory is so bad that he often forgets whether it is your + head or your feet you should stand on, and he usually begins the day by + standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus he requires + constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw attention to + his mistake, he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No sooner had Joey + told us this than the poor old fellow began to turn upside down and stood + on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and talked about the weather + until he came to. + </p> + <p> + Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this time, for + they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, and danced off and on + most of the time. Even in the middle of what they were saying they would + begin to flutter; it was not so much that they meant to dance as that the + slightest thing set them going, such as sitting in a draught; and David + found he could blow them about the room like pieces of paper. You could + see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was very young indeed, and + at first this made him shy, as he always is when introduced formally to + little girls, and he stood sucking his thumb, and so did she, but soon the + stiffness wore off and they sat together on the sofa, holding each other's + hands. + </p> + <p> + All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, and David + requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is such an adept, and + first he said he would, and then he said better not, for the last time he + did it the people in the next house had made such a fuss. David had to + admit that it must be rather startling to the people on the other side of + the wall, but he was sorry. + </p> + <p> + By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered to ask if + you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly as her mother would + have asked. There was nothing to eat, of course, except sausages, but what + a number of them there were! hundreds at least, strings of sausages, and + every now and then Joey jumped up and played skipping rope with them. + David had been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt greedy, and + he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey and even Josy + eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed nobler feelings, + for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love with each other across the + table, but unaffected by this pretty picture, Joey continued to put whole + sausages in his mouth at a time, and then rubbed himself a little lower + down, while old Joey secreted them about his person; and when David wasn't + looking they both pounced on his sausages, and yet as they gobbled they + were constantly running to the top of the stair and screaming to the + servant to bring up more sausages. + </p> + <p> + You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your plate) + was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that sausages were a + passion with him. + </p> + <p> + He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of sausages. + They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. He told us how, even + in those days, his mother had feared for him, though fond of a sausage + herself; how he had bought a sausage with his first penny, and hoped to + buy one with his last (if they could not be got in any other way), and + that he always slept with a string of them beneath his pillow. + </p> + <p> + While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes came to + rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a horrid gleam in + them, on the little dog, which was fooling about on the top of the + sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward it convulsively, whereat + David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gallantly clenched + his other fist, and then Joey begged his pardon and burst into tears, each + one of which he flung against the wall, where it exploded with a bang. + </p> + <p> + David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to look in + that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were nothing to him when + he was short of sausages, and so his wisest course would be to present the + dog to David. Oh, the joy of David when he understood that the little dog + he had saved was his very own! I can tell you he was now in a hurry to be + off before Joey had time to change his mind. + </p> + <p> + “All I ask of you,” Joey said with a break in his voice, “is to call him + after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a Saturday night.” + </p> + <p> + There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed that he + might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal passion. + </p> + <p> + The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at us + in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand like + a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We could not exactly see old + Joey, but we saw his feet, and so feared the worst. Of course they are not + everything they should be, but one can't help liking them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. Pilkington's + </h2> + <p> + On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away from the + Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them they are ladies and + gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail a hansom. + </p> + <p> + Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I suppose, to put + up their hair, but the boys have gone to Pilkington's. He is a man with a + cane. You may not go to Pilkington's in knickerbockers made by your + mother, make she ever so artfully. They must be real knickerbockers. It is + his stern rule. Hence the fearful fascination of Pilkington's. + </p> + <p> + He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real knickerbockers, + fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him but a pool swarming with + small fry. + </p> + <p> + Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the flesh, sir, + but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a lean tortuous habit of + body, that moves ever with a swish. Every morning, I swear, thou readest + avidly the list of male births in thy paper, and then are thy hands rubbed + gloatingly the one upon the other. 'Tis fear of thee and thy gown and thy + cane, which are part of thee, that makes the fairies to hide by day; wert + thou to linger but once among their haunts between the hours of Lock-out + and Open Gates there would be left not one single gentle place in all the + Gardens. The little people would flit. How much wiser they than the small + boys who swim glamoured to thy crafty hook. Thou devastator of the + Gardens, I know thee, Pilkington. + </p> + <p> + I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. + </p> + <p> + This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the Gardens, and + without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the completion of his + seventh year at a time when David seemed unable to get beyond half-past + five. I have to speak of him in the past tense, for gone is Oliver from + the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) but he is still a name among us, and + some lordly deeds are remembered of him, as that his father shaved twice a + day. Oliver himself was all on that scale. + </p> + <p> + His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked upon an + island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it insinuatingly in his + prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that a boy with such an outlook + should fascinate David. I am proud, therefore, to be able to state on wood + that it was Oliver himself who made the overture. + </p> + <p> + On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked Islands, as + they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully that he supposed you + needed to be very very good before you had any chance of being wrecked, + and the remark was conveyed to Oliver, on whom it made an uncomfortable + impression. For a time he tried to evade it, but ultimately David was + presented to him and invited gloomily to say it again. The upshot was that + Oliver advertised the Gardens of his intention to be good until he was + eight, and if he had not been wrecked by that time, to be as jolly bad as + a boy could be. He was naturally so bad that at the Kindergarten Academy, + when the mistress ordered whoever had done the last naughty deed to step + forward, Oliver's custom had been to step forward, not necessarily because + he had done it, but because he presumed he very likely had. + </p> + <p> + The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I thought + Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an equal; he also + walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved him for delinquencies like + a loving elder brother. But 'tis a gray world even in the Gardens, for I + found that a new arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to + life-size. He had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, to + his friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being good + until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely that the one + could not be wrecked without the other. + </p> + <p> + When this was made known to me it was already too late to break the spell + of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith, I began to + find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver was frankly bored by me and + even David seemed to think it would be convenient if I went and sat with + Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really distressed and lonely, and + rather bitter; and how humble I became. Sometimes when the dog Joey is + unable, by frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, he stands on his + hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I was sometimes as humble + as Joey. Then David would insist on my being suffered to join them, but it + was plain that he had no real occasion for me. + </p> + <p> + It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I had been + fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed though she was + advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I now to be knocked out so + easily by a seven year old? I reconsidered my weapons, and I fought Oliver + and beat him. Figure to yourself those two boys become as faithful to me + as my coat-tails. + </p> + <p> + With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious way by + telling them a story which might last an hour, and favoured by many an + unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. It started as the wreck of the + simple Swiss family who looked up and saw the butter tree, but soon a + glorious inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David A—— + and Oliver Bailey. At first it was what they were to do when they were + wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent much of + my time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories in the + booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for I found that + the titles were even more helpful than the stories. We wrecked everybody + of note, including all Homer's most taking characters and the hero of + Paradise Lost. But we suffered them not to land. We stripped them of what + we wanted and left them to wander the high seas naked of adventure. And + all this was merely the beginning. + </p> + <p> + By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own proposal, + but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for me with Oliver. + They found me among the breakers with a large dog, which had kept me + afloat throughout that terrible night. I was the sole survivor of the + ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted was I that they had to carry me to their + hut, and great was my gratitude when on opening my eyes, I found myself in + that romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. As we walked in + the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and they were inflated + but not surprised. On the other hand they looked for surprise from me. + </p> + <p> + “Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?” asked Oliver, + reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously told them. + </p> + <p> + “You did.” + </p> + <p> + “Who turned it?” demanded David, not as one who needed information but + after the manner of a schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “It was turned,” I said, “by David A——, the younger of the two + youths.” + </p> + <p> + “Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?” asked the older of the two + youths. + </p> + <p> + “Oliver Bailey,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Was it Oliver,” asked David sharply, “that found the cocoa-nut-tree + first?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” I answered, “it was first observed by David, who + immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the cocos-nucifera, + for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns supporting the crown of leaves + which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” remarked David with a wave of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I said things like that, too,” Oliver insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't then,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't so.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, let's hear one you said.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver looked appealingly at me. “The following,” I announced, “is one + that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils of these + happenings are great, and our privations calculated to break the stoutest + heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights I would endure still greater + trials and still rejoice even as the bird on yonder bough.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's one I said!” crowed Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I shot the bird,” said David instantly. + </p> + <p> + “What bird?” + </p> + <p> + “The yonder bird.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not shoot the bird?” + </p> + <p> + “It was David who shot the bird,” I said, “but it was Oliver who saw by + its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the Psittacidae, an + excellent substitute for partridge.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't see that,” said Oliver, rather swollen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw that.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “You shut up.” + </p> + <p> + “David shot it,” I summed up, “and Oliver knew its name, but I ate it. Do + you remember how hungry I was?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” said David. + </p> + <p> + “I cooked it,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “It was served up on toast,” I reminded them. + </p> + <p> + “I toasted it,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “Toast from the bread-fruit-tree,” I said, “which (as you both remarked + simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a year, and also + affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoes.” + </p> + <p> + “I pitched mine best,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I pitched mine farthest,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And when I had finished my repast,” said I, “you amazed me by handing me + a cigar from the tobacco-plant.” + </p> + <p> + “I handed it,” said Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “I snicked off the end,” said David. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said I, “you gave me a light.” + </p> + <p> + “Which of us?” they cried together. + </p> + <p> + “Both of you,” I said. “Never shall I forget my amazement when I saw you + get that light by rubbing two sticks together.” + </p> + <p> + At this they waggled their heads. “You couldn't have done it!” said David. + </p> + <p> + “No, David,” I admitted, “I can't do it, but of course I know that all + wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did it.” + </p> + <p> + But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not shown + everything. + </p> + <p> + David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an island, + while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to argue it out + together and among their friends. As I unfolded the story Oliver listened + with an open knife in his hand, and David who was not allowed to have a + knife wore a pirate-string round his waist. Irene in her usual interfering + way objected to this bauble and dropped disparaging remarks about wrecked + islands which were little to her credit. I was for defying her, but David, + who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he craftily proposed that + we “should let Irene in,” in short, should wreck her, and though I + objected, she proved a great success and recognised the yucca filamentosa + by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined us. Thereafter we had no + more scoffing from Irene, who listened to the story as hotly as anybody. + </p> + <p> + This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, though + they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt he did. They + were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was very soft-hearted and + knew that while he was on the island they must be missing him very much at + home. So we let them in, and there was no part of the story he liked + better than that which told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of + another woman at any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and + Mary, I can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly + being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept at + plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff to cliff + with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a Saturday in which + David did not kill his man. + </p> + <p> + I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as true as + true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero himself. I had + described to them how the savages had tattooed David's father, and Oliver + informed me that one night shortly afterward David was discovered softly + lifting the blankets off his father's legs to have a look at the birds and + reptiles etched thereon. + </p> + <p> + Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may be asking + where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy fishing, + though I was as yet unaware of his existence. Most suddenly I heard the + whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a fish. I remember that grim day + with painful vividness, it was a wet day, indeed I think it has rained for + me more or less ever since. As soon as they joined me I saw from the + manner of the two boys that they had something to communicate. Oliver + nudged David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me solemnly, + </p> + <p> + “Oliver is going to Pilkington's.” + </p> + <p> + I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little did I + understand the import of David's remark that I called out jocularly, “I + hope he won't swish you, Oliver.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances and + retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned to say with + emphasis, + </p> + <p> + “He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all real ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Oliver!” said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once + more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided that the + time for plain speaking was come, for now David announced bluntly: + </p> + <p> + “He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I call him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bailey.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more after next + Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He's going to Pilkington's.” + </p> + <p> + So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver + stretching himself consciously, and methought that even David walked with + a sedater air. + </p> + <p> + “David,” said I, with a sinking, “are you going to Pilkington's?” + </p> + <p> + “When I am eight,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the + Gardens any more?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said David cheerily. + </p> + <p> + Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. Strange + that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his hand and walked on + in silence, and presently I did my most churlish to hurt him by ending the + story abruptly in a very cruel way. “Ten years have elapsed,” said I, + “since I last spoke, and our two heroes, now gay young men, are revisiting + the wrecked island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck ourselves,' said one, + 'or was there someone to help us?' And the other who was the younger, + replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, a man with a dog. I think + he used to tell me stories in the Kensington Gardens, but I forget all + about him; I don't remember even his name.'” + </p> + <p> + This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but David + still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I knew a storm was + brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. “It's not true,” he cried, + “it's a lie!” He gripped my hand. “I sha'n't never forget you, father.” + </p> + <p> + Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Yet I could go on. “You will forget, David, but there was once a boy who + would have remembered.” + </p> + <p> + “Timothy?” said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, and is very + jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood alone and wept + passionately, while I waited for him. You may be sure I begged his pardon, + and made it all right with him, and had him laughing and happy again + before I let him go. But nevertheless what I said was true. David is not + my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. Barbara + </h2> + <p> + Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + </p> + <p> + For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey now. At + long intervals we met him on our way to or from the Gardens, and, if there + was none from Pilkington's to mark him, methought he looked at us somewhat + longingly, as if beneath his real knickerbockers a morsel of the egg-shell + still adhered. Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly kick in passing, + and called him “youngster.” That was about all. + </p> + <p> + When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had lofted him out + of the story, and did very well without him, extending our operations to + the mainland, where they were on so vast a scale that we were rapidly + depopulating the earth. And then said David one day, + </p> + <p> + “Shall we let Barbara in?” + </p> + <p> + We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to some other + child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having sought election, even + with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “She's my sister.” + </p> + <p> + You may imagine how I gaped. + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't come yet,” David said lightly, “but she's coming.” + </p> + <p> + I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for though I + had always suspicioned Mary A—— as one who harboured the + craziest ambitions when she looked most humble, of such presumption as + this I had never thought her capable. + </p> + <p> + I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she was + wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about Mary's husband and + his manner the last time we met, for though I have had no opportunity to + say so, we still meet now and again, and he has even dined with me at the + club. On these occasions the subject of Timothy is barred, and if by any + unfortunate accident Mary's name is mentioned, we immediately look + opposite ways and a silence follows, in which I feel sure he is smiling, + and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I remembered now that I had + last seen him when I was dining with him at his club (for he is become + member of a club of painter fellows, and Mary is so proud of this that she + has had it printed on his card), when undoubtedly he had looked + preoccupied. It had been the look, I saw now, of one who shared a guilty + secret. + </p> + <p> + As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at myself, + for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of late. Always + foolishly inflated about David, she had been grudging him even to me + during these last weeks, and I had forgiven her, putting it down to a + mother's love. I knew from the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been + giving him; I had seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her + every act, in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to + whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could I, not + being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying good-bye to him? + </p> + <p> + Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about the house + at this time, on the understanding that everything was going on as usual. + Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, especially the engine she bought + him yesterday? + </p> + <p> + Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? I envy + you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he wrapped you round + for it. That childish confidence of his to me, in which unwittingly he + betrayed you, indicates that at last you have been preparing him for the + great change, and I suppose you are capable of replying to me that David + is still happy, and even interested. But does he know from you what it + really means to him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not + scruple to give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands + for Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, what do + you think of this tricking of a little boy? + </p> + <p> + Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, are you + sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an unwritten compact in such + matters between a mother and her first-born, and I desire to point out to + you that he never breaks it. Again, what will the other boys say when they + know? You are outside the criticism of the Gardens, but David is not. + Faith, madam, I believe you would have been kinder to wait and let him run + the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + </p> + <p> + You think your husband is a great man now because they are beginning to + talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the newspaper columns that + nobody reads. I know you have bought him a velvet coat, and that he has + taken a large, airy and commodious studio in Mews Lane, where you are to + be found in a soft material on first and third Wednesdays. Times are + changing, but shall I tell you a story here, just to let you see that I am + acquainted with it? + </p> + <p> + Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist a picture + which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But no one spoke of the + picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made an offer for it. Crushed was + the artist, sorry for the denseness of connoisseurs was his wife, till the + work was bought by a dealer for an anonymous client, and then elated were + they both, and relieved also to discover that I was not the buyer. He came + to me at once to make sure of this, and remained to walk the floor + gloriously as he told me what recognition means to gentlemen of the + artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + </p> + <p> + But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is usually + kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden away. His wife backed + into a corner and made trembling confession. How could she submit to see + her dear's masterpiece ignored by the idiot public, and her dear himself + plunged into gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had they not been + married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers for recognition, and + so with her savings she bought the great work anonymously and stored it + away in a closet. At first, I believe, the man raved furiously, but + by-and-by he was on his knees at the feet of this little darling. You know + who she was, Mary, but, bless me, I seem to be praising you, and that was + not the enterprise on which I set out. What I intended to convey was that + though you can now venture on small extravagances, you seem to be going + too fast. Look at it how one may, this Barbara idea is undoubtedly a bad + business. + </p> + <p> + How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my lucky day I + did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I have scarcely as yet + dared to hint, lest by discovering it I should spoil my plot. For there + has been a plot all the time. + </p> + <p> + For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a book, my + informant being David, who, because I have published a little volume on + Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one on the same subject (which + I shall never finish), likes to watch my methods of composition, how I + dip, and so on, his desire being to help her. He may have done this on his + own initiative, but it is also quite possible that in her desperation she + urged him to it; he certainly implied that she had taken to book-writing + because it must be easy if I could do it. She also informed him (very + inconsiderately), that I did not print my books myself, and this lowered + me in the eyes of David, for it was for the printing he had admired me and + boasted of me in the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the labels,” he said + to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in everything. + </p> + <p> + I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the token whereof + is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each labelled with a letter + of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, I drop its into the A box, and + so on, much to the satisfaction of David, who likes to drop them in for + me. I had now to admit that Wheeler & Gibb made the boxes. + </p> + <p> + “But I made the labels myself, David.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not so well made as the boxes,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as I + presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, “Tell her about + the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book until they are all + full. That will frighten her.” + </p> + <p> + Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + </p> + <p> + “One box!” I said with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “She made it herself,” retorted David hotly. + </p> + <p> + I got little real information from him about the work, partly because + David loses his footing when he descends to the practical, and perhaps + still more because he found me unsympathetic. But when he blurted out the + title, “The Little White Bird,” I was like one who had read the book to + its last page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little daughter + Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she would like + to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, and so long as she + had the modesty to see that she could not have one, I sympathised with her + deeply, whatever I may have said about her book to David. + </p> + <p> + In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little book, and + they came to her mostly in the morning when she was only three-parts + awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all flew away like startled + birds. I gathered from David that this depressed her exceedingly. + </p> + <p> + Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show themselves to + anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding within you. If they could + come into the open they would not be a book, they would be little Barbara. + </p> + <p> + But that was not the message I sent her. “She will never be able to write + it,” I explained to David. “She has not the ability. Tell her I said + that.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her ambitious + project, so I questioned David and discovered that it was abandoned. He + could not say why, nor was it necessary that he should, the trivial little + reason was at once so plain to me. From that moment all my sympathy with + Mary was spilled, and I searched for some means of exulting over her until + I found it. It was this. I decided, unknown even to David, to write the + book “The Little White Bird,” of which she had proved herself incapable, + and then when, in the fulness of time, she held her baby on high, implying + that she had done a big thing, I was to hold up the book. I venture to + think that such a devilish revenge was never before planned and carried + out. + </p> + <p> + Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching completion. + She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + </p> + <p> + I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to an abrupt + end. “And it really is the end this time, David,” I said severely. (I + always say that.) + </p> + <p> + It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot the great + Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we found his size to + have been under-estimated. David, his father and I had flung our limbs + upon the beach and were having a last pipe before turning in, while Mary, + attired in barbaric splendour, sang and danced before us. It was a lovely + evening, and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at the pretty + creature. + </p> + <p> + The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the light of + her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had been harpooned by + David earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace crept over + us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was uttered by Irene, + who came speeding to us, bearing certain articles, a watch, a pair of + boots, a newspaper, which she had discovered in the interior of the shark. + What was our surprise to find in the newspaper intelligence of the utmost + importance to all of us. It was nothing less than this, the birth of a new + baby in London to Mary. + </p> + <p> + How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + </p> + <p> + The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of excitement, and + next morning we set sail for England. Soon we came within sight of the + white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not sit down for a moment, so hot was + she to see her child. She paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + </p> + <p> + “So did I!” cried David, when I had reached this point in the story. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Never, David,” I said, “shall I forget your mother's excitement. She kept + putting her head out of the window and calling to the cabby to go quicker, + quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last he drew up at your house, and + then your mother, springing out, flew up the steps and beat with her hands + upon the door.” + </p> + <p> + David was quite carried away by the reality of it. “Father has the key!” + he screamed. + </p> + <p> + “He opened the door,” I said grandly, “and your mother rushed in, and next + moment her Benjamin was in her arms.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara,” corrected David. + </p> + <p> + “Benjamin,” said I doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that a girl's name?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's a boy's name.” + </p> + <p> + “But mother wants a girl,” he said, very much shaken. + </p> + <p> + “Just like her presumption,” I replied testily. “It is to be a boy, David, + and you can tell her I said so.” + </p> + <p> + He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would have + suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was + pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy. + </p> + <p> + “Barbara,” he repeatedly implored me. + </p> + <p> + “Benjamin,” I replied firmly. + </p> + <p> + For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed to + play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, and + if I won it was to be a boy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. The Cricket Match + </h2> + <p> + I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when + Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the + daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon + played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A + lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of + our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little + thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive + Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies + every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic match + of the Gardens. + </p> + <p> + David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is + familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted + on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We + could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens, but + there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them throughout + the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat near one of + these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected is a ragged yew + which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and I viewed the ground + with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly at about four yards' + distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my style of bowling. + </p> + <p> + I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first knock. + As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this occasion I + strode to the crease in an almost eerie silence. David had taken off his + blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were set, so I knew + he would begin by sending me down some fast ones. + </p> + <p> + His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes tries a + round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder at square leg. He + has not a good length, but he varies his action bewilderingly, and has one + especially teasing ball which falls from the branches just as you have + stepped out of your ground to look for it. It was not, however, with his + teaser that he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and two singles, + when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two minds and I + played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a really grassy wicket + for such a meagre score, and as David and I changed places without a word, + there was a cheery look on his face that I found very galling. He ran in + to my second ball and cut it neatly to the on for a single, and off my + fifth and sixth he had two pretty drives for three, both behind the + wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of him, for he now + hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at nine I beat him + with my shooter. + </p> + <p> + The look was now on my face. + </p> + <p> + I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, for I + knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, and then when + he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. What cared I though + David's lips were twitching. + </p> + <p> + When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which broke + awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that he needed + twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. As I gave him the + bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on my hand, and then a sudden + fear seized me lest David should not win. + </p> + <p> + At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and soon + fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed him a Yorker + which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon as it had reached the + tree. “Not out,” I cried hastily, for the face he turned to me was + terrible. + </p> + <p> + Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always recall + with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the bat, and I just + missed the catch. “Dash it all!” said I irritably, and was about to resume + bowling, when I noticed that he was unhappy. He hesitated, took up his + position at the wicket, and then came to me manfully. “I am a cad,” he + said in distress, “for when the ball was in the air I prayed.” He had + prayed that I should miss the catch, and as I think I have already told + you, it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for victory. + </p> + <p> + My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but he has a + noble sense of fairness. “We shall call it a no-ball, David,” I said + gravely. + </p> + <p> + I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and therefore I shall + say at once that David won the match with two lovely fours, the one over + my head and the other to leg all along the ground. When I came back from + fielding this last ball I found him embracing his bat, and to my sour + congratulations he could at first reply only with hysterical sounds. But + soon he was pelting home to his mother with the glorious news. + </p> + <p> + And that is how we let Barbara in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. The Dedication + </h2> + <p> + It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks after + the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even then it was not + quite finished, for there remained the dedication, at which I set to + elatedly. I think I have never enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my + opinion that I wrote the book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + </p> + <p> + “Madam” (I wrote wittily), “I have no desire to exult over you, yet I + should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things were I not to + dedicate this little work to you. For its inception was yours, and in your + more ambitious days you thought to write the tale of the little white bird + yourself. Why you so early deserted the nest is not for me to inquire. It + now appears that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, madam, you chose + the lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining the Bird. May I + point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that in the meantime I + am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, to me the substance. + Trusting that you will accept my little offering in a Christian spirit, I + am, dear madam,” etc. + </p> + <p> + It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design plainly through + the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, when, without warning, + the door burst open and a little boy entered, dragging in a faltering + lady. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said David, “this is mother.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the electric + light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as was very fitting, + Mary and I may be said to have met for the first time to the accompaniment + of flashes of lightning. I think she was arrayed in little blue feathers, + but if such a costume is not seemly, I swear there were, at least, little + blue feathers in her too coquettish cap, and that she was carrying a muff + to match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than her muff, and as muffs + are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I saw in a twink, that she + had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. I am also of opinion that + she remembered she had worn blue in the days when I watched her from the + club-window. Undoubtedly Mary is an engaging little creature, though not + my style. She was paler than is her wont, and had the touching look of one + whom it would be easy to break. I daresay this was a trick. Her skirts + made music in my room, but perhaps this was only because no lady had ever + rustled in it before. It was disquieting to me to reflect that despite her + obvious uneasiness, she was a very artful woman. + </p> + <p> + With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting-pad over + the dedication, and then, “Pray be seated,” I said coldly, but she + remained standing, all in a twitter and very much afraid of me, and I know + that her hands were pressed together within the muff. Had there been any + dignified means of escape, I think we would both have taken it. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have come,” she said nervously, and then seemed to wait for + some response, so I bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I was terrified to come, indeed I was,” she assured me with obvious + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “But I have come,” she finished rather baldly. + </p> + <p> + “It is an epitome, ma'am,” said I, seeing my chance, “of your whole life,” + and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + </p> + <p> + She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and of some + little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have done for her when + I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as soft as her muff. She had + also an affecting way of pronouncing all her r's as w's, just as the + fairies do. “And so,” she said, “as you would not come to me to be + thanked, I have come to you to thank you.” Whereupon she thanked me most + abominably. She also slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though she + was smiling her eyes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, ma'am,” said I in desperation, but I did not take her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am not very strong yet,” she said with low cunning. She said this to + make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted it a little. + Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth is, I begun to think + uncomfortably of the dedication. + </p> + <p> + I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to address + her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something that would sting + her. + </p> + <p> + “When you have quite done, ma'am,” I said, after a long pause, “perhaps + you will allow me to say a word.” + </p> + <p> + I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's face, that + she had given him a quick look which did not imply that she was stung. + Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, that though she was agitated and + in some fear of me, she was also enjoying herself considerably. + </p> + <p> + In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-bank, so + I said, rather off my watch, “If I have done all this for you, why did I + do it?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the chair, so + that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this that she was now + holding herself conceitedly and trying to look modest. “Not a bit of it, + ma'am,” said I sharply, “that was not the reason at all.” + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + </p> + <p> + “I never said it was,” she retorted with spirit, “I never thought for a + moment that it was.” She added, a trifle too late in the story, “Besides, + I don't know what you are talking of.” + </p> + <p> + I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, and + became quite little in the chair again. + </p> + <p> + “David,” said I mercilessly, “did you ever see your mother blush?” + </p> + <p> + “What is blush?” + </p> + <p> + “She goes a beautiful pink colour.” + </p> + <p> + David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head office, + crossed to his mother expectantly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't, David,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said I, “she will do it now,” and with the instinct of a + gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but presently + David exclaimed admiringly, “Oh, mother, do it again!” + </p> + <p> + As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel-glass + whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most candid face on + me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. Perhaps no look given by + woman to man affects him quite so much. “You see,” she said radiantly and + with a gesture that disclosed herself to me, “I can forgive even that. You + long ago earned the right to hurt me if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an uncommon + drawing to her. + </p> + <p> + “And if I did think that for a little while—,” she went on, with an + unsteady smile. + </p> + <p> + “Think what?” I asked, but without the necessary snap. + </p> + <p> + “What we were talking of,” she replied wincing, but forgiving me again. + “If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it lasted and it lasted + but a little time. I have long been sure that your kindness to me was due + to some other reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am,” said I very honestly, “I know not what was the reason. My concern + for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a selfish thing, yet + not altogether selfish, for I think that what first stirred it was the + joyous sway of the little nursery governess as she walked down Pall Mall + to meet her lover. It seemed such a mighty fine thing to you to be loved + that I thought you had better continue to be loved for a little longer. + And perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter I was charmed by + the ease with which you could be helped, for you must know that I am one + who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and smiled. “On my soul,” I assured her, “I can think + of no other reason.” + </p> + <p> + “A kind heart,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “More likely a whim,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Or another woman,” said she. + </p> + <p> + I was very much taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “More than twenty years ago,” she said with a soft huskiness in her voice, + and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know that in twenty years + all love stories are grown mouldy. + </p> + <p> + On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude for Mary + was one that had never struck me, but the more I pondered it now—. I + raised her hand and touched it with my lips, as we whimsical old fellows + do when some gracious girl makes us to hear the key in the lock of long + ago. “Why, ma'am,” I said, “it is a pretty notion, and there may be + something in it. Let us leave it at that.” + </p> + <p> + But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you remember, beneath + the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire to crush her with it. I + wished that she had succeeded in writing the book on which her longings + had been so set. + </p> + <p> + “If only you had been less ambitious,” I said, much troubled that she + should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted all the dear delicious things,” she admitted contritely. + </p> + <p> + “It was unreasonable,” I said eagerly, appealing to her intellect. + “Especially this last thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I know.” And then to my amazement she added + triumphantly, “But I got it.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued apologetically but + still as if she really thought hers had been a romantic career, “I know I + have not deserved it, but I got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma'am,” I cried reproachfully, “reflect. You have not got the great + thing.” I saw her counting the great things in her mind, her wondrous + husband and his obscure success, David, Barbara, and the other trifling + contents of her jewel-box. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Come, madam,” I cried a little nettled, “you know that there is lacking + the one thing you craved for most of all.” + </p> + <p> + Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when I had + told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, “The book? I had + forgotten all about the book!” And then after reflection she added, + “Pooh!” Had she not added Pooh I might have spared her, but as it was I + raised the blotting-pad rather haughtily and presented her with the sheet + beneath it. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am,” said I, swelling, “it is a Dedication,” and I walked majestically + to the window. + </p> + <p> + There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. Yet if + indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in almost the same + moment she was looking large-eyed at me and tapping my sleeve impulsively + with her fingers, just as David does when he suddenly likes you. + </p> + <p> + “How characteristic of you,” she said at the window. + </p> + <p> + “Characteristic,” I echoed uneasily. “Ha!” + </p> + <p> + “And how kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you say kind, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you + know very well,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, but + how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very + depressed. + </p> + <p> + “And there is another mistake,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one.” + </p> + <p> + “It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. “It was + of your little white bird,” she said, “it was of a little boy whose name + was Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into + another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little + book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for + me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of us + would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject as + ourselves, but said she, “How wrong you are in thinking this book is about + me and mine, it is really all about Timothy.” + </p> + <p> + At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I considered I saw + that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this very + clever woman. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he + makes a great discovery, “it proves to be my book after all.” + </p> + <p> + “With all your pretty thoughts left out,” I answered, properly humbled. + </p> + <p> + She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. “I had only one + pretty thought for the book,” she said, “I was to give it a happy ending.” + She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when she added + with extraordinary boldness, “The little white bird was to bear an + olive-leaf in its mouth.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which she + had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get + admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young + thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind + her that I was forty-seven years of age. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite young for a man,” she said brazenly. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” said I, “was not forty-seven when he died, and I remember + thinking him an old man.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't think so now, do you?” she persisted, “you feel young + occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in the + Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Mary A——,” I cried, grown afraid of the woman, “I forbid you + to make any more discoveries to-day.” + </p> + <p> + But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought + her to my rooms. “They are very dear women,” said she coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” I said, “they must be dear women if they are friends of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not exactly young,” she faltered, “and perhaps they are not very + pretty—” + </p> + <p> + But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that + she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind + against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had + thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all the + land. + </p> + <p> + My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the + little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came back + to the present together. + </p> + <p> + I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no + longer ago than yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, ma'am,” I said, trying to put a brave face on it, “I will come + to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she + wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that the + youthful romances are the best. + </p> + <p> + It was now my turn to comfort her. “In twenty years,” I said, smiling at + her tears, “a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great fund + of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the word + of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got to care + for me I shall be very proud.” Despite her semblance of delight I knew + that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it was true. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Little White Bird + or Adventures In Kensington Gardens + +Author: J. M. Barrie + +Posting Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #1376] +Release Date: July, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + +OR ADVENTURES IN KENSINGTON GARDENS + +By J.M. Barrie + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + II. The Little Nursery Governess + III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an + Inventory of Her Furniture. + IV. A Night-Piece + V. The Fight For Timothy + VI. A Shock + VII. The Last of Timothy + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + X. Sporting Reflections + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + XIV. Peter Pan + XV. The Thrush's Nest + XVI. Lock-Out Time + XVII. The Little House + XVIII. Peter's Goat + XIX. An Interloper + XX. David and Porthos Compared + XXI. William Paterson + XXII. Joey + XXIII. Pilkington's + XXIV. Barbara + XXV. The Cricket Match + XXVI. The Dedication + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + + + + +I. David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + +Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an invitation +from his mother: "I shall be so pleased if you will come and see me," +and I always reply in some such words as these: "Dear madam, I decline." +And if David asks why I decline, I explain that it is because I have no +desire to meet the woman. + +"Come this time, father," he urged lately, "for it is her birthday, and +she is twenty-six," which is so great an age to David, that I think he +fears she cannot last much longer. + +"Twenty-six, is she, David?" I replied. "Tell her I said she looks +more." + +I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was twenty-six, +which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a place called +my home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking hours, and when I +alighted at the station a dear lost love was waiting for me, and we went +away together. She met me in no ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised +to find her there; it was as if we had been married for years and parted +for a day. I like to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + +Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I have +never in my life addressed one word, she would droop her head and raise +it bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but very proud, and she +would be wishful to lend me her absurd little pocket handkerchief. And +then, had I the heart, I might make a disclosure that would startle her, +for it is not the face of David's mother that I see in my dreams. + +Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty woman +who thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed down under +a hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have been pursued for +several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of the tender-hearted and +virtuous Mary A----. When we pass in the street the poor deluded soul +subdues her buoyancy, as if it were shame to walk happy before one she +has lamed, and at such times the rustle of her gown is whispered words +of comfort to me, and her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little +boy like David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am +unaware of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint +note of challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says why +don't you? and a mouth that says I rather wish you could: such is the +portrait of Mary A---- as she and I pass by. + +Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David that I +had spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and she asked would +I tell her the time please, just as children ask, and forget as they +run back with it to their nurse. But I was prepared even for this, and +raising my hat I pointed with my staff to a clock in the distance. She +should have been overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I +thought with displeasure that I heard her laughing. + +Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in order to +hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. She has been +putting qualities into David, altering him, turning him forever on a +lathe since the day she first knew him, and indeed long before, and all +so deftly that he is still called a child of nature. When you release +David's hand he is immediately lost like an arrow from the bow. No +sooner do you cast eyes on him than you are thinking of birds. It is +difficult to believe that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always +seems to have alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he +would come and peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the +doing of that timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly surprised by +it. He strikes a hundred gallant poses in a day; when he tumbles, which +is often, he comes to the ground like a Greek god; so Mary A---- has +willed it. But how she suffers that he may achieve! I have seen him +climbing a tree while she stood beneath in unutterable anguish; she had +to let him climb, for boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she +watched him, she fell from every branch. + +David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she will be +able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. Otherwise he would +trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she has discovered this; for, as +I learn from him, she warned him lately that she is not such a dear as +he thinks her. + +"I am very sure of it," I replied. + +"Is she such a dear as you think her?" he asked me. + +"Heaven help her," I said, "if she be not dearer than that." + +Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their boy +will certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day when every +mother stands revealed before her little son. That dread hour ticks +between six and seven; when children go to bed later the revelation has +ceased to come. He is lapt in for the night now and lies quietly there, +madam, with great, mysterious eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing +up your day. Nothing in the revelations that kept you together and +yet apart in play time can save you now; you two are of no age, no +experience of life separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have +come up for judgment. "Have I done well to-day, my son?" You have got to +say it, and nothing may you hide from him; he knows all. How like your +voice has grown to his, but more tremulous, and both so solemn, so +unlike the voice of either of you by day. + +"You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you not, +mother?" + +Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands and +answer him. + +"Yes, my son, I was. I thought--" + +But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + +"Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and then +pretend it was six before it was quite six?" + +"No, it was very unfair. I thought--" + +"Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?" + +"Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again." + +"No, mother, please don't." + +"My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?" + +Suppose he were unable to say yes. + +These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a little +thing to be false to the agreement you signed when you got the boy? +There are mothers who avoid their children in that hour, but this will +not save them. Why is it that so many women are afraid to be left alone +with their thoughts between six and seven? I am not asking this of +you, Mary. I believe that when you close David's door softly there is a +gladness in your eyes, and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom +little boys say their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + +I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and has had +his first fight with another young Christian who challenged him to the +jump and prayed for victory, which David thought was taking an unfair +advantage. + +"So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell her that I +am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two." + +He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. When I +pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing for our meeting. +She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so much of her when +she is fifty-two, meaning that she will not be so pretty then. So little +does the sex know of beauty. Surely a spirited old lady may be the +prettiest sight in the world. For my part, I confess that it is they, +and not the young ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was +about to fall in love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. +Indeed, I cannot see a likely young creature without impatiently +considering her chances for, say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious girls, +when you are fifty-two we shall find you out; you must come into the +open then. If the mouth has fallen sourly yours the blame: all the +meannesses your youth concealed have been gathering in your face. But +the pretty thoughts and sweet ways and dear, forgotten kindnesses linger +there also, to bloom in your twilight like evening primroses. + +Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about his +mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I reflect, what +sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him cruelly: "Boy, you are +uncommonly like your mother." + +To which David: "Is that why you are so kind to me?" + +I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his mother, +but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour as a soldier, +there is nothing more in it than that. I must not let him know this, for +it would make him conscious, and so break the spell that binds him and +me together. Oftenest I am but Captain W---- to him, and for the best of +reasons. He addresses me as father when he is in a hurry only, and never +have I dared ask him to use the name. He says, "Come, father," with an +accursed beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little while +longer. + +I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in shops he +asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and which drawer he +keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he like Achilles, of whom +David has lately heard, and is so enamoured that he wants to die to meet +him. At such times the shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot +explain the peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds +then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away +before he volunteers the information, "He is not really my father." + +When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little boy will +take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to some +Round Pond. + +One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following letter: +"Dear David: If you really want to know how it began, will you come and +have a chop with me to-day at the club?" + +Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her consent, +and, I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what happened so that he +might repeat it to her, for despite her curiosity she knows not how +it began herself. I chuckled, guessing that she expected something +romantic. + +He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking unusually +solemn, as little boys always do look when they are wearing a great +coat. There was a shawl round his neck. "You can take some of them off," +I said, "when we come to summer." + +"Shall we come to summer?" he asked, properly awed. + +"To many summers," I replied, "for we are going away back, David, to see +your mother as she was in the days before there was you." + +We hailed a hansom. "Drive back six years," I said to the cabby, "and +stop at the Junior Old Fogies' Club." + +He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + +The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For +instance, the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I dropped +David a hint of what was going on. + +"It doesn't make me littler, does it?" he asked anxiously; and then, +with a terrible misgiving: "It won't make me too little, will it, +father?" by which he meant that he hoped it would not do for him +altogether. He slipped his hand nervously into mine, and I put it in my +pocket. + +You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals of the +club. + + + + +II. The Little Nursery Governess + +As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David vanishing +into nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago at two in the +afternoon. I ring for coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy, and take my +chair by the window, just as the absurd little nursery governess comes +tripping into the street. I always feel that I have rung for her. + +While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall into the +cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the one suitable +lump of sugar she is taking six last looks at the letter; with the aid +of William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-reading the delicious +address. I lie back in my chair, and by this time she has dropped the +letter down the slit. I toy with my liqueur, and she is listening to +hear whether the postal authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at +a fellow-member who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and +her two little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When +I look out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for her +to-morrow at two sharp. + +She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. I know +not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. She is taking +the little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. James's Park, as +their hoops tell me, and she ought to look crushed and faded. No doubt +her mistress overworks her. It must enrage the other servants to see her +deporting herself as if she were quite the lady. + +I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that +the posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, +plebeians all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I have even seen +her blow a kiss after it. + +Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it rather +than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it through her +glove to make sure that it was still there. She took off the glove and +raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not it was the cheapest +trinket. She viewed it from afar by stretching out her hand; she stooped +to see how it looked near the ground; she considered its effect on the +right of her and on the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even +when you saw that she had made up her mind to think hard of something +else, the little silly would take another look. + +I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + +No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man +loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was the merest nobody, +she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her +tackle and ticketed with the insufferable air of an engaged woman. At +first her complacency disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my +life at two o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now +comes the tragedy. + +Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every Thursday for +her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is probably paid several +pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself once a week. And what does +she with it? Attend classes for making her a more accomplished person? +Not she. This is what she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her +pretty things, including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle +of expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On +ordinary days she at least tries to look demure, but on a Thursday she +has had the assurance to use the glass door of the club as a mirror in +which to see how she likes her engaging trifle of a figure to-day. + +In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the +post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always wears +the same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever make him free of +the company of gentlemen. He is one of your lean, clean Englishmen, +who strip so well, and I fear me he is handsome; I say fear, for your +handsome men have always annoyed me, and had I lived in the duelling +days I swear I would have called every one of them out. He seems to be +quite unaware that he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary +knows it. I conclude that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is +so easily elated and depressed; and because he carries his left thumb +curiously, as if it were feeling for the hole of a palette, I have +entered his name among the painters. I find pleasure in deciding that +they are shocking bad pictures, for obviously no one buys them. I feel +sure Mary says they are splendid, she is that sort of woman. Hence the +rapture with which he greets her. Her first effect upon him is to make +him shout with laughter. He laughs suddenly haw from an eager exulting +face, then haw again, and then, when you are thanking heaven that it is +at last over, comes a final haw, louder than the others. I take them to +be roars of joy because Mary is his, and they have a ring of youth +about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive him everything save his +youth, but it is so aggressive that I have sometimes to order William +testily to close the window. + +How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery governess. +The moment she comes into sight she looks at the post-office and sees +him. Then she looks straight before her, and now she is observed, and he +rushes across to her in a glory, and she starts--positively starts--as +if he had taken her by surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her +wicked little heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. +He gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, and +as she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then away they +strut, Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall to wondering what +they will look like when they grow up. + +What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each other. +You can see that they are to be married when he has twopence. + +Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom London is +famous only as the residence of a young man who mistakes her for someone +else, but her happiness had become part of my repast at two P.M., and +when one day she walked down Pall Mall without gradually posting a +letter I was most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. +Her two charges were as surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to +the slit, at which she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, +exactly like a sad baby, and so passed from the street. + +Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit +through my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there might +be an end of this annoyance, but no, neither of them appeared on that +acquainted ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes +were red every day, and heavy was her foolish little heart. Love had put +out his lights, and the little nursery governess walked in darkness. + +I felt I could complain to the committee. + +Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to her, +won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. + +Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be joyous as +of old during the five minutes of the day when you are anything to me, +and for the rest of the time, so far as I am concerned, you may be as +wretched as you list. Show some courage. I assure you he must be a very +bad painter; only the other day I saw him looking longingly into the +window of a cheap Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush +down his aspirations with two penny scones. + +You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + +All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from morning +till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she lost that +little. They are all like this. + +Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure till +you die, you might at least do it in another street. + +Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on ordinary +days, but I have discovered that every Thursday from two to three she +stands afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic post-office where she +and he shall meet no more. In these windy days she is like a homeless +leaf blown about by passers-by. + +There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + +At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet Thursday, +and from the window where I was writing letters I saw the forlorn soul +taking up her position at the top of the street: in a blast of fury I +rose with the one letter I had completed, meaning to write the others in +my chambers. She had driven me from the club. + +I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom should I +strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, but I hit out at +him savagely, as I always do when I run into anyone in the street. Then +I looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; he was muddy; there was not a haw +left in him. I never saw a more abject young man; he had not even the +spirit to resent the testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But +this is the important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office +and thus in a twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. +Whatever had been their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up as she, +and perhaps he had been here every Thursday while she was round the +corner in Pall Mall, each watching the post-office for an apparition. +But from where they hovered neither could see the other. + +I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen at his +feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a gentleman who finds +a letter on the pavement feels bound to post it, and I presumed that he +would naturally go to the nearest office. + +With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was just in +time to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I looked for +the little nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone as ever; then, +suddenly--oh, you poor little soul, and has it really been as bad as +that! + +She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It was a +disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently explode if he +could not make use of his arms. She must die if she could not lay her +head upon his breast. I must admit that he rose to the occasion; he +hailed a hansom. + +"William," said I gaily, "coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy." + + +As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to ask +what I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran eagerly to +the window, but he reached it just too late to see the lady who was to +become his mother. What I told him of her doings, however, interested +him greatly; and he intimated rather shyly that he was acquainted with +the man who said, "Haw-haw-haw." On the other hand, he irritated me by +betraying an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to +regard as the hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How +old were they? Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or just wooden +hoops? Who gave them their hoops? + +"You don't seem to understand, my boy," I said tartly, "that had I not +dropped that letter, there would never have been a little boy called +David A----." But instead of being appalled by this he asked, sparkling, +whether I meant that he would still be a bird flying about in the +Kensington Gardens. + +David knows that all children in our part of London were once birds in +the Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are bars on nursery +windows and a tall fender by the fire is because very little people +sometimes forget that they have no longer wings, and try to fly away +through the window or up the chimney. + +Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows that many +people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon is to go with me +to some spot in the Gardens where these unfortunates may be seen trying +to catch one with small pieces of cake. + +That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even +a little undecided about which is the better life, is obvious to every +student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty perambulator under the +trees and watch from a distance, you will see the birds boarding it and +hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excitement; they +are trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. + +Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray from +the tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not +a grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, +and all the time such a jabbering and laughing from both sides of the +railing. They are comparing notes and inquiring for old friends, and so +on; but what they say I cannot determine, for when I approach they all +fly away. + +The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the Baby's Walk. +He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot day by a hose which +lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of water, and David was on +his back in the water, kicking up his legs. He used to enjoy being told +of this, having forgotten all about it, and gradually it all came back +to him, with a number of other incidents that had escaped my memory, +though I remember that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long +string and a cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never +tires of this story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me +rather than I to him, and when we come to the string he rubs his little +leg as if it still smarted. + +So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he called +out to me quickly: "Don't drop the letter!" and there were tree-tops in +his eyes. + +"Think of your mother," I said severely. + +He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he would do +would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and +have a drink. + +"Tell her, father," he said with horrid heartlessness, "always to have +plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I might fall +in and be drownded." + +"Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother without +her boy!" + +It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, he would +hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck at her mouth. + +"And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a bird +instead of a boy." + +This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. "You can drop it," +he said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I have already +mentioned; and that is how it all began. + + + + +III. Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her +Furniture + +A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my way to +certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed +haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of +a shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire system. I had the merest +glimpse of them, but there was an extraordinary rapture on her face, and +his head was thrown proudly back, and all because they had been ordering +a piano on the hire system. + +So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptible, +but I passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she is unhappy that +this woman disturbs me, owing to a clever way she has at such times of +looking more fragile than she really is. + +When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window of the +sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most deliciously dramatic +spots in London. Mary was taking notes feverishly on a slip of paper +while he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily +without buying anything. I was in high feather. "Match abandoned, +ma'am," I said to myself; "outlook hopeless; another visit to the +Governesses' Agency inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen +shovel." But I was imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + +A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is +something artful about her skirts by which I always know her, though +I can't say what it is. She was carrying an enormous parcel that might +have been a bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, and she took it into +a bric-a-brac shop and came out without it. She then ran rather than +walked in the direction of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Now mystery +of any kind is detestable to me, and I went into the bric-a-brac +shop, ostensibly to look at the cracked china; and there, still on the +counter, with the wrapping torn off it, was the article Mary had sold +in order to furnish on the proceeds. What do you think it was? It was a +wonderful doll's house, with dolls at tea downstairs and dolls going to +bed upstairs, and a doll showing a doll out at the front door. Loving +lips had long ago licked most of the paint off, but otherwise the thing +was in admirable preservation; obviously the joy of Mary's childhood, it +had now been sold by her that she might get married. + +"Lately purchased by us," said the shopwoman, seeing me look at the toy, +"from a lady who has no further use for it." + +I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought the doll's +house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at this shop that I +first learned her name) I instructed them to send it back to her with +the following letter, which I wrote in the shop: "Dear madam, don't be +ridiculous. You will certainly have further use for this. I am, etc., +the Man Who Dropped the Letter." + +It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to reflect +that I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I saw her she had +been married for some months. The time was nine o'clock of a November +evening, and we were in a street of shops that has not in twenty years +decided whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it minces in the +fashion, but take a step onward and its tongue is in the cup of the +ice-cream man. I usually rush this street, which is not far from my +rooms, with the glass down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in +front of me, leaning in a somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they +were chatting excitedly. She seemed to be remonstrating with him for +going forward, yet more than half admiring him for not turning back, and +I wondered why. + +And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out to do? +To buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been trying to persuade +him, I decided, that they were living too lavishly. That was why she +sought to draw him back. But in her heart she loves audacity, and that +is why she admired him for pressing forward. + +No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like two +gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace them to their +home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that night I composed the +following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to overtake a pretty young +woman carrying pork chops. I was now determined to be done with her. +First, however, to find out their abode, which was probably within easy +distance of the shop. I even conceived them lured into taking their +house by the advertisement, "Conveniently situated for the Pork +Emporium." + +Well, one day--now this really is romantic and I am rather proud of +it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an anxiously +polite street between which and mine are little yards called, I think, +gardens. They are so small that if you have the tree your neighbour has +the shade from it. I was looking out at my back window on the day +we have come to when whom did I see but the whilom nursery governess +sitting on a chair in one of these gardens. I put up my eye-glass to +make sure, and undoubtedly it was she. But she sat there doing nothing, +which was by no means my conception of the jade, so I brought a +fieldglass to bear and discovered that the object was merely a lady's +jacket. It hung on the back of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry +thing, and, I must suppose, was suspended there for an airing. + +I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as it +was not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her wear such +a jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell why. Do clothes +absorb a little of the character of their wearer, so that I recognised +this jacket by a certain coquetry? If she has a way with her skirts that +always advertises me of her presence, quite possibly she is as cunning +with jackets. Or perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little +tucks of herself. + +Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on my +hat and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge from the +house to which I had calculated that garden belonged. Now am I clever, +or am I not? + +When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and a +droll house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist of a door +and a window, though above them the trained eye may detect another +window, the air-hole of some apartment which it would be just like +Mary's grandiloquence to call her bedroom. The houses on each side of +this bandbox are tall, and I discovered later that it had once been +an open passage to the back gardens. The story and a half of which it +consists had been knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather +than masons, and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that +has stuck for ever on its way through the passage. + +The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall ones +that I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their builders, +but this house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call itself a house, +for over the door was a board with the inscription "This space to be +sold," and I remembered, as I rang the bell, that this notice had been +up for years. On avowing that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an +elderly, somewhat dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not +on scale with her surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first +remark was explanatory. + +"They get me cheap," she said, "because I drink." + +I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether I have +described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a picture of +that sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How can she have found +the money to pay for it all! which is always your first reflection when +you see Mary herself a-tripping down the street. + +I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim-whams +with which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn bell-rope which +pulled no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that contained no cigars. +The floor was of a delicious green with exquisite oriental rugs; green +and white, I think, was the lady's scheme of colour, something cool, you +observe, to keep the sun under. The window-curtains were of some rare +material and the colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor +grandly and suggested a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano +we may ignore, for I knew it to be hired, but there were many dainty +pieces, mostly in green wood, a sofa, a corner cupboard, and a most +captivating desk, which was so like its owner that it could have sat +down at her and dashed off a note. The writing paper on this desk had +the word Mary printed on it, implying that if there were other Marys +they didn't count. There were many oil-paintings on the walls, mostly +without frames, and I must mention the chandelier, which was obviously +of fabulous worth, for she had encased it in a holland bag. + +"I perceive, ma'am," said I to the stout maid, "that your master is in +affluent circumstances." + +She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed to +catch. + +"You wish to indicate," I hazarded, "that he married a fortune." + +This time I caught the words. They were "Tinned meats," and having +uttered them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + +"Nevertheless," I said, "this room must have cost a pretty penny." + +"She done it all herself," replied my new friend, with concentrated +scorn. + +"But this green floor, so beautifully stained--" + +"Boiling oil," said she, with a flush of honest shame, "and a +shillingsworth o' paint." + +"Those rugs--" + +"Remnants," she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been pieced +together. + +"The curtains--" + +"Remnants." + +"At all events the sofa--" + +She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of packing +cases. + +"The desk--" + +I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see the +drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for books, the +pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + +"She made it out of three orange boxes," said the lady, at last a little +awed herself. + +I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the holland +covering. "There is a fine chandelier in that holland bag," I said +coaxingly. + +She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. +"Forbear, ma'am," I cried with authority, "I prefer to believe in that +bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost faith in +everything." I think all the pretty things that the little nursery +governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand for letting the +chandelier off. + +"But, good God, ma'am," said I to madam, "what an exposure." + +She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + +"So there is a stair," said I, and then, suspiciously, "did she make +it?" + +No, but how she had altered it. + +The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at that, +nor at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + +"Did she build the studio with her own hands?" + +No, but how she had altered it. + +"How she alters everything," I said. "Do you think you are safe, ma'am?" + +She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me with some +of her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband +was not, it appeared, one on which any self-respecting domestic could +reflect with pride. They got the house very cheap on the understanding +that they were to vacate it promptly if anyone bought it for building +purposes, and because they paid so little they had to submit to the +indignity of the notice-board. Mary A---- detested the words "This space +to be sold," and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as +elated about her house as if it were a real house, and always trembled +when any possible purchaser of spaces called. + +As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to record +that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of art. "The +difficulty," she said, "is not to paint pictures, but to get frames for +them." A home thrust this. + +She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's work. +Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned meats. + +Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was +constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even been +caught whispering fiercely to a friend, "Praise it, praise it, praise +it!" This was when the painter was sunk in gloom. Never, as I could well +believe, was such a one as Mary for luring a man back to cheerfulness. + +"A dangerous woman," I said, with a shudder, and fell to examining a +painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of a man, and had +impressed me favourably because it was framed. + +"A friend of hers," my guide informed me, "but I never seed him." + +I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the picture +drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and these were the +words: "Fancy portrait of our dear unknown." Could it be meant for me? I +cannot tell you how interested I suddenly became. + +It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day more +than thirty. + +"A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?" I asked quite shakily. "How do +you know that, if you have never seen him?" + +"When master was painting of it," she said, "in the studio, he used to +come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What colour would you +make his eyes?'" + +"And her reply, ma'am?" I asked eagerly. + +"She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't make it +a handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very handsome face.' And +says he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, 'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him +saying, 'A little bald on the top?' and she says, says she, 'Not at +all.'" + +The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + +"I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture," said the maid. + +Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + +Pooh! + +I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I could +write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. "I think she has +known him since she were a babby," she was saying, "for this here was a +present he give her." + +She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the sofa, +where it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, "I shall slip +the insulting message into this." But I did not, and I shall tell you +why. It was because the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving +hands; there were fresh gowns for all the inhabitants, and the paint on +the furniture was scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready +for further use. + +I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. "Put it back," +I said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, and I left the +house dejectedly, with a profound conviction that the little nursery +governess had hooked on to me again. + + + + +IV. A Night-Piece + +There came a night when the husband was alone in that street waiting. He +can do nothing for you now, little nursery governess, you must fight it +out by yourself; when there are great things to do in the house the man +must leave. Oh, man, selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, +thy woman's hour has come; get thee gone. + +He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, +chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? +It is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindness +to stalk the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still +might he not sometimes have been a little kinder? + +Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to be a +little kinder than is necessary? + +Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, +to sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, to send you +a reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, if you are not to +meet again, still to send you a reassuring, trembling smile. + +Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders the +streets thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. In her great +hour the man is nothing to the woman; their love is trivial now. + +He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become familiar +ground to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me in which Mary +A---- walked. Here was the morning after my only entry into her house. +The agent had promised me to have the obnoxious notice-board removed, +but I apprehended that as soon as the letter announcing his intention +reached her she would remove it herself, and when I passed by in the +morning there she was on a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it +with a hammer. When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + +There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the +postman. I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate of a +picture. He dogged the postman from door to door like an assassin or a +guardian angel; never had he the courage to ask if there was a letter +for him, but almost as it fell into the box he had it out and tore it +open, and then if the door closed despairingly the woman who had been at +the window all this time pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news +was good they might emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the +direction of the pork emporium. + +One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of them +through the open window, when she sat at the piano singing and playing +to him. Or while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for +him to grasp. She was so joyously happy, and she had such a romantic +mind. I conceived her so sympathetic that she always laughed before he +came to the joke, and I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start +of a pathetic story. + +And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery +governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, mysterious. I +suppose a man soon becomes used to the great change, and cannot recall a +time when there were no babes sprawling in his Mary's face. + +I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young husband on +the other side of the street. "If the barrier is to be crossed to-night +may I not go with her? She is not so brave as you think her. When she +talked so gaily a few hours ago, O my God, did she deceive even you?" + +Plain questions to-night. "Why should it all fall on her? What is the +man that he should be flung out into the street in this terrible hour? +You have not been fair to the man." + +Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. If she +lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will die triumphant +and serene. Life and death, the child and the mother, are ever meeting +as the one draws into harbour and the other sets sail. They exchange a +bright "All's well" and pass on. + +But afterward? + +The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead young +mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is no other +inducement great enough to bring the departed back. They glide into the +acquainted room when day and night, their jailers, are in the grip, and +whisper, "How is it with you, my child?" but always, lest a strange face +should frighten him, they whisper it so low that he may not hear. They +bend over him to see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet +arm beneath the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many +little vests he has. They love to do these things. + +What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their child. They +expect him to be just as he was when they left him, and they are easily +bewildered, and search for him from room to room, and hate the unknown +boy he has become. Poor, passionate souls, they may even do him an +injury. These are the ghosts that go wailing about old houses, and +foolish wild stories are invented to explain what is all so pathetic and +simple. I know of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early +home to pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair +by the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's face appear. +She always looked at him very vindictively, and then vanished. Strange +things happened in this house. Windows were opened in the night. The +curtains of his bed were set fire to. A step on the stair was loosened. +The covering of an old well in a corridor where he walked was cunningly +removed. And when he fell ill the wrong potion was put in the glass by +his bedside, and he died. How could the pretty young mother know that +this grizzled interloper was the child of whom she was in search? + +All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty as lost +wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we are not nearly +so afraid of them as they are of us. + +One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp burned +steadily in the little window across the way. I know not how it +happened, whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, but, after +being for a long time as the echo of each other's steps, we were +together now. I can have had no desire to deceive him, but some reason +was needed to account for my vigil, and I may have said something that +he misconstrued, for above my words he was always listening for other +sounds. But however it came about he had conceived the idea that I was +an outcast for a reason similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, +it seemed to matter so little and to draw us together so naturally. +We talked together of many things, such as worldly ambition. For long +ambition has been like an ancient memory to me, some glorious day +recalled from my springtime, so much a thing of the past that I must +make a railway journey to revisit it as to look upon the pleasant fields +in which that scene was laid. But he had been ambitious yesterday. + +I mentioned worldly ambition. "Good God!" he said with a shudder. + +There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one o'clock +passed and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. And now? It is +still twenty past two. + +I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. "We +have a friend--" he began and paused, and then rambled into a not very +understandable story about a letter and a doll's house and some unknown +man who had bought one of his pictures, or was supposed to have done so, +in a curiously clandestine manner. I could not quite follow the story. + +"It is she who insists that it is always the same person," he said. "She +thinks he will make himself known to me if anything happens to her." His +voice suddenly went husky. "She told me," he said, "if she died and I +discovered him, to give him her love." + +At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the night, +to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of some things +she had asked him to do should she not get over this, but what they were +I know not, for they engulfed him at the first step. He would draw back +from them as ill-omened things, and next moment he was going over them +to himself like a child at lessons. A child! In that short year she had +made him entirely dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their +first deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few +men happily married who can knock in a nail. + +But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had not +degenerated so much. + +Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At eighteen +minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. He boasts about +it to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as if the first thing he +ever did was to look at the clock. + +An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations to +my companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a wall, +hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt whether to toss +me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I shook him by the hand, +but by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so abominably that a disgust of +him swelled up within me, and with it a passionate desire to jeer once +more at Mary A-- + +"It is little she will care for you now," I said to the fellow; "I +know the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she has to +distinguish her from the brutes) are so imperfectly developed that she +will be a crazy thing about that boy for the next three years. She has +no longer occasion for you, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted +out." + +But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if +one alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs +that lead to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to +the hilarity of the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I +wandered from chamber to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were +alike empty and desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought +I heard a pebble strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father +standing beneath. I had told him that I lived in this street, and I +suppose my lights had guided him to my window. + +"I could not lie down," he called up hoarsely, "until I heard your news. +Is it all right?" + +For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: "Yes, all +is right." + +"Both doing well?" he inquired. + +"Both," I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window. +It was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was +nevertheless in a passion with him. + +"Boy or girl?" persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity. + +"Boy," I said, very furiously. + +"Splendid," he called out, and I think he added something else, but by +that time I had closed the window with a slam. + + + + +V. The Fight For Timothy + +Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of +exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a +life of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of +the street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were +some entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I +had not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that +every time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + +I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always +sulky, and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein +lies her heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a +student of her face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so +she has struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when +night falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy +natural state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even +sulkily? + +But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be +seen, and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a +rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though I have always +been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which over-excite him. +Hitherto the toys I had bought had always been for him, and as we durst +not admit this to the saleswoman we were both horribly self-conscious +when in the shop. A score of times I have told him that he had much +better not come, I have announced fiercely that he is not to come. He +then lets go of his legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making +the noise of a sack of coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head +between his front paws, stares at me through the red haws that make his +eyes so mournful. He will do this for an hour without blinking, for he +knows that in time it will unman me. My dog knows very little, but what +little he does know he knows extraordinarily well. One can get out of my +chambers by a back way, and I sometimes steal softly--but I can't +help looking back, and there he is, and there are those haws asking +sorrowfully, "Is this worthy of you?" + +"Curse you," I say, "get your hat," or words to that effect. + +He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so exactly +like some respected member that he makes everybody most uncomfortable. +I forget how I became possessor of him. I think I cut him out of an old +number of Punch. He costs me as much as an eight-roomed cottage in the +country. + +He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced him +to toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own amusement. It +represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her little son over her +head with one hand and catching him in the other, and I was entertaining +myself on the hearth-rug with this pretty domestic scene when I heard +an unwonted sound from Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and +melancholic countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for +putting the toy away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with +his, and signed that I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always +came, I found, when the poor lady dropped her babe, but the whole thing +entranced him; he tried to keep his excitement down by taking huge +draughts of water; he forgot all his niceties of conduct; he sat in holy +rapture with the toy between his paws, took it to bed with him, ate it +in the night, and searched for it so longingly next day that I had to go +out and buy him the man with the scythe. After that we had everything of +note, the bootblack boy, the toper with bottle, the woolly rabbit +that squeaks when you hold it in your mouth; they all vanished as +inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell him my suspicions, for he +suspected also and his gentle heart would have mourned had I confirmed +his fears. + +The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want them +for a little boy and calls him "the precious" and "the lamb," the while +Porthos is standing gravely by my side. She is a motherly soul, but +over-talkative. + +"And how is the dear lamb to-day?" she begins, beaming. + +"Well, ma'am, well," I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + +"This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?" + +"No, ma'am, not at all." (She would be considerably surprised if +informed that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three +cabbages, and is suspected of a leg of mutton.) + +"I hope he loves his toys?" + +"He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am." (Has the one we +bought yesterday with him now, though you might not think it to look at +him.) + +"What do you say to a box of tools this time?" + +"I think not, ma'am." + +"Is the deary fond of digging?" + +"Very partial to digging." (We shall find the leg of mutton some day.) + +"Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?" + +She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was so +insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got home. He +detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly prejudiced in +its favour we have had to try other shops. We went to the Lowther Arcade +for the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered +agape among thy enchanted palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and +Porthos and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, +unless it be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet +smiling entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrances, +and with much to be sung in laudation of that which opens from the +Strand I yet on the whole prefer the other as the more truly romantic, +because it is there the tattered ones congregate, waiting to see the +Davids emerge with the magic lamp. We have always a penny for them, +and I have known them, before entering the Arcade with it, retire (but +whither?) to wash; surely the prettiest of all the compliments that are +paid to the home of toys. + +And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we are told +that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an eating-house or a hive +for usurers, something rankly useful. All thy delights are under notice +to quit. The Noah's arks are packed one within another, with clockwork +horses harnessed to them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing +their hands to the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left +behind them; all the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who +is overful of drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their wings; the +man with the scythe mows his way through the crowd; the balloons tug +at their strings; the ships rock under a swell of sail, everything is +getting ready for the mighty exodus into the Strand. Tears will be shed. + +So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who thought it +was for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent to the bandbox +house anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to meet +Mary's husband in Kensington, so I asked him what he had called his +little girl. + +"It is a boy," he replied, with intolerable good-humour, "we call him +David." + +And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my boy. + +I flicked my glove. "Timothy," said I. + +I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy was as +good a name as David. "I like it," he assured me, and expressed a hope +that they would become friends. I boiled to say that I really could not +allow Timothy to mix with boys of the David class, but I refrained, and +listened coldly while he told me what David did when you said his toes +were pigs going to market or returning from it, I forget which. He +also boasted of David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly +touchy at the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + +But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a +forlorn little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for him, and +I became his champion and hinted something about teething, but withdrew +it when it seemed too surprising, and tried to get on to safer ground, +such as bibs and general intelligence, but the painter fellow was so +willing to let me have my say, and knew so much more about babies than +is fitting for men to know, that I paled before him and wondered why the +deuce he was listening to me so attentively. + +You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous friend. +"His latest," said he now, "is to send David a rocking-horse!" + +I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. "Picture it," said he, +"a rocking-horse for a child not three months old!" + +I was about to say fiercely: "The stirrups are adjustable," but thought +it best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that Mary had +laughed, though heaven knows I have often laughed at her. + +"But women are odd," he said unexpectedly, and explained. It appears +that in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave and said to +him quite haughtily, "I see nothing to laugh at." Then she had kissed +the horse solemnly on the nose and said, "I wish he was here to see +me do it." There are moments when one cannot help feeling a drawing to +Mary. + +But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a particularly +odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to hunt Mr. Anon down. + +"She won't succeed," I said, sneering but nervous. + +"Then it will be her first failure," said he. + +"But she knows nothing about the man." + +"You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She says he is +a gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor." + +"Old?" I cried. + +"Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't take +care. He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of children, but +has never had one to play with." + +"Could not play with a child though there was one," I said brusquely; +"has forgotten the way; could stand and stare only." + +"Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were alone +with the child he could come out strong." + +"How the deuce--" I began + +"That is what she says," he explained, apologetically. "I think she will +prove to be too clever for him." + +"Pooh," I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next time +I met him he quite frightened me. "Do you happen to know any one," he +said, "who has a St. Bernard dog?" + +"No," said I, picking up my stick. + +"He has a St. Bernard dog." + +"How have you found that out?" + +"She has found it out." + +"But how?" + +"I don't know." + +I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. The +mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I engaged +a boy to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him these +instructions: "Should you find yourself followed by a young woman +wheeling a second-hand perambulator, instantly hand her over to the +police on the charge of attempting to steal the dog." + +Now then, Mary. + +"By the way," her husband said at our next meeting, "that rocking-horse +I told you of cost three guineas." + +"She has gone to the shop to ask?" + +"No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's +appearance." + +Oh, Mary, Mary. + +Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:--looked +like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; fine Roman +nose (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all); +hair thin and thoughtfully distributed over the head like fiddlestrings, +as if to make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair with handkerchief +before sitting down on it, and had other oldmaidish ways (I should like +to know what they are); tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age +forty-five if a day (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog +with sore eyes. (They always think the haws are sore eyes.) + +"Do you know anyone who is like that?" Mary's husband asked me +innocently. + +"My dear man," I said, "I know almost no one who is not like that," and +it was true, so like each other do we grow at the club. I was pleased, +on the whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had +come to know of the St. Bernard, but anxiety returned when one day from +behind my curtains I saw Mary in my street with an inquiring eye on +the windows. She stopped a nurse who was carrying a baby and went into +pretended ecstasies over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any +chance it was called Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any +other nurse who had charge of a Timothy. + +Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to Timothy, +though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; for I still met +that other father occasionally, and he always stopped to compare notes +about the boys. And the questions he asked were so intimate, how Timothy +slept, how he woke up, how he fell off again, what we put in his bath. +It is well that dogs and little boys have so much in common, for it was +really of Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke +up (supposed to be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with one +little hand on his nose), but I glided past what we put in his bath +(carbolic and a mop). + +The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it reasonable +to hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I straitened in +my mind. For it might be that she was only biding her time to strike +suddenly, and this attached me the more to Timothy, as if I feared she +might soon snatch him from me. As was indeed to be the case. + + + + +VI. A Shock + +It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far as the +first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he had boarded +an Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face of a woman happily +married who meant to go straight home, there to await her lord's +glorious return; and the military-looking gentleman watching her with a +bored smile saw nothing better before him than a chapter on the Domestic +Felicities. Oh, Mary, can you not provide me with the tiniest little +plot? + +Hallo! + +No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another woman; she +was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who looked around her +covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to appear less noticeable, +set off nervously on some mysterious adventure. + +"The deuce!" thought I, and followed her. + +Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted her +watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches that do +not give up their secret until you have made a mental calculation. Once +she kissed it. I had always known that she was fond of her cheap little +watch, which he gave her, I think, on the day I dropped the letter, but +why kiss it in the street? Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in +your leather-belt, Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or +any day, the watch your husband gave you? + +It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light thoughts +to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached her destination, +a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly +and shrinking from observation up and down the street, a very figure of +shame; and never had I thought to read shame in the sweet face of Mary +A----. Had I crossed to her and pronounced her name I think it would +have felled her, and yet she remained there, waiting. I, too, was +waiting for him, wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I +believe I clutched my stick. + +Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But there +was some foolishness here; she was come without the knowledge of her +husband, as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting she dreaded and +was ashamed to tell him of; she was come into danger; then it must be +to save, not herself but him; the folly to be concealed could never have +been Mary's. Yet what could have happened in the past of that honest boy +from the consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? +Could that laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open forehead, +the curly locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways +which we carry with us out of childhood, they may all remain when the +innocence has fled, but surely the laugh of the morning of life must go. +I have never known the devil retain his grip on that. + +But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame had +possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the entanglement +was her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But without conviction, for, +after all, what did I know of women? I have some distant memories of +them, some vain inventions. But of men--I have known one man indifferent +well for over forty years, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), +shuddered at him, wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to +jog along with him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know +something of men, and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + +Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed that were +better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you foolish, soft heart, +and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate one, you saw the look on +your husband's face as he left you. It is the studio light by which he +paints and still sees to hope, despite all the disappointments of his +not ignoble ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he +is a wealthy man if it does not flicker. + +So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times she made +little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that detestable +street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the weasel. Again she +looked at her watch and kissed it. + +Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + +Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrified look +round, she popped into a pawnshop. + +Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the door +rang and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a street where she +was unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred shop before +desperately venturing in, why she looked so often at the watch she might +never see again. So desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little +house over her head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling +face for her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures +were going. + +It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light-hearted +again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had left her watch, +and I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn she had become, as +if her baby was grown too big for her slight arms, even then I was +light-hearted. Without attempting to follow her, I sauntered homeward +humming a snatch of song with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in +it, for I can never remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby +linen shop or some nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what +she had popped her watch; but what cared I? I continued to sing most +beautifully. I lunged gayly with my stick at a lamp-post and missed +it, whereat a street-urchin grinned, and I winked at him and slipped +twopence down his back. + + +I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given me, but +fate willed that I should meet the husband on his homeward journey, and +his first remark inspired me to a folly. + +"How is Timothy?" he asked; and the question opened a way so attractive +that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour could have +resisted it. + +"He is no more," I replied impulsively. + +The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath of +pity, and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my little +boy was gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all my efforts to +shelter him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down the wind. + + + + +VII. The Last of Timothy + +So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that I +made away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinafores +and shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuch +at me for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathy +ran free I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by a +mere selfish desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are +parents. + +He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and, +of course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it I +doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reason +to know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at the +first hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the +many little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to look +upon, and he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house +with its little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but he +had not a sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsiveness +had plunged me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Was +there no profession in this age of specialism for taking away children's +garments from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could I +sell them? Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose of +them for gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had already +refused them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of +Timothy, and I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he +made the offer I was waiting for. + +I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage with +both him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adopted +this means in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out. +Timothy's hold on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of the +slightest, and I suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to the +obscure. He could never have penetrated into the open. It was no life +for a boy. + +Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seem +to remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommon +tenderness (following the setting sun that was to take him away), and +telling him with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave me +because another child was in need of all his pretty things; and as the +sun, his true father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love to +a lady of long ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowing +in his innocence that the little white birds are the birds that never +have a mother. I wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possession +of me) that before he went he could have played once in the Kensington +Gardens, and have ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to me +to look; that he could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond; +fain would I have had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughing +avenues of childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a long +summer-day, emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun +to pay for; and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolate +chambers) he knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that the +reason he never did these things was not that he was afraid, for he +would have loved to do them all, but because he was not quite like other +boys; and, so saying, he let go my finger and faded from before my eyes +into another and golden ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been +quite like other boys there would have been none braver than my Timothy. + +I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so far +as I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient. +So I discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit, +and found myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at the +pawnbroker's. The shop for little garments seems very alarming when you +reach the door; a man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to a +finer sense of the proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but +apparently I could not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering +shops of any kind, save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I +fear I go too frequently. + +So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself, +and it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I had +been brazen at half-past two all would now be over. + +To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man +whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I had +drawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned +he was still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smoked +my purpose. Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icy +politeness, "You have the advantage of me, sir." + +"I beg your pardon," said he, and I am now persuaded that my words +turned his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I was +sure some impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer. + +"I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance," I barked. + +"No one regrets it more than I do," he replied, laughing. + +"I mean, sir," said I, "that I shall wait here until you retire," and +with that I put my back to a shop-window. + +By this time he was grown angry, and said he, "I have no engagement," +and he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedly +determined to tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. We +also felt it, for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away, +we shook hands cordially and agreed to call hansoms. + +Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who would +make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, rather +than explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in this +despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hicking +heartened me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine and +decoy by which David should procure his outfit. + +You must be told who they were. + + + + +VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + +They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had been +disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I deferred dining +several minutes that I might have the attendance of this ingrate. His +efforts to reserve the window-table for me were satisfactory, and I +used to allow him privileges, as to suggest dishes; I have given him +information, as that someone had startled me in the reading-room by +slamming a door; I have shown him how I cut my finger with a piece +of string. William was none of your assertive waiters. We could have +plotted a murder safely before him. It was one member who said to him +that Saucy Sarah would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy +Sarah had no chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The +excellent fellow (as I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be +smoked from either end. + +I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the window. I had +to repeat my order "Devilled kidney," and instead of answering brightly, +"Yes, sir," as if my selection of devilled kidney was a personal +gratification to him, which is the manner one expects of a waiter, he +gazed eagerly out at the window, and then, starting, asked, "Did you +say devilled kidney, sir?" A few minutes afterward I became aware that +someone was leaning over the back of my chair, and you may conceive my +indignation on discovering that this rude person was William. Let me +tell, in the measured words of one describing a past incident, what next +took place. To get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder. +"William," I said, "you are not attending to me!" + +To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his audacious +apology, "Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of something else." + +And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from him +passionately, "For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, tell me if +you have seen a little girl looking up at the club-windows." + +Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed out the +girl to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the middle of Pall +Mall, regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed to pass over her), +nodded her head significantly three times and then disappeared (probably +on a stretcher). She was the tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, +but seemed to have brought relief to William. "Thank God!" said he +fervently, and in the worst taste. + +I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. "Bread, +William," I said sharply. + +"You are not vexed with me, sir?" he had the hardihood to whisper. + +"It was a liberty," I said. + +"I know, sir, but I was beside myself." + +"That was a liberty again." + +"It is my wife, sir, she--" + +So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I +felt that this was the greatest liberty of all. + +I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes +after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I +desired to be told by William that the signals meant her return to +health. He answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the +worst. + +"Bah, the doctor," I said in a rage. + +"Yes, sir," said William. + +"What is her confounded ailment?" + +"She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you +see, sir, she has had a baby-girl lately--" + +"William, how dare you," I said, but in the same moment I saw that this +father might be useful to me. "How does your baby sleep, William?" I +asked in a low voice, "how does she wake up? what do you put in her +bath?" + +I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an +answer. "That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?" + +"Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means +that the missus is a little better." + +"There were three nods to-day?" + +"Yes, sir. + +"I suppose you live in some low part, William?" + +The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. "Off Drury +Lane," he said, flushing, "but it isn't low. And now," he groaned, +"she's afeared she will die without my being there to hold her hand." + +"She should not say such things." + +"She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling stronger. +But I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the house in the +morning, for then she looks at me from her bed, and I looks at her from +the door--oh, my God, sir!" + +"William!" + +At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him to beg +my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some unsuccessful dish. +I tried to forget his vulgar story in billiards, but he had spoiled +my game, and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another +waiter. As I had the window-seat, however, I could not but see that the +little girl was late, and though this mattered nothing to me and I had +finished my dinner, I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three +times but waved her hat, and I arose, having now finished my dinner. + +William came stealthily toward me. "Her temperature has gone down, sir," +he said, rubbing his hands together. + +"To whom are you referring?" I asked coldly, and retired to the +billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + +I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his maunderings, but +I observed the girl nightly, and once, instead of nodding, she shook her +head, and that evening I could not get into a pocket. Next evening +there was no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had +happened. But, chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I +was surprised to see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room +practically to ourselves, for though several members sat on chairs +holding books in their hands they were all asleep, and William descended +the ladder to tell me his blasting tale. He had sworn at a member! + +"I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her so +weakly that--" + +I stamped my foot. + +"I beg your pardon for speaking of her," he had the grace to say. "But +Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she came about +four o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of blinded me, sir, and +I stumbled against a member, Mr. B----, and he said, 'Damn you!' Well, +sir, I had but touched him after all, and I was so broken it sort of +stung me to be treated so and I lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'" + +His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the readers +shuddered in their sleep. + +"I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until the +committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am willing to go +on my knees to Mr. B----" + +How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a +week? + +"For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just fall back +and die." + +"I forbid your speaking to me of that woman," I cried wryly, "unless you +can speak pleasantly," and I left him to his fate and went off to +look for B----. "What is this story about your swearing at one of the +waiters?" I asked him. + +"You mean about his swearing at me," said B----, reddening. + +"I am glad that was it," I said, "for I could not believe you guilty of +such bad form. The version which reached me was that you swore at each +other, and that he was to be dismissed and you reprimanded." + +"Who told you that?" asked B----, who is a timid man. + +"I am on the committee," I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of +other matters, but presently B----, who had been reflecting, said: "Do +you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me, +and I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow." + +I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without +my having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he +would not be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows, +which are at the back of the club. I was looking down at her, but +she refrained from signalling because she could not see William, and +irritated by her stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was. + +"My," she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, "I b'lieve you are +one of them!" and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William +tells them of our splendid doings. + +The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child +wanted to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to +indicate this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall +Mall. I gave the little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club +disgusted. + +"By the way, William," I said, "Mr. B---- is to inform the committee +that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to him, so +you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow." + +I had to add immediately, "Remember your place, William." + +"But Mr. B---- knows I swore," he insisted. + +"A gentleman," I replied stiffly, "cannot remember for many hours what a +waiter has said to him." + +"No, sir, but--" + +To stop him I had to say, "And--ah--William, your wife is decidedly +better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it." + +"How can you know, sir?" + +"By an accident." + +"Irene signed to the window?" + +"No." + +"Then you saw her and went out and--" + +"How dare you, William?" + +"Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl--" + +"William." + +He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I +seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us +were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so +illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on +Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen +Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a +woful state of relapse on Thursday. + +"Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?" I asked, as soon as I had +drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + +"My!" she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass between her +and a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neighbour. + +I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like nothing +but a dead one till she got the brandy. + +"Hush, child," I said, shocked. "You don't know how the dead look." + +"Bless yer!" she replied. + +Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by +Irene's intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous +information, as that William's real name was Mr. Hicking, but that he +was known in their street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff +Hicking. That the street held he should get away from the club before +two in the morning, for his missus needed him more than the club needed +him. That William replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of +waiters at supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for +their marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, and +pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. That what +she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the kid was in another +part of London (in charge of a person called the old woman), because +there was an epidemic in Irene's street. + +"And what does the doctor say about your mother?" + +"He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her kid +back." + +"Nonsense." + +"And if she was took to the country." + +"Then why does not William take her?" + +"My! And if she drank porty wine." + +"Doesn't she?" + +"No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks it." + +I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + +"Ain't yer going to do it this time?" she demanded with a falling face. +"You done it last time. I tell her you done it"--she pointed to her +friend who was looking wistfully at me--"ain't you to let her see you +doing of it?" + +For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but by a +piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my hat to her. +So I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her head in the air and +her neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. These little creatures are +really not without merit. + +About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a newspaper +before my face lest anyone should see me in company of a waiter and his +wife. William was taking her into Surrey to stay with an old nurse of +mine, and Irene was with us, wearing the most outrageous bonnet. + +I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her pride in +the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a regrettable scene +when it was brought to her, because "she had been feared it would not +know her again." I could have told her that they know no one for years +had I not been in terror of Irene, who dandled the child on her knees +and talked to it all the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy +than this Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as "Oo +know who gave me this bonnet?" and answered them herself. "It was +the pretty gentleman there," and several times I had to affect sleep, +because she announced, "Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty gentleman." + +Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered +still more acutely when we reached our destination, where disagreeable +circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a waiter's family. William +knew that I regarded thanks from persons of his class as an outrage, yet +he looked them though he dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down +at the table by my orders than he remembered that I was a member of the +club and jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again +and again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, "How are you now? +You don't feel faint?" and when she said she felt like another woman +already, his face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude +from the way she let the baby pound her that she was stronger than she +pretended. + +I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to say to +William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he announced +that it was time for him to catch a train back to London, at which his +wife paled, I delivered the message. + +"William," I said, backing away from him, "the head-waiter asked me to +say that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages will be paid +as usual." + +Confound him. + +"William," I cried furiously, "go away." + +Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be left +alone with me. + +"William," I cried in a panic, "stay where you are." + +But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were filmy. Her +class are fond of scenes. "If you please, ma'am!" I said imploringly. + +But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + +"It can be only the memory of some woman," said she, "that makes you so +kind to me and mine." + +Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I suppose I +really am quite elderly. + +"I should like to know her name, sir," she said, "that I may mention her +with loving respect in my prayers." + +I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. "But she has +a home," I said, "as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, ma'am, it would +be better worth your while to mention me." + + +It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the purchase of +the outfits, "one for a boy of six months," I explained to her, "and one +for a boy of a year," for the painter had boasted to me of David's rapid +growth. I think she was a little surprised to find that both outfits +were for the same house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity +about the mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat +than a fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her daughter +enjoyed themselves hugely in the shops, from one of which I shall never +forget Irene emerging proudly with a commissionaire, who conducted her +under an umbrella to the cab where I was lying in wait. I think that was +the most celestial walk of Irene's life. + +I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill-treatment +that they might not look quite new, at which she exclaimed, not being in +my secret, and then to forward them to me. I then sent them to Mary and +rejoiced in my devilish cunning all the evening, but chagrin came in the +morning with a letter from her which showed she knew all, that I was her +Mr. Anon, and that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never +so gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + +Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her letter +at once and have seldom read it since. No married lady should have +indited such an epistle to a single man. It said, with other things +which I decline to repeat, that I was her good fairy. As a sample of the +deliberate falsehoods in it, I may mention that she said David loved me +already. She hoped that I would come in often to see her husband, who +was very proud of my friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my +first visit to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to +know, he is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she wanted +first to meet me alone, so that she might draw the delicious, respectful +romance out of me, and afterward repeat it to him, with sighs and little +peeps at him over her pocket-handkerchief. + +She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me upon the +paper, but I should not wonder though they were only artful drops of +water. + +I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any communication +with her. + + + + +IX. A Confirmed Spinster + +I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows, +which I so little desire that I have got me into my writing-chair to +combat the charge, but, having sat for an unconscionable time with pen +poised, I am come agitatedly to the fear that there may be something in +it. + +So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the ardours +of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty doors) for the +beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I seem ever to see this +same man until I am back in those wonderful months which were half of +my life, when, indeed, I know that I was otherwise than I am now; no +whimsical fellow then, for that was one of the possibilities I put to +myself while seeking for the explanation of things, and found to be +inadmissible. Having failed in those days to discover why I was driven +from the garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of +some dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect +unnoticed. + +It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up glorious +once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is humorously known +at the club as a "confirmed spinster." I remember him well when his +years told four and twenty; on my soul the proudest subaltern of my +acquaintance, and with the most reason to be proud. There was nothing he +might not do in the future, having already done the biggest thing, this +toddler up club-steps to-day. + +Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, and most +inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of the ladies who +smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it +seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I forget when I first began to notice +that smile and to be made uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and +in some vague way it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but +I hope I am still your loyal, obedient servant. + +You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I once had +a fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my smile? I swear I +have not noticed that it was gone till now; I am like one who revisiting +his school feels suddenly for his old knife. I first heard of my smile +from another boy, whose sisters had considered all the smiles they knew +and placed mine on top. My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to +mention the plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. +I feel lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to look for +it in my mirror. + +I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some other +forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference between that +man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, telling me it was my +one adornment, and taking it from me, so to speak, for a moment to let +me see how she looked in it; she delighted to make sport of me when she +was in a wayward mood, and to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice +and gesture, exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a +star calling to the earth: "See, I will show you how you hobble round," +and always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to stop her if I +dared, and upon them, when she was most audacious, lay a sweet mist. + +They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, to +tell her what love is, and she listened with a noble frankness, having, +indeed, the friendliest face for all engaged in this pursuit that can +ever have sat on woman. I have heard ladies call her coquette, not +understanding that she shone softly upon all who entered the lists +because, with the rarest intuition, she foresaw that they must go away +broken men and already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds +incurred for love were dear to her; at every true utterance about love +she exulted with grave approval, or it might be a with a little "ah!" or +"oh!" like one drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been more fair, +for she was for the first comer who could hit the target, which was her +heart. + +She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and fragrance, so +that they became part of her. Day by day, she gathered beauty; had she +had no heart (she who was the bosom of womanhood) her thoughts would +still have been as lilies, because the good is the beautiful. + +And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive her; +I think had there been one it would have proved that there was a flaw in +her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping because all the pretty +things were said and done with, or she was making doleful confessions +about herself, so impulsive and generous and confidential, and so devoid +of humour, that they compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a +looking-glass of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all +to blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back so +that they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his lack of +skill to seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that she was always +waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there was +nothing to forgive, or very little, just the little that makes a dear +girl dearer, and often afterward, I believe, they have laughed fondly +when thinking of her, like boys brought back. You ladies who are +everything to your husbands save a girl from the dream of youth, have +you never known that double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in +a reverie and start up, as if he fancied he were being hailed from +far-away? + +I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her laugh is +what comes first across the years; so high-spirited that she would have +wept like Mary of Scots because she could not lie on the bare plains +like the men. I hear her, but it is only as an echo; I see her, but it +is as a light among distant trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no +nearer; she was only for the boys. There was a month when I could have +shown her to you in all her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from +that moment I understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was +never clear to me again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear +heart willing to give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was +so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but she was as young +as if she were the first woman. The world must have rung with gallant +deeds and grown lovely thoughts for numberless centuries before she +could be; she was the child of all the brave and wistful imaginings of +men. She was as mysterious as night when it fell for the first time upon +the earth. She was the thing we call romance, which lives in the little +hut beyond the blue haze of the pine-woods. + +No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, +her attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably gracious, her +movements indolently active, her face so candid that you must swear her +every thought lived always in the open. Yet, with it all, she was a wild +thing, alert, suspicious of the lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, +more curious about it than about aught else in the world; her quivering +delight was to see it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome +was she that she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it +was closing round her; she scorned, however her heart might be beating, +to run from her pursuers; she took only the one step backward, which +still left her near them but always out of reach; her head on high now, +but her face as friendly, her manner as gracious as before, she is yours +for the catching. That was ever the unspoken compact between her and the +huntsmen. + +It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, but +again I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought that all this +was for me could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of the gods, +but I won it. I found myself with one foot across the magic circle +wherein she moved, and which none but I had entered; and so, I think, I +saw her in revelation, not as the wild thing they had all conceived +her, but as she really was. I saw no tameless creature, nothing wild +or strange. I saw my sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I +brushed aside the haze and she was truly seen for the first time, she +raised her head, like one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted +eyes. I told her what had been revealed to me as I looked upon her, and +she trembled, knowing she was at last found, and fain would she have +fled away, but that her fear was less than her gladness. She came to me +slowly; no incomprehensible thing to me now, but transparent as a pool, +and so restful to look upon that she was a bath to the eyes, like banks +of moss. + +Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him +who can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in which she +walked, but I had pierced it and found the woman. I could anticipate her +every thought and gesture, I could have flashed and rippled and mocked +for her, and melted for her and been dear disdain for her. She would +forget this and be suddenly conscious of it as she began to speak, when +she gave me a look with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I +was already waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the +blush of the eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her +very finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I loved even her +naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, which she could +not do without also gnashing her teeth, like a child trying to look +fearsome. How pretty was that gnashing of her teeth! All her tormentings +of me turned suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this +exquisite fury, wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to +anyone, while I wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may +be that I wondered over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + +It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I brought +her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but then she came +willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly tamed, but he who knows +her will always be able to bring her back. + +I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know not how +it was, though in the twilight of my life that then began I groped for +reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is that she had ceased to +love me; I had won her love, but I could not keep it. The discovery came +to me slowly, as if I were a most dull-witted man; at first I knew only +that I no longer understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what +she had meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to +puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I had +strayed outside the magic circle. + +When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief that there +was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me assisted in that poor +pretence. She sought to glide to me with swimming eyes as before, but it +showed only that this caressing movement was still within her compass, +but never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she +touched mine, but no longer could they convey the message. The current +was broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. +She could tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she was +scarcely less anxious than I that I should make her love me again, and, +as I have said, she waited with a wonderful tolerance while I strove +futilely to discover in what I was lacking and to remedy it. And when, +at last, she had to leave me, it was with compassionate cries and little +backward flights. + +The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so +altered by it had I known what was the defect in me through which I let +her love escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than the loss of her. +Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak honestly to you) that I do +not repent me those dallyings in enchanted fields. It may not have been +so always, for I remember a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down +in an oarless boat and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant +moans do not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the +waters bring him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to +know that, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from +another. + +I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman playing +with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty one, and I saw the +gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the dear pretty way I can't +forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting for her shoulders, brought +the whole group joyously to the ground. She picked herself up in the old +leisurely manner, lazily active, and looked around her benignantly, +like a cow: our dear wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of +children. I meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the +old wound broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a +few poor drops, which fell because I found that she was even a little +sweeter than I had thought. + + + + +X. Sporting Reflections + +I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear it +would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat's +light keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Mary +to her lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman +to her consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mind +when I dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks, +which have all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject to +cold feet, I have sometimes toyed with it since. + +Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remain +true to the unattainable she? + +I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend of +mine, whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her lover +died. It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying to +point the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came +another youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well known +to me, and I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend once +more a matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like +one made young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale +daughter in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she cast +rice after the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chanced +upon her in her room, and she was on her knees in tears before the +spirit of the dead lover. "Forgive me," she besought him, "for I am old, +and life is gray to friendless girls." The pardon she wanted was for +pretending to her daughter that women should act thus. + +I am sure she felt herself soiled. + +But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty years +had elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like a +sack of returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. + +"They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopes +that you will find something in them about yourself." It would have +sounded oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, and +something might have come of it. + +On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood of +the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both back +there. The easiness of it tempted me. + +Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They all +do, you see. + +And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost my +smile? + +And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + +I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + + + + +XI. The Runaway Perambulator + +I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington Gardens, +where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing the blank face +and glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these occasions I always +stalked by, meditating on higher things, though Mary seemed to think me +very hardhearted, and Irene, who had become his nurse (I forget how, +but fear I had something to do with it), ran after me with messages, +as, would I not call and see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which +moment, it seemed, he was at his best. + +No, I would not. + +"He says tick-tack to the clock," Irene said, trying to snare me. + +"Pooh!" said I. + +"Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'" she told me, with a flush of +pride. + +"I prefer 'tick-tick,'" I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + +Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, I would +have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait until he could +walk, when it would be more easy to waylay him. However, he was a +cautious little gorbal who, after many threats to rise, always seemed to +come to the conclusion that he might do worse than remain where he was, +and when he had completed his first year I lost patience with him. + +"When I was his age," I said to Irene, "I was running about." I +consulted them casually about this matter at the club, and they had all +been running about at a year old. + +I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the dilatory +boy to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I would look at +him. At first Mary, to whom the offer was passed on, rejected it with +hauteur, but presently she wavered, and the upshot was that Irene, +looking scornful and anxious, arrived one day with the perambulator. +Without casting eyes on its occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: "In +half-an-hour," I said. + +She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, and so +on, but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of a passionately +affectionate farewell to her charge, which was really all directed +against me, and ended with these powerful words: "And if he takes off +your socks, my pretty, may he be blasted for evermore." + +"I shall probably take off her socks," I said carelessly to this. + +Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + +"It is a girl, is it not?" I asked, thus neatly depriving her of +coherent speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round to--to +begin, and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down behind the hood of +his carriage. My plan was to accustom him to his new surroundings before +bursting on the scene myself. + +I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him +wake naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not said +quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I +should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but he took no notice. +I remember trying to persuade myself that if I never budged till Irene's +return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still +there was no response. Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not +there. + +I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly noticed a +covert movement somewhere near the middle of the carriage, and heard a +low gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. I stopped dead at this sharp +reminder that I was probably not the only curious person in the room, +and for a long moment we both lay low, after which, I am glad to +remember, I made the first advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged +some likely articles on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of +keys, and two war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these +(as something to fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking +(I fear now) a little like a professor of legerdemain. David was sitting +up, and he immediately fixed his eyes on me. + +It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to you, +for of course I know really nothing about children, so I shall say only +this, that I thought him very like what Timothy would have been had he +ever had a chance. + +I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself being +judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed so natural +that I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving to hear him +signify that I would do. I have stood up before other keen judges and +deceived them all, but I made no effort to deceive David; I wanted to, +but dared not. Those unblinking eyes were too new to the world to be +hooded by any of its tricks. In them I saw my true self. They opened for +me that pedler's pack of which I have made so much ado, and I found +that it was weighted less with pretty little sad love-tokens than with +ignoble thoughts and deeds and an unguided life. I looked dejectedly at +David, not so much, I think, because I had such a sorry display for him, +as because I feared he would not have me in his service. I seemed to +know that he was making up his mind once and for all. + +And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so frightened, +but the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself a fine fellow at +once. It was a long smile, too, opening slowly to its fullest extent (as +if to let me in), and then as slowly shutting. + +Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or +because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could +do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. This made him slide +down the perambulator, and I saw at once that it was very necessary to +replace him. But never before had I come into such close contact with +a child; the most I had ever done was, when they were held up to me, to +shut my eyes and kiss a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he +was eternally being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it +was contrived, and yet we managed it between us quite easily. His +body instinctively assumed a certain position as I touched him, which +compelled my arms to fall into place, and the thing was done. I felt +absurdly pleased, but he was already considering what he should do next. + +He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to +its being contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he +proposed to repeat his first performance, but in this I did him an +injustice, for, unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to do the same +feat twice; perhaps, like the conjurors, he knew that the audience were +more on the alert the second time. + +I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + +Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say that I +felt uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And what dire thing +could happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but +he signed to me to look sharp, and I removed the sock. The part of him +thus revealed gave David considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a +curious thing, that he seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + +However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after giving me +a glance which said "Now observe!" he raised his bare foot and ran his +mouth along the toes, like one playing on a barbaric instrument. He then +tossed his foot aside, smiled his long triumphant smile and intimated +that it was now my turn to do something. I thought the best thing I +could do would be to put his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried +to do so I discovered why Irene had warned me so portentously against +taking it off. I should say that she had trouble in socking him every +morning. + +Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what to do +with my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do nothing with it +myself, put it under a wine-glass, for instance, and make it turn into +a rabbit, which so many people can do. In the meantime David, occupied +with similar thoughts, very nearly made it disappear altogether, and I +was thankful to be able to pull it back by the chain. + +"Haw-haw-haw!" + +Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to me, a +trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, Mary had not +given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said that five and twenty +minutes had passed, and looking out I saw Irene at one end of the street +staring up at my window, and at the other end Mary's husband staring up +at my window, and beneath me Mary staring up at my window. They had all +broken their promise. + +I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give +me a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I was in despair. Then +the smile came, and I knew that he was teasing me only. He now nodded +his head about six times. + +This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty that, +contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my arms to him, and +first he shook his head, and then after a long pause (to frighten me), +he nodded it. + +But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her +husband and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from me, and +acting under an impulse I whipped him into the perambulator and was off +with it without a license down the back staircase. To the Kensington +Gardens we went; it may have been Manitoba we started for, but we +arrived at the Kensington Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated +and smartly carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in +the street, to make sure that I was wearing a hat. + +I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet made +up his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown +suddenly indifferent to public comment, and my elation increased when +I discovered that I was being pursued. They drew a cordon round me near +Margot Meredith's tree, but I broke through it by a strategic movement +to the south, and was next heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both +ends of this passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped +through their fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. +Cowering at St. Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up the Hump, +and when they had crossed to the Round Pond we paraded gaily in the +Broad Walk, not feeling the tiniest bit sorry for anybody. + +Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after all, I +was a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until they were the +size of my medals, and then, with the deliberation that distinguishes +his smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw all his forces gathering +in his face, and I had nothing to oppose to them; it was an unarmed man +against a regiment. + +Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I who had +dropped the letter. + +I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, for +who else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous manipulation +of the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth form? I alone of +boys had been able to elevate and lower my eyebrows separately; when +the one was climbing my forehead the other descended it, like the two +buckets in the well. + +Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, and +immediately David checked his forces and considered my unexpected +movement without prejudice. His face remained as it was, his mouth open +to emit the howl if I did not surpass expectation. I saw that, like the +fair-minded boy he has always been, he was giving me my chance, and +I worked feverishly, my chief fear being that, owing to his youth, +he might not know how marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an +appeal to the intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth +can do it except myself. + +When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with unchanged +face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decided +whether it was funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it +I went once more, till I saw his forces wavering, when I sent my left +eyebrow up almost farther than I could bring it back, and with that I +had him, the smile broke through the clouds. + +In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + +I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but had not +dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to my annoyance +that I was the centre of a deeply interested gathering of children. +There was, in particular, one vulgar little street-boy-- + +However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon to +triumph gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me down on one +of the garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand resting carelessly on the +perambulator, in imitation of the nurses, it was so pleasant to assume +the air of one who walked with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw +Mary approaching with quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that +flight would have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded +toward me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing that I +had observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + +I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a visitor +at her house, though never can I forget the shock I got the first time +I saw him strolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he has +avoided it, crossing to the other side when I go that way, and rejoining +me farther on, so I conclude that Mary's husband is painting him. + +I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and noted +that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat shabbily, gave +her the end of a smile which had been begun for me. It seemed to relieve +her, for what one may call the wild maternal look left her face, and +trying to check little gasps of breath, the result of unseemly running, +she signed to her confederates to remain in the background, and turned +curious eyes on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her +words would have been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth puckered +as David's does before he sets forth upon his smile, and I saw that she +thought she had me in a parley at last. + +"I could not help being a little anxious," she said craftily, but I must +own, with some sweetness. + +I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David--I +cannot understand why the movement was so hasty--and lowered her face +to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, he seized her +face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows up and down with the +other. He failed, and his obvious disappointment in his mother was as +nectar to me. + +"I don't understand what you want, darling," said she in distress, and +looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he wanted, and let +her see that I understood. Had I been prepared to converse with her, I +should have said elatedly that, had she known what he wanted, still she +could not have done it, though she had practised for twenty years. + +I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + +It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most +perfect confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly gave her +my back, but the effect on David was miraculous; he signed to her to go, +for he was engaged for the afternoon. + +What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great moment I +had strength of character to raise my hat for the third time and walk +away, leaving the child to judge between us. I walked slowly, for I knew +I must give him time to get it out, and I listened eagerly, but that +was unnecessary, for when it did come it was a very roar of anguish. I +turned my head, and saw David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he +might have one last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and +nodded repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, +and I walked on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since +relentlessly pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the boy, +expose her to him in all her vagaries, take him utterly from her and +make him mine. + + + + +XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + +All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + +Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much longer, +for soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it came to him to +be up and doing, and he up and did in the Broad Walk itself, where he +would stand alone most elaborately poised, signing imperiously to the +British public to time him, and looking his most heavenly just before he +fell. He fell with a dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended +that this was his funny way of finishing. + +That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of the +Gold King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, and +on Wednesday he struck three and went into knickerbockers. For the +Kensington Gardens, you must know, are full of short cuts, familiar to +all who play there; and the shortest leads from the baby in long +clothes to the little boy of three riding on the fence. It is called the +Mother's Tragedy. + +If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of their +own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, in which you +may read the ages of their young. When he is three they are said to wear +the knickerbocker face, and you may take it from me that Mary assumed +that face with a sigh; fain would she have kept her boy a baby longer, +but he insisted on his rights, and I encouraged him that I might notch +another point against her. I was now seeing David once at least every +week, his mother, who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, +having instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, +and we had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever a +threatening shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not improve +with acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, chiefly, I think, +because she now wore a nurse's cap with streamers, of which the little +creature was ludicrously proud. She assumed the airs of an official +person, and always talked as if generations of babies had passed through +her hands. She was also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying +disapproval of my methods that led to many coldnesses and even +bickerings between us, which I now see to have been undignified. I +brought the following accusations against her: + +That she prated too much about right and wrong. + +That she was a martinet. + +That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when she knew +Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I regret having +used this argument, but it was the only one that really damped her. + +On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + +Of not thinking of his future. + +Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such things. + +Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + +Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, when it +really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my person by a +piece of elastic. + +To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a pathetic +faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely +an affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I naturally cast +about for similar diversions when it ceased to attract. It lost its hold +on David suddenly, as I was to discover was the fate of all of them; +twenty times would he call for my latest, and exult in it, and the +twenty-first time (and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if +wondering what the man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the +great joke was explained to her, said coldly, "We are not amused," and, +I assure you, it is a humiliating thing to perform before an infant who +intimates, after giving you ample time to make your points, that he is +not amused. I hoped that when David was able to talk--and not merely +to stare at me for five minutes and then say "hat"--his spoken verdict, +however damning, would be less expressive than his verdict without +words, but I was disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, +when he could keep up such spirited conversations with himself that he +had little need for any of us, promising him to do something exceedingly +funny with a box and two marbles, and after he had watched for a long +time he said gravely, "Tell me when it begins to be funny." + +I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, in a +dimly lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young man with a +long neck and a pimply face, who as I entered took a barber's pole from +my pocket, saying at the same time, "Come, come, sir, this will never +do." Whether because he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, +he was the most depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of +the artist's joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give +pleasure to thousands not caring a dump about it. + +The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, but the +difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a barber's pole +in the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there always being polite +children hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The +young man, again, had said that anyone would lend me a bottle or a +lemon, but though these were articles on which he seemed ever able to +lay his hand, I found (what I had never noticed before) that there is +a curious dearth of them in the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually +carried about with me, and with its connivance I did some astonishing +things with pennies, but even the penny that costs sixpence is +uncertain, and just when you are saying triumphantly that it will +be found in the egg-cup, it may clatter to the ground, whereon some +ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of fibbing and +corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through clenched +teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she understood no jokes +except her own, of which she had the most immoderately high opinion, +and that would have mattered little to me had not David liked them also. +There were times when I could not but think less of the boy, seeing +him rock convulsed over antics of Irene that have been known to every +nursemaid since the year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give +me the ecstatic look that meant, "Irene is really very entertaining, +isn't she?" + +We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous fairness, and +I admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her gutta-percha tooth. In +earlier days one of her front teeth, as she told me, had fallen out, but +instead of then parting with it, the resourceful child had hammered it +in again with a hair-brush, which she offered to show me, with the dents +on it. This tooth, having in time passed away, its place was supplied by +one of gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when +she sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign that the +cold was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the room she knew she +was in for something notable. Irene's tooth was very favourably known +in the Gardens, where the perambulators used to gather round her to hear +whether it had been doing anything to-day, and I would not have grudged +David his proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that +Irene's one poor little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was +without intellectual merit. I have sometimes stalked away from him, +intimating that if his regard was to be got so cheaply I begged to +retire from the competition, but the Gardens are the pleasantest club in +London, and I soon returned. How I scoured the Gardens looking for him, +and how skilful I became at picking him out far away among the trees, +though other mothers imitated the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's +indignation. I also cut Irene's wings (so to speak) by taking her to a +dentist. + +And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my pockets as +receptacles into which he put any article he might not happen to want +at the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they were his own pockets, +without saying, By your leave, and perhaps I discovered it on reaching +home--a tin-soldier, or a pistol--when I put it on my mantle-shelf +and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I had been +over-friendly to another boy, and, after enduring it for some time David +up and struck him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I favour other +dogs (he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, looking +very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was David's +first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + +Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace +at the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at the corner of +which David stood suffering for love of me, is the one nearest to the +Round Pond to persons coming from the north. + +You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish cruelty. +When next we met I treated her as one who no longer existed, and at +first she bridled and then was depressed, and as I was going away she +burst into tears. She cried because neither at meeting nor parting had +I lifted my hat to her, a foolish custom of mine, of which, as I now +learned to my surprise, she was very proud. She and I still have our +tiffs, but I have never since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. +I also made her promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, +saying I was taking my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I +tell you, Irene has one of the prettiest and most touching little bows +imaginable; it is half to the side (if I may so express myself), which +has always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, she acquired it by +watching Mary. + +I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, that I +look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. Perhaps that +was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my unaccustomed arms, +and even for some time after, for if I am to be candid, I must own that +until he was three years old I sought merely to amuse him. God forgive +me, but I had only one day a week in which to capture him, and I was +very raw at the business. + +I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, but +really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with children I +learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved almost more +profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was this little mother +that she had always room near her for one more, and often have I seen +her in the Gardens, the centre of a dozen mites who gazed awestruck at +her while she told them severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. +They were children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but +they believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little ladies +and gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these romantic creatures +keep themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait till they come to a gate, +the more they admired them, though their faces showed how profoundly +they felt that to be little ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You +can't think what hopeless little faces they were. + +Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do puppies care +only for play? That wistful look, which the merriest of them sometimes +wear, I wonder whether it means that they would like to hear about the +good puppies? + +As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising the +telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring feats, while +Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has any other fairy-tale +been told in my hearing. It was the prettiest of them all, and was +recited by the heroine. + +"Why were the king and queen not at home?" David would ask her +breathlessly. + +"I suppose," said Irene, thinking it out, "they was away buying the +victuals." + +She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David thought it +was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and when she came +to its great moments her little bosom heaved. Never shall I forget the +concentrated scorn with which the prince said to the sisters, "Neither +of you ain't the one what wore the glass slipper." + +"And then--and then--and then--," said Irene, not artistically to +increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious to her. + +"Tell me--tell me quick," cried David, though he knew the tale by heart. + +"She sits down like," said Irene, trembling in second-sight, "and she +tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, +he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true love, Cinderella, +what now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'" + +Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the grandees of +the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. "Her, as was only a kitchen +drudge," she would say in a strange soft voice and with shining eyes, +"but was true and faithful in word and deed, such was her reward." + +I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and touched +Irene with her wand, David would have been interested rather than +astonished. As for myself, I believe I have surprised this little girl's +secret. She knows there are no fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes +that if she is always true and faithful she may some day turn into a +lady in word and deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + +It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an amount of +heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in this sad London of +ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + +Good luck to you, Irene. + + + + +XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + +You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow our +adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington Gardens, as they +now became known to David. They are in London, where the King lives, and +you go to them every day unless you are looking decidedly flushed, but +no one has ever been in the whole of the Gardens, because it is so soon +time to turn back. The reason it is soon time to turn back is that you +sleep from twelve to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep +from twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + +The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of omnibuses, +over which Irene has such authority that if she holds up her finger +to any one of them it stops immediately. She then crosses with you in +safety to the other side. There are more gates to the Gardens than one +gate, but that is the one you go in at, and before you go in you speak +to the lady with the balloons, who sits just outside. This is as near to +being inside as she may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold +of the railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she +would be flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are always +tugging at her, and the strain has given her quite a red face. Once she +was a new one, because the old one had let go, and David was very sorry +for the old one, but as she did let go, he wished he had been there to +see. + +The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and hundreds of +trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn to loiter there, +for the Figs is the resort of superior little persons, who are forbidden +to mix with the commonalty, and is so named, according to legend, +because they dress in full fig. These dainty ones are themselves +contemptuously called Figs by David and other heroes, and you have a key +to the manners and customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when +I tell you that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel +Fig climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss Mabel +Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel Grey's gate. +She was the only really celebrated Fig. + +We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the other +walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if it began +little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, and whether the +other walks are its babies, and he drew a picture, which diverted +him very much, of the Broad Walk giving a tiny walk an airing in a +perambulator. In the Broad Walk you meet all the people who are worth +knowing, and there is usually a grown-up with them to prevent their +going on the damp grass, and to make them stand disgraced at the corner +of a seat if they have been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish +is to behave like a girl, whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or +simpering with your thumb in your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, +but to be mad-dog is to kick out at everything, and there is some +satisfaction in that. + +If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the Broad +Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, and I simply +wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot where a boy called +Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, found twopence. There has +been a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Farther up the +walk is the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is +no more awful story of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, +who had been Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to +appear in the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid in +the little wooden house, and refused to emerge until they brought him +knickerbockers with pockets. + +You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because they +are not really manly, and they make you look the other way, at the Big +Penny and the Baby's Palace. She was the most celebrated baby of the +Gardens, and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, so +people rang the bell, and up she got out of her bed, though it was past +six o'clock, and she lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, +and then they all cried with great rejoicings, "Hail, Queen of England!" +What puzzled David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. +The Big Penny is a statue about her. + +Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk where all +the big races are run, and even though you had no intention of running +you do run when you come to the Hump, it is such a fascinating, +slide-down kind of place. Often you stop when you have run about +half-way down it, and then you are lost, but there is another little +wooden house near here, called the Lost House, and so you tell the man +that you are lost and then he finds you. It is glorious fun racing down +the Hump, but you can't do it on windy days because then you are not +there, but the fallen leaves do it instead of you. There is almost +nothing that has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf. + +From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel Grey, +the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always two nurses with +her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a long time she was a +pattern-child who always coughed off the table and said, "How do you +do?" to the other Figs, and the only game she played at was flinging a +ball gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one +day she tired of it all and went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she +really was mad-dog, she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her +tongue east, west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a +puddle and danced on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, +after which she climbed the fence and had a series of incredible +adventures, one of the least of which was that she kicked off both her +boots. At last she came to the gate that is now called after her, out of +which she ran into streets David and I have never been in though we have +heard them roaring, and still she ran on and would never again have been +heard of had not her mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. +It all happened, I should say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey +whom David knows. + +Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, which is +so full of perambulators that you could cross from side to side stepping +on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. From this walk a passage +called Bunting's Thumb, because it is that length, leads into Picnic +Street, where there are real kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into +your mug as you are drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, +and the blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + +Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm the +Bold fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let her put her +arm round his neck in public because she was a widow, but he was also +partial to adventures and liked to play with a chimney-sweep who had +killed a good many bears. The sweep's name was Sooty, and one day when +they were playing near the well, Malcolm fell in and would have been +drowned had not Sooty dived in and rescued him, and the water had washed +Sooty clean and he now stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So +Malcolm would not let his mother put her arm round his neck any more. + +Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and +frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there is +scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as soon as he +is out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, and while you are +wrestling with him the fielders have scattered to play at something +else. The Gardens are noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which +is real cricket with a bat, and girl cricket, which is with a racquet +and the governess. Girls can't really play cricket, and when you +are watching their futile efforts you make funny sounds at them. +Nevertheless, there was a very disagreeable incident one day when some +forward girls challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called +Angela Clare sent down so many yorkers that--However, instead of telling +you the result of that regrettable match I shall pass on hurriedly to +the Round Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all the Gardens going. + +It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and when +you are come to it you never want to go any farther. You can't be good +all the time at the Round Pond, however much you try. You can be good in +the Broad Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason +is that you forget, and, when you remember, you are so wet that you may +as well be wetter. There are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, +such big boats that they bring them in barrows and sometimes in +perambulators, and then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children +in the Gardens are these who had to walk too soon because their father +needed the perambulator. + +You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in the +end your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the first +day is splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no uncle is +splendid, but soon you like to leave it at home. For the sweetest +craft that slips her moorings in the Round Pond is what is called a +stick-boat, because she is rather like a stick until she is in the water +and you are holding the string. Then as you walk round, pulling her, +you see little men running about her deck, and sails rise magically and +catch the breeze, and you put in on dirty nights at snug harbours which +are unknown to the lordly yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again +your rakish craft noses for the wind, whales spout, you glide over +buried cities, and have brushes with pirates and cast anchor on coral +isles. You are a solitary boy while all this is taking place, for two +boys together cannot adventure far upon the Round Pond, and though you +may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, giving orders and executing +them with dispatch, you know not, when it is time to go home, where you +have been or what swelled your sails; your treasure-trove is all locked +away in your hold, so to speak, which will be opened, perhaps, by +another little boy many years afterward. + +But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return to this +haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to sail it? Oh, no. +It is the stick-boat that is freighted with memories. The yachts are +toys, their owner a fresh-water mariner, they can cross and recross +a pond only while the stick-boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your +wands, who think we are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only +accidents of this place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the +ducks the real business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + +Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are +ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are made by men +with their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide at one spot and at +another so narrow that you can stand astride them. They are called Paths +that have Made Themselves, and David did wish he could see them doing +it. But, like all the most wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, +it is done, we concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have +also decided that the paths make themselves because it is their only +chance of getting to the Round Pond. + +One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get their +hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, I am told, he +said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary has never been quite +the same bright creature since, so he despises the sheep as they run +from their shearer and calls out tauntingly, "Cowardy, cowardy custard!" +But when the man grips them between his legs David shakes a fist at him +for using such big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man +turns back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look +suddenly like ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are so +frightened by the shearing that it makes them quite white and thin, and +as soon as they are set free they begin to nibble the grass at once, +quite anxiously, as if they feared that they would never be worth +eating. David wonders whether they know each other, now that they are +so different, and if it makes them fight with the wrong ones. They are +great fighters, and thus so unlike country sheep that every year they +give Porthos a shock. He can make a field of country sheep fly by merely +announcing his approach, but these town sheep come toward him with no +promise of gentle entertainment, and then a light from last year breaks +upon Porthos. He cannot with dignity retreat, but he stops and looks +about him as if lost in admiration of the scenery, and presently he +strolls away with a fine indifference and a glint at me from the corner +of his eye. + +The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a +drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the edge you can +see the trees all growing upside down, and they say that at night there +are also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter Pan sees them when he is +sailing across the lake in the Thrush's Nest. A small part only of the +Serpentine is in the Gardens, for soon it passes beneath a bridge to +far away where the island is on which all the birds are born that become +baby boys and girls. No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is +only half human), can land on the island, but you may write what you +want (boy or girl, dark or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist +it into the shape of a boat and slip it into the water, and it reaches +Peter Pan's island after dark. + +We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence that +we can go to so many of the places in one day. I should have had to be +carrying David long ago and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford. +That was what we called him, because he always talked to us of a lovely +place called Salford where he had been born. He was a crab-apple of +an old gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat +trying to fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of +Salford, and when we had known him for a year or more we actually did +meet another aged solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in +Salford. He was meek and timid and carried his address inside his hat, +and whatever part of London he was in search of he always went to the +General Post-office first as a starting-point. Him we carried in triumph +to our other friend, with the story of that Saturday to Monday, and +never shall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at +him. They have been cronies ever since, and I notice that Mr. Salford, +who naturally does most of the talking, keeps tight grip of the other +old man's coat. + +The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery +and the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's +Cemetery is, as Porthos is always with us. The nest is very sad. It +is quite white, and the way we found it was wonderful. We were having +another look among the bushes for David's lost worsted ball, and instead +of the ball we found a lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing +four eggs, with scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we +think they must have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones +inside. Every day we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest, +taking care that no cruel boy should see us, and we dropped crumbs, +and soon the bird knew us as friends, and sat in the nest looking at us +kindly with her shoulders hunched up. But one day when we went, there +were only two eggs in the nest, and the next time there were none. The +saddest part of it was that the poor little chaffinch fluttered about +the bushes, looking so reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we +had done it, and though David tried to explain to her, it was so +long since he had spoken the bird language that I fear she did not +understand. He and I left the Gardens that day with our knuckles in our +eyes. + + + + +XIV. Peter Pan + +If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a +little girl she will say, "Why, of course, I did, child," and if you +ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, "What +a foolish question to ask; certainly he did." Then if you ask your +grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she +also says, "Why, of course, I did, child," but if you ask her whether he +rode on a goat in those days, she says she never heard of his having a +goat. Perhaps she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name +and calls you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she could +hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there was +no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in +telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people +do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest. + +Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really +always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age +is one week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a +birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The +reason is that he escaped from being a human when he was seven days' +old; he escaped by the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + +If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows +how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard +this story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, +but I told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, +and when he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly +remembered a youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that +memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as +soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way +up the chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would +press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before +they were human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few +weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So +David tells me. + +I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: +First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding +being that it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his +additions, and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more +his story or mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald +narrative and most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, +for this boy can be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the +ways and customs of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences +of David's, recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking +hard. + +Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing +on the ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the +Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that +he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the +houses to the Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, +but the place itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we +were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter +Pan that evening. + +He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace and the +Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. +He was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he +was a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and +when he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he +missed it was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, +of course, a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past +Lock-out Time, for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy +to notice him; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, +drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails made him +thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, +and dipped his beak in the pond; he thought it was his beak, but, of +course, it was only his nose, and, therefore, very little water came up, +and that not so refreshing as usual, so next he tried a puddle, and he +fell flop into it. When a real bird falls in flop, he spreads out his +feathers and pecks them dry, but Peter could not remember what was +the thing to do, and he decided, rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the +weeping beech in the Baby Walk. + +At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a branch, but +presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He awoke long before +morning, shivering, and saying to himself, "I never was out in such a +cold night;" he had really been out in colder nights when he was a bird, +but, of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird +is a cold night to a boy in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely +uncomfortable, as if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made +him look round sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There +was something he wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted it, he +could not think what it was. What he wanted so much was his mother to +blow his nose, but that never struck him, so he decided to appeal to the +fairies for enlightenment. They are reputed to know a good deal. + +There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their arms +round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address them. The +fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but they usually give a civil +answer to a civil question, and he was quite angry when these two ran +away the moment they saw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chair, +reading a postage-stamp which some human had let fall, and when he heard +Peter's voice he popped in alarm behind a tulip. + +To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met fled from +him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a toadstool, rushed away, +leaving their tools behind them. A milkmaid turned her pail upside down +and hid in it. Soon the Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies +were running this away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was +afraid, lights were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds +of Queen Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the royal +guard had been called out. A regiment of Lancers came charging down +the Broad Walk, armed with holly-leaves, with which they jog the enemy +horribly in passing. Peter heard the little people crying everywhere +that there was a human in the Gardens after Lock-out Time, but he never +thought for a moment that he was the human. He was feeling stuffier and +stuffier, and more and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his +nose, but he pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid +creatures ran from him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up +the Hump, turned swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that they saw +him there. + +Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but now he +remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the weeping beech had +flown away when he alighted on it, and though that had not troubled him +at the time, he saw its meaning now. Every living thing was shunning +him. Poor little Peter Pan, he sat down and cried, and even then he did +not know that, for a bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a +blessing that he did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith +in his power to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you +cease forever to be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we can't +is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have +wings. + +Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the Serpentine, +for the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, and there +are stakes round it, standing up in the water, on each of which a +bird-sentinel sits by day and night. It was to the island that Peter now +flew to put his strange case before old Solomon Caw, and he alighted on +it with relief, much heartened to find himself at last at home, as the +birds call the island. All of them were asleep, including the sentinels, +except Solomon, who was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly +to Peter's adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + +"Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me," Solomon said, +and with staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at the +sleeping birds. Not one of them wore anything. + +"How many of your toes are thumbs?" said Solomon a little cruelly, and +Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes were fingers. The +shock was so great that it drove away his cold. + +"Ruffle your feathers," said that grim old Solomon, and Peter tried most +desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he rose +up, quaking, and for the first time since he stood on the window-ledge, +he remembered a lady who had been very fond of him. + +"I think I shall go back to mother," he said timidly. + +"Good-bye," replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + +But Peter hesitated. "Why don't you go?" the old one asked politely. + +"I suppose," said Peter huskily, "I suppose I can still fly?" + +You see, he had lost faith. + +"Poor little half-and-half," said Solomon, who was not really +hard-hearted, "you will never be able to fly again, not even on windy +days. You must live here on the island always." + +"And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?" Peter asked tragically. + +"How could you get across?" said Solomon. He promised very kindly, +however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could be learned by +one of such an awkward shape. + +"Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?" Peter asked. + +"No." + +"Nor exactly a bird?" + +"No." + +"What shall I be?" + +"You will be a Betwixt-and-Between," Solomon said, and certainly he was +a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + +The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities tickled them +every day, as if they were quite new, though it was really the birds +that were new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed at him at +once, then off they soon flew to be humans, and other birds came out +of other eggs, and so it went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when +they tired of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young one to break +their shells a day before the right time by whispering to them that now +was their chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands +gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just as you watch +the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he lifted the crusts +they flung him with his hands instead of in the usual way with the +mouth. All his food was brought to him from the Gardens at Solomon's +orders by the birds. He would not eat worms or insects (which they +thought very silly of him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. +Thus, when you cry out, "Greedy! Greedy!" to the bird that flies away +with the big crust, you know now that you ought not to do this, for he +is very likely taking it to Peter Pan. + +Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always begging him +for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being very good-natured, +he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was left +of it. But, though he was now quite naked, you must not think that he +was cold or unhappy. He was usually very happy and gay, and the reason +was that Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many of the bird +ways. To be easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing +something, and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of vast +importance. Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build their +nests; soon he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly as well +as a blackbird, though never did he satisfy the finches, and he made +nice little water-troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the young +ones with his fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and +knew an east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the +grass growing and hear the insects walking about inside the tree-trunks. +But the best thing Solomon had done was to teach him to have a glad +heart. All birds have glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as +they were the only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it was easy to him +to teach Peter how to have one. + +Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, +just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he needed an +instrument, so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to sit by the shore +of the island of an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the +ripple of the water, and catching handfuls of the shine of the moon, and +he put them all in his pipe and played them so beautifully that even the +birds were deceived, and they would say to each other, "Was that a fish +leaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his pipe?" +and sometimes he played the birth of birds, and then the mothers would +turn round in their nests to see whether they had laid an egg. If you +are a child of the Gardens you must know the chestnut-tree near the +bridge, which comes out in flower first of all the chestnuts, but +perhaps you have not heard why this tree leads the way. It is because +Peter wearies for summer and plays that it has come, and the chestnut +being so near, hears him and is cheated. + +But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he sometimes +fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad also, and the +reason of all this sadness was that he could not reach the Gardens, +though he could see them through the arch of the bridge. He knew he +could never be a real human again, and scarcely wanted to be one, but +oh, how he longed to play as other children play, and of course there +is no such lovely place to play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him +news of how boys and girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's +eyes. + +Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was that he +could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no one on the island +knew the way except the ducks, and they are so stupid. They were quite +willing to teach him, but all they could say about it was, "You sit down +on the top of the water in this way, and then you kick out like that." +Peter tried it often, but always before he could kick out he sank. What +he really needed to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, +and they said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as +that. Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give them +all his day's food and then ask them how they sat on the water, but as +soon as he had no more to give them the hateful things hissed at him and +sailed away. + +Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the Gardens. +A wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, floated high over +the island and then tumbled, rolling over and over after the manner of a +bird that has broken its wing. Peter was so frightened that he hid, but +the birds told him it was only a kite, and what a kite is, and that it +must have tugged its string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After +that they laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it +so much that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was +pathetic and pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it had +belonged to a real boy. + +To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt +grateful to him at this time because he had nursed a number of +fledglings through the German measles, and they offered to show him how +birds fly a kite. So six of them took the end of the string in their +beaks and flew away with it; and to his amazement it flew after them and +went even higher than they. + +Peter screamed out, "Do it again!" and with great good-nature they did +it several times, and always instead of thanking them he cried, "Do it +again!" which shows that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was +to be a boy. + +At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he begged +them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and now a hundred +flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the tail, meaning to drop +off when he was over the Gardens. But the kite broke to pieces in the +air, and he would have drowned in the Serpentine had he not caught hold +of two indignant swans and made them carry him to the island. After this +the birds said that they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + +Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of +Shelley's boat, as I am now to tell you. + + + + +XV. The Thrush's Nest + +Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect to +be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people +who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had all that +and five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, +he made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the +Serpentine. + +It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to Solomon +Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a message from a +lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her have a good one. +They always ask for the best one he has, and if he likes the letter he +sends one from Class A; but if it ruffles him he sends very funny ones +indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at another time he sends a +nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to +leave it all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he +will see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to send +another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little boy who wants +a baby-sister, always take pains to write your address clearly. You +can't think what a lot of babies Solomon has sent to the wrong house. + +Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took +counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with +their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided +that it came from some greedy person who wanted five. They thought this +because there was a large five printed on it. "Preposterous!" cried +Solomon in a rage, and he presented it to Peter; anything useless which +drifted upon the island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + +But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what it +was at once, having been very observant during the week when he was an +ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he could surely at last +contrive to reach the Gardens, and he considered all the possible ways, +and decided (wisely, I think) to choose the best way. But, first, he had +to tell the birds of the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were +too honest to demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they +cast such black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, +that he flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very depressed +with his head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that unless Solomon +was on your side, you never got anything done for you in the island, so +he followed him and tried to hearten him. + +Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's good +will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of remaining in office +all his life. He looked forward to retiring by-and-by, and devoting his +green old age to a life of pleasure on a certain yew-stump in the Figs +which had taken his fancy, and for years he had been quietly filling his +stocking. It was a stocking belonging to some bathing person which had +been cast upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a +hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a pen-wiper +and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon calculated that he +would be able to retire on a competency. Peter now gave him a pound. He +cut it off his bank-note with a sharp stick. + +This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had consulted +together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You will see presently +why thrushes only were invited. + +The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon did +most of the talking, because he soon became irritable if other people +talked. He began by saying that he had been much impressed by the +superior ingenuity shown by the thrushes in nest-building, and this +put them into good-humour at once, as it was meant to do; for all the +quarrels between birds are about the best way of building nests. Other +birds, said Solomon, omitted to line their nests with mud, and as a +result they did not hold water. Here he cocked his head as if he had +used an unanswerable argument; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come +to the meeting uninvited, and she squeaked out, "We don't build nests to +hold water, but to hold eggs," and then the thrushes stopped cheering, +and Solomon was so perplexed that he took several sips of water. + +"Consider," he said at last, "how warm the mud makes the nest." + +"Consider," cried Mrs. Finch, "that when water gets into the nest it +remains there and your little ones are drowned." + +The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing in +reply to this, but again he was perplexed. + +"Try another drink," suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her name, and +all Kates are saucy. + +Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. "If," said he, "a +finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and breaks to pieces, +but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup of a swan's back." + +How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their nests +with mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, "We don't place our nests on +the Serpentine," they did what they should have done at first: chased +her from the meeting. After this it was most orderly. What they had been +brought together to hear, said Solomon, was this: their young friend, +Peter Pan, as they well knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to +the Gardens, and he now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + +At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble for his +scheme. + +Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the cumbrous +boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be simply a thrush's +nest large enough to hold Peter. + +But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. "We are very busy +people," they grumbled, "and this would be a big job." + +"Quite so," said Solomon, "and, of course, Peter would not allow you +to work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in comfortable +circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you have never been +paid before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that you shall all be paid +sixpence a day." + +Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun the +celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business fell into +arrears. It was the time of year when they should have been pairing, but +not a thrush's nest was built except this big one, and so Solomon soon +ran short of thrushes with which to supply the demand from the mainland. +The stout, rather greedy children, who look so well in perambulators +but get puffed easily when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and +ladies often ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He +sent over to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to +lay their eggs in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the ladies +and swore they were all thrushes! It was known afterward on the island +as the Sparrows' Year, and so, when you meet, as you doubtless sometimes +do, grown-up people who puff and blow as if they thought themselves +bigger than they are, very likely they belong to that year. You ask +them. + +Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. They +stood in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut the paper +sixpences out of his bank-note, and presently he called the roll, and +then each bird, as the names were mentioned, flew down and got sixpence. +It must have been a fine sight. + +And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, the +deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a great +thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of it he slept by +its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was +lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps in +his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it +is just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a +kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, +being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls +are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which +came off the thrushes while they were building. + +The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not +balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the +water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that +Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other +in dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a +sail, and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had +fashioned out of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a +night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full, +and all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis +Pretty would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew +not why, he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that moment +his eyes were pinned to the west. + +He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with them +to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens beckoning to +him beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face was flushed, but +he never looked back; there was an exultation in his little breast that +drove out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who +have sailed westward to meet the Unknown? + +At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the +place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of +the sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze, to +his no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was +drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the +dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown +and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which +bore him westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke +against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the bridge +and came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the delectable +Gardens. But having tried to cast anchor, which was a stone at the end +of a piece of the kite-string, he found no bottom, and was fain to hold +off, seeking for moorage, and, feeling his way, he buffeted against a +sunken reef that cast him overboard by the greatness of the shock, and +he was near to being drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There +now arose a mighty storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he +had never heard the like, and he was tossed this way and that, and +his hands so numbed with the cold that he could not close them. Having +escaped the danger of which, he was mercifully carried into a small bay, +where his boat rode at peace. + +Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark, +he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest +his landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past +Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and +also a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in the +Gardens, and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + +Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an +ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be their +friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no temper +to draw off therefrom, and he warned them if they sought to mischief him +to stand to their harms. + +So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with +intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women, +and it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's +night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that +their laps were too small, the which I cannot explain, except by saying +that such is the way of women. The men-fairies now sheathed their +weapons on observing the behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence +they set great store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who +conferred upon him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and +henceforth Peter could go whither he chose, and the fairies had orders +to put him in comfort. + +Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from the +antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. But Peter +never grows any older, and if we could be watching for him under the +bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I daresay we should see +him hoisting his night-gown and sailing or paddling toward us in the +Thrush's Nest. When he sails, he sits down, but he stands up to paddle. +I shall tell you presently how he got his paddle. + +Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals back +to the island, for people must not see him (he is not so human as all +that), but this gives him hours for play, and he plays exactly as real +children play. At least he thinks so, and it is one of the pathetic +things about him that he often plays quite wrongly. + +You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for the +fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so know nothing, +and though the birds pretended that they could tell him a great deal, +when the time for telling came, it was wonderful how little they really +knew. They told him the truth about hide-and-seek, and he often plays +it by himself, but even the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to +him what it is that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night +the ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number of +pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and say that +cake is not what it was in their young days. + +So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often played ships +at the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop which he had found on +the grass. Of course, he had never seen a hoop, and he wondered what +you play at with them, and decided that you play at pretending they +are boats. This hoop always sank at once, but he waded in for it, and +sometimes he dragged it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was +quite proud to think that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + +Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for +sitting in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get out of +it. Also he found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the Hump, quite as +if it was having a game by itself, and he caught it after an exciting +chase. But he thought it was a ball, and Jenny Wren had told him that +boys kick balls, so he kicked it; and after that he could not find it +anywhere. + +Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. It was +under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's Winter Palace +(which is within the circle of the seven Spanish chestnuts), and Peter +approached it warily, for the birds had never mentioned such things to +him. Lest it was alive, he addressed it politely, and then, as it gave +no answer, he went nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little +push, and it ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after +all; but, as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched out +his hand to pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and he was so +alarmed that he leapt the railing and scudded away to his boat. You must +not think, however, that he was a coward, for he came back next night +with a crust in one hand and a stick in the other, but the perambulator +had gone, and he never saw another one. I have promised to tell you also +about his paddle. It was a child's spade which he had found near St. +Govor's Well, and he thought it was a paddle. + +Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think it +rather silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must pity him +now and then, but to pity him all the time would be impertinence. He +thought he had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you +have it is almost quite as good as really to have it. He played without +ceasing, while you often waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He +could be neither of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do +you think he is to be pitied for that? + +Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, as you +are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a spinning-top, +from sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound leaping the fences of +the Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + +And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at night +write to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the Gardens, but +it is really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he had no mother--at +least, what use was she to him? You can be sorry for him for that, but +don't be too sorry, for the next thing I mean to tell you is how he +revisited her. It was the fairies who gave him the chance. + + + + +XVI. Lock-Out Time + +It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost +the only thing known for certain is that there are fairies wherever +there are children. Long ago children were forbidden the Gardens, and +at that time there was not a fairy in the place; then the children were +admitted, and the fairies came trooping in that very evening. They can't +resist following the children, but you seldom see them, partly because +they live in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not allowed +to go, and also partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit +cunning after Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + +When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you remember +a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a great pity you +can't write down, for gradually you forget, and I have heard of children +who declared that they had never once seen a fairy. Very likely if they +said this in the Kensington Gardens, they were standing looking at a +fairy all the time. The reason they were cheated was that she pretended +to be something else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually +pretend to be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, +and there are so many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, that +a flower is the thing least likely to attract attention. They dress +exactly like flowers, and change with the seasons, putting on white when +lilies are in and blue for blue-bells, and so on. They like crocus and +hyacinth time best of all, as they are partial to a bit of colour, but +tulips (except white ones, which are the fairy-cradles) they consider +garish, and they sometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so +that the beginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catch +them. + +When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty lively, but +if you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stand quite +still, pretending to be flowers. Then, after you have passed without +knowing that they were fairies, they rush home and tell their mothers +they have had such an adventure. The Fairy Basin, you remember, is all +covered with ground-ivy (from which they make their castor-oil), with +flowers growing in it here and there. Most of them really are flowers, +but some of them are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good +plan is to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. +Another good plan, which David and I sometimes follow, is to stare them +down. After a long time they can't help winking, and then you know for +certain that they are fairies. + +There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a +famous gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. Once +twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girls' +school out for a walk with the governess, and all wearing hyacinth +gowns, when she suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they +all stood still on an empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. +Unfortunately, what the governess had heard was two gardeners coming to +plant new flowers in that very bed. They were wheeling a handcart with +the flowers in it, and were quite surprised to find the bed occupied. +"Pity to lift them hyacinths," said the one man. "Duke's orders," +replied the other, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the +boarding-school and put the poor, terrified things in it in five rows. +Of course, neither the governess nor the girls dare let on that they +were fairies, so they were carted far away to a potting-shed, out of +which they escaped in the night without their shoes, but there was a +great row about it among the parents, and the school was ruined. + +As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they are +the exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by day but you +can't see them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you +can't see them by day, for they are the colour of night, and I never +heard of anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not +mean that they are black, for night has its colours just as day has, +but ever so much brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours +with a light behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured +glasses, and is quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but the +queen sometimes complains because the common people will peep in to see +what she is doing. They are very inquisitive folk, and press quite hard +against the glass, and that is why their noses are mostly snubby. The +streets are miles long and very twisty, and have paths on each side made +of bright worsted. The birds used to steal the worsted for their nests, +but a policeman has been appointed to hold on at the other end. + +One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they +never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first +time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping +about. That was the beginning of fairies. They look tremendously busy, +you know, as if they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask +them what they are doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are +frightfully ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have +a postman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, +and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the +youngest child being chief person is always elected mistress, and when +she has called the roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back. +It is a very noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest +is always chief person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and +children remember this, and think it must be so among humans also, and +that is why they are often made uneasy when they come upon their mother +furtively putting new frills on the basinette. + +You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all sorts +of things that your mother and her nurse want her not to do: to stand up +at sitting-down time, and to sit down at standing-up time, for instance, +or to wake up when she should fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when +she is wearing her best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down +to naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as +she has seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, and +it takes about two years to get her into the human ways. Her fits of +passion, which are awful to behold, and are usually called teething, +are no such thing; they are her natural exasperation, because we don't +understand her, though she is talking an intelligible language. She is +talking fairy. The reason mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, +before other people know, as that "Guch" means "Give it to me at once," +while "Wa" is "Why do you wear such a funny hat?" is because, mixing so +much with babies, they have picked up a little of the fairy language. + +Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, with +his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a number of their +phrases which I shall tell you some day if I don't forget. He had heard +them in the days when he was a thrush, and though I suggested to him +that perhaps it is really bird language he is remembering, he says not, +for these phrases are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of +nothing but nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used +to go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the +different nests and saying, "Not my colour, my dear," and "How would +that do with a soft lining?" and "But will it wear?" and "What hideous +trimming!" and so on. + +The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the first +things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and then to cry +when you do it. They hold their great balls in the open air, in what +is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the +grass. It is not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing +round and round. Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and +these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. +The chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these little +people leave behind them, and they would remove even these were they not +so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very moment of the opening +of the gates. David and I once found a fairy-ring quite warm. + +But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it takes +place. You know the boards which tell at what time the Gardens are to +close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies sometimes slyly change the +board on a ball night, so that it says the Gardens are to close at +six-thirty for instance, instead of at seven. This enables them to get +begun half an hour earlier. + +If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the famous +Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, hundreds of +lovely fairies hastening to the ball, the married ones wearing their +wedding-rings round their waists, the gentlemen, all in uniform, holding +up the ladies' trains, and linkmen running in front carrying winter +cherries, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put +on their silver slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers +streaming up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because +they can lend a pin, the supper-table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, +and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a dandelion on +which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the time. + +The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is made +of chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is this: The men, +scores of them, climb up the trees and shake the branches, and the +blossom falls like snow. Then the lady servants sweep it together by +whisking their skirts until it is exactly like a table-cloth, and that +is how they get their table-cloth. + +They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, blackthorn +wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen pours out, but the +bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to pour out. There is bread +and butter to begin with, of the size of a threepenny bit; and cakes to +end with, and they are so small that they have no crumbs. The fairies +sit round on mushrooms, and at first they are very well-behaved and +always cough off the table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so +well-behaved and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got +from the roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the +table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their tongues. When +the Queen sees them doing this she signs to the servants to wash up and +put away, and then everybody adjourns to the dance, the Queen walking in +front while the Lord Chamberlain walks behind her, carrying two little +pots, one of which contains the juice of wall-flower and the other the +juice of Solomon's Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers +who fall to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for +bruises. They bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster +they foot it till they fall down in fits. For, as you know without my +telling you, Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He sits in the middle +of the ring, and they would never dream of having a smart dance nowadays +without him. "P. P." is written on the corner of the invitation-cards +sent out by all really good families. They are grateful little people, +too, and at the princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their +second birthday and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish +of his heart. + +The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, and then +said that for playing so beautifully she would give him the wish of his +heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to hear what was the wish of +his heart, but for a long time he hesitated, not being certain what it +was himself. + +"If I chose to go back to mother," he asked at last, "could you give me +that wish?" + +Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother they +should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose contemptuously and +said, "Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than that." + +"Is that quite a little wish?" he inquired. + +"As little as this," the Queen answered, putting her hands near each +other. + +"What size is a big wish?" he asked. + +She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome length. + +Then Peter reflected and said, "Well, then, I think I shall have two +little wishes instead of one big one." + +Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather +shocked them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his +mother, but with the right to return to the Gardens if he found her +disappointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve. + +They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + +"I can give you the power to fly to her house," the Queen said, "but I +can't open the door for you. + +"The window I flew out at will be open," Peter said confidently. "Mother +always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back." + +"How do you know?" they asked, quite surprised, and, really, Peter could +not explain how he knew. + +"I just do know," he said. + +So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way they gave +him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the shoulder, and +soon he felt a funny itching in that part and then up he rose higher and +higher and flew away out of the Gardens and over the house-tops. + +It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old home he +skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and back by the river +and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached his mother's window he had +quite made up his mind that his second wish should be to become a bird. + +The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he +fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted softly +on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look at her. +She lay with her head on her hand, and the hollow in the pillow was like +a nest lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he had +long forgotten it, that she always gave her hair a holiday at night. How +sweet the frills of her night-gown were. He was very glad she was such a +pretty mother. + +But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her arms +moved as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew what it wanted +to go round. + +"Oh, mother," said Peter to himself, "if you just knew who is sitting on +the rail at the foot of the bed." + +Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he could +see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to say "Mother" +ever so softly, and she would wake up. They always wake up at once if it +is you that says their name. Then she would give such a joyous cry +and squeeze him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh, how +exquisitely delicious it would be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter +regarded it. In returning to his mother he never doubted that he was +giving her the greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more +splendid, he thought, than to have a little boy of your own. How proud +of him they are; and very right and proper, too. + +But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell his +mother that he has come back? + +I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two minds. +Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked +longingly at the window. Certainly it would be pleasant to be her boy +again, but, on the other hand, what times those had been in the Gardens! +Was he so sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off +the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They +were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. The +socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the feet? He was +about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a great adventure. +Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, his mother woke up, for +he heard her say "Peter," as if it was the most lovely word in the +language. He remained sitting on the floor and held his breath, +wondering how she knew that he had come back. If she said "Peter" again, +he meant to cry "Mother" and run to her. But she spoke no more, she +made little moans only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more +asleep, with tears on her face. + +It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first +thing he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he played a +beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had made it up himself +out of the way she said "Peter," and he never stopped playing until she +looked happy. + +He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist wakening +her to hear her say, "Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you play." However, as +she now seemed comfortable, he again cast looks at the window. You must +not think that he meditated flying away and never coming back. He had +quite decided to be his mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning +to-night. It was the second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant +to make it a wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed +wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without returning to +the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his wish too long it might +go bad. He asked himself if he had not been hardhearted to fly away +without saying good-bye to Solomon. "I should like awfully to sail in my +boat just once more," he said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite +argued with her as if she could hear him. "It would be so splendid to +tell the birds of this adventure," he said coaxingly. "I promise to come +back," he said solemnly and meant it, too. + +And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from the +window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight of it +might waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on his pipe, and +then he flew back to the Gardens. + +Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies for his +second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he delayed so long. +One reason was that he had so many good-byes to say, not only to his +particular friends, but to a hundred favourite spots. Then he had his +last sail, and his very last sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. +Again, a number of farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another +comfortable reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his +mother would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason displeased +old Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds to procrastinate. +Solomon had several excellent mottoes for keeping them at their work, +such as "Never put off laying to-day, because you can lay to-morrow," +and "In this world there are no second chances," and yet here was Peter +gaily putting off and none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out +to each other, and fell into lazy habits. + +But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his mother, +he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution +with the fairies. They were most anxious that he should remain in the +Gardens to play to them, and to bring this to pass they tried to trick +him into making such a remark as "I wish the grass was not so wet," and +some of them danced out of time in the hope that he might cry, "I do +wish you would keep time!" Then they would have said that this was his +second wish. But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he +began, "I wish--" he always stopped in time. So when at last he said +to them bravely, "I wish now to go back to mother for ever and always," +they had to tickle his shoulders and let him go. + +He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his mother was +crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried for, and that a +hug from her splendid Peter would quickly make her to smile. Oh, he felt +sure of it, and so eager was he to be nestling in her arms that this +time he flew straight to the window, which was always to be open for +him. + +But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and peering +inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm round another +little boy. + +Peter called, "Mother! mother!" but she heard him not; in vain he beat +his little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, sobbing, to +the Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a glorious boy he had +meant to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have made the great mistake, how +differently we should all act at the second chance. But Solomon was +right; there is no second chance, not for most of us. When we reach the +window it is Lock-out Time. The iron bars are up for life. + + + + +XVII. The Little House + +Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which +is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for +humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and +they have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it +you never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but +it is there when you wake up and step outside. + +In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really +it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out +Time. David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the +trees as we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw +it the night he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of +his father's office. Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted +because then she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, +she saw hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the +fairies building the house, for they build it every night and always +in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of the lights was +bigger than the others, though she was not quite sure, for they jumped +about so, and it might have been another one that was bigger. But if it +was the same one, it was Peter Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen +the light, so that is nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one +for whom the house was first built. + +Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she +was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was +the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a +magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him +in the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered +rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting +she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you +that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the +daytime. + +But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt +for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there +came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look. +It was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy +glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which +he always took away from her next morning) and she accepted them with a +disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so +mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to +bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do +it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened her, but +Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were +alone with their night-light she would start up in bed crying "Hsh! what +was that?" Tony beseeches her! "It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!" +and pulls the sheet over his head. "It is coming nearer!" she cries; +"Oh, look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is +boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!" and she desists not until he rushes +downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they came up to whip +Maimie they usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you +know, but really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest little angel, +which seems to me to make it almost worse. + +But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then +Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he +was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would +have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And +at no time did she admire him more than when he told her, as he often +did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in +the Gardens after the gates were closed. + +"Oh, Tony," she would say, with awful respect, "but the fairies will be +so angry!" + +"I daresay," replied Tony, carelessly. + +"Perhaps," she said, thrilling, "Peter Pan will give you a sail in his +boat!" + +"I shall make him," replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + +But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were +overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which +the little people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a +marked boy. They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down +he came on the back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his +boot-lace and bribed the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty +accidents you meet with in the Gardens occur because the fairies have +taken an ill-will to you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you +say about them. + +Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things, +but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to +remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, "Just +some day;" he was quite vague about which day except when she asked +"Will it be to-day?" and then he could always say for certain that it +would not be to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good +chance. + +This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow, +and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but +at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many +bright little boys and girls were doing that. + +When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond, +but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said +this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that +night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs +continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but +she was not to laugh much more that day. + +Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the +time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for +closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the +fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they +had changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said +there was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as +they trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their +little breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. +Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance. + +He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager +eyes asked the question, "Is it to-day?" and he gasped and then nodded. +Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold. +She did a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him! +"In case you should feel cold," she whispered. Her face was aglow, but +Tony's was very gloomy. + +As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, "I'm afraid +Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it." + +Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their +ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said +aloud, "Tony, I shall race you to the gate," and in a whisper, "Then you +can hide," and off they ran. + +Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him +speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might +have more time to hide. "Brave, brave!" her doting eyes were crying when +she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the +gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful +of darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain +she could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she +ran to St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + +When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her +other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores +and hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always +has to run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight +and glued them with passionate tears. When she opened them something +very cold ran up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart. +It was the stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from +another part clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of +the Gates. + +Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice +say, "So that's all right." It had a wooden sound and seemed to come +from above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out +its arms and yawning. + +She was about to say, "I never knew you could speak!" when a metallic +voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the +elm, "I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?" and the elm replied, "Not +particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg," and he +flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. +Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were +doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and +crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders +but did not seem to mind her. + +She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse +and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her +dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far +away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a +ball. She was about forty round the waist. + +There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in +time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set +off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but +that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the +walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had +crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and +shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never +known what they were for until to-night. + +She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy +fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way +he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut +like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with snow. "Oh, you +naughty, naughty child!" Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it +was to have a dripping umbrella about your ears. + +Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the +chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly "Hoity-toity, +what is this?" that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole +vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + +"Of course it is no affair of ours," a spindle tree said after they had +whispered together, "but you know quite well you ought not to be here, +and perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think +yourself?" + +"I think you should not," Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that +they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. "I wouldn't ask it +of you," she assured them, "if I thought it was wrong," and of +course after this they could not well carry tales. They then said, +"Well-a-day," and "Such is life!" for they can be frightfully sarcastic, +but she felt sorry for those of them who had no crutches, and she said +good-naturedly, "Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take +you for a walk one at a time; you can lean on me, you know." + +At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby +Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round +the very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and +treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though +she could not understand a word they said. + +They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not +taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others +jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a +lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off +to the ball, but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more +fear was that it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, +Maimie was always rather strange. + +They were now loath to let her go, for, "If the fairies see you," they +warned her, "they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you +to nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an +evergreen oak." As they said this they looked with affected pity at an +evergreen oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens. + +"Oh, la!" replied the oak bitingly, "how deliciously cosy it is to stand +here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!" + +This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves, +and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced +her if she insisted on going to the ball. + +She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual +good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the +Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a +dreadful complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried +many ladies in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them. +Queen Mab, who rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls +would bewitch him, but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. +This rather irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the +Duke's heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always +shook his bald head and murmured, "Cold, quite cold!" Naturally Queen +Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of ordering the court +into tears for nine minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed +that they should wear fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen +heart. + +"How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!" +Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the +Cupids hate to be laughed at. + +It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held, +as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the +Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting +their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on +the snow. + +Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting +anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her +surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just +time to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and +pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and +six behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held +up by two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a +lovely girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She +was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her +neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course +showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified +it. The high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their +skin, which lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you +cannot imagine anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' +busts in the jewellers' windows. + +Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion, +tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt +them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the +doctor had said "Cold, quite cold!" + +Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a +dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb +out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly +went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and +explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street +singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her. + +"Of course," she said, "I am rather plain," and this made Maimie +uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite +plain for a fairy. + +It was difficult to know what to reply. + +"I see you think I have no chance," Brownie said falteringly. + +"I don't say that," Maimie answered politely, "of course your face is +just a tiny bit homely, but--" Really it was quite awkward for her. + +Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone +to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London +were on view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home +instead of being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, "You +can't think, my dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again." + +Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously, +indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose +her. So she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to +follow lest the Queen should mischief her. + +But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven +Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until +she was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree. + +The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed +of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming +a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little +people looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared +to the glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so +bewilderingly bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she +looked at them. + +It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas +Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love +his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the +Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling +ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were +told to pass on, and by his own most dreary face. + +Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and +hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly +sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure +places and, every time they heard that "Cold, quite cold," bowed their +disgraced little heads. + +She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you +now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got +wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which +he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle. + +The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so +heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad +and remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies +never say "We feel happy": what they say is, "We feel dancey." + +Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke +out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was +insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke. + +Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she +had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie +herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his +grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart, +which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his +diamond shirt, had begun to say mechanically, "Cold, qui--," when he +stopped abruptly. + +"What's this?" he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and +then put his ear to it. + +"Bless my soul!" cried the doctor, and by this time of course the +excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right +and left. + +Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled +and looked as if he would like to run away. "Good gracious me!" the +doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for +he had to jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth. + +The suspense was awful! + +Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, "My Lord Duke," said the physician +elatedly, "I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace +is in love." + +You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the +Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of +the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of +her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything. +Thus in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you +leap into each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman +has to be present. + +How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and +immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were +ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring. +Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps +from their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went +and spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight +over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward +and cried in an ecstasy, "Oh, Brownie, how splendid!" + +Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in +the time you may take to say "Oh dear!" An awful sense of her peril +came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a +place where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the +gates, she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand +swords flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + +How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head. +Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. +Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew +she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must +never cease to run, and she thought she was still running long after she +had dropped in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes +falling on her face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought +her coverlet of snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her +head. And when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was +mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she slept. +But it was the fairies. + +I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief +her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as "Slay +her!" "Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!" and so on, but the +pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front, +and this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and +demand a boon. + +Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's +life. "Anything except that," replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the +fairies chanted "Anything except that." But when they learned how Maimie +had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their +great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and +set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front +and the canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her +footprints in the snow. + +But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible +to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the +form of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and +read her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They +also cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they +saw she was in danger of perishing of cold. + +"Turn her into something that does not mind the cold," seemed a good +suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of +that does not mind cold was a snowflake. "And it might melt," the Queen +pointed out, so that idea had to be given up. + +A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but +though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all +the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids +had a lovely idea. "Build a house round her," they cried, and at once +everybody perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred +fairy sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round +Maimie, measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, +seventy-five masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen +laid it, overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings +were run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning +lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting +in the windows. + +The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of +her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they +built a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were +the size of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it +would be easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as +is their custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness, +and they were all so madly in love with the little house that they could +not bear to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many +little extra touches, and even then they added more extra touches. + +For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + +"Now we fear it is quite finished," they sighed. But no, for another two +ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney. + +"That certainly finishes it," they cried reluctantly. + +"Not at all," cried a glow-worm, "if she were to wake without seeing a +night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light." + +"Wait one moment," said a china merchant, "and I shall make you a +saucer." + +Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + +Oh, dear no! + +"Gracious me," cried a brass manufacturer, "there's no handle on the +door," and he put one on. + +An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat. +Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on +painting it. + +Finished at last! + +"Finished! how can it be finished," the plumber demanded scornfully, +"before hot and cold are put in?" and he put in hot and cold. Then an +army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and +bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the +right of the verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and +clematis on the walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes +all these dear things were in full bloom. + +Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished +true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They +all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was +Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream +down the chimney. + +All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs +taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream +was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was +breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then +she called out, "Tony," for she thought she was at home in the nursery. +As Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, +and it opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all +around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in +the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched +her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her +that she was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now +everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to +her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had +she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over +the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the +night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else. + +"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!" she cried. + +Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew +that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to +grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it +was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It +always remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller, +and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer, +lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little +dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke +and the door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete. +The glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. "Darling, +loveliest, don't go!" Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little +house was now the size of a reel of thread, but still quite complete. +But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all +sides until it met itself, and where the little house had been was now +one unbroken expanse of snow. + +Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her +eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, "Don't cry, pretty human, don't +cry," and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy +regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan. + + + + +XVIII. Peter's Goat + +Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + +"I hope you have had a good night," he said earnestly. + +"Thank you," she replied, "I was so cosy and warm. But you"--and she +looked at his nakedness awkwardly--"don't you feel the least bit cold?" + +Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, "I think +not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I am not exactly +a boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between." + +"So that is what it is called," said Maimie thoughtfully. + +"That's not my name," he explained, "my name is Peter Pan." + +"Yes, of course," she said, "I know, everybody knows." + +You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the people +outside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to tell him what they +knew and what they said, and she did so. They were sitting by this time +on a fallen tree; Peter had cleared off the snow for Maimie, but he sat +on a snowy bit himself. + +"Squeeze closer," Maimie said. + +"What is that?" he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. They +talked together and he found that people knew a great deal about him, +but not everything, not that he had gone back to his mother and been +barred out, for instance, and he said nothing of this to Maimie, for it +still humiliated him. + +"Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?" he asked very +proudly. "Oh, Maimie, please tell them!" But when he revealed how he +played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, and so on, she was simply +horrified. + +"All your ways of playing," she said with her big eyes on him, "are +quite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys play!" + +Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the first +time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry for him, and +lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least what to do +with it, so she showed him, that is to say, she wiped her eyes, and then +gave it back to him, saying "Now you do it," but instead of wiping his +own eyes he wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this was +what she had meant. + +She said, out of pity for him, "I shall give you a kiss if you like," +but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses are, and he +replied, "Thank you," and held out his hand, thinking she had offered to +put something into it. This was a great shock to her, but she felt she +could not explain without shaming him, so with charming delicacy she +gave Peter a thimble which happened to be in her pocket, and pretended +that it was a kiss. Poor little boy! he quite believed her, and to this +day he wears it on his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who +needs a thimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was +really years and years since he had seen his mother, and I daresay the +baby who had supplanted him was now a man with whiskers. + +But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather than to +admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found she was very +much mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration when he told her of +his adventures, especially of how he went to and fro between the island +and the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + +"How romantic," Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown word, and +he hung his head thinking she was despising him. + +"I suppose Tony would not have done that?" he said very humbly. + +"Never, never!" she answered with conviction, "he would have been +afraid." + +"What is afraid?" asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be some +splendid thing. "I do wish you would teach me how to be afraid, Maimie," +he said. + +"I believe no one could teach that to you," she answered adoringly, but +Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She had told him about Tony +and of the wicked thing she did in the dark to frighten him (she knew +quite well that it was wicked), but Peter misunderstood her meaning and +said, "Oh, how I wish I was as brave as Tony." + +It quite irritated her. "You are twenty thousand times braver than +Tony," she said, "you are ever so much the bravest boy I ever knew!" + +He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe he +screamed with joy. + +"And if you want very much to give me a kiss," Maimie said, "you can do +it." + +Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. He +thought she wanted it back. + +"I don't mean a kiss," she said hurriedly, "I mean a thimble." + +"What's that?" Peter asked. + +"It's like this," she said, and kissed him. + +"I should love to give you a thimble," Peter said gravely, so he gave +her one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a delightful +idea came into his head! "Maimie," he said, "will you marry me?" + +Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same time +into Maimie's head. "I should like to," she answered, "but will there be +room in your boat for two?" + +"If you squeeze close," he said eagerly. + +"Perhaps the birds would be angry?" + +He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am not so +certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds in winter. +"Of course they might want your clothes," he had to admit rather +falteringly. + +She was somewhat indignant at this. + +"They are always thinking of their nests," he said apologetically, "and +there are some bits of you"--he stroked the fur on her pelisse--"that +would excite them very much." + +"They sha'n't have my fur," she said sharply. + +"No," he said, still fondling it, however, "no! Oh, Maimie," he said +rapturously, "do you know why I love you? It is because you are like a +beautiful nest." + +Somehow this made her uneasy. "I think you are speaking more like a bird +than a boy now," she said, holding back, and indeed he was even +looking rather like a bird. "After all," she said, "you are only a +Betwixt-and-Between." But it hurt him so much that she immediately +added, "It must be a delicious thing to be." + +"Come and be one then, dear Maimie," he implored her, and they set off +for the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. "And you are not +a bit like a nest," he whispered to please her. + +"But I think it is rather nice to be like one," she said in a woman's +contradictory way. "And, Peter, dear, though I can't give them my fur, I +wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a nest in my neck with little +spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how perfectly lovely!" + +But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and said, +"Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. It is not as +if I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is not in the least like +that." + +"Oh, no," answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very like +that, and he would have told her so had he not been in a quaking fear +of losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt he could not live without +her. "She will forget her mother in time, and be happy with me," he kept +saying to himself, and he hurried her on, giving her thimbles by the +way. + +But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically over its +loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her mother. "You know +quite well, Peter, don't you," she said, "that I wouldn't come unless +I knew for certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, +say it!" + +He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + +"If you are sure your mother will always want you," he added rather +sourly. + +"The idea of mother's not always wanting me!" Maimie cried, and her face +glistened. + +"If she doesn't bar you out," said Peter huskily. + +"The door," replied Maimie, "will always, always be open, and mother +will always be waiting at it for me." + +"Then," said Peter, not without grimness, "step in, if you feel so sure +of her," and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + +"But why don't you look at me?" she asked, taking him by the arm. + +Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave a great +gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the snow. + +She went to him. "What is it, dear, dear Peter?" she said, wondering. + +"Oh, Maimie," he cried, "it isn't fair to take you with me if you think +you can go back. Your mother"--he gulped again--"you don't know them as +well as I do." + +And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred out, and +she gasped all the time. "But my mother," she said, "my mother"-- + +"Yes, she would," said Peter, "they are all the same. I daresay she is +looking for another one already." + +Maimie said aghast, "I can't believe it. You see, when you went away +your mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely they are +satisfied when they have one." + +Peter replied bitterly, "You should see the letters Solomon gets from +ladies who have six." + +Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, all +round the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and Peter jumped +nervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would not come with him now, and +he was trying bravely not to cry. But Maimie was sobbing painfully. + +"If I should be too late," she called in agony, "oh, Peter, if she has +got another one already!" + +Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. "I shall come and +look for you to-night," he said, squeezing close, "but if you hurry away +I think you will be in time." + +Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and covered +his face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + +"Dear Peter!" she cried. + +"Dear Maimie!" cried the tragic boy. + +She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, and +then she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! Peter, you may +be sure, was back in the Gardens that night as soon as Lock-out sounded, +but he found no Maimie, and so he knew she had been in time. For long +he hoped that some night she would come back to him; often he thought he +saw her waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew +to land, but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid +that if she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger with +him too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on her. But she +often talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted a kettle-holder for him, +and one day when she was wondering what Easter present he would like, +her mother made a suggestion. + +"Nothing," she said thoughtfully, "would be so useful to him as a goat." + +"He could ride on it," cried Maimie, "and play on his pipe at the same +time!" + +"Then," her mother asked, "won't you give him your goat, the one you +frighten Tony with at night?" + +"But it isn't a real goat," Maimie said. + +"It seems very real to Tony," replied her mother. + +"It seems frightfully real to me too," Maimie admitted, "but how could I +give it to Peter?" + +Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was really +quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), they went to +the Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy ring, and then her +mother, who was a rather gifted lady, said, + + "My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?" + +To which Maimie replied, + + "I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide." + +She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and turned +round three times. + +Next Tony said, + + "If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?" + +And Maimie answered, + + "By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere." + +She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining what she +had done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the goat into one +convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened just as she hoped, for +Peter found the letter, and of course nothing could be easier for the +fairies than to turn the goat into a real one, and so that is how Peter +got the goat on which he now rides round the Gardens every night playing +sublimely on his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened +Tony with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another +animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave presents +for Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how humans play with +them), and she is not the only one who has done this. David does it, for +instance, and he and I know the likeliest place for leaving them in, and +we shall tell you if you like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before +Porthos, for were he to find out the place he would take every one of +them. + +Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, and +often in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies kicking merrily +on the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he has still a vague memory +that he was a human once, and it makes him especially kind to the +house-swallows when they revisit the island, for house-swallows are the +spirits of little children who have died. They always build in the eaves +of the houses where they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they +try to fly in at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves +them best of all the birds. + +And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every night +except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house lest there +should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter rides the marshes +looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he carries them on his goat +to the little house, and when they wake up they are in it and when they +step out they see it. The fairies build the house merely because it +is so pretty, but Peter rides round in memory of Maimie and because he +still loves to do just as he believes real boys would do. + +But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees the +little house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in the Gardens +after Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the fairies happen to be out +that night they will certainly mischief you, and even though they are +not, you may perish of cold and dark before Peter Pan comes round. He +has been too late several times, and when he sees he is too late he runs +back to the Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him +the true use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little +tombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He does this at +once because he thinks it is what real boys would do, and you must have +noticed the little stones and that there are always two together. He +puts them in twos because it seems less lonely. I think that quite the +most touching sight in the Gardens is the two tombstones of Walter +Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. They stand together at the spot +where the parishes of Westminster St. Mary's is said to meet the parish +of Paddington. Here Peter found the two babes, who had fallen unnoticed +from their perambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walter +probably still younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy about +putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and the simple +inscriptions read + + +-----------+ +-----------+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +-----------+ +-----------+ + +David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent graves. + +But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at the +opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the sweetest +little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not too ready with his +spade. It is all rather sad. + + + + +XIX. An Interloper + +David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed the night +with me. We had often talked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary +consented to our having it. + +The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted hour of +six P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of sandwiches, but proved +to be his requisites for the night done up in a neat paper parcel. We +were both so excited that, at the moment of greeting, neither of us +could be apposite to the occasion in words, so we communicated our +feelings by signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there +was no chair, which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and +is borrowed, I think, from the frogs, and we then made the extraordinary +faces which mean, "What a tremendous adventure!" + +We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done every +evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know how it was such +an adventure to David. But I have now said enough to show you what an +adventure it was to me. + +For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the delicacy +of a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from asking +why one of them was not a Victoria Cross. He is very troubled because I +never won the Victoria Cross, for it lowers his status in the Gardens. +He never says in the Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of +his year who says I didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each +other. + +At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, and +covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, "Half-past +six; time for little boys to be in bed." I said it in the matter-of-fact +voice of one made free of the company of parents, as if I had said it +often before, and would have to say it often again, and as if there was +nothing particularly delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried +to say it in that way. + +And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his little foot, +and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a +matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the floor when lighted, are the +greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is +a place with a roaring bonfire. + +Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a trifle +bored by the dull routine of putting my little boys to bed, and +conducted him to the night nursery, which had lately been my private +chamber. There was an extra bed in it tonight, very near my own, +but differently shaped, and scarcely less conspicuous was the new +mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of milk, with a biscuit on top of it, +and a chocolate riding on the biscuit. To enter the room without seeing +the tumbler at once was impossible. I had tried it several times, +and David saw and promptly did his frog business, the while, with an +indescribable emotion, I produced a night-light from my pocket and +planted it in a saucer on the wash-stand. + +David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon made a +noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had no longer +use for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off his +boots. I took them off with all the coolness of an old hand, and then +I placed him on my knee and removed his blouse. This was a delightful +experience, but I think I remained wonderfully calm until I came +somewhat too suddenly to his little braces, which agitated me +profoundly. + +I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + +Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from the +night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a man peered +in at the little figure on the bed. However softly I opened the door, an +inch at a time, his bright eyes turned to me at once, and he always made +the face which means, "What a tremendous adventure!" + +"Are you never to fall asleep, David?" I always said. + +"When are you coming to bed?" he always replied, very brave but in +a whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When +little boys are in bed there is nothing between them and bears and +wolves but the night-light. + +I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with +his face to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the door, +listening. + +Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, and I +knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after what seemed +a long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said in a cautious +whisper, "Irene!" + +"You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David," I said. + +"I didn't know," he replied, a little troubled but trying not to be a +nuisance. + +"You remember you are with me?" I asked. + +After a moment's hesitation he replied, "I nearly remember," and +presently he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had +whispered to him, "I remember now." + +I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, "Is it +going on now?" + +"What?" + +"The adventure." + +"Yes, David." + +Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, "You are not +frightened, are you?" + +"Am I not?" he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping in the +darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. + +"I am not frightened now," he whispered. + +"And there is nothing else you want?" + +"Is there not?" he again asked politely. "Are you sure there's not?" he +added. + +"What can it be, David?" + +"I don't take up very much room," the far-away voice said. + +"Why, David," said I, sitting up, "do you want to come into my bed?" + +"Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first," he +squeaked. + +"It is what I have been wanting all the time," said I, and then without +more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at me. For the +rest of the night he lay on me and across me, and sometimes his feet +were at the bottom of the bed and sometimes on the pillow, but he always +retained possession of my finger, and occasionally he woke me to say +that he was sleeping with me. I had not a good night. I lay thinking. + +Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I undressed him, +had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + +Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently daring. + +Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I essayed to +catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + +Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet breathing, +had stood so long that I forgot his name and called him Timothy. + + + + +XX. David and Porthos Compared + +But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the morning, by +inquiring too curiously into his person and discovering that I had put +his combinations on him with the buttons to the front. For this I +wrote her the following insulting letter. When Mary does anything +that specially annoys me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a +photograph taken of David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You +can't think of all the subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman with +the spirit of a crow would stand it. + +"Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you walk +in the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for encomiums of him +and of your fanciful dressing of him by passers-by, storing them in your +heart the while you make vain pretence to regard them not: wherefore +lest you be swollen by these very small things I, who now know David +both by day and by night, am minded to compare him and Porthos the +one with the other, both in this matter and in other matters of graver +account. And touching this matter of outward show, they are both very +lordly, and neither of them likes it to be referred to, but they endure +in different ways. For David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times hits +out, but Porthos droops his tail and lets them have their say. Yet is he +extolled as beautiful and a darling ten times for the once that David is +extolled. + +"The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners of +David, who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree sometimes +comes not in search, and on emerging tamely from my concealment I find +him playing other games entirely forgetful of my existence. Whereas +Porthos always comes in search. Also if David wearies of you he scruples +not to say so, but Porthos, in like circumstances, offers you his paw, +meaning 'Farewell,' and to bearded men he does this all the time (I +think because of a hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive +him to be enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to +go. Thus while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be argued +that those of David are more efficacious. + +"In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the one +shoves and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the other, who +is noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his size, remonstrates +not, even when they cling in froth and fury to his chest, but carries +them along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, +David will not unbend when in the company of babies, expecting them +unreasonably to rise to his level, but contrariwise Porthos, though +terrible to tramps, suffers all things of babies, even to an exploration +of his mouth in an attempt to discover what his tongue is like at +the other end. The comings and goings of David are unnoticed by +perambulators, which lie in wait for the advent of Porthos. The strong +and wicked fear Porthos but no little creature fears him, not the +hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, nor the sparrows +that steal his straw from under him. + +"In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the rabbit. +Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country Porthos was elated +to discover at last something small that ran from him, and developing +at once into an ecstatic sportsman he did pound hotly in pursuit, though +always over-shooting the mark by a hundred yards or so and wondering +very much what had become of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from +the top of which the rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of +Porthos was to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to +give me a knowing look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did +something tricky with a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore onwards in +full faith that the game was being played fairly, and always returned +panting and puzzling but glorious. + +"I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch the +rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he did catch +it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of +which he was in chase. I found him with it, his brows furrowed in the +deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cowered beneath +him. Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame +of mind. 'What is the next thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle +with him, and the position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, +which several times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. +Whereupon Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and +again fell to pondering. The strain on me was very great. + +"At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked over his +shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first slowly and then +in a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a search for it, but you +cannot think how relieved he looked. He even tried to brazen out his +disgrace before me and waved his tail appealingly. But he could not +look me in the face, and when he saw that this was what I insisted on he +collapsed at my feet and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and +I was touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could +do, and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so long as +I am pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matters to Porthos. I +told this story to David, having first extracted a promise from him that +he would not think the less of Porthos, and now I must demand the same +promise of you. Also, an admission that in innocence of heart, for which +David has been properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos +nothing, but on the contrary may learn much from him. + +"And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over +Porthos--the first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene +(pretentiously called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and envies +every ragged boy who can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos would have every +class keep its place, and though fond of going down into the kitchen, +always barks at the top of the stairs for a servile invitation before +he graciously descends. Most of the servants in our street have had +the loan of him to be photographed with, and I have but now seen him +stalking off for that purpose with a proud little housemaid who is +looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom she had paid a +shilling. + +"Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due to the +one and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I have noticed, +loves to splash in his bath and to slip back into it from the hands that +would transfer him to a towel. But Porthos stands in his bath drooping +abjectly like a shamed figure cut out of some limp material. + +"Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of Porthos, who +cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to take a solitary +walk, while David invents playfully all day long. Lastly, when David is +discovered of some offence and expresses sorrow therefor, he does +that thing no more for a time, but looks about him for other offences, +whereas Porthos incontinently repeats his offence, in other words, he +again buries his bone in the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know +it, although his nose be crusted with earth. + +"Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David excels +Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no more than a match +for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if a parcel comes +into my chambers Porthos is miserable until it is opened, and I have +noticed the same thing of David. + +"Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all +gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the other way, but if +I say I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he skips joyfully, +yet thinks he still has a right to a chocolate, and when I remarked +disparagingly on this to David he looked so shy that there was revealed +to me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + +"A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of punishments, +and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in this matter +to be your mouthpiece) complains that I am not sufficiently severe with +David, and do leave the chiding of him for offences against myself to +her in the hope that he will love her less and me more thereby. Which we +have hotly argued in the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I +here say that if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is +that I dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat +the one the same with the other. + +"Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his great +heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that all is not well +between him and me, and having struck him once some years ago never can +I forget the shudder which passed through him when he saw it was I +who had struck, and I shall strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is +detected in any unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my +writing table in his presence, and even this punishment is almost more +than he can bear. Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on David +encourages him but to enter upon fresh trespasses (as the girl Irene +avers), the reason must be that his heart is not like unto that of the +noble Porthos. + +"And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, and +so demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, what is the +manner of severity meted out to him at home? And lest you should shuffle +in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my +ears. + +"As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered +it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal +punishment, whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David +continuing to rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly +of a cane, but the mother rushed between the combatants. That the +problematical chastisement became to David an object of romantic +interest. That this darkened the happy home. That casting from his +path a weeping mother, the goaded father at last dashed from the house +yelling that he was away to buy a cane. That he merely walked the +streets white to the lips because of the terror David must now be +feeling. And that when he returned, it was David radiant with hope who +opened the door and then burst into tears because there was no cane. +Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax me with want of severity. +Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am comparing +with Porthos. + +"But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever +wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking +up from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate +attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which +comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to +their masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for +this, while I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David +has of making me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of +me as a matter of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the +depths of Porthos. Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie +down beside him on the floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my +soul, ma'am, a protecting arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew +what was the want of the other. + +"Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the +worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we +shall both be pleased." + + + + +XXI. William Paterson + +We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the +fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may +say. It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some +sheets of newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my +housekeeper, who thinks dogs should lie on the floor. + +Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want them to +give you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, for all the +r's should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so often that David +believes I should find difficulty in making myself understood. + +"What would you say," he asked me, "if you wanted them to turn you +into a hollyhock?" He thinks the ease with which they can turn you into +things is their most engaging quality. + +The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me this I +again forgot the lukka. + +"I should never dream," I said (to cover my discomfiture), "of asking +them to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I should soon +wither, David." + +He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, but +now he seemed to think it merely silly. "Just before the time to wither +begins," he said airily, "you say to them Fairy me bola." + +Fairy me bola means "Turn me back again," and David's discovery made +me uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his distance of +the fairies mainly because of a feeling that their conversions are +permanent. + +So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms under the +care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown to them, but they +have no need of me, for at such times nothing would induce Porthos to +depart from the care of David. If anyone addresses them he growls softly +and shows the teeth that crunch bones as if they were biscuits. Thus +amicably the two pass on to Mary's house, where Porthos barks his +knock-and-ring bark till the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in +with David, but on this occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing +remarkable in this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next +day nor in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore +his knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos--at +least--well--something disquieting happened. I don't quite know what to +think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall think +as you choose. + +My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and got +locked in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was over I was +there to make inquiries. But there was no news of Porthos, though +I learned that someone was believed to have spent the night in the +Gardens, a young gentleman who walked out hastily the moment the gates +were opened. He had said nothing, however, of having seen a dog. I +feared an accident now, for I knew no thief could steal him, yet even an +accident seemed incredible, he was always so cautious at crossings; also +there could not possibly have been an accident to Porthos without there +being an accident to something else. + +David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the great blank +and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities that when he knew +he was about to cry he turned aside to do it and I always respected his +privacy and waited for him. Of course being but a little boy he was +soon playing again, but his sudden floods of feeling, of which we never +spoke, were dear to me in those desolate days. + +We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back to +that, meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos used to +squat, but we could not help looking at it sideways, and to our distress +a man was sitting on the acquainted spot. He rose at our approach and +took two steps toward us, so quick that they were almost jumps, then +as he saw that we were passing indignantly I thought I heard him give a +little cry. + +I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure +strangers into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on the +Story-seat itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was dandiacally +dressed, seemed to tell something under twenty years and had a handsome +wistful face atop of a heavy, lumbering, almost corpulent figure, which +however did not betoken inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of +his mother's of which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we +neared him he leapt the railings without touching them and was back with +it in three seconds; only instead of delivering it straightway he seemed +to expect David to chase him for it. + +You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings without +touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his name) was at +once our friend. We often found him waiting for us at the Story-seat, +and the great stout fellow laughed and wept over our tales like a +three-year-old. Often he said with extraordinary pride, "You are telling +the story to me quite as much as to David, ar'n't you?" He was of an +innocence such as you shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at +which even David blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David +said that of course these things did not really happen, and unable to +resist that appeal I would reply that they really did. I never saw him +irate except when David was still sceptical, but then he would say quite +warningly "He says it is true, so it must be true." This brings me to +that one of his qualities, which at once gratified and pained me, his +admiration for myself. His eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were +ever fixed upon me fondly except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and +said that death alone could have kept him so long from my side. Then +Paterson's sympathy was such that he had to look away. He was shy of +speaking of himself so I asked him no personal questions, but concluded +that his upbringing must have been lonely, to account for his ignorance +of affairs, and loveless, else how could he have felt such a drawing to +me? + +I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely monstrous, +suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been blown, the three of +us, to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was also, I think, the first time +Paterson had entered them. "Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson," I said, as +I drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were off +him. Then I saw that, before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading +the day's paper over it. "Whatever makes you do that?" I asked, and he +started like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed +the paper aside. + +David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, and, +despite my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be roused from +it by a feeling that Paterson was looking at me covertly. Pooh! what +vapours of the imagination were these. I blew them from me, and to prove +to myself, so to speak, that they were dissipated, I asked him to +see David home. As soon as I was alone, I flung me down on the floor +laughing, then as quickly jumped up and was after them, and very sober +too, for it was come to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had +set off without asking where David lived. + +Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. They were +walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps nothing remarkable +happened until they reached David's door. I say perhaps, for something +did occur. A lady, who has several pretty reasons for frequenting the +Gardens, recognised David in the street, and was stooping to address +him, when Paterson did something that alarmed her. I was too far off +to see what it was, but had he growled "Hands off!" she could not have +scurried away more precipitately. He then ponderously marched his +charge to the door, where, assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead of +knocking or ringing, he stood on the step and called out sharply, "Hie, +hie, hie!" until the door was opened. + +The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my sleep that +night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the pillow. + +I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to me +charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking hands. He now +did it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew him his arm had +described a circle, and the hand had sometimes missed mine and come +heavily upon my chest instead. His walk, again, might more correctly +have been called a waddle. + +There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without thanking me +with an intensity that was out of proportion to the little I had done +for him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever to take the sward rather +than the seats, perhaps a wise preference, but he had an unusual way of +sitting down. I can describe it only by saying that he let go of himself +and went down with a thud. + +I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. We had +cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat finicking manner; +yet having left the table for a moment to consult the sweets-card, +I saw, when I returned, that there was now no bone on his plate. The +waiters were looking at him rather curiously. + +David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat singular +manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I remembered, also, that +while David shouted to me or Irene to attract our attention, he usually +whistled to Paterson, he could not explain why. + +These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but often +when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, unsupported, +they would have disturbed me little by day. Day, however, had its +reflections, and they came to me while I was shaving, that ten minutes +when, brought face to face with the harsher realities of life, we see +things most clearly as they are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson +loomed offensively, and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to +nigh twenty years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He +could not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean motives +for generous acts. He had not a single base story about women. It all +seemed inhuman. + +What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's faith +in me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. An easy task, +you may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a change had come over +the youth. I am now arrived at a time when the light-heartedness had +gone out of him; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the +eyes that were once so certain. He was not doubtful of me, not then, but +of human nature in general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He +mixed with boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how +could he retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He heard your +talk of yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the edifice went down. +I have not the heart to follow him in all his discoveries. Sometimes +he went in flame at them, but for the most part he stood looking on, +bewildered and numbed, like one moaning inwardly. + +He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to breathe +upon the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born with a man's +powers, and when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment +longer to you, the woman of whom, before he saw you, he had heard so +much. How you would strive to cheat him, even as I strove to hide my +real self from Paterson, and still you would strive as I strove after +you knew the game was up. + +The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days when I +could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long ceased to be +a vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for hours he and I would +be together without speaking. It was so upon the last day, one of those +innumerable dreary days when David, having sneezed the night before, +was kept at home in flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the +Story-seat. At last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what +chained our tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, for +soon the gates would close, but when I looked at him I saw that he was +more mournful than ever before; he shut his eyes so tightly that a drop +of blood fell from them. + +"It was all over, Paterson, long ago," I broke out harshly, "why do we +linger?" + +He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing looks +that had much affection in them. + +"You expected too much of me," I told him, and he bowed his head. "I +don't know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women from. I +don't want to know," I added hastily. + +"But it must have been from a prettier world than this," I said: "are +you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?" + +He rose and sat down again. "I wanted to know you," he replied slowly, +"I wanted to be like you." + +"And now you know me," I said, "do you want to be like me still? I am a +curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even +David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very +hard to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even +now I am not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson, +David will grow out of me." + +The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but "No," said I, "you have +found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the +loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?" + +He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far +away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + +For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew +not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I +switched on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do +in the early morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened, +and the dear Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his +bark, but whence he came no one knew. + +He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all +points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside +him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the +old adoring eyes. + +But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + + + + +XXII. Joey + +Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in +her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their +fortunate papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused +by their mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust +to your father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to +every one of the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a +delicious little tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is +pretty (but dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering +together the babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and +bring a hansom, but others go from street to street in private 'buses, +and even wear false noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon +them as you grew more and more like your sweet cruel mamma. + +So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my reasoning, +for I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, pausing on the +threshold to peer through the hole in the little house called "Pay +Here," which he thought was Red Riding Hood's residence, and asked +politely whether he might see her, but they said she had gone to the +wood, and it was quite true, for there she was in the wood gathering a +stick for her grandmother's fire. She sang a beautiful song about the +Boys and their dashing ways, which flattered David considerably, but she +forgot to take away the stick after all. Other parts of the play were +not so nice, but David thought it all lovely, he really did. + +Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in the +darkest corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him he struck +me. + +The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so fair. He +had asked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in the +middle of a song) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and +when at last Joey did come he screamed out, "How do you do, Joey!" and +went into convulsions of mirth. + +Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, pocketing the +sausages for which their family has such a fatal weakness, and so when +the butcher engaged Joey as his assistant there was soon not a sausage +left. However, this did not matter, for there was a box rather like an +ice-cream machine, and you put chunks of pork in at one end and turned +a handle and they came out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite +enjoyed doing this, and you could see that the sausages were excellent +by the way he licked his fingers after touching them, but soon +there were no more pieces of pork, and just then a dear little Irish +terrier-dog came trotting down the street, so what did Joey do but pop +it into the machine and it came out at the other end as sausages. + +It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and drove +us weeping to our growler. + +Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as Joey told +me afterward, it is very difficult to say what they will think funny and +what barbarous. I was forced to admit to him that David had perceived +only the joyous in the pokering of the policeman's legs, and had called +out heartily "Do it again!" every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down +with one kick and helped him up with another. + +"It hurts the poor chap," I was told by Joey, whom I was agreeably +surprised to find by no means wanting in the more humane feelings, "and +he wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the laugh to encourage him." + +He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + +However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father and nurse +combined could not comfort him, though they swore that the dog was still +alive and kicking, which might all have been very well had not David +seen the sausages. It was to inquire whether anything could be done to +atone that in considerable trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, +and the result of our talk was that he invited me and David to have tea +with him on Thursday next at his lodgings. + +"I sha'n't laugh," David said, nobly true to the memory of the little +dog, "I sha'n't laugh once," and he closed his jaws very tightly as we +drew near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But he also gripped my +hand, like one who knew that it would be an ordeal not to laugh. + +The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a convenient +sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) and we saw a +policeman in the street looking the other way, as they always do look +just before you rub them. A woman wearing the same kind of clothes as +people in other houses wear, told us to go up to the second floor, and +she grinned at David, as if she had heard about him; so up we went, +David muttering through his clenched teeth, "I sha'n't laugh," and as +soon as we knocked a voice called out, "Here we are again!" at which a +shudder passed through David as if he feared that he had set himself an +impossible task. In we went, however, and though the voice had certainly +come from this room we found nobody there. I looked in bewilderment at +David, and he quickly put his hand over his mouth. + +It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might expect; +there were droll things in it, but they did nothing funny, you could +see that they were just waiting for Joey. There were padded chairs +with friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a +horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing +happened to us. + +The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with a very +lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and a notice on +the top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. David tried to pull the +stocking out of the hole, but it was so long that it never came to an +end, and when it measured six times the length of the room he had to +cover his mouth again. + +"I'm not laughing," he said to me, quite fiercely. He even managed not +to laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on the mantelpiece a +photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the garments he wore before he +became a clown. You can't think how absurd he looked in them. But David +didn't laugh. + +Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more +sudden though he had come from beneath the table, and he was wearing his +pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were the only clothes he +had) and his red and white face was so funny that David made gurgling +sounds, which were his laugh trying to force a passage. + +I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, instead of +taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this was so droll that +David had again to save himself by clapping his hand over his mouth. +Joey thought he had toothache, so I explained what it really meant, +and then Joey said, "Oh, I shall soon make him laugh," whereupon the +following conversation took place between them: + +"No, you sha'n't," said David doggedly. + +"Yes, I shall." + +"No, you sha'n't not." + +"Yes, I shall so." + +"Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't." + +"Shall, shall, shall." + +"You shut up." + +"You're another." + +By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was getting +the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's laugh in his +pocket, and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey searched his +pockets and brought out the most unexpected articles, including a duck +and a bunch of carrots; and you could see by his manner that the simple +soul thought these were things which all boys carried loose in their +pockets. + +I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a +half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight of it reminded +him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he howled, and Joey's heart +was touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped his eyes with the +duck. + +It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, also +dressed as we had seen him last, and carrying, unfortunately, a +trayful of sausages, which at once increased the general gloom, for he +announced, in his squeaky voice, that they were the very sausages that +had lately been the dog. + +Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so +impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the sausages, +and said that they were two short, and he found the missing two up the +pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the room and came back with the +sausage-machine; and what do you think he did? He put all the sausages +into the end of the machine that they had issued from, and turned the +handle backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + +Can you picture the joy of David? + +He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we noticed that +there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must +have put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the machine had not worked +quite smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which +distressed David, for he saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its +bark outside, and we were considering what should be done when the dog +closed the discussion by swallowing the sausage. + +After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, entering +into the childish pleasures of this family as heartily as if he had been +brought up on sausages, and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You +must not think that he did this viciously; he did it to please the old +gentleman, who begged him to do it, and always shook hands warmly and +said "Thank you," when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + +Joey called David and me "Sonny," and asked David, who addressed him as +"Mr. Clown," to call him Joey. He also told us that the pantaloon's name +was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the harlequin's Joeykin. + +We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. +This was because his memory is so bad that he often forgets whether it +is your head or your feet you should stand on, and he usually begins the +day by standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus +he requires constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw +attention to his mistake, he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No +sooner had Joey told us this than the poor old fellow began to turn +upside down and stood on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and +talked about the weather until he came to. + +Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this time, +for they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, and danced off +and on most of the time. Even in the middle of what they were saying +they would begin to flutter; it was not so much that they meant to +dance as that the slightest thing set them going, such as sitting in a +draught; and David found he could blow them about the room like pieces +of paper. You could see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was +very young indeed, and at first this made him shy, as he always is when +introduced formally to little girls, and he stood sucking his thumb, and +so did she, but soon the stiffness wore off and they sat together on the +sofa, holding each other's hands. + +All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, and +David requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is such an +adept, and first he said he would, and then he said better not, for the +last time he did it the people in the next house had made such a fuss. +David had to admit that it must be rather startling to the people on the +other side of the wall, but he was sorry. + +By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered to ask +if you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly as her mother +would have asked. There was nothing to eat, of course, except sausages, +but what a number of them there were! hundreds at least, strings of +sausages, and every now and then Joey jumped up and played skipping rope +with them. David had been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt +greedy, and he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey +and even Josy eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed +nobler feelings, for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love with +each other across the table, but unaffected by this pretty picture, Joey +continued to put whole sausages in his mouth at a time, and then rubbed +himself a little lower down, while old Joey secreted them about his +person; and when David wasn't looking they both pounced on his sausages, +and yet as they gobbled they were constantly running to the top of the +stair and screaming to the servant to bring up more sausages. + +You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your plate) +was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that sausages were a +passion with him. + +He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of +sausages. They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. He told +us how, even in those days, his mother had feared for him, though fond +of a sausage herself; how he had bought a sausage with his first penny, +and hoped to buy one with his last (if they could not be got in any +other way), and that he always slept with a string of them beneath his +pillow. + +While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes came +to rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a horrid gleam +in them, on the little dog, which was fooling about on the top of the +sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward it convulsively, whereat +David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gallantly clenched +his other fist, and then Joey begged his pardon and burst into tears, +each one of which he flung against the wall, where it exploded with a +bang. + +David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to look in +that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were nothing to him +when he was short of sausages, and so his wisest course would be to +present the dog to David. Oh, the joy of David when he understood that +the little dog he had saved was his very own! I can tell you he was now +in a hurry to be off before Joey had time to change his mind. + +"All I ask of you," Joey said with a break in his voice, "is to call him +after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a Saturday night." + +There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed that he +might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal passion. + +The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at +us in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand +like a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We could not exactly see +old Joey, but we saw his feet, and so feared the worst. Of course they +are not everything they should be, but one can't help liking them. + + + + +XXIII. Pilkington's + +On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away from the +Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them they are ladies +and gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail a hansom. + +Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I suppose, to +put up their hair, but the boys have gone to Pilkington's. He is a man +with a cane. You may not go to Pilkington's in knickerbockers made +by your mother, make she ever so artfully. They must be real +knickerbockers. It is his stern rule. Hence the fearful fascination of +Pilkington's. + +He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real +knickerbockers, fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him but a +pool swarming with small fry. + +Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the flesh, +sir, but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a lean tortuous +habit of body, that moves ever with a swish. Every morning, I swear, +thou readest avidly the list of male births in thy paper, and then are +thy hands rubbed gloatingly the one upon the other. 'Tis fear of thee +and thy gown and thy cane, which are part of thee, that makes the +fairies to hide by day; wert thou to linger but once among their haunts +between the hours of Lock-out and Open Gates there would be left not one +single gentle place in all the Gardens. The little people would flit. +How much wiser they than the small boys who swim glamoured to thy crafty +hook. Thou devastator of the Gardens, I know thee, Pilkington. + +I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. + +This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the Gardens, +and without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the completion +of his seventh year at a time when David seemed unable to get beyond +half-past five. I have to speak of him in the past tense, for gone is +Oliver from the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) but he is still a name +among us, and some lordly deeds are remembered of him, as that his +father shaved twice a day. Oliver himself was all on that scale. + +His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked upon +an island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it insinuatingly in his +prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that a boy with such an outlook +should fascinate David. I am proud, therefore, to be able to state on +wood that it was Oliver himself who made the overture. + +On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked Islands, +as they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully that he supposed +you needed to be very very good before you had any chance of being +wrecked, and the remark was conveyed to Oliver, on whom it made +an uncomfortable impression. For a time he tried to evade it, but +ultimately David was presented to him and invited gloomily to say +it again. The upshot was that Oliver advertised the Gardens of his +intention to be good until he was eight, and if he had not been wrecked +by that time, to be as jolly bad as a boy could be. He was naturally so +bad that at the Kindergarten Academy, when the mistress ordered whoever +had done the last naughty deed to step forward, Oliver's custom had been +to step forward, not necessarily because he had done it, but because he +presumed he very likely had. + +The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I thought +Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an equal; he also +walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved him for delinquencies +like a loving elder brother. But 'tis a gray world even in the Gardens, +for I found that a new arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to +life-size. He had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, +to his friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being +good until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely that the +one could not be wrecked without the other. + +When this was made known to me it was already too late to break the +spell of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith, I +began to find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver was frankly bored +by me and even David seemed to think it would be convenient if I went +and sat with Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really distressed and +lonely, and rather bitter; and how humble I became. Sometimes when the +dog Joey is unable, by frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, +he stands on his hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I +was sometimes as humble as Joey. Then David would insist on my being +suffered to join them, but it was plain that he had no real occasion for +me. + +It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I had +been fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed though she was +advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I now to be knocked out +so easily by a seven year old? I reconsidered my weapons, and I fought +Oliver and beat him. Figure to yourself those two boys become as +faithful to me as my coat-tails. + +With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious way by +telling them a story which might last an hour, and favoured by many an +unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. It started as the wreck of +the simple Swiss family who looked up and saw the butter tree, but soon +a glorious inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David +A---- and Oliver Bailey. At first it was what they were to do when they +were wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent +much of my time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories +in the booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for +I found that the titles were even more helpful than the stories. We +wrecked everybody of note, including all Homer's most taking characters +and the hero of Paradise Lost. But we suffered them not to land. We +stripped them of what we wanted and left them to wander the high seas +naked of adventure. And all this was merely the beginning. + +By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own +proposal, but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for me with +Oliver. They found me among the breakers with a large dog, which had +kept me afloat throughout that terrible night. I was the sole survivor +of the ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted was I that they had to carry +me to their hut, and great was my gratitude when on opening my eyes, I +found myself in that romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. +As we walked in the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and +they were inflated but not surprised. On the other hand they looked for +surprise from me. + +"Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?" asked Oliver, +reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously told them. + +"You did." + +"Who turned it?" demanded David, not as one who needed information but +after the manner of a schoolmaster. + +"It was turned," I said, "by David A----, the younger of the two +youths." + +"Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?" asked the older of the +two youths. + +"Oliver Bailey," I replied. + +"Was it Oliver," asked David sharply, "that found the cocoa-nut-tree +first?" + +"On the contrary," I answered, "it was first observed by David, +who immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the +cocos-nucifera, for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns supporting +the crown of leaves which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.'" + +"That's what I said," remarked David with a wave of his hand. + +"I said things like that, too," Oliver insisted. + +"No, you didn't then," said David. + +"Yes, I did so." + +"No, you didn't so." + +"Shut up." + +"Well, then, let's hear one you said." + +Oliver looked appealingly at me. "The following," I announced, "is +one that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils of these +happenings are great, and our privations calculated to break the +stoutest heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights I would endure +still greater trials and still rejoice even as the bird on yonder +bough.'" + +"That's one I said!" crowed Oliver. + +"I shot the bird," said David instantly. + +"What bird?" + +"The yonder bird." + +"No, you didn't." + +"Did I not shoot the bird?" + +"It was David who shot the bird," I said, "but it was Oliver who saw +by its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the Psittacidae, an +excellent substitute for partridge." + +"You didn't see that," said Oliver, rather swollen. + +"Yes, I did." + +"What did you see?" + +"I saw that." + +"What?" + +"You shut up." + +"David shot it," I summed up, "and Oliver knew its name, but I ate it. +Do you remember how hungry I was?" + +"Rather!" said David. + +"I cooked it," said Oliver. + +"It was served up on toast," I reminded them. + +"I toasted it," said David. + +"Toast from the bread-fruit-tree," I said, "which (as you both remarked +simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a year, and also +affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoes." + +"I pitched mine best," said Oliver. + +"I pitched mine farthest," said David. + +"And when I had finished my repast," said I, "you amazed me by handing +me a cigar from the tobacco-plant." + +"I handed it," said Oliver. + +"I snicked off the end," said David. + +"And then," said I, "you gave me a light." + +"Which of us?" they cried together. + +"Both of you," I said. "Never shall I forget my amazement when I saw you +get that light by rubbing two sticks together." + +At this they waggled their heads. "You couldn't have done it!" said +David. + +"No, David," I admitted, "I can't do it, but of course I know that all +wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did it." + +But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not shown +everything. + +David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an +island, while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to argue it +out together and among their friends. As I unfolded the story Oliver +listened with an open knife in his hand, and David who was not allowed +to have a knife wore a pirate-string round his waist. Irene in her usual +interfering way objected to this bauble and dropped disparaging remarks +about wrecked islands which were little to her credit. I was for defying +her, but David, who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he +craftily proposed that we "should let Irene in," in short, should wreck +her, and though I objected, she proved a great success and recognised +the yucca filamentosa by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined +us. Thereafter we had no more scoffing from Irene, who listened to the +story as hotly as anybody. + +This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, though +they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt he did. They +were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was very soft-hearted and +knew that while he was on the island they must be missing him very much +at home. So we let them in, and there was no part of the story he liked +better than that which told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of +another woman at any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and +Mary, I can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly +being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept at +plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff to cliff +with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a Saturday in which +David did not kill his man. + +I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as true +as true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero himself. I +had described to them how the savages had tattooed David's father, and +Oliver informed me that one night shortly afterward David was discovered +softly lifting the blankets off his father's legs to have a look at the +birds and reptiles etched thereon. + +Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may be +asking where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy +fishing, though I was as yet unaware of his existence. Most suddenly I +heard the whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a fish. I remember that +grim day with painful vividness, it was a wet day, indeed I think it has +rained for me more or less ever since. As soon as they joined me I saw +from the manner of the two boys that they had something to communicate. +Oliver nudged David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me +solemnly, + +"Oliver is going to Pilkington's." + +I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little did I +understand the import of David's remark that I called out jocularly, "I +hope he won't swish you, Oliver." + +Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances and +retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned to say +with emphasis, + +"He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all real +ones." + +"Well done, Oliver!" said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once +more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided that the +time for plain speaking was come, for now David announced bluntly: + +"He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer." + +"What shall I call him?" + +"Bailey." + +"But why?" + +"He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more after +next Saturday." + +"Why not?" + +"He's going to Pilkington's." + +So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver +stretching himself consciously, and methought that even David walked +with a sedater air. + +"David," said I, with a sinking, "are you going to Pilkington's?" + +"When I am eight," he replied. + +"And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the +Gardens any more?" + +He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + +"Oh, no," said David cheerily. + +Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. Strange +that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his hand and walked +on in silence, and presently I did my most churlish to hurt him by +ending the story abruptly in a very cruel way. "Ten years have elapsed," +said I, "since I last spoke, and our two heroes, now gay young men, +are revisiting the wrecked island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck +ourselves,' said one, 'or was there someone to help us?' And the other +who was the younger, replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, +a man with a dog. I think he used to tell me stories in the Kensington +Gardens, but I forget all about him; I don't remember even his name.'" + +This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but David +still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I knew a storm +was brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. "It's not true," he +cried, "it's a lie!" He gripped my hand. "I sha'n't never forget you, +father." + +Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + +Yet I could go on. "You will forget, David, but there was once a boy who +would have remembered." + +"Timothy?" said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, and is +very jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood alone and +wept passionately, while I waited for him. You may be sure I begged his +pardon, and made it all right with him, and had him laughing and happy +again before I let him go. But nevertheless what I said was true. David +is not my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + + + + +XXIV. Barbara + +Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + +For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey now. At +long intervals we met him on our way to or from the Gardens, and, if +there was none from Pilkington's to mark him, methought he looked at us +somewhat longingly, as if beneath his real knickerbockers a morsel of +the egg-shell still adhered. Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly +kick in passing, and called him "youngster." That was about all. + +When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had lofted +him out of the story, and did very well without him, extending our +operations to the mainland, where they were on so vast a scale that we +were rapidly depopulating the earth. And then said David one day, + +"Shall we let Barbara in?" + +We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to some +other child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having sought +election, even with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + +"Who is she?" I asked. + +"She's my sister." + +You may imagine how I gaped. + +"She hasn't come yet," David said lightly, "but she's coming." + + +I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for though +I had always suspicioned Mary A---- as one who harboured the craziest +ambitions when she looked most humble, of such presumption as this I had +never thought her capable. + +I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she was +wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about Mary's +husband and his manner the last time we met, for though I have had no +opportunity to say so, we still meet now and again, and he has even +dined with me at the club. On these occasions the subject of Timothy is +barred, and if by any unfortunate accident Mary's name is mentioned, we +immediately look opposite ways and a silence follows, in which I feel +sure he is smiling, and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I +remembered now that I had last seen him when I was dining with him at +his club (for he is become member of a club of painter fellows, and +Mary is so proud of this that she has had it printed on his card), when +undoubtedly he had looked preoccupied. It had been the look, I saw now, +of one who shared a guilty secret. + +As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at +myself, for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of late. +Always foolishly inflated about David, she had been grudging him even to +me during these last weeks, and I had forgiven her, putting it down to a +mother's love. I knew from the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been +giving him; I had seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her +every act, in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to +whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could I, not +being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying good-bye to him? + +Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about the +house at this time, on the understanding that everything was going on +as usual. Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, especially the engine +she bought him yesterday? + +Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? I envy +you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he wrapped you round +for it. That childish confidence of his to me, in which unwittingly he +betrayed you, indicates that at last you have been preparing him for the +great change, and I suppose you are capable of replying to me that David +is still happy, and even interested. But does he know from you what it +really means to him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not +scruple to give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands +for Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, what do +you think of this tricking of a little boy? + +Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, are +you sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an unwritten compact +in such matters between a mother and her first-born, and I desire to +point out to you that he never breaks it. Again, what will the other +boys say when they know? You are outside the criticism of the Gardens, +but David is not. Faith, madam, I believe you would have been kinder to +wait and let him run the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + +You think your husband is a great man now because they are beginning to +talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the newspaper columns +that nobody reads. I know you have bought him a velvet coat, and that +he has taken a large, airy and commodious studio in Mews Lane, where you +are to be found in a soft material on first and third Wednesdays. Times +are changing, but shall I tell you a story here, just to let you see +that I am acquainted with it? + +Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist a +picture which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But no one +spoke of the picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made an offer for +it. Crushed was the artist, sorry for the denseness of connoisseurs was +his wife, till the work was bought by a dealer for an anonymous client, +and then elated were they both, and relieved also to discover that I was +not the buyer. He came to me at once to make sure of this, and remained +to walk the floor gloriously as he told me what recognition means to +gentlemen of the artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + +But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is usually +kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden away. His wife +backed into a corner and made trembling confession. How could she submit +to see her dear's masterpiece ignored by the idiot public, and her dear +himself plunged into gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had +they not been married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers +for recognition, and so with her savings she bought the great work +anonymously and stored it away in a closet. At first, I believe, the man +raved furiously, but by-and-by he was on his knees at the feet of this +little darling. You know who she was, Mary, but, bless me, I seem to be +praising you, and that was not the enterprise on which I set out. What +I intended to convey was that though you can now venture on small +extravagances, you seem to be going too fast. Look at it how one may, +this Barbara idea is undoubtedly a bad business. + +How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my lucky day I +did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I have scarcely as yet +dared to hint, lest by discovering it I should spoil my plot. For there +has been a plot all the time. + +For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a book, my +informant being David, who, because I have published a little volume +on Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one on the same subject +(which I shall never finish), likes to watch my methods of composition, +how I dip, and so on, his desire being to help her. He may have done +this on his own initiative, but it is also quite possible that in her +desperation she urged him to it; he certainly implied that she had +taken to book-writing because it must be easy if I could do it. She +also informed him (very inconsiderately), that I did not print my books +myself, and this lowered me in the eyes of David, for it was for the +printing he had admired me and boasted of me in the Gardens. + +"I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the labels," he +said to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in everything. + +I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the token +whereof is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each labelled +with a letter of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, I drop its into +the A box, and so on, much to the satisfaction of David, who likes to +drop them in for me. I had now to admit that Wheeler & Gibb made the +boxes. + +"But I made the labels myself, David." + +"They are not so well made as the boxes," he replied. + +Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as I +presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, "Tell her +about the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book until they are +all full. That will frighten her." + +Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + +"One box!" I said with a sneer. + +"She made it herself," retorted David hotly. + +I got little real information from him about the work, partly because +David loses his footing when he descends to the practical, and perhaps +still more because he found me unsympathetic. But when he blurted out +the title, "The Little White Bird," I was like one who had read the +book to its last page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little +daughter Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she +would like to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, and +so long as she had the modesty to see that she could not have one, I +sympathised with her deeply, whatever I may have said about her book to +David. + +In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little book, and +they came to her mostly in the morning when she was only three-parts +awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all flew away like startled +birds. I gathered from David that this depressed her exceedingly. + +Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show themselves +to anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding within you. If they +could come into the open they would not be a book, they would be little +Barbara. + +But that was not the message I sent her. "She will never be able to +write it," I explained to David. "She has not the ability. Tell her I +said that." + +I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her +ambitious project, so I questioned David and discovered that it was +abandoned. He could not say why, nor was it necessary that he should, +the trivial little reason was at once so plain to me. From that moment +all my sympathy with Mary was spilled, and I searched for some means of +exulting over her until I found it. It was this. I decided, unknown even +to David, to write the book "The Little White Bird," of which she had +proved herself incapable, and then when, in the fulness of time, she +held her baby on high, implying that she had done a big thing, I was to +hold up the book. I venture to think that such a devilish revenge was +never before planned and carried out. + +Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching completion. +She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + +I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to +an abrupt end. "And it really is the end this time, David," I said +severely. (I always say that.) + +It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot the +great Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we found his +size to have been under-estimated. David, his father and I had flung +our limbs upon the beach and were having a last pipe before turning in, +while Mary, attired in barbaric splendour, sang and danced before us. +It was a lovely evening, and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at +the pretty creature. + +The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths in the +distance. + +By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the light of +her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had been harpooned by +David earlier in the day. + +Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace crept over +us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was uttered by Irene, +who came speeding to us, bearing certain articles, a watch, a pair of +boots, a newspaper, which she had discovered in the interior of the +shark. What was our surprise to find in the newspaper intelligence of +the utmost importance to all of us. It was nothing less than this, the +birth of a new baby in London to Mary. + +How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + +The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of excitement, and +next morning we set sail for England. Soon we came within sight of the +white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not sit down for a moment, so hot was +she to see her child. She paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + +"So did I!" cried David, when I had reached this point in the story. + +On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + +"Never, David," I said, "shall I forget your mother's excitement. She +kept putting her head out of the window and calling to the cabby to go +quicker, quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last he drew up at your +house, and then your mother, springing out, flew up the steps and beat +with her hands upon the door." + +David was quite carried away by the reality of it. "Father has the key!" +he screamed. + +"He opened the door," I said grandly, "and your mother rushed in, and +next moment her Benjamin was in her arms." + +There was a pause. + +"Barbara," corrected David. + +"Benjamin," said I doggedly. + +"Is that a girl's name?" + +"No, it's a boy's name." + +"But mother wants a girl," he said, very much shaken. + +"Just like her presumption," I replied testily. "It is to be a boy, +David, and you can tell her I said so." + +He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would +have suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was +pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy. + +"Barbara," he repeatedly implored me. + +"Benjamin," I replied firmly. + +For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed +to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, +and if I won it was to be a boy. + + + + +XXV. The Cricket Match + +I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the day when +Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly cutting down the +daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, the heroes of Hambledon +played for money and renown only, while David was champion of a lady. A +lady! May we not prettily say of two ladies? There were no spectators of +our contest except now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little +thought what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive +Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the daisies +every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was the historic +match of the Gardens. + +David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he is +familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so I insisted +on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps in the Figs. We +could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are forbidden in the Gardens, +but there are trees here and there which have chalk-marks on them +throughout the summer, and when you take up your position with a bat +near one of these you have really pitched stumps. The tree we selected +is a ragged yew which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and +I viewed the ground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly +at about four yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my +style of bowling. + +I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take first +knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, but on this +occasion I strode to the crease in an almost eerie silence. David had +taken off his blouse and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and his teeth were +set, so I knew he would begin by sending me down some fast ones. + +His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes tries a +round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder at square leg. +He has not a good length, but he varies his action bewilderingly, and +has one especially teasing ball which falls from the branches just as +you have stepped out of your ground to look for it. It was not, however, +with his teaser that he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and +two singles, when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two +minds and I played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a really +grassy wicket for such a meagre score, and as David and I changed places +without a word, there was a cheery look on his face that I found very +galling. He ran in to my second ball and cut it neatly to the on for a +single, and off my fifth and sixth he had two pretty drives for three, +both behind the wicket. This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of +him, for he now hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at +nine I beat him with my shooter. + +The look was now on my face. + +I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, for +I knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, and then +when he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. What cared I +though David's lips were twitching. + +When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which broke +awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that he needed +twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. As I gave him +the bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on my hand, and then a +sudden fear seized me lest David should not win. + +At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and soon +fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed him a Yorker +which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon as it had reached +the tree. "Not out," I cried hastily, for the face he turned to me was +terrible. + +Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always recall +with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the bat, and I just +missed the catch. "Dash it all!" said I irritably, and was about to +resume bowling, when I noticed that he was unhappy. He hesitated, took +up his position at the wicket, and then came to me manfully. "I am a +cad," he said in distress, "for when the ball was in the air I prayed." +He had prayed that I should miss the catch, and as I think I have +already told you, it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for +victory. + +My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but he has +a noble sense of fairness. "We shall call it a no-ball, David," I said +gravely. + +I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and therefore I +shall say at once that David won the match with two lovely fours, the +one over my head and the other to leg all along the ground. When I came +back from fielding this last ball I found him embracing his bat, and +to my sour congratulations he could at first reply only with hysterical +sounds. But soon he was pelting home to his mother with the glorious +news. + +And that is how we let Barbara in. + + + + +XXVI. The Dedication + +It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks after +the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even then it was +not quite finished, for there remained the dedication, at which I set +to elatedly. I think I have never enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my +opinion that I wrote the book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + +"Madam" (I wrote wittily), "I have no desire to exult over you, yet I +should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things were I not +to dedicate this little work to you. For its inception was yours, and +in your more ambitious days you thought to write the tale of the little +white bird yourself. Why you so early deserted the nest is not for me +to inquire. It now appears that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, +madam, you chose the lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining +the Bird. May I point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that +in the meantime I am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, +to me the substance. Trusting that you will accept my little offering in +a Christian spirit, I am, dear madam," etc. + +It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design plainly +through the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, when, without +warning, the door burst open and a little boy entered, dragging in a +faltering lady. + +"Father," said David, "this is mother." + +Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the +electric light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as was very +fitting, Mary and I may be said to have met for the first time to the +accompaniment of flashes of lightning. I think she was arrayed in little +blue feathers, but if such a costume is not seemly, I swear there were, +at least, little blue feathers in her too coquettish cap, and that she +was carrying a muff to match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than +her muff, and as muffs are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I +saw in a twink, that she had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. +I am also of opinion that she remembered she had worn blue in the days +when I watched her from the club-window. Undoubtedly Mary is an engaging +little creature, though not my style. She was paler than is her wont, +and had the touching look of one whom it would be easy to break. I +daresay this was a trick. Her skirts made music in my room, but perhaps +this was only because no lady had ever rustled in it before. It was +disquieting to me to reflect that despite her obvious uneasiness, she +was a very artful woman. + +With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting-pad +over the dedication, and then, "Pray be seated," I said coldly, but she +remained standing, all in a twitter and very much afraid of me, and I +know that her hands were pressed together within the muff. Had there +been any dignified means of escape, I think we would both have taken it. + +"I should not have come," she said nervously, and then seemed to wait +for some response, so I bowed. + +"I was terrified to come, indeed I was," she assured me with obvious +sincerity. + +"But I have come," she finished rather baldly. + +"It is an epitome, ma'am," said I, seeing my chance, "of your whole +life," and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + +She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and of +some little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have done for +her when I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as soft as her muff. +She had also an affecting way of pronouncing all her r's as w's, just as +the fairies do. "And so," she said, "as you would not come to me to be +thanked, I have come to you to thank you." Whereupon she thanked me most +abominably. She also slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though +she was smiling her eyes were wet. + +"Pooh, ma'am," said I in desperation, but I did not take her hand. + +"I am not very strong yet," she said with low cunning. She said this to +make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted it a little. +Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth is, I begun to think +uncomfortably of the dedication. + +I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to address +her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something that would sting +her. + +"When you have quite done, ma'am," I said, after a long pause, "perhaps +you will allow me to say a word." + +I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's face, +that she had given him a quick look which did not imply that she was +stung. Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, that though she +was agitated and in some fear of me, she was also enjoying herself +considerably. + +In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand-bank, +so I said, rather off my watch, "If I have done all this for you, why +did I do it?" + +She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the chair, so +that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this that she was now +holding herself conceitedly and trying to look modest. "Not a bit of it, +ma'am," said I sharply, "that was not the reason at all." + +I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + +"I never said it was," she retorted with spirit, "I never thought for +a moment that it was." She added, a trifle too late in the story, +"Besides, I don't know what you are talking of." + +I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, and +became quite little in the chair again. + +"David," said I mercilessly, "did you ever see your mother blush?" + +"What is blush?" + +"She goes a beautiful pink colour." + +David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head office, +crossed to his mother expectantly. + +"I don't, David," she cried. + +"I think," said I, "she will do it now," and with the instinct of a +gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but presently +David exclaimed admiringly, "Oh, mother, do it again!" + +As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel-glass +whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most candid face +on me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. Perhaps no look +given by woman to man affects him quite so much. "You see," she said +radiantly and with a gesture that disclosed herself to me, "I can +forgive even that. You long ago earned the right to hurt me if you want +to." + +It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an +uncommon drawing to her. + +"And if I did think that for a little while--," she went on, with an +unsteady smile. + +"Think what?" I asked, but without the necessary snap. + +"What we were talking of," she replied wincing, but forgiving me again. +"If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it lasted and it +lasted but a little time. I have long been sure that your kindness to me +was due to some other reason." + +"Ma'am," said I very honestly, "I know not what was the reason. My +concern for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a selfish +thing, yet not altogether selfish, for I think that what first stirred +it was the joyous sway of the little nursery governess as she walked +down Pall Mall to meet her lover. It seemed such a mighty fine thing to +you to be loved that I thought you had better continue to be loved for a +little longer. And perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter +I was charmed by the ease with which you could be helped, for you must +know that I am one who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty +years." + +She shook her head and smiled. "On my soul," I assured her, "I can think +of no other reason." + +"A kind heart," said she. + +"More likely a whim," said I. + +"Or another woman," said she. + +I was very much taken aback. + +"More than twenty years ago," she said with a soft huskiness in her +voice, and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know that in +twenty years all love stories are grown mouldy. + +On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude for +Mary was one that had never struck me, but the more I pondered it now--. +I raised her hand and touched it with my lips, as we whimsical old +fellows do when some gracious girl makes us to hear the key in the lock +of long ago. "Why, ma'am," I said, "it is a pretty notion, and there may +be something in it. Let us leave it at that." + +But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you remember, +beneath the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire to crush her with +it. I wished that she had succeeded in writing the book on which her +longings had been so set. + +"If only you had been less ambitious," I said, much troubled that she +should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + +"I wanted all the dear delicious things," she admitted contritely. + +"It was unreasonable," I said eagerly, appealing to her intellect. +"Especially this last thing." + +"Yes," she agreed frankly, "I know." And then to my amazement she added +triumphantly, "But I got it." + +I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued apologetically but +still as if she really thought hers had been a romantic career, "I know +I have not deserved it, but I got it." + +"Oh, ma'am," I cried reproachfully, "reflect. You have not got the great +thing." I saw her counting the great things in her mind, her wondrous +husband and his obscure success, David, Barbara, and the other trifling +contents of her jewel-box. + +"I think I have," said she. + +"Come, madam," I cried a little nettled, "you know that there is lacking +the one thing you craved for most of all." + +Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when I had +told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, "The book? I +had forgotten all about the book!" And then after reflection she added, +"Pooh!" Had she not added Pooh I might have spared her, but as it was +I raised the blotting-pad rather haughtily and presented her with the +sheet beneath it. + +"What is this?" she asked. + +"Ma'am," said I, swelling, "it is a Dedication," and I walked +majestically to the window. + +There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. Yet if +indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in almost the +same moment she was looking large-eyed at me and tapping my sleeve +impulsively with her fingers, just as David does when he suddenly likes +you. + +"How characteristic of you," she said at the window. + +"Characteristic," I echoed uneasily. "Ha!" + +"And how kind." + +"Did you say kind, ma'am?" + +"But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, as you +know very well," said she. + +Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my dedication, +but how could I have expected her to have the wit to see it? I was very +depressed. + +"And there is another mistake," said she. + +"Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one." + +"It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write," she said. + +I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed me. "It +was of your little white bird," she said, "it was of a little boy whose +name was Timothy." + +She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went into +another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this poor little +book, and when we returned she had the greatest surprise of the day for +me. She was both laughing and crying, which was no surprise, for all of +us would laugh and cry over a book about such an interesting subject +as ourselves, but said she, "How wrong you are in thinking this book is +about me and mine, it is really all about Timothy." + +At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I considered I +saw that she was probably right again, and I gazed crestfallen at this +very clever woman. + +"And so," said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David when he +makes a great discovery, "it proves to be my book after all." + +"With all your pretty thoughts left out," I answered, properly humbled. + +She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. "I had only +one pretty thought for the book," she said, "I was to give it a happy +ending." She said this so timidly that I was about to melt to her when +she added with extraordinary boldness, "The little white bird was to +bear an olive-leaf in its mouth." + +For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on which +she had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me as if to get +admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, smiling at this young +thing for carrying it so motherly to me, and in the end I had to remind +her that I was forty-seven years of age. + +"It is quite young for a man," she said brazenly. + +"My father," said I, "was not forty-seven when he died, and I remember +thinking him an old man." + +"But you don't think so now, do you?" she persisted, "you feel young +occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing with David in +the Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it not?" + +"Mary A----," I cried, grown afraid of the woman, "I forbid you to make +any more discoveries to-day." + +But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had brought +her to my rooms. "They are very dear women," said she coaxingly. + +"I am sure," I said, "they must be dear women if they are friends of +yours." + +"They are not exactly young," she faltered, "and perhaps they are not +very pretty--" + +But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my youth that +she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a stop in her mind +against proposing this thing to me, who, in those presumptuous days, had +thought to be content with nothing less than the loveliest lady in all +the land. + +My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the +little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and we came +back to the present together. + +I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no +longer ago than yesterday. + +"Very well, ma'am," I said, trying to put a brave face on it, "I will +come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see." + +It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she +wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that +the youthful romances are the best. + +It was now my turn to comfort her. "In twenty years," I said, smiling +at her tears, "a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great +fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the +word of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got +to care for me I shall be very proud." Despite her semblance of delight +I knew that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it +was true. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little White Bird, by J. M. Barrie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD *** + +***** This file should be named 1376.txt or 1376.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/1376/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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A Night-Piece + V. The Fight For Timothy + VI. A Shock + VII. The Last of Timothy + VIII. The Inconsiderate Waiter + IX. A Confirmed Spinster + X. Sporting Reflections + XI. The Runaway Perambulator + XII. The Pleasantest Club in London + XIII. The Grand Tour of the Gardens + XIV. Peter Pan + XV. The Thrush's Nest + XVI. Lock-Out Time + XVII. The Little House +XVIII. Peter's Goat + XIX. An Interloper + XX. David and Porthos Compared + XXI. William Paterson + XXII. Joey +XXIII. Pilkington's + XXIV. Barbara + XXV. The Cricket Match + XXVI. The Dedication + + + + +THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD + + +I + +David and I Set Forth Upon a Journey + +Sometimes the little boy who calls me father brings me an +invitation from his mother: "I shall be so pleased if you will +come and see me," and I always reply in some such words as these: +"Dear madam, I decline." And if David asks why I decline, I +explain that it is because I have no desire to meet the woman. + +"Come this time, father," he urged lately, "for it is her +birthday, and she is twenty-six," which is so great an age to +David, that I think he fears she cannot last much longer. + +"Twenty-six, is she, David?" I replied. "Tell her I said she +looks more." + +I had my delicious dream that night. I dreamt that I too was +twenty-six, which was a long time ago, and that I took train to a +place called my home, whose whereabouts I see not in my waking +hours, and when I alighted at the station a dear lost love was +waiting for me, and we went away together. She met me in no +ecstasy of emotion, nor was I surprised to find her there; it was +as if we had been married for years and parted for a day. I like +to think that I gave her some of the things to carry. + +Were I to tell my delightful dream to David's mother, to whom I +have never in my life addressed one word, she would droop her +head and raise it bravely, to imply that I make her very sad but +very proud, and she would be wishful to lend me her absurd little +pocket handkerchief. And then, had I the heart, I might make a +disclosure that would startle her, for it is not the face of +David's mother that I see in my dreams. + +Has it ever been your lot, reader, to be persecuted by a pretty +woman who thinks, without a tittle of reason, that you are bowed +down under a hopeless partiality for her? It is thus that I have +been pursued for several years now by the unwelcome sympathy of +the tender-hearted and virtuous Mary A----. When we pass in the +street the poor deluded soul subdues her buoyancy, as if it were +shame to walk happy before one she has lamed, and at such times +the rustle of her gown is whispered words of comfort to me, and +her arms are kindly wings that wish I was a little boy like +David. I also detect in her a fearful elation, which I am unaware +of until she has passed, when it comes back to me like a faint +note of challenge. Eyes that say you never must, nose that says +why don't you? and a mouth that says I rather wish you could: +such is the portrait of Mary A---- as she and I pass by. + +Once she dared to address me, so that she could boast to David +that I had spoken to her. I was in the Kensington Gardens, and +she asked would I tell her the time please, just as children ask, +and forget as they run back with it to their nurse. But I was +prepared even for this, and raising my hat I pointed with my +staff to a clock in the distance. She should have been +overwhelmed, but as I walked on listening intently, I thought +with displeasure that I heard her laughing. + +Her laugh is very like David's, whom I could punch all day in +order to hear him laugh. I dare say she put this laugh into him. +She has been putting qualities into David, altering him, turning +him forever on a lathe since the day she first knew him, and +indeed long before, and all so deftly that he is still called a +child of nature. When you release David's hand he is immediately +lost like an arrow from the bow. No sooner do you cast eyes on +him than you are thinking of birds. It is difficult to believe +that he walks to the Kensington Gardens; he always seems to have +alighted there: and were I to scatter crumbs I opine he would +come and peck. This is not what he set out to be; it is all the +doing of that timid-looking lady who affects to be greatly +surprised by it. He strikes a hundred gallant poses in a day; +when he tumbles, which is often, he comes to the ground like a +Greek god; so Mary A---- has willed it. But how she suffers that +he may achieve! I have seen him climbing a tree while she stood +beneath in unutterable anguish; she had to let him climb, for +boys must be brave, but I am sure that, as she watched him, she +fell from every branch. + +David admires her prodigiously; he thinks her so good that she +will be able to get him into heaven, however naughty he is. +Otherwise he would trespass less light-heartedly. Perhaps she +has discovered this; for, as I learn from him, she warned him +lately that she is not such a dear as he thinks her. + +"I am very sure of it," I replied. + +"Is she such a dear as you think her?" he asked me. + +"Heaven help her," I said, "if she be not dearer than that." + +Heaven help all mothers if they be not really dears, for their +boy will certainly know it in that strange short hour of the day +when every mother stands revealed before her little son. That +dread hour ticks between six and seven; when children go to bed +later the revelation has ceased to come. He is lapt in for the +night now and lies quietly there, madam, with great, mysterious +eyes fixed upon his mother. He is summing up your day. Nothing +in the revelations that kept you together and yet apart in play +time can save you now; you two are of no age, no experience of +life separates you; it is the boy's hour, and you have come up +for judgment. "Have I done well to-day, my son?" You have got +to say it, and nothing may you hide from him; he knows all. How +like your voice has grown to his, but more tremulous, and both so +solemn, so unlike the voice of either of you by day. + +"You were a little unjust to me to-day about the apple; were you +not, mother?" + +Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and cross your hands +and answer him. + +"Yes, my son, I was. I thought--" + +But what you thought will not affect the verdict. + +"Was it fair, mother, to say that I could stay out till six, and +then pretend it was six before it was quite six?" + +"No, it was very unfair. I thought--" + +"Would it have been a lie if I had said it was quite six?" + +"Oh, my son, my son! I shall never tell you a lie again." + +"No, mother, please don't." + +"My boy, have I done well to-day on the whole?" + +Suppose he were unable to say yes. + +These are the merest peccadilloes, you may say. Is it then a +little thing to be false to the agreement you signed when you got +the boy? There are mothers who avoid their children in that +hour, but this will not save them. Why is it that so many women +are afraid to be left alone with their thoughts between six and +seven? I am not asking this of you, Mary. I believe that when +you close David's door softly there is a gladness in your eyes, +and the awe of one who knows that the God to whom little boys say +their prayers has a face very like their mother's. + +I may mention here that David is a stout believer in prayer, and +has had his first fight with another young Christian who +challenged him to the jump and prayed for victory, which David +thought was taking an unfair advantage. + +"So Mary is twenty-six! I say, David, she is getting on. Tell +her that I am coming in to kiss her when she is fifty-two." + +He told her, and I understand that she pretended to be indignant. +When I pass her in the street now she pouts. Clearly preparing +for our meeting. She has also said, I learn, that I shall not +think so much of her when she is fifty-two, meaning that she will +not be so pretty then. So little does the sex know of beauty. +Surely a spirited old lady may be the prettiest sight in the +world. For my part, I confess that it is they, and not the young +ones, who have ever been my undoing. Just as I was about to fall +in love I suddenly found that I preferred the mother. Indeed, I +cannot see a likely young creature without impatiently +considering her chances for, say, fifty-two. Oh, you mysterious +girls, when you are fifty-two we shall find you out; you must +come into the open then. If the mouth has fallen sourly yours +the blame: all the meannesses your youth concealed have been +gathering in your face. But the pretty thoughts and sweet ways +and dear, forgotten kindnesses linger there also, to bloom in +your twilight like evening primroses. + +Is it not strange that, though I talk thus plainly to David about +his mother, he still seems to think me fond of her? How now, I +reflect, what sort of bumpkin is this, and perhaps I say to him +cruelly: "Boy, you are uncommonly like your mother." + +To which David: "Is that why you are so kind to me?" + +I suppose I am kind to him, but if so it is not for love of his +mother, but because he sometimes calls me father. On my honour +as a soldier, there is nothing more in it than that. I must not +let him know this, for it would make him conscious, and so break +the spell that binds him and me together. Oftenest I am but +Captain W---- to him, and for the best of reasons. He addresses me +as father when he is in a hurry only, and never have I dared ask +him to use the name. He says, "Come, father," with an accursed +beautiful carelessness. So let it be, David, for a little while +longer. + +I like to hear him say it before others, as in shops. When in +shops he asks the salesman how much money he makes in a day, and +which drawer he keeps it in, and why his hair is red, and does he +like Achilles, of whom David has lately heard, and is so +enamoured that he wants to die to meet him. At such times the +shopkeepers accept me as his father, and I cannot explain the +peculiar pleasure this gives me. I am always in two minds then, +to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away +before he volunteers the information, "He is not really my +father." + +When David meets Achilles I know what will happen. The little +boy will take the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him +away to some Round Pond. + +One day, when David was about five, I sent him the following +letter: "Dear David: If you really want to know how it began, +will you come and have a chop with me to-day at the club?" + +Mary, who, I have found out, opens all his letters, gave her +consent, and, I doubt not, instructed him to pay heed to what +happened so that he might repeat it to her, for despite her +curiosity she knows not how it began herself. I chuckled, +guessing that she expected something romantic. + +He came to me arrayed as for a mighty journey, and looking +unusually solemn, as little boys always do look when they are +wearing a great coat. There was a shawl round his neck. "You +can take some of them off," I said, "when we come to summer." + +"Shall we come to summer?" he asked, properly awed. + +"To many summers," I replied, "for we are going away back, David, +to see your mother as she was in the days before there was you." + +We hailed a hansom. "Drive back six years," I said to the cabby, +"and stop at the Junior Old Fogies' Club." + +He was a stupid fellow, and I had to guide him with my umbrella. + +The streets were not quite as they had been in the morning. For +instance, the bookshop at the corner was now selling fish. I +dropped David a hint of what was going on. + +"It doesn't make me littler, does it?" he asked anxiously; and +then, with a terrible misgiving: "It won't make me too little, +will it, father?" by which he meant that he hoped it would not do +for him altogether. He slipped his hand nervously into mine, and +I put it in my pocket. + +You can't think how little David looked as we entered the portals +of the club. + + +II + +The Little Nursery Governess + +As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive David +vanishing into nothingness, and that it is any day six years ago +at two in the afternoon. I ring for coffee, cigarette, and +cherry brandy, and take my chair by the window, just as the +absurd little nursery governess comes tripping into the street. +I always feel that I have rung for her. + +While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fall +into the cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select the +one suitable lump of sugar she is taking six last looks at the +letter; with the aid of William I light my cigarette, and now she +is re-reading the delicious address. I lie back in my chair, and +by this time she has dropped the letter down the slit. I toy +with my liqueur, and she is listening to hear whether the postal +authorities have come for her letter. I scowl at a fellow-member +who has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and her two +little charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When I +look out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring for +her to-morrow at two sharp. + +She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her. +I know not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by. +She is taking the little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St. +James's Park, as their hoops tell me, and she ought to look +crushed and faded. No doubt her mistress overworks her. It must +enrage the other servants to see her deporting herself as if she +were quite the lady. + +I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but that +the posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the +slit, plebeians all, but it followed pompously like royalty. I +have even seen her blow a kiss after it. + +Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if it +rather than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt it +through her glove to make sure that it was still there. She took +off the glove and raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt not +it was the cheapest trinket. She viewed it from afar by +stretching out her hand; she stooped to see how it looked near +the ground; she considered its effect on the right of her and on +the left of her and through one eye at a time. Even when you saw +that she had made up her mind to think hard of something else, +the little silly would take another look. + +I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy. + +No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a +young man loved her. And so, instead of crying because she was +the merest nobody, she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall +Mall, very trim as to her tackle and ticketed with the +insufferable air of an engaged woman. At first her complacency +disturbed me, but gradually it became part of my life at two +o'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Now +comes the tragedy. + +Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three every +Thursday for her very own; just think of it: this girl, who is +probably paid several pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herself +once a week. And what does she with it? Attend classes for +making her a more accomplished person? Not she. This is what +she does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her pretty things, +including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle of +expectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. On +ordinary days she at least tries to look demure, but on a +Thursday she has had the assurance to use the glass door of the +club as a mirror in which to see how she likes her engaging +trifle of a figure to-day. + +In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside the +post-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who always +wears the same suit of clothes, but has a face that must ever +make him free of the company of gentlemen. He is one of your +lean, clean Englishmen, who strip so well, and I fear me he is +handsome; I say fear, for your handsome men have always annoyed +me, and had I lived in the duelling days I swear I would have +called every one of them out. He seems to be quite unaware that +he is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary knows it. I +conclude that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is so easily +elated and depressed; and because he carries his left thumb +curiously, as if it were feeling for the hole of a palette, I +have entered his name among the painters. I find pleasure in +deciding that they are shocking bad pictures, for obviously no +one buys them. I feel sure Mary says they are splendid, she is +that sort of woman. Hence the rapture with which he greets her. +Her first effect upon him is to make him shout with laughter. He +laughs suddenly haw from an eager exulting face, then haw again, +and then, when you are thanking heaven that it is at last over, +comes a final haw, louder than the others. I take them to be +roars of joy because Mary is his, and they have a ring of youth +about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive him everything +save his youth, but it is so aggressive that I have sometimes to +order William testily to close the window. + +How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nursery +governess. The moment she comes into sight she looks at the +post-office and sees him. Then she looks straight before her, +and now she is observed, and he rushes across to her in a glory, +and she starts--positively starts--as if he had taken her by +surprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her wicked little +heart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. He +gazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way, +and as she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and then +away they strut, Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fall +to wondering what they will look like when they grow up. + +What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to each +other. You can see that they are to be married when he has +twopence. + +Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whom +London is famous only as the residence of a young man who +mistakes her for someone else, but her happiness had become part +of my repast at two P.M., and when one day she walked down Pall +Mall without gradually posting a letter I was most indignant. It +was as if William had disobeyed orders. Her two charges were as +surprised as I, and pointed questioningly to the slit, at which +she shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, exactly like +a sad baby, and so passed from the street. + +Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bit +through my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that there +might be an end of this annoyance, but no, neither of them +appeared on that acquainted ground. Had they changed their post- +office? No, for her eyes were red every day, and heavy was her +foolish little heart. Love had put out his lights, and the +little nursery governess walked in darkness. + +I felt I could complain to the committee. + +Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said to +her, won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not +he. + +Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, be +joyous as of old during the five minutes of the day when you are +anything to me, and for the rest of the time, so far as I am +concerned, you may be as wretched as you list. Show some +courage. I assure you he must be a very bad painter; only the +other day I saw him looking longingly into the window of a cheap +Italian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush down his +aspirations with two penny scones. + +You can do better than that. Come, Mary. + +All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love from +morning till night; never knew how little a woman needs till she +lost that little. They are all like this. + +Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figure +till you die, you might at least do it in another street. + +Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past on +ordinary days, but I have discovered that every Thursday from two +to three she stands afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romantic +post-office where she and he shall meet no more. In these windy +days she is like a homeless leaf blown about by passers-by. + +There is nothing I can do except thunder at William. + +At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wet +Thursday, and from the window where I was writing letters I saw +the forlorn soul taking up her position at the top of the street: +in a blast of fury I rose with the one letter I had completed, +meaning to write the others in my chambers. She had driven me +from the club. + +I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whom +should I strike against but her false swain! It was my fault, +but I hit out at him savagely, as I always do when I run into +anyone in the street. Then I looked at him. He was hollow-eyed; +he was muddy; there was not a haw left in him. I never saw a +more abject young man; he had not even the spirit to resent the +testy stab I had given him with my umbrella. But this is the +important thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office and +thus in a twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. +Whatever had been their quarrel he was as anxious to make it up +as she, and perhaps he had been here every Thursday while she was +round the corner in Pall Mall, each watching the post-office for +an apparition. But from where they hovered neither could see the +other. + +I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseen +at his feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, a +gentleman who finds a letter on the pavement feels bound to post +it, and I presumed that he would naturally go to the nearest +office. + +With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and was +just in time to see him posting my letter across the way. Then I +looked for the little nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begone +as ever; then, suddenly--oh, you poor little soul, and has it +really been as bad as that! + +She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. It +was a disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidently +explode if he could not make use of his arms. She must die if +she could not lay her head upon his breast. I must admit that he +rose to the occasion; he hailed a hansom. + +"William," said I gaily, "coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy." + + + +As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve to +ask what I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he ran +eagerly to the window, but he reached it just too late to see the +lady who was to become his mother. What I told him of her +doings, however, interested him greatly; and he intimated rather +shyly that he was acquainted with the man who said, +"Haw-haw-haw." On the other hand, he irritated me by betraying +an idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to regard +as the hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? +How old were they? Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, or +just wooden hoops? Who gave them their hoops? + +"You don't seem to understand, my boy," I said tartly, "that had +I not dropped that letter, there would never have been a little +boy called David A----." But instead of being appalled by this he +asked, sparkling, whether I meant that he would still be a bird +flying about in the Kensington Gardens. + +David knows that all children in our part of London were once +birds in the Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there are +bars on nursery windows and a tall fender by the fire is because +very little people sometimes forget that they have no longer +wings, and try to fly away through the window or up the chimney. + +Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knows +that many people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoon +is to go with me to some spot in the Gardens where these +unfortunates may be seen trying to catch one with small pieces of +cake. + +That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and +are even a little undecided about which is the better life, is +obvious to every student of them. Thus, if you leave your empty +perambulator under the trees and watch from a distance, you will +see the birds boarding it and hopping about from pillow to +blanket in a twitter of excitement; they are trying to find out +how babyhood would suit them. + +Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies stray +from the tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding the +birds, not a grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and then +a bit to you, and all the time such a jabbering and laughing from +both sides of the railing. They are comparing notes and +inquiring for old friends, and so on; but what they say I cannot +determine, for when I approach they all fly away. + +The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind the +Baby's Walk. He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hot +day by a hose which lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickle +of water, and David was on his back in the water, kicking up his +legs. He used to enjoy being told of this, having forgotten all +about it, and gradually it all came back to him, with a number of +other incidents that had escaped my memory, though I remember +that he was eventually caught by the leg with a long string and a +cunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never tires +of this story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me +rather than I to him, and when we come to the string he rubs his +little leg as if it still smarted. + +So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again he +called out to me quickly: "Don't drop the letter!" and there were +tree-tops in his eyes. + +"Think of your mother," I said severely. + +He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing he +would do would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water- +jug first, and have a drink. + +"Tell her, father," he said with horrid heartlessness, "always to +have plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far I +might fall in and be drownded." + +"Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor mother +without her boy!" + +It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said, +he would hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peck +at her mouth. + +"And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only a +bird instead of a boy." + +This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. "You can drop +it," he said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think I +have already mentioned; and that is how it all began. + + +III + +Her Marriage, Her Clothes, Her Appetite, and an Inventory of Her +Furniture + +A week or two after I dropped the letter I was in a hansom on my +way to certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard +that accursed haw-haw-haw, and there they were, the two of them, +just coming out of a shop where you may obtain pianos on the hire +system. I had the merest glimpse of them, but there was an +extraordinary rapture on her face, and his head was thrown +proudly back, and all because they had been ordering a piano on +the hire system. + +So they were to be married directly. It was all rather +contemptible, but I passed on tolerantly, for it is only when she +is unhappy that this woman disturbs me, owing to a clever way she +has at such times of looking more fragile than she really is. + +When next I saw them, they were gazing greedily into the window +of the sixpenny-halfpenny shop, which is one of the most +deliciously dramatic spots in London. Mary was taking notes +feverishly on a slip of paper while he did the adding up, and in +the end they went away gloomily without buying anything. I was +in high feather. "Match abandoned, ma'am," I said to myself; +"outlook hopeless; another visit to the Governesses' Agency +inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen shovel." But I was +imperfectly acquainted with the lady. + +A few days afterward I found myself walking behind her. There is +something artful about her skirts by which I always know her, +though I can't say what it is. She was carrying an enormous +parcel that might have been a bird-cage wrapped in brown paper, +and she took it into a bric-a-brac shop and came out without it. +She then ran rather than walked in the direction of the sixpenny- +halfpenny shop. Now mystery of any kind is detestable to me, and +I went into the bric-a-brac shop, ostensibly to look at the +cracked china; and there, still on the counter, with the wrapping +torn off it, was the article Mary had sold in order to furnish on +the proceeds. What do you think it was? It was a wonderful +doll's house, with dolls at tea downstairs and dolls going to bed +upstairs, and a doll showing a doll out at the front door. +Loving lips had long ago licked most of the paint off, but +otherwise the thing was in admirable preservation; obviously the +joy of Mary's childhood, it had now been sold by her that she +might get married. + +"Lately purchased by us," said the shopwoman, seeing me look at +the toy, "from a lady who has no further use for it." + +I think I have seldom been more indignant with Mary. I bought +the doll's house, and as they knew the lady's address (it was at +this shop that I first learned her name) I instructed them to +send it back to her with the following letter, which I wrote in +the shop: "Dear madam, don't be ridiculous. You will certainly +have further use for this. I am, etc., the Man Who Dropped the +Letter." + +It pained me afterward, but too late to rescind the order, to +reflect that I had sent her a wedding present; and when next I +saw her she had been married for some months. The time was nine +o'clock of a November evening, and we were in a street of shops +that has not in twenty years decided whether to be genteel or +frankly vulgar; here it minces in the fashion, but take a step +onward and its tongue is in the cup of the ice-cream man. I +usually rush this street, which is not far from my rooms, with +the glass down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in front of +me, leaning in a somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they +were chatting excitedly. She seemed to be remonstrating with him +for going forward, yet more than half admiring him for not +turning back, and I wondered why. + +And after all what was it that Mary and her painter had come out +to do? To buy two pork chops. On my honour. She had been +trying to persuade him, I decided, that they were living too +lavishly. That was why she sought to draw him back. But in her +heart she loves audacity, and that is why she admired him for +pressing forward. + +No sooner had they bought the chops than they scurried away like +two gleeful children to cook them. I followed, hoping to trace +them to their home, but they soon out-distanced me, and that +night I composed the following aphorism: It is idle to attempt to +overtake a pretty young woman carrying pork chops. I was now +determined to be done with her. First, however, to find out +their abode, which was probably within easy distance of the shop. + I even conceived them lured into taking their house by the +advertisement, "Conveniently situated for the Pork Emporium." + +Well, one day--now this really is romantic and I am rather proud +of it. My chambers are on the second floor, and are backed by an +anxiously polite street between which and mine are little yards +called, I think, gardens. They are so small that if you have the +tree your neighbour has the shade from it. I was looking out at +my back window on the day we have come to when whom did I see but +the whilom nursery governess sitting on a chair in one of these +gardens. I put up my eye-glass to make sure, and undoubtedly it +was she. But she sat there doing nothing, which was by no means +my conception of the jade, so I brought a fieldglass to bear and +discovered that the object was merely a lady's jacket. It hung +on the back of a kitchen chair, seemed to be a furry thing, and, +I must suppose, was suspended there for an airing. + +I was chagrined, and then I insisted stoutly with myself that, as +it was not Mary, it must be Mary's jacket. I had never seen her +wear such a jacket, mind you, yet I was confident, I can't tell +why. Do clothes absorb a little of the character of their +wearer, so that I recognised this jacket by a certain coquetry? +If she has a way with her skirts that always advertises me of her +presence, quite possibly she is as cunning with jackets. Or +perhaps she is her own seamstress, and puts in little tucks of +herself. + +Figure it what you please; but I beg to inform you that I put on +my hat and five minutes afterward saw Mary and her husband emerge +from the house to which I had calculated that garden belonged. +Now am I clever, or am I not? + +When they had left the street I examined the house leisurely, and +a droll house it is. Seen from the front it appears to consist +of a door and a window, though above them the trained eye may +detect another window, the air-hole of some apartment which it +would be just like Mary's grandiloquence to call her bedroom. +The houses on each side of this bandbox are tall, and I +discovered later that it had once been an open passage to the +back gardens. The story and a half of which it consists had been +knocked up cheaply, by carpenters I should say rather than +masons, and the general effect is of a brightly coloured van that +has stuck for ever on its way through the passage. + +The low houses of London look so much more homely than the tall +ones that I never pass them without dropping a blessing on their +builders, but this house was ridiculous; indeed it did not call +itself a house, for over the door was a board with the +inscription "This space to be sold," and I remembered, as I rang +the bell, that this notice had been up for years. On avowing +that I wanted a space, I was admitted by an elderly, somewhat +dejected looking female, whose fine figure was not on scale with +her surroundings. Perhaps my face said so, for her first remark +was explanatory. + +"They get me cheap," she said, "because I drink." + +I bowed, and we passed on to the drawing-room. I forget whether +I have described Mary's personal appearance, but if so you have a +picture of that sunny drawing-room. My first reflection was, How +can she have found the money to pay for it all! which is always +your first reflection when you see Mary herself a-tripping down +the street. + +I have no space (in that little room) to catalogue all the whim- +whams with which she had made it beautiful, from the hand-sewn +bell-rope which pulled no bell to the hand-painted cigar-box that +contained no cigars. The floor was of a delicious green with +exquisite oriental rugs; green and white, I think, was the lady's +scheme of colour, something cool, you observe, to keep the sun +under. The window-curtains were of some rare material and the +colour of the purple clematis; they swept the floor grandly and +suggested a picture of Mary receiving visitors. The piano we may +ignore, for I knew it to be hired, but there were many dainty +pieces, mostly in green wood, a sofa, a corner cupboard, and a +most captivating desk, which was so like its owner that it could +have sat down at her and dashed off a note. The writing paper on +this desk had the word Mary printed on it, implying that if there +were other Marys they didn't count. There were many oil- +paintings on the walls, mostly without frames, and I must mention +the chandelier, which was obviously of fabulous worth, for she +had encased it in a holland bag. + +"I perceive, ma'am," said I to the stout maid, "that your master +is in affluent circumstances." + +She shook her head emphatically, and said something that I failed +to catch. + +"You wish to indicate," I hazarded, "that he married a fortune." + +This time I caught the words. They were "Tinned meats," and +having uttered them she lapsed into gloomy silence. + +"Nevertheless," I said, "this room must have cost a pretty +penny." + +"She done it all herself," replied my new friend, with +concentrated scorn. + +"But this green floor, so beautifully stained--" + +"Boiling oil," said she, with a flush of honest shame, "and a +shillingsworth o' paint." + +"Those rugs--" + +"Remnants," she sighed, and showed me how artfully they had been +pieced together. + +"The curtains--" + +"Remnants." + +"At all events the sofa--" + +She raised its drapery, and I saw that the sofa was built of +packing cases. + +"The desk--" + +I really thought that I was safe this time, for could I not see +the drawers with their brass handles, the charming shelf for +books, the pigeon-holes with their coverings of silk? + +"She made it out of three orange boxes," said the lady, at last a +little awed herself. + +I looked around me despairingly, and my eye alighted on the +holland covering. "There is a fine chandelier in that holland +bag," I said coaxingly. + +She sniffed and was raising an untender hand, when I checked her. +"Forbear, ma'am," I cried with authority, "I prefer to believe in +that bag. How much to be pitied, ma'am, are those who have lost +faith in everything." I think all the pretty things that the +little nursery governess had made out of nothing squeezed my hand +for letting the chandelier off. + +"But, good God, ma'am," said I to madam, "what an exposure." + +She intimated that there were other exposures upstairs. + +"So there is a stair," said I, and then, suspiciously, "did she +make it?" + +No, but how she had altered it. + +The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I said I would not look at +that, nor at the studio, which was a shed in the garden. + +"Did she build the studio with her own hands?" + +No, but how she had altered it. + +"How she alters everything," I said. "Do you think you are safe, +ma'am?" + +She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me +with some of her views and confidences. The rental paid by Mary +and her husband was not, it appeared, one on which any self- +respecting domestic could reflect with pride. They got the house +very cheap on the understanding that they were to vacate it +promptly if anyone bought it for building purposes, and because +they paid so little they had to submit to the indignity of the +notice-board. Mary A---- detested the words "This space to be +sold," and had been known to shake her fist at them. She was as +elated about her house as if it were a real house, and always +trembled when any possible purchaser of spaces called. + +As I have told you my own aphorism I feel I ought in fairness to +record that of this aggrieved servant. It was on the subject of +art. "The difficulty," she said, "is not to paint pictures, but +to get frames for them." A home thrust this. + +She could not honestly say that she thought much of her master's +work. Nor, apparently, did any other person. Result, tinned +meats. + +Yes, one person thought a deal of it, or pretended to do so; was +constantly flinging up her hands in delight over it; had even +been caught whispering fiercely to a friend, "Praise it, praise +it, praise it!" This was when the painter was sunk in gloom. +Never, as I could well believe, was such a one as Mary for luring +a man back to cheerfulness. + +"A dangerous woman," I said, with a shudder, and fell to +examining a painting over the mantel-shelf. It was a portrait of +a man, and had impressed me favourably because it was framed. + +"A friend of hers," my guide informed me, "but I never seed him." + +I would have turned away from it, had not an inscription on the +picture drawn me nearer. It was in a lady's handwriting, and +these were the words: "Fancy portrait of our dear unknown." +Could it be meant for me? I cannot tell you how interested I +suddenly became. + +It represented a very fine looking fellow, indeed, and not a day +more than thirty. + +"A friend of hers, ma'am, did you say?" I asked quite shakily. +"How do you know that, if you have never seen him?" + +"When master was painting of it," she said, "in the studio, he +used to come running in here to say to her such like as, 'What +colour would you make his eyes?'" + +"And her reply, ma'am?" I asked eagerly. + +"She said, 'Beautiful blue eyes.' And he said, 'You wouldn't +make it a handsome face, would you?' and she says, 'A very +handsome face.' And says he, 'Middle-aged?' and says she, +'Twenty-nine.' And I mind him saying, 'A little bald on the top?' +and she says, says she, 'Not at all.'" + +The dear, grateful girl, not to make me bald on the top. + +"I have seed her kiss her hand to that picture," said the maid. + +Fancy Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love! + +Pooh! + +I was staring at the picture, cogitating what insulting message I +could write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. "I +think she has known him since she were a babby," she was saying, +"for this here was a present he give her." + +She was on her knees drawing the doll's house from beneath the +sofa, where it had been hidden away; and immediately I thought, +"I shall slip the insulting message into this." But I did not, +and I shall tell you why. It was because the engaging toy had +been redecorated by loving hands; there were fresh gowns for all +the inhabitants, and the paint on the furniture was scarcely dry. + The little doll's house was almost ready for further use. + +I looked at the maid, but her face was expressionless. "Put it +back," I said, ashamed to have surprised Mary's pretty secret, +and I left the house dejectedly, with a profound conviction that +the little nursery governess had hooked on to me again. + + +IV + +A Night-Piece + +There came a night when the husband was alone in that street +waiting. He can do nothing for you now, little nursery +governess, you must fight it out by yourself; when there are +great things to do in the house the man must leave. Oh, man, +selfish, indelicate, coarse-grained at the best, thy woman's hour +has come; get thee gone. + +He slouches from the house, always her true lover I do believe, +chivalrous, brave, a boy until to-night; but was he ever unkind +to her? It is the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of +an unkindness to stalk the street with him to-night? And if not +an unkindness, still might he not sometimes have been a little +kinder? + +Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: always to try to +be a little kinder than is necessary? + +Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am +sure, to sign that the one little unkindness is long forgotten, +to send you a reassuring smile till you and she meet again; and, +if you are not to meet again, still to send you a reassuring, +trembling smile. + +Ah, no, that was for yesterday; it is too late now. He wanders +the streets thinking of her tonight, but she has forgotten him. +In her great hour the man is nothing to the woman; their love is +trivial now. + +He and I were on opposite sides of the street, now become +familiar ground to both of us, and divers pictures rose before me +in which Mary A---- walked. Here was the morning after my only +entry into her house. The agent had promised me to have the +obnoxious notice-board removed, but I apprehended that as soon as +the letter announcing his intention reached her she would remove +it herself, and when I passed by in the morning there she was on +a chair and a foot-stool pounding lustily at it with a hammer. +When it fell she gave it such a vicious little kick. + +There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the +postman. I suppose he was awaiting some letter big with the fate +of a picture. He dogged the postman from door to door like an +assassin or a guardian angel; never had he the courage to ask if +there was a letter for him, but almost as it fell into the box he +had it out and tore it open, and then if the door closed +despairingly the woman who had been at the window all this time +pressed her hand to her heart. But if the news was good they +might emerge presently and strut off arm in arm in the direction +of the pork emporium. + +One last picture. On summer evenings I had caught glimpses of +them through the open window, when she sat at the piano singing +and playing to him. Or while she played with one hand, she flung +out the other for him to grasp. She was so joyously happy, and +she had such a romantic mind. I conceived her so sympathetic +that she always laughed before he came to the joke, and I am sure +she had filmy eyes from the very start of a pathetic story. + +And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little +nursery governess had gradually become another woman, glorified, +mysterious. I suppose a man soon becomes used to the great +change, and cannot recall a time when there were no babes +sprawling in his Mary's face. + +I am trying to conceive what were the thoughts of the young +husband on the other side of the street. "If the barrier is to +be crossed to-night may I not go with her? She is not so brave +as you think her. When she talked so gaily a few hours ago, O my +God, did she deceive even you?" + +Plain questions to-night. "Why should it all fall on her? What +is the man that he should be flung out into the street in this +terrible hour? You have not been fair to the man." + +Poor boy, his wife has quite forgotten him and his trumpery love. +If she lives she will come back to him, but if she dies she will +die triumphant and serene. Life and death, the child and the +mother, are ever meeting as the one draws into harbour and the +other sets sail. They exchange a bright "All's well" and pass +on. + +But afterward? + +The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead +young mothers, returned to see how their children fare. There is +no other inducement great enough to bring the departed back. +They glide into the acquainted room when day and night, their +jailers, are in the grip, and whisper, "How is it with you, my +child?" but always, lest a strange face should frighten him, they +whisper it so low that he may not hear. They bend over him to +see that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet arm beneath +the coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many little +vests he has. They love to do these things. + +What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know their +child. They expect him to be just as he was when they left him, +and they are easily bewildered, and search for him from room to +room, and hate the unknown boy he has become. Poor, passionate +souls, they may even do him an injury. These are the ghosts that +go wailing about old houses, and foolish wild stories are +invented to explain what is all so pathetic and simple. I know +of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early home to +pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chair +by the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's face +appear. She always looked at him very vindictively, and then +vanished. Strange things happened in this house. Windows were +opened in the night. The curtains of his bed were set fire to. +A step on the stair was loosened. The covering of an old well in +a corridor where he walked was cunningly removed. And when he +fell ill the wrong potion was put in the glass by his bedside, +and he died. How could the pretty young mother know that this +grizzled interloper was the child of whom she was in search? + +All our notions about ghosts are wrong. It is nothing so petty +as lost wills or deeds of violence that brings them back, and we +are not nearly so afraid of them as they are of us. + +One by one the lights of the street went out, but still a lamp +burned steadily in the little window across the way. I know not +how it happened, whether I had crossed first to him or he to me, +but, after being for a long time as the echo of each other's +steps, we were together now. I can have had no desire to deceive +him, but some reason was needed to account for my vigil, and I +may have said something that he misconstrued, for above my words +he was always listening for other sounds. But however it came +about he had conceived the idea that I was an outcast for a +reason similar to his own, and I let his mistake pass, it seemed +to matter so little and to draw us together so naturally. We +talked together of many things, such as worldly ambition. For +long ambition has been like an ancient memory to me, some +glorious day recalled from my springtime, so much a thing of the +past that I must make a railway journey to revisit it as to look +upon the pleasant fields in which that scene was laid. But he +had been ambitious yesterday. + +I mentioned worldly ambition. "Good God!" he said with a +shudder. + +There was a clock hard by that struck the quarters, and one +o'clock passed and two. What time is it now? Twenty past two. +And now? It is still twenty past two. + +I asked him about his relatives, and neither he nor she had any. +"We have a friend--" he began and paused, and then rambled into a +not very understandable story about a letter and a doll's house +and some unknown man who had bought one of his pictures, or was +supposed to have done so, in a curiously clandestine manner. I +could not quite follow the story. + +"It is she who insists that it is always the same person," he +said. "She thinks he will make himself known to me if anything +happens to her." His voice suddenly went husky. "She told me," +he said, "if she died and I discovered him, to give him her +love." + +At this we parted abruptly, as we did at intervals throughout the +night, to drift together again presently. He tried to tell me of +some things she had asked him to do should she not get over this, +but what they were I know not, for they engulfed him at the first +step. He would draw back from them as ill-omened things, and +next moment he was going over them to himself like a child at +lessons. A child! In that short year she had made him entirely +dependent on her. It is ever thus with women: their first +deliberate act is to make their husband helpless. There are few +men happily married who can knock in a nail. + +But it was not of this that I was thinking. I was wishing I had +not degenerated so much. + +Well, as you know, the little nursery governess did not die. At +eighteen minutes to four we heard the rustle of David's wings. +He boasts about it to this day, and has the hour to a syllable as +if the first thing he ever did was to look at the clock. + +An oldish gentleman had opened the door and waved congratulations +to my companion, who immediately butted at me, drove me against a +wall, hesitated for a second with his head down as if in doubt +whether to toss me, and then rushed away. I followed slowly. I +shook him by the hand, but by this time he was haw-haw-hawing so +abominably that a disgust of him swelled up within me, and with +it a passionate desire to jeer once more at Mary A-- + +"It is little she will care for you now," I said to the fellow; +"I know the sort of woman; her intellectuals (which are all she +has to distinguish her from the brutes) are so imperfectly +developed that she will be a crazy thing about that boy for the +next three years. She has no longer occasion for you, my dear +sir; you are like a picture painted out." + +But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. +Home! As if one alone can build a nest. How often as I have +ascended the stairs that lead to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have +I paused to listen to the hilarity of the servants below. That +morning I could not rest: I wandered from chamber to chamber, +followed by my great dog, and all were alike empty and desolate. +I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought I heard a pebble +strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father standing +beneath. I had told him that I lived in this street, and I +suppose my lights had guided him to my window. + +"I could not lie down," he called up hoarsely, "until I heard +your news. Is it all right?" + +For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: +"Yes, all is right." + +"Both doing well?" he inquired. + +"Both," I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the +window. It was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him +out, but I was nevertheless in a passion with him. + +"Boy or girl?" persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike +curiosity. + +"Boy," I said, very furiously. + +"Splendid," he called out, and I think he added something else, +but by that time I had closed the window with a slam. + + +V + +The Fight For Timothy + +Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of +exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself +to a life of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got +me out of the street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly +as if it were some entirely new thing, though he must have +learned it like a parrot. I had not one tear for the woman, but +Poor father, thought I; to know that every time your son is happy +you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught. + +I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is +always sulky, and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not +witting wherein lies her heroism. She was born the merriest of +maids, but, being a student of her face, learned anon that +sulkiness best becomes it, and so she has struggled and +prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when night falls +and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy natural +state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even +sulkily? + +But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to +be seen, and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy +David a rocking-horse. My St. Bernard dog accompanied me, though +I have always been diffident of taking him to toy-shops, which +over-excite him. Hitherto the toys I had bought had always been +for him, and as we durst not admit this to the saleswoman we were +both horribly self-conscious when in the shop. A score of times +I have told him that he had much better not come, I have +announced fiercely that he is not to come. He then lets go of +his legs, which is how a St. Bernard sits down, making the noise +of a sack of coals suddenly deposited, and, laying his head +between his front paws, stares at me through the red haws that +make his eyes so mournful. He will do this for an hour without +blinking, for he knows that in time it will unman me. My dog +knows very little, but what little he does know he knows +extraordinarily well. One can get out of my chambers by a back +way, and I sometimes steal softly--but I can't help looking back, +and there he is, and there are those haws asking sorrowfully, "Is +this worthy of you?" + +"Curse you," I say, "get your hat," or words to that effect. + +He has even been to the club, where he waddles up the stairs so +exactly like some respected member that he makes everybody most +uncomfortable. I forget how I became possessor of him. I think +I cut him out of an old number of Punch. He costs me as much as +an eight-roomed cottage in the country. + +He was a full-grown dog when I first, most foolishly, introduced +him to toys. I had bought a toy in the street for my own +amusement. It represented a woman, a young mother, flinging her +little son over her head with one hand and catching him in the +other, and I was entertaining myself on the hearth-rug with this +pretty domestic scene when I heard an unwonted sound from +Porthos, and, looking up, I saw that noble and melancholic +countenance on the broad grin. I shuddered and was for putting +the toy away at once, but he sternly struck down my arm with his, +and signed that I was to continue. The unmanly chuckle always +came, I found, when the poor lady dropped her babe, but the whole +thing entranced him; he tried to keep his excitement down by +taking huge draughts of water; he forgot all his niceties of +conduct; he sat in holy rapture with the toy between his paws, +took it to bed with him, ate it in the night, and searched for it +so longingly next day that I had to go out and buy him the man +with the scythe. After that we had everything of note, the +bootblack boy, the toper with bottle, the woolly rabbit that +squeaks when you hold it in your mouth; they all vanished as +inexplicably as the lady, but I dared not tell him my suspicions, +for he suspected also and his gentle heart would have mourned had +I confirmed his fears. + +The dame in the temple of toys which we frequent thinks I want +them for a little boy and calls him "the precious" and "the +lamb," the while Porthos is standing gravely by my side. She is +a motherly soul, but over-talkative. + +"And how is the dear lamb to-day?" she begins, beaming. + +"Well, ma'am, well," I say, keeping tight grip of his collar. + +"This blighty weather is not affecting his darling appetite?" + +"No, ma'am, not at all." (She would be considerably surprised if +informed that he dined to-day on a sheepshead, a loaf, and three +cabbages, and is suspected of a leg of mutton.) + +"I hope he loves his toys?" + +"He carries them about with him everywhere, ma'am." (Has the one +we bought yesterday with him now, though you might not think it +to look at him.) + +"What do you say to a box of tools this time?" + +"I think not, ma'am." + +"Is the deary fond of digging?" + +"Very partial to digging." (We shall find the leg of mutton some +day.) + +"Then perhaps a weeny spade and a pail?" + +She got me to buy a model of Canterbury Cathedral once, she was +so insistent, and Porthos gave me his mind about it when we got +home. He detests the kindergarten system, and as she is absurdly +prejudiced in its favour we have had to try other shops. We went +to the Lowther Arcade for the rocking-horse. Dear Lowther +Arcade! Ofttimes have we wandered agape among thy enchanted +palaces, Porthos and I, David and I, David and Porthos and I. I +have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cannot see how, unless it +be that tattered children haunt thy portals, those awful yet +smiling entrances to so much joy. To the Arcade there are two +entrances, and with much to be sung in laudation of that which +opens from the Strand I yet on the whole prefer the other as the +more truly romantic, because it is there the tattered ones +congregate, waiting to see the Davids emerge with the magic lamp. +We have always a penny for them, and I have known them, before +entering the Arcade with it, retire (but whither?) to wash; +surely the prettiest of all the compliments that are paid to the +home of toys. + +And now, O Arcade, so much fairer than thy West End brother, we +are told that thou art doomed, anon to be turned into an +eatinghouse or a hive for usurers, something rankly useful. All +thy delights are under notice to quit. The Noah's arks are +packed one within another, with clockwork horses harnessed to +them; the soldiers, knapsack on back, are kissing their hands to +the dear foolish girls, who, however, will not be left behind +them; all the four-footed things gather around the elephant, who +is overful of drawing-room furniture; the birds flutter their +wings; the man with the scythe mows his way through the crowd; +the balloons tug at their strings; the ships rock under a swell +of sail, everything is getting ready for the mighty exodus into +the Strand. Tears will be shed. + +So we bought the horse in the Lowther Arcade, Porthos, who +thought it was for him, looking proud but uneasy, and it was sent +to the bandbox house anonymously. About a week afterward I had +the ill-luck to meet Mary's a husband in Kensington, so I asked +him what he had called his little girl. + +"It is a boy," he replied, with intolerable good-humour, "we call +him David." + +And then with a singular lack of taste he wanted the name of my +boy. + +I flicked my glove. "Timothy," said I. + +I saw a suppressed smile on his face, and said hotly that Timothy +was as good a name as David. "I like it," he assured me, and +expressed a hope that they would become friends. I boiled to say +that I really could not allow Timothy to mix with boys of the +David class, but I refrained, and listened coldly while he told +me what David did when you said his toes were pigs going to +market or returning from it, I forget which. He also boasted of +David's weight (a subject about which we are uncommonly touchy at +the club), as if children were for throwing forth for a wager. + +But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what +a forlorn little chap Timothy was, with no one to say a word for +him, and I became his champion and hinted something about +teething, but withdrew it when it seemed too surprising, and +tried to get on to safer ground, such as bibs and general +intelligence, but the painter fellow was so willing to let me +have my say, and knew so much more about babies than is fitting +for men to know, that I paled before him and wondered why the +deuce he was listening to me so attentively. + +You may remember a story he had told me about some anonymous +friend. "His latest," said he now, "is to send David a rocking- +horse!" + +I must say I could see no reason for his mirth. "Picture it," +said he, "a rocking-horse for a child not three months old!" + +I was about to say fiercely: "The stirrups are adjustable," but +thought it best to laugh with him. But I was pained to hear that +Mary had laughed, though heaven knows I have often laughed at +her. + +"But women are odd," he said unexpectedly, and explained. It +appears that in the middle of her merriment Mary had become grave +and said to him quite haughtily, "I see nothing to laugh at." +Then she had kissed the horse solemnly on the nose and said, "I +wish he was here to see me do it." There are moments when one +cannot help feeling a drawing to Mary. + +But moments only, for the next thing he said put her in a +particularly odious light. He informed me that she had sworn to +hunt Mr. Anon down. + +"She won't succeed," I said, sneering but nervous. + +"Then it will be her first failure," said he. + +"But she knows nothing about the man." + +"You would not say that if you heard her talking of him. She +says he is a gentle, whimsical, lonely old bachelor." + +"Old?" I cried. + +"Well, what she says is that he will soon be old if he doesn't +take care. He is a bachelor at all events, and is very fond of +children, but has never had one to play with." + +"Could not play with a child though there was one," I said +brusquely; "has forgotten the way; could stand and stare only." + +"Yes, if the parents were present. But he thinks that if he were +alone with the child he could come out strong." + +"How the deuce--" I began + +"That is what she says," he explained, apologetically. "I think +she will prove to be too clever for him." + +"Pooh," I said, but undoubtedly I felt a dizziness, and the next +time I met him he quite frightened me. "Do you happen to know +any one," he said, "who has a St. Bernard dog?" + +"No," said I, picking up my stick. + +"He has a St. Bernard dog." + +"How have you found that out?" + +"She has found it out." + +"But how?" + +"I don't know." + +I left him at once, for Porthos was but a little way behind me. +The mystery of it scared me, but I armed promptly for battle. I +engaged a boy to walk Porthos in Kensington Gardens, and gave him +these instructions: "Should you find yourself followed by a young +woman wheeling a second-hand perambulator, instantly hand her +over to the police on the charge of attempting to steal the dog." + +Now then, Mary. + +"By the way," her husband said at our next meeting, "that +rocking-horse I told you of cost three guineas." + +"She has gone to the shop to ask?" + +"No, not to ask that, but for a description of the purchaser's +appearance." + +Oh, Mary, Mary. + +Here is the appearance of purchaser as supplied at the Arcade:-- +looked like a military gentleman; tall, dark, and rather dressy; +fine Roman nose (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going +grey (not at all); hair thin and thoughtfully distributed over +the head like fiddlestrings, as if to make the most of it (pah!); +dusted chair with handkerchief before sitting down on it, and had +other oldmaidish ways (I should like to know what they are); +tediously polite, but no talker; bored face; age forty-five if a +day (a lie); was accompanied by an enormous yellow dog with sore +eyes. (They always think the haws are sore eyes.) + +"Do you know anyone who is like that?" Mary's husband asked me +innocently. + +"My dear man," I said, "I know almost no one who is not like +that," and it was true, so like each other do we grow at the +club. I was pleased, on the whole, with this talk, for it at +least showed me how she had come to know of the St. Bernard, but +anxiety returned when one day from behind my curtains I saw Mary +in my street with an inquiring eye on the windows. She stopped a +nurse who was carrying a baby and went into pretended ecstasies +over it. I was sure she also asked whether by any chance it was +called Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any other +nurse who had charge of a Timothy. + +Obviously Mary suspicioned me, but nevertheless, I clung to +Timothy, though I wished fervently that I knew more about him; +for I still met that other father occasionally, and he always +stopped to compare notes about the boys. And the questions he +asked were so intimate, how Timothy slept, how he woke up, how he +fell off again, what we put in his bath. It is well that dogs +and little boys have so much in common, for it was really of +Porthos I told him; how he slept (peacefully), how he woke up +(supposed to be subject to dreams), how he fell off again (with +one little hand on his nose), but I glided past what we put in +his bath (carbolic and a mop). + +The man had not the least suspicion of me, and I thought it +reasonable to hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet was I +straitened in my mind. For it might be that she was only biding +her time to strike suddenly, and this attached me the more to +Timothy, as if I feared she might soon snatch him from me. As +was indeed to be the case. + + +VI + +A Shock + +It was on a May day, and I saw Mary accompany her husband as far +as the first crossing, whence she waved him out of sight as if he +had boarded an Atlantic-liner. All this time she wore the face +of a woman happily married who meant to go straight home, there +to await her lord's glorious return; and the military-looking +gentleman watching her with a bored smile saw nothing better +before him than a chapter on the Domestic Felicities. Oh, Mary, +can you not provide me with the tiniest little plot? + +Hallo! + +No sooner was she hid from him than she changed into another +woman; she was now become a calculating purposeful madam, who +looked around her covertly and, having shrunk in size in order to +appear less noticeable, set off nervously on some mysterious +adventure. + +"The deuce!" thought I, and followed her. + +Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently consulted +her watch, looking long at it, as if it were one of those watches +that do not give up their secret until you have made a mental +calculation. Once she kissed it. I had always known that she +was fond of her cheap little watch, which he gave her, I think, +on the day I dropped the letter, but why kiss it in the street? +Ah, and why then replace it so hurriedly in your leather-belt, +Mary, as if it were guilt to you to kiss to-day, or any day, the +watch your husband gave you? + +It will be seen that I had made a very rapid journey from light +thoughts to uneasiness. I wanted no plot by the time she reached +her destination, a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of +them, but paced slowly and shrinking from observation up and down +the street, a very figure of shame; and never had I thought to +read shame in the sweet face of Mary A----. Had I crossed to her +and pronounced her name I think it would have felled her, and yet +she remained there, waiting. I, too, was waiting for him, +wondering if this was the man, or this, or this, and I believe I +clutched my stick. + +Did I suspect Mary? Oh, surely not for a moment of time. But +there was some foolishness here; she was come without the +knowledge of her husband, as her furtive manner indicated, to a +meeting she dreaded and was ashamed to tell him of; she was come +into danger; then it must be to save, not herself but him; the +folly to be concealed could never have been Mary's. Yet what +could have happened in the past of that honest boy from the +consequences of which she might shield him by skulking here? +Could that laugh of his have survived a dishonour? The open +forehead, the curly locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred +ingratiating ways which we carry with us out of childhood, they +may all remain when the innocence has fled, but surely the laugh +of the morning of life must go. I have never known the devil +retain his grip on that. + +But Mary was still waiting. She was no longer beautiful; shame +had possession of her face, she was an ugly woman. Then the +entanglement was her husband's, and I cursed him for it. But +without conviction, for, after all, what did I know of women? I +have some distant memories of them, some vain inventions. But of +men--I have known one man indifferent well for over forty years, +have exulted in him (odd to think of it), shuddered at him, +wearied of him, been willing (God forgive me) to jog along with +him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know something +of men, and, on my soul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. + +Then Mary is here for some innocent purpose, to do a good deed +that were better undone, as it so scares her. Turn back, you +foolish, soft heart, and I shall say no more about it. Obstinate +one, you saw the look on your husband's face as he left you. It +is the studio light by which he paints and still sees to hope, +despite all the disappointments of his not ignoble ambitions. +That light is the dower you brought him, and he is a wealthy man +if it does not flicker. + +So anxious to be gone, and yet she would not go. Several times +she made little darts, as if at last resolved to escape from that +detestable street, and faltered and returned like a bird to the +weasel. Again she looked at her watch and kissed it. + +Oh, Mary, take flight. What madness is this? Woman, be gone. + +Suddenly she was gone. With one mighty effort and a last +terrified look round, she popped into a pawnshop. + +Long before she emerged I understood it all, I think even as the +door rang and closed on her; why the timid soul had sought a +street where she was unknown, why she crept so many times past +that abhorred shop before desperately venturing in, why she +looked so often at the watch she might never see again. So +desperately cumbered was Mary to keep her little house over her +head, and yet the brave heart was retaining a smiling face for +her husband, who must not even know where her little treasures +were going. + +It must seem monstrously cruel of me, but I was now quite light- +hearted again. Even when Mary fled from the shop where she had +left her watch, and I had peace of mind to note how thin and worn +she had become, as if her baby was grown too big for her slight +arms, even then I was light-hearted. Without attempting to +follow her, I sauntered homeward humming a snatch of song with a +great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in it, for I can never +remember words. I saw her enter another shop, baby linen shop or +some nonsense of that sort, so it was plain for what she had +popped her watch; but what cared I? I continued to sing most +beautifully. I lunged gayly with my stick at a lamp-post and +missed it, whereat a street-urchin grinned, and I winked at him +and slipped twopence down his back. + + + +I presume I would have chosen the easy way had time been given +me, but fate willed that I should meet the husband on his +homeward journey, and his first remark inspired me to a folly. + +"How is Timothy?" he asked; and the question opened a way so +attractive that I think no one whose dull life craves for colour +could have resisted it. + +"He is no more," I replied impulsively. + +The painter was so startled that he gave utterance to a very oath +of pity, and I felt a sinking myself, for in these hasty words my +little boy was gone, indeed; all my bright dreams of Timothy, all +my efforts to shelter him from Mary's scorn, went whistling down +the wind. + + +VII + +The Last of Timothy + +So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once +that I made away with Timothy in order to give his little vests +and pinafores and shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or +madam, rail not overmuch at me for causing our painter pain. +Know, too, that though his sympathy ran free I soon discovered +many of his inquiries to be prompted by a mere selfish desire to +save his boy from the fate of mine. Such are parents. + +He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for +me, and, of course, there was something he could do, but were I +to propose it I doubted not he would be on his stilts at once, +for already I had reason to know him for a haughty, sensitive +dog, who ever became high at the first hint of help. So the +proposal must come from him. I spoke of the many little things +in the house that were now hurtful to me to look upon, and he +clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another house with +its little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but +he had not a sufficiency of the little things, and besides my +impulsiveness had plunged me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on +distastefully. Was there no profession in this age of specialism +for taking away children's garments from houses where they were +suddenly become a pain? Could I sell them? Could I give them to +the needy, who would probably dispose of them for gin? I told +him of a friend with a young child who had already refused them +because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded of Timothy, +and I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that he +made the offer I was waiting for. + +I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage +with both him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having +adopted this means in a hurry, I could at the time see no other +easy way out. Timothy's hold on life, as you may have +apprehended, was ever of the slightest, and I suppose I always +knew that he must soon revert to the obscure. He could never +have penetrated into the open. It was no life for a boy. + +Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I +seem to remember carrying him that evening to the window with +uncommon tenderness (following the setting sun that was to take +him away), and telling him with not unnatural bitterness that he +had got to leave me because another child was in need of all his +pretty things; and as the sun, his true father, lapt him in its +dancing arms, he sent his love to a lady of long ago whom he +called by the sweetest of names, not knowing in his innocence +that the little white birds are the birds that never have a +mother. I wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken +possession of me) that before he went he could have played once +in the Kensington Gardens, and have ridden on the fallen trees, +calling gloriously to me to look; that he could have sailed one +paper-galleon on the Round Pond; fain would I have had him chase +one hoop a little way down the laughing avenues of childhood, +where memory tells us we run but once, on a long summer-day, +emerging at the other end as men and women with all the fun to +pay for; and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these +desolate chambers) he knew my longings, and said with a boy-like +flush that the reason he never did these things was not that he +was afraid, for he would have loved to do them all, but because +he was not quite like other boys; and, so saying, he let go my +finger and faded from before my eyes into another and golden +ether; but I shall ever hold that had he been quite like other +boys there would have been none braver than my Timothy. + +I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, +so far as I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to +be deficient. So I discovered next day when I attempted to buy +David's outfit, and found myself as shy of entering the shop as +any Mary at the pawnbroker's. The shop for little garments seems +very alarming when you reach the door; a man abruptly become a +parent, and thus lost to a finer sense of the proprieties, may be +able to stalk in unprotected, but apparently I could not. +Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering shops of any +kind, save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's I fear +I go too frequently. + +So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at +myself, and it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three +o'clock that if I had been brazen at half-past two all would now +be over. + +To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman- +like man whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, +just as I had drawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, +but when I returned he was still there, which seemed conclusive +proof that he had smoked my purpose. Sternly controlling my +temper I bowed, and said with icy politeness, "You have the +advantage of me, sir." + +"I beg your pardon," said he, and I am now persuaded that my +words turned his attention to me for the first time, but at the +moment I was sure some impertinent meaning lurked behind his +answer. + +"I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance," I barked. + +"No one regrets it more than I do," he replied, laughing. + +"I mean, sir," said I, "that I shall wait here until you retire," +and with that I put my back to a shop-window. + +By this time he was grown angry, and said he, "I have no +engagement," and he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us +was doggedly determined to tire the other out, and we must have +looked ridiculous. We also felt it, for ten minutes afterward, +our passions having died away, we shook hands cordially and +agreed to call hansoms. + +Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies +who would make the purchases for me, but first I must explain, +and, rather than explain it has ever been my custom to do +without. I was in this despondency when a sudden recollection of +Irene and Mrs. Hicking heartened me like a cordial, for I saw in +them at once the engine and decoy by which David should procure +his outfit. + +You must be told who they were. + + +VIII + +The Inconsiderate Waiter + +They were the family of William, one of our club waiters who had +been disappointing me grievously of late. Many a time have I +deferred dining several minutes that I might have the attendance +of this ingrate. His efforts to reserve the window-table for me +were satisfactory, and I used to allow him privileges, as to +suggest dishes; I have given him information, as that someone had +startled me in the reading-room by slamming a door; I have shown +him how I cut my finger with a piece of string. William was none +of your assertive waiters. We could have plotted a murder safely +before him. It was one member who said to him that Saucy Sarah +would win the Derby and another who said that Saucy Sarah had no +chance, but it was William who agreed with both. The excellent +fellow (as I thought him) was like a cheroot which may be smoked +from either end. + +I date his lapse from one evening when I was dining by the +window. I had to repeat my order "Devilled kidney," and instead +of answering brightly, "Yes, sir," as if my selection of devilled +kidney was a personal gratification to him, which is the manner +one expects of a waiter, he gazed eagerly out at the window, and +then, starting, asked, "Did you say devilled kidney, sir?" A few +minutes afterward I became aware that someone was leaning over +the back of my chair, and you may conceive my indignation on +discovering that this rude person was William. Let me tell, in +the measured words of one describing a past incident, what next +took place. To get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my +shoulder. "William," I said, "you are not attending to me!" + +To be fair to him, he shook, but never shall I forget his +audacious apology, "Beg pardon, sir, but I was thinking of +something else." + +And immediately his eyes resought the window, and this burst from +him passionately, "For God's sake, sir, as we are man and man, +tell me if you have seen a little girl looking up at the club- +windows." + +Man and man! But he had been a good waiter once, so I pointed +out the girl to him. As soon as she saw William she ran into the +middle of Pall Mall, regardless of hansoms (many of which seemed +to pass over her), nodded her head significantly three times and +then disappeared (probably on a stretcher). She was the +tawdriest little Arab of about ten years, but seemed to have +brought relief to William. "Thank God!" said he fervently, and +in the worst taste. + +I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. +"Bread, William," I said sharply. + +"You are not vexed with me, sir?" he had the hardihood to +whisper. + +"It was a liberty," I said. + +"I know, sir, but I was beside myself." + +"That was a liberty again." + +"It is my wife, sir, she--" + +So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married +man. I felt that this was the greatest liberty of all. + +I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who +likes after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the +world, I desired to be told by William that the signals meant her +return to health. He answered inconsiderately, however, that the +doctor feared the worst. + +"Bah, the doctor," I said in a rage. + +"Yes, sir," said William. + +"What is her confounded ailment?" + +"She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and +you see, sir, she has had a baby-girl lately--" + +"William, how dare you," I said, but in the same moment I saw +that this father might be useful to me. "How does your baby +sleep, William?" I asked in a low voice, "how does she wake up? +what do you put in her bath?" + +I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for +an answer. "That little girl comes here with a message from your +wife?" + +"Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from +her means that the missus is a little better." + +"There were three nods to-day?" + +"Yes, sir. + +"I suppose you live in some low part, William?" + +The impudent fellow looked as if he could have struck me. "Off +Drury Lane," he said, flushing, "but it isn't low. And now," he +groaned, "she's afeared she will die without my being there to +hold her hand." + +"She should not say such things." + +"She never says them, sir. She allus pretends to be feeling +stronger. But I knows what is in her mind when I am leaving the +house in the morning, for then she looks at me from her bed, and +I looks at her from the door--oh, my God, sir!" + +"William!" + +At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characteristic of him +to beg my pardon and withdraw his wife as if she were some +unsuccessful dish. I tried to forget his vulgar story in +billiards, but he had spoiled my game, and next day to punish him +I gave my orders through another waiter. As I had the window- +seat, however, I could not but see that the little girl was late, +and though this mattered nothing to me and I had finished my +dinner, I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three +times but waved her hat, and I arose, having now finished my +dinner. + +William came stealthily toward me. "Her temperature has gone +down, sir," he said, rubbing his hands together. + +"To whom are you referring?" I asked coldly, and retired to the +billiard-room, where I played a capital game. + +I took pains to show William that I had forgotten his +maunderings, but I observed the girl nightly, and once, instead +of nodding, she shook her head, and that evening I could not get +into a pocket. Next evening there was no William in the +dining-room, and I thought I knew what had happened. But, +chancing to enter the library rather miserably, I was surprised +to see him on a ladder dusting books. We had the room +practically to ourselves, for though several members sat on +chairs holding books in their hands they were all asleep, and +William descended the ladder to tell me his blasting tale. He +had sworn at a member! + +"I hardly knew what I was doing all day, sir, for I had left her +so weakly that--" + +I stamped my foot. + +"I beg your pardon for speaking of her," he had the grace to say. +"But Irene had promised to come every two hours; and when she +came about four o'clock and I saw she was crying, it sort of +blinded me, sir, and I stumbled against a member, Mr. B----, and he +said, 'Damn you!' Well, sir, I had but touched him after all, +and I was so broken it sort of stung me to be treated so and I +lost my senses, and I said, 'Damn you!'" + +His shamed head sank on his chest, and I think some of the +readers shuddered in their sleep. + +"I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and sent here until +the committee have decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I am +willing to go on my knees to Mr. B----" + +How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a +pound a week? + +"For if I have to tell her I have lost my place she will just +fall back and die." + +"I forbid your speaking to me of that woman," I cried wryly, +"unless you can speak pleasantly," and I left him to his fate and +went off to look for B----. "What is this story about your +swearing at one of the waiters?" I asked him. + +"You mean about his swearing at me," said B----, reddening. + +"I am glad that was it," I said, "for I could not believe you +guilty of such bad form. The version which reached me was that +you swore at each other, and that he was to be dismissed and you +reprimanded." + +"Who told you that?" asked B----, who is a timid man. + +"I am on the committee," I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk +of other matters, but presently B----, who had been reflecting, +said: "Do you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the +waiter swore at me, and I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow." + +I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end +without my having to interfere in his behalf, and I then +remembered that he would not be able to see the girl Irene from +the library windows, which are at the back of the club. I was +looking down at her, but she refrained from signalling because +she could not see William, and irritated by her stupidity I went +out and asked her how her mother was. + +"My," she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, "I b'lieve you +are one of them!" and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I +suppose William tells them of our splendid doings. + +The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying +child wanted to inform William that she had took all the +tapiocar. She was to indicate this by licking an imaginary plate +in the middle of Pall Mall. I gave the little vulgarian a +shilling, and returned to the club disgusted. + +"By the way, William," I said, "Mr. B---- is to inform the +committee that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper +language to him, so you will doubtless be restored to the +dining-room to-morrow." + +I had to add immediately, "Remember your place, William." + +"But Mr. B---- knows I swore," he insisted. + +"A gentleman," I replied stiffly, "cannot remember for many hours +what a waiter has said to him." + +"No, sir, but--" + +To stop him I had to say, "And--ah--William, your wife is decidedly +better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it." + +"How can you know, sir?" + +"By an accident." + +"Irene signed to the window?" + +"No." + +"Then you saw her and went out and--" + +"How dare you, William?" + +"Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl--" + +"William." + +He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at +him I seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the +relations between us were still strained. But I watched the +girl, and her pantomime was so illuminating that I knew the +sufferer had again cleaned the platter on Tuesday, had attempted +a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen Irene chipping it +in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a woful state +of relapse on Thursday. + +"Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?" I asked, as soon as +I had drawn her out of range of the club-windows. + +"My!" she exclaimed again, and I saw an ecstatic look pass +between her and a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred +to as a neighbour. + +I waited coldly. William's wife, I was informed, had looked like +nothing but a dead one till she got the brandy. + +"Hush, child," I said, shocked. "You don't know how the dead +look." + +"Bless yer!" she replied. + +Assisted by her friend, who was evidently enormously impressed by +Irene's intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of +miscellaneous information, as that William's real name was Mr. +Hicking, but that he was known in their street, because of the +number of his shirts, as Toff Hicking. That the street held he +should get away from the club before two in the morning, for his +missus needed him more than the club needed him. That William +replied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of waiters at +supper-time some of the gentlemen might be kept waiting for their +marrow-bone. That he sat up with his missus most of the night, +and pretended to her that he got some nice long naps at the club. +That what she talked to him about mostly was the kid. That the +kid was in another part of London (in charge of a person called +the old woman), because there was an epidemic in Irene's street. + +"And what does the doctor say about your mother?" + +"He sometimes says she would have a chance if she could get her +kid back." + +"Nonsense." + +"And if she was took to the country." + +"Then why does not William take her?" + +"My! And if she drank porty wine." + +"Doesn't she?" + +"No. But father, he tells her 'bout how the gentlemen drinks +it." + +I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. + +"Ain't yer going to do it this time?" she demanded with a falling +face. "You done it last time. I tell her you done it"--she +pointed to her friend who was looking wistfully at me--"ain't you +to let her see you doing of it?" + +For a moment I thought that her desire was another shilling, but +by a piece of pantomime she showed that she wanted me to lift my +hat to her. So I lifted it, and when I looked behind she had her +head in the air and her neighbour was gazing at her awestruck. +These little creatures are really not without merit. + +About a week afterward I was in a hired landau, holding a +newspaper before my face lest anyone should see me in company of +a waiter and his wife. William was taking her into Surrey to +stay with an old nurse of mine, and Irene was with us, wearing +the most outrageous bonnet. + +I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's intelligence from her +pride in the baby, which was a very ordinary one. She created a +regrettable scene when it was brought to her, because "she had +been feared it would not know her again." I could have told her +that they know no one for years had I not been in terror of +Irene, who dandled the child on her knees and talked to it all +the way. I have never known a bolder little hussy than this +Irene. She asked the infant improper questions, such as "Oo know +who gave me this bonnet?" and answered them herself. "It was the +pretty gentleman there," and several times I had to affect sleep, +because she announced, "Kiddy wants to kiss the pretty +gentleman." + +Irksome as all this necessarily was to a man of taste, I suffered +still more acutely when we reached our destination, where +disagreeable circumstances compelled me to drink tea with a +waiter's family. William knew that I regarded thanks from +persons of his class as an outrage, yet he looked them though he +dared not speak them. Hardly had he sat down at the table by my +orders than he remembered that I was a member of the club and +jumped up. Nothing is in worse form than whispering, yet again +and again he whispered to his poor, foolish wife, "How are you +now? You don't feel faint?" and when she said she felt like +another woman already, his face charged me with the change. I +could not but conclude from the way she let the baby pound her +that she was stronger than she pretended. + +I remained longer than was necessary because I had something to +say to William which I feared he would misunderstand, but when he +announced that it was time for him to catch a train back to +London, at which his wife paled, I delivered the message. + +"William," I said, backing away from him, "the head-waiter asked +me to say that you could take a fortnight's holiday. Your wages +will be paid as usual." + +Confound him. + +"William," I cried furiously, "go away." + +Then I saw his wife signing to him, and I knew she wanted to be +left alone with me. + +"William," I cried in a panic, "stay where you are." + +But he was gone, and I was alone with a woman whose eyes were +filmy. Her class are fond of scenes. "If you please, ma'am!" I +said imploringly. + +But she kissed my hand; she was like a little dog. + +"It can be only the memory of some woman," said she, "that makes +you so kind to me and mine." + +Memory was the word she used, as if all my youth were fled. I +suppose I really am quite elderly. + +"I should like to know her name, sir," she said, "that I may +mention her with loving respect in my prayers." + +I raised the woman and told her the name. It was not Mary. "But +she has a home," I said, "as you have, and I have none. Perhaps, +ma'am, it would be better worth your while to mention me." + + + +It was this woman, now in health, whom I intrusted with the +purchase of the outfits, "one for a boy of six months," I +explained to her, "and one for a boy of a year," for the painter +had boasted to me of David's rapid growth. I think she was a +little surprised to find that both outfits were for the same +house; and she certainly betrayed an ignoble curiosity about the +mother's Christian name, but she was much easier to brow-beat +than a fine lady would have been, and I am sure she and her +daughter enjoyed themselves hugely in the shops, from one of +which I shall never forget Irene emerging proudly with a +commissionaire, who conducted her under an umbrella to the cab +where I was lying in wait. I think that was the most celestial +walk of Irene's life. + +I told Mrs. Hicking to give the articles a little active ill- +treatment that they might not look quite new, at which she +exclaimed, not being in my secret, and then to forward them to +me. I then sent them to Mary and rejoiced in my devilish cunning +all the evening, but chagrin came in the morning with a letter +from her which showed she knew all, that I was her Mr. Anon, and +that there never had been a Timothy. I think I was never so +gravelled. Even now I don't know how she had contrived it. + +Her cleverness raised such a demon in me that I locked away her +letter at once and have seldom read it since. No married lady +should have indited such an epistle to a single man. It said, +with other things which I decline to repeat, that I was her good +fairy. As a sample of the deliberate falsehoods in it, I may +mention that she said David loved me already. She hoped that I +would come in often to see her husband, who was very proud of my +friendship, and suggested that I should pay him my first visit +to-day at three o'clock, an hour at which, as I happened to +know, he is always away giving a painting-lesson. In short, she +wanted first to meet me alone, so that she might draw the +delicious, respectful romance out of me, and afterward repeat it +to him, with sighs and little peeps at him over her +pocket-handkerchief. + +She had dropped what were meant to look like two tears for me +upon the paper, but I should not wonder though they were only +artful drops of water. + +I sent her a stiff and tart reply, declining to hold any +communication with her. + + +IX + +A Confirmed Spinster + +I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical +fellows, which I so little desire that I have got me into my +writing-chair to combat the charge, but, having sat for an +unconscionable time with pen poised, I am come agitatedly to the +fear that there may be something in it. + +So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of the +ardours of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rusty +doors) for the beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; I +seem ever to see this same man until I am back in those wonderful +months which were half of my life, when, indeed, I know that I +was otherwise than I am now; no whimsical fellow then, for that +was one of the possibilities I put to myself while seeking for +the explanation of things, and found to be inadmissible. Having +failed in those days to discover why I was driven from the +garden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of some +dull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collect +unnoticed. + +It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake up +glorious once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who is +humorously known at the club as a "confirmed spinster." I +remember him well when his years told four and twenty; on my soul +the proudest subaltern of my acquaintance, and with the most +reason to be proud. There was nothing he might not do in the +future, having already done the biggest thing, this toddler up +club-steps to-day. + +Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe, +and most inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes of +the ladies who smile at me as we converse; they are an ever- +increasing number, or so it seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, I +forget when I first began to notice that smile and to be made +uneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and in some vague way +it hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but I hope I +am still your loyal, obedient servant. + +You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that I +once had a fascinating smile of my own. What has become of my +smile? I swear I have not noticed that it was gone till now; I +am like one who revisiting his school feels suddenly for his old +knife. I first heard of my smile from another boy, whose sisters +had considered all the smiles they knew and placed mine on top. +My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to mention the +plebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. I +feel lost to-night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago to +look for it in my mirror. + +I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have some +other forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the difference +between that man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile, +telling me it was my one adornment, and taking it from me, so to +speak, for a moment to let me see how she looked in it; she +delighted to make sport of me when she was in a wayward mood, and +to show me all my ungainly tricks of voice and gesture, +exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a star +calling to the earth: "See, I will show you how you hobble +round," and always there was a challenge to me in her eyes to +stop her if I dared, and upon them, when she was most audacious, +lay a sweet mist. + +They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows, +to tell her what love is, and she listened with a noble +frankness, having, indeed, the friendliest face for all engaged +in this pursuit that can ever have sat on woman. I have heard +ladies call her coquette, not understanding that she shone softly +upon all who entered the lists because, with the rarest +intuition, she foresaw that they must go away broken men and +already sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds incurred +for love were dear to her; at every true utterance about love she +exulted with grave approval, or it might be a with a little "ah!" +or "oh!" like one drinking deliciously. Nothing could have been +more fair, for she was for the first comer who could hit the +target, which was her heart. + +She adored all beautiful things in their every curve and +fragrance, so that they became part of her. Day by day, she +gathered beauty; had she had no heart (she who was the bosom of +womanhood) her thoughts would still have been as lilies, because +the good is the beautiful. + +And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgive +her; I think had there been one it would have proved that there +was a flaw in her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weeping +because all the pretty things were said and done with, or she was +making doleful confessions about herself, so impulsive and +generous and confidential, and so devoid of humour, that they +compelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a looking-glass +of his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all to +blame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped back +so that they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, his +lack of skill to seize her. For what her soft eyes said was that +she was always waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgave +her, because there was nothing to forgive, or very little, just +the little that makes a dear girl dearer, and often afterward, I +believe, they have laughed fondly when thinking of her, like boys +brought back. You ladies who are everything to your husbands +save a girl from the dream of youth, have you never known that +double-chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in a reverie and +start up, as if he fancied he were being hailed from far-away? + +I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that her +laugh is what comes first across the years; so high-spirited that +she would have wept like Mary of Scots because she could not lie +on the bare plains like the men. I hear her, but it is only as +an echo; I see her, but it is as a light among distant trees, and +the middle-aged man can draw no nearer; she was only for the +boys. There was a month when I could have shown her to you in all +her bravery, but then the veil fell, and from that moment I +understood her not. For long I watched her, but she was never +clear to me again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dear +heart willing to give me a thousand chances to regain her love. +She was so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but she +was as young as if she were the first woman. The world must have +rung with gallant deeds and grown lovely thoughts for numberless +centuries before she could be; she was the child of all the brave +and wistful imaginings of men. She was as mysterious as night +when it fell for the first time upon the earth. She was the +thing we call romance, which lives in the little hut beyond the +blue haze of the pine-woods. + +No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble +scale, her attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerably +gracious, her movements indolently active, her face so candid +that you must swear her every thought lived always in the open. +Yet, with it all, she was a wild thing, alert, suspicious of the +lasso, nosing it in every man's hand, more curious about it than +about aught else in the world; her quivering delight was to see +it cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome was she that +she loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it was +closing round her; she scorned, however her heart might be +beating, to run from her pursuers; she took only the one step +backward, which still left her near them but always out of reach; +her head on high now, but her face as friendly, her manner as +gracious as before, she is yours for the catching. That was ever +the unspoken compact between her and the huntsmen. + +It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories, +but again I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thought +that all this was for me could I retain her love. For I won it, +wonder of the gods, but I won it. I found myself with one foot +across the magic circle wherein she moved, and which none but I +had entered; and so, I think, I saw her in revelation, not as the +wild thing they had all conceived her, but as she really was. I +saw no tameless creature, nothing wild or strange. I saw my +sweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I brushed aside +the haze and she was truly seen for the first time, she raised +her head, like one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted +eyes. I told her what had been revealed to me as I looked upon +her, and she trembled, knowing she was at last found, and fain +would she have fled away, but that her fear was less than her +gladness. She came to me slowly; no incomprehensible thing to me +now, but transparent as a pool, and so restful to look upon that +she was a bath to the eyes, like banks of moss. + +Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for +him who can know her. The others had but followed the glamour in +which she walked, but I had pierced it and found the woman. I +could anticipate her every thought and gesture, I could have +flashed and rippled and mocked for her, and melted for her and +been dear disdain for her. She would forget this and be suddenly +conscious of it as she began to speak, when she gave me a look +with a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I was already +waiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the blush +of the eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone; +her very finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And I +loved even her naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me, +which she could not do without also gnashing her teeth, like a +child trying to look fearsome. How pretty was that gnashing of +her teeth! All her tormentings of me turned suddenly into +sweetnesses, and who could torment like this exquisite fury, +wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to anyone, +while I wondered only why she could give herself to me. It may +be that I wondered over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her. + +It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but I +brought her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, but +then she came willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be wholly +tamed, but he who knows her will always be able to bring her +back. + +I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I know +not how it was, though in the twilight of my life that then began +I groped for reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know is +that she had ceased to love me; I had won her love, but I could +not keep it. The discovery came to me slowly, as if I were a +most dull-witted man; at first I knew only that I no longer +understood her as of old. I found myself wondering what she had +meant by this and that; I did not see that when she began to +puzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, I +had strayed outside the magic circle. + +When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the belief +that there was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for me +assisted in that poor pretence. She sought to glide to me with +swimming eyes as before, but it showed only that this caressing +movement was still within her compass, but never again for me. +With the hands she had pressed to her breast she touched mine, +but no longer could they convey the message. The current was +broken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. +She could tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; she +was scarcely less anxious than I that I should make her love me +again, and, as I have said, she waited with a wonderful tolerance +while I strove futilely to discover in what I was lacking and to +remedy it. And when, at last, she had to leave me, it was with +compassionate cries and little backward flights. + +The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been so +altered by it had I known what was the defect in me through which +I let her love escape. This puzzle has done me more harm than +the loss of her. Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speak +honestly to you) that I do not repent me those dallyings in +enchanted fields. It may not have been so always, for I remember +a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down in an oarless boat +and let it drift toward the weir. But his distant moans do not +greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the waters +bring him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to know +that, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as from +another. + +I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married woman +playing with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughty +one, and I saw the gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in the +dear pretty way I can't forget; and then a boy and girl, fighting +for her shoulders, brought the whole group joyously to the +ground. She picked herself up in the old leisurely manner, lazily +active, and looked around her benignantly, like a cow: our dear +wild one safely tethered at last with a rope of children. I +meant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the old +wound broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but a +few poor drops, which fell because I found that she was even a +little sweeter than I had thought. + + +X + +Sporting Reflections + +I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I +fear it would please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, +as the cat's light keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, +instead of returning Mary to her lover by means of the letter, I +had presented a certain clubman to her consideration? Certainly +no such whimsical idea crossed my mind when I dropped the letter, +but between you and me and my night-socks, which have all this +time been airing by the fire because I am subject to cold feet, I +have sometimes toyed with it since. + +Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever +remain true to the unattainable she? + +I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend +of mine, whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly +her lover died. It then became pitiful to watch that trembling +old face trying to point the way of courage to the young one. In +time, however, there came another youth, as true, I dare say, as +the first, but not so well known to me, and I shrugged my +shoulders cynically to see my old friend once more a matchmaker. +She took him to her heart and boasted of him; like one made young +herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her pale +daughter in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she +cast rice after the departing carriage. But soon after it had +gone, I chanced upon her in her room, and she was on her knees in +tears before the spirit of the dead lover. "Forgive me," she +besought him, "for I am old, and life is gray to friendless +girls." The pardon she wanted was for pretending to her daughter +that women should act thus. + +I am sure she felt herself soiled. + +But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty +years had elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of +affection, like a sack of returned love-letters, with no lap into +which to dump them. + +"They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in +hopes that you will find something in them about yourself." It +would have sounded oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless +girls, and something might have come of it. + +On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the +wood of the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send +them both back there. The easiness of it tempted me. + +Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. +They all do, you see. + +And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost +my smile? + +And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. + +I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. + + +XI + +The Runaway Perambulator + +I sometimes met David in public places such as the Kensington +Gardens, where he lorded it surrounded by his suite and wearing +the blank face and glass eyes of all carriage-people. On these +occasions I always stalked by, meditating on higher things, +though Mary seemed to think me very hardhearted, and Irene, who +had become his nurse (I forget how, but fear I had something to +do with it), ran after me with messages, as, would I not call and +see him in his home at twelve o'clock, at which moment, it +seemed, he was at his best. + +No, I would not. + +"He says tick-tack to the clock," Irene said, trying to snare me. + +"Pooh!" said I. + +"Other little 'uns jest says 'tick-tick,'" she told me, with a +flush of pride. + +"I prefer 'tick-tick,'" I said, whereat she departed in dudgeon. + +Had they had the sense to wheel him behind a tree and leave him, +I would have looked, but as they lacked it, I decided to wait +until he could walk, when it would be more easy to waylay him. +However, he was a cautious little gorbal who, after many threats +to rise, always seemed to come to the conclusion that he might do +worse than remain where he was, and when he had completed his +first year I lost patience with him. + +"When I was his age," I said to Irene, "I was running about." I +consulted them casually about this matter at the club, and they +had all been running about at a year old. + +I made this nurse the following offer: If she would bring the +dilatory boy to my rooms and leave him there for half an hour I +would look at him. At first Mary, to whom the offer was passed +on, rejected it with hauteur, but presently she wavered, and the +upshot was that Irene, looking scornful and anxious, arrived one +day with the perambulator. Without casting eyes on its occupant, +I pointed Irene to the door: "In half-an-hour," I said. + +She begged permission to remain, and promised to turn her back, +and so on, but I was obdurate, and she then delivered herself of +a passionately affectionate farewell to her charge, which was +really all directed against me, and ended with these powerful +words: "And if he takes off your socks, my pretty, may he be +blasted for evermore." + +"I shall probably take off her socks," I said carelessly to this. + +Her socks. Do you see what made Irene scream? + +"It is a girl, is it not?" I asked, thus neatly depriving her of +coherent speech as I pushed her to the door. I then turned round +to--to begin, and, after reflecting, I began by sitting down +behind the hood of his carriage. My plan was to accustom him to +his new surroundings before bursting on the scene myself. + +I had various thoughts. Was he awake? If not, better let him +wake naturally. Half-an-hour was a long time. Why had I not +said quarter-of-an-hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there +much longer I should have said an hour, so I whistled softly; but +he took no notice. I remember trying to persuade myself that if +I never budged till Irene's return, it would be an amusing +triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still there was no response. +Abruptly, the fear smote me. Perhaps he is not there. + +I rose hastily, and was striding forward, when I distinctly +noticed a covert movement somewhere near the middle of the +carriage, and heard a low gurgle, which was instantly suppressed. +I stopped dead at this sharp reminder that I was probably not the +only curious person in the room, and for a long moment we both +lay low, after which, I am glad to remember, I made the first +advance. Earlier in the day I had arranged some likely articles +on a side-table: my watch and chain, my bunch of keys, and two +war-medals for plodding merit, and with a glance at these (as +something to fall back upon), I stepped forward doggedly, looking +(I fear now) a little like a professor of legerdemain. David was +sitting up, and he immediately fixed his eyes on me. + +It would ill become me to attempt to describe this dear boy to +you, for of course I know really nothing about children, so I +shall say only this, that I thought him very like what Timothy +would have been had he ever had a chance. + +I to whom David had been brought for judgment, now found myself +being judged by him, and this rearrangement of the pieces seemed +so natural that I felt no surprise; I felt only a humble craving +to hear him signify that I would do. I have stood up before +other keen judges and deceived them all, but I made no effort to +deceive David; I wanted to, but dared not. Those unblinking eyes +were too new to the world to be hooded by any of its tricks. In +them I saw my true self. They opened for me that pedler's pack +of which I have made so much ado, and I found that it was +weighted less with pretty little sad love-tokens than with +ignoble thoughts and deeds and an unguided life. I looked +dejectedly at David, not so much, I think, because I had such a +sorry display for him, as because I feared he would not have me +in his service. I seemed to know that he was making up his mind +once and for all. + +And in the end he smiled, perhaps only because I looked so +frightened, but the reason scarcely mattered to me, I felt myself +a fine fellow at once. It was a long smile, too, opening slowly +to its fullest extent (as if to let me in), and then as slowly +shutting. + +Then, to divert me from sad thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, +or because the time had come for each of us to show the other +what he could do, he immediately held one foot high in the air. +This made him slide down the perambulator, and I saw at once that +it was very necessary to replace him. But never before had I +come into such close contact with a child; the most I had ever +done was, when they were held up to me, to shut my eyes and kiss +a vacuum. David, of course, though no doubt he was eternally +being replaced, could tell as little as myself how it was +contrived, and yet we managed it between us quite easily. His +body instinctively assumed a certain position as I touched him, +which compelled my arms to fall into place, and the thing was +done. I felt absurdly pleased, but he was already considering +what he should do next. + +He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to +its being contained in a dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought +he proposed to repeat his first performance, but in this I did +him an injustice, for, unlike Porthos, he was one who scorned to +do the same feat twice; perhaps, like the conjurors, he knew that +the audience were more on the alert the second time. + +I discovered that he wanted me to take off his sock! + +Remembering Irene's dread warnings on this subject I must say +that I felt uneasy. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? And +what dire thing could happen if the sock was removed? I sought +to reason with him, but he signed to me to look sharp, and I +removed the sock. The part of him thus revealed gave David +considerable pleasure, but I noticed, as a curious thing, that he +seemed to have no interest in the other foot. + +However, it was not there merely to be looked at, for after +giving me a glance which said "Now observe!" he raised his bare +foot and ran his mouth along the toes, like one playing on a +barbaric instrument. He then tossed his foot aside, smiled his +long triumphant smile and intimated that it was now my turn to do +something. I thought the best thing I could do would be to put +his sock on him again, but as soon as I tried to do so I +discovered why Irene had warned me so portentously against taking +it off. I should say that she had trouble in socking him every +morning. + +Nevertheless I managed to slip it on while he was debating what +to do with my watch. I bitterly regretted that I could do +nothing with it myself, put it under a wine-glass, for instance, +and make it turn into a rabbit, which so many people can do. In +the meantime David, occupied with similar thoughts, very nearly +made it disappear altogether, and I was thankful to be able to +pull it back by the chain. + +"Haw-haw-haw!" + +Thus he commented on his new feat, but it was also a reminder to +me, a trifle cruel, that he was not my boy. After all, you see, +Mary had not given him the whole of his laugh. The watch said +that five and twenty minutes had passed, and looking out I saw +Irene at one end of the street staring up at my window, and at +the other end Mary's husband staring up at my window, and beneath +me Mary staring up at my window. They had all broken their +promise. + +I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he +would give me a kiss. He shook his head about six times, and I +was in despair. Then the smile came, and I knew that he was +teasing me only. He now nodded his head about six times. + +This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was so pretty +that, contrary to his rule, he repeated it. I had held out my +arms to him, and first he shook his head, and then after a long +pause (to frighten me), he nodded it. + +But no sooner was he in my arms than I seemed to see Mary and her +husband and Irene bearing down upon my chambers to take him from +me, and acting under an impulse I whipped him into the +perambulator and was off with it without a license down the back +staircase. To the Kensington Gardens we went; it may have been +Manitoba we started for, but we arrived at the Kensington +Gardens, and it had all been so unpremeditated and smartly +carried out that I remember clapping my hand to my head in the +street, to make sure that I was wearing a hat. + +I watched David to see what he thought of it, and he had not yet +made up his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was +grown suddenly indifferent to public comment, and my elation +increased when I discovered that I was being pursued. They drew +a cordon round me near Margot Meredith's tree, but I broke +through it by a strategic movement to the south, and was next +heard of in the Baby's Walk. They held both ends of this +passage, and then thought to close on me, but I slipped through +their fingers by doubling up Bunting's Thumb into Picnic Street. +Cowering at St. Govor's Well, we saw them rush distractedly up +the Hump, and when they had crossed to the Round Pond we paraded +gaily in the Broad Walk, not feeling the tiniest bit sorry for +anybody. + +Here, however, it gradually came into David's eyes that, after +all, I was a strange man, and they opened wider and wider, until +they were the size of my medals, and then, with the deliberation +that distinguishes his smile, he slowly prepared to howl. I saw +all his forces gathering in his face, and I had nothing to oppose +to them; it was an unarmed man against a regiment. + +Even then I did not chide him. He could not know that it was I +who had dropped the letter. + +I think I must have stepped over a grateful fairy at that moment, +for who else could have reminded me so opportunely of my famous +manipulation of the eyebrows, forgotten since I was in the fifth +form? I alone of boys had been able to elevate and lower my +eyebrows separately; when the one was climbing my forehead the +other descended it, like the two buckets in the well. + +Most diffidently did I call this accomplishment to my aid now, +and immediately David checked his forces and considered my +unexpected movement without prejudice. His face remained as it +was, his mouth open to emit the howl if I did not surpass +expectation. I saw that, like the fair-minded boy he has always +been, he was giving me my chance, and I worked feverishly, my +chief fear being that, owing to his youth, he might not know how +marvellous was this thing I was doing. It is an appeal to the +intellect, as well as to the senses, and no one on earth can do +it except myself. + +When I paused for a moment exhausted he signed gravely, with +unchanged face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not +yet decided whether it was funny enough, and, taking this for +encouragement, at it I went once more, till I saw his forces +wavering, when I sent my left eyebrow up almost farther than I +could bring it back, and with that I had him, the smile broke +through the clouds. + +In the midst of my hard-won triumph I heard cheering. + +I had been vaguely conscious that we were not quite alone, but +had not dared to look away from David; I looked now, and found to +my annoyance that I was the centre of a deeply interested +gathering of children. There was, in particular, one vulgar +little street-boy-- + +However, if that damped me in the moment of victory, I was soon +to triumph gloriously in what began like defeat. I had sat me +down on one of the garden-seats in the Figs, with one hand +resting carelessly on the perambulator, in imitation of the +nurses, it was so pleasant to assume the air of one who walked +with David daily, when to my chagrin I saw Mary approaching with +quick stealthy steps, and already so near me that flight would +have been ignominy. Porthos, of whom she had hold, bounded +toward me, waving his traitorous tail, but she slowed on seeing +that I had observed her. She had run me down with my own dog. + +I have not mentioned that Porthos had for some time now been a +visitor at her house, though never can I forget the shock I got +the first time I saw him strolling out of it like an afternoon +caller. Of late he has avoided it, crossing to the other side +when I go that way, and rejoining me farther on, so I conclude +that Mary's husband is painting him. + +I waited her coming stiffly, in great depression of spirits, and +noted that her first attentions were for David, who, somewhat +shabbily, gave her the end of a smile which had been begun for +me. It seemed to relieve her, for what one may call the wild +maternal look left her face, and trying to check little gasps of +breath, the result of unseemly running, she signed to her +confederates to remain in the background, and turned curious eyes +on me. Had she spoken as she approached, I am sure her words +would have been as flushed as her face, but now her mouth +puckered as David's does before he sets forth upon his smile, and +I saw that she thought she had me in a parley at last. + +"I could not help being a little anxious," she said craftily, but +I must own, with some sweetness. + +I merely raised my hat, and at that she turned quickly to David--I +cannot understand why the movement was so hasty--and lowered her +face to his. Oh, little trump of a boy! Instead of kissing her, +he seized her face with one hand and tried to work her eyebrows +up and down with the other. He failed, and his obvious +disappointment in his mother was as nectar to me. + +"I don't understand what you want, darling," said she in +distress, and looked at me inquiringly, and I understood what he +wanted, and let her see that I understood. Had I been prepared +to converse with her, I should have said elatedly that, had she +known what he wanted, still she could not have done it, though +she had practised for twenty years. + +I tried to express all this by another movement of my hat. + +It caught David's eye and at once he appealed to me with the most +perfect confidence. She failed to see what I did, for I shyly +gave her my back, but the effect on David was miraculous; he +signed to her to go, for he was engaged for the afternoon. + +What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my great +moment I had strength of character to raise my hat for the third +time and walk away, leaving the child to judge between us. I +walked slowly, for I knew I must give him time to get it out, and +I listened eagerly, but that was unnecessary, for when it did +come it was a very roar of anguish. I turned my head, and saw +David fiercely pushing the woman aside, that he might have one +last long look at me. He held out his wistful arms and nodded +repeatedly, and I faltered, but my glorious scheme saved me, and +I walked on. It was a scheme conceived in a flash, and ever since +relentlessly pursued, to burrow under Mary's influence with the +boy, expose her to him in all her vagaries, take him utterly from +her and make him mine. + + +XII + +The Pleasantest Club in London + +All perambulators lead to the Kensington Gardens. + +Not, however, that you will see David in his perambulator much +longer, for soon after I first shook his faith in his mother, it +came to him to be up and doing, and he up and did in the Broad +Walk itself, where he would stand alone most elaborately poised, +signing imperiously to the British public to time him, and +looking his most heavenly just before he fell. He fell with a +dump, and as they always laughed then, he pretended that this was +his funny way of finishing. + +That was on a Monday. On Tuesday he climbed the stone stair of +the Gold King, looking over his shoulder gloriously at each step, +and on Wednesday he struck three and went into knickerbockers. +For the Kensington Gardens, you must know, are full of short +cuts, familiar to all who play there; and the shortest leads from +the baby in long clothes to the little boy of three riding on the +fence. It is called the Mother's Tragedy. + +If you are a burgess of the gardens (which have a vocabulary of +their own), the faces of these quaint mothers are a clock to you, +in which you may read the ages of their young. When he is three +they are said to wear the knickerbocker face, and you may take it +from me that Mary assumed that face with a sigh; fain would she +have kept her boy a baby longer, but he insisted on his rights, +and I encouraged him that I might notch another point against +her. I was now seeing David once at least every week, his mother, +who remained culpably obtuse to my sinister design, having +instructed Irene that I was to be allowed to share him with her, +and we had become close friends, though the little nurse was ever +a threatening shadow in the background. Irene, in short, did not +improve with acquaintance. I found her to be high and mighty, +chiefly, I think, because she now wore a nurse's cap with +streamers, of which the little creature was ludicrously proud. +She assumed the airs of an official person, and always talked as +if generations of babies had passed through her hands. She was +also extremely jealous, and had a way of signifying disapproval +of my methods that led to many coldnesses and even bickerings +between us, which I now see to have been undignified. I brought +the following accusations against her: + +That she prated too much about right and wrong. + +That she was a martinet. + +That she pretended it was a real cap, with real streamers, when +she knew Mary had made the whole thing out of a muslin blind. I +regret having used this argument, but it was the only one that +really damped her. + +On the other hand, she accused me of spoiling him. + +Of not thinking of his future. + +Of never asking him where he expected to go to if he did such +things. + +Of telling him tales that had no moral application. + +Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared into nothingness, +when it really disappeared into a small tin cup, attached to my +person by a piece of elastic. + +To this last charge I plead guilty, for in those days I had a +pathetic faith in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, +however, is entirely an affair of skill) having yielded such good +results, I naturally cast about for similar diversions when it +ceased to attract. It lost its hold on David suddenly, as I was +to discover was the fate of all of them; twenty times would he +call for my latest, and exult in it, and the twenty-first time +(and ever afterward) he would stare blankly, as if wondering what +the man meant. He was like the child queen who, when the great +joke was explained to her, said coldly, "We are not amused," and, +I assure you, it is a humiliating thing to perform before an +infant who intimates, after giving you ample time to make your +points, that he is not amused. I hoped that when David was able +to talk--and not merely to stare at me for five minutes and then +say "hat"--his spoken verdict, however damning, would be less +expressive than his verdict without words, but I was +disillusioned. I remember once in those later years, when he +could keep up such spirited conversations with himself that he +had little need for any of us, promising him to do something +exceedingly funny with a box and two marbles, and after he had +watched for a long time he said gravely, "Tell me when it begins +to be funny." + +I confess to having received a few simple lessons in conjuring, +in a dimly lighted chamber beneath a shop, from a gifted young +man with a long neck and a pimply face, who as I entered took a +barber's pole from my pocket, saying at the same time, "Come, +come, sir, this will never do." Whether because he knew too +much, or because he wore a trick shirt, he was the most +depressing person I ever encountered; he felt none of the +artist's joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to +give pleasure to thousands not caring a dump about it. + +The barber's pole I successfully extracted from David's mouth, +but the difficulty (not foreseen) of knowing how to dispose of a +barber's pole in the Kensington Gardens is considerable, there +always being polite children hovering near who run after you and +restore it to you. The young man, again, had said that anyone +would lend me a bottle or a lemon, but though these were articles +on which he seemed ever able to lay his hand, I found (what I had +never noticed before) that there is a curious dearth of them in +the Gardens. The magic egg-cup I usually carried about with me, +and with its connivance I did some astonishing things with +pennies, but even the penny that costs sixpence is uncertain, and +just when you are saying triumphantly that it will be found in +the egg-cup, it may clatter to the ground, whereon some +ungenerous spectator, such as Irene, accuses you of fibbing and +corrupting youthful minds. It was useless to tell her, through +clenched teeth, that the whole thing was a joke, for she +understood no jokes except her own, of which she had the most +immoderately high opinion, and that would have mattered little to +me had not David liked them also. There were times when I could +not but think less of the boy, seeing him rock convulsed over +antics of Irene that have been known to every nursemaid since the +year One. While I stood by, sneering, he would give me the +ecstatic look that meant, "Irene is really very entertaining, +isn't she?" + +We were rivals, but I desire to treat her with scrupulous +fairness, and I admit that she had one good thing, to wit, her +gutta-percha tooth. In earlier days one of her front teeth, as +she told me, had fallen out, but instead of then parting with it, +the resourceful child had hammered it in again with a hair-brush, +which she offered to show me, with the dents on it. This tooth, +having in time passed away, its place was supplied by one of +gutta-percha, made by herself, which seldom came out except when +she sneezed, and if it merely fell at her feet this was a sign +that the cold was to be a slight one, but if it shot across the +room she knew she was in for something notable. Irene's tooth +was very favourably known in the Gardens, where the perambulators +used to gather round her to hear whether it had been doing +anything to-day, and I would not have grudged David his +proprietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that Irene's +one poor little accomplishment, though undeniably showy, was +without intellectual merit. I have sometimes stalked away from +him, intimating that if his regard was to be got so cheaply I +begged to retire from the competition, but the Gardens are the +pleasantest club in London, and I soon returned. How I scoured +the Gardens looking for him, and how skilful I became at picking +him out far away among the trees, though other mothers imitated +the picturesque attire of him, to Mary's indignation. I also cut +Irene's wings (so to speak) by taking her to a dentist. + +And David did some adorable things. For instance, he used my +pockets as receptacles into which he put any article he might not +happen to want at the moment. He shoved it in, quite as if they +were his own pockets, without saying, By your leave, and perhaps +I discovered it on reaching home--a tin-soldier, or a pistol--when +I put it on my mantleshelf and sighed. And here is another +pleasant memory. One day I had been over-friendly to another +boy, and, after enduring it for some time David up and struck +him. It was exactly as Porthos does, when I favour other dogs +(he knocks them down with his foot and stands over them, looking +very noble and stern), so I knew its meaning at once; it was +David's first public intimation that he knew I belonged to him. + +Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in +disgrace at the corner of a seat in the Broad Walk. The seat at +the corner of which David stood suffering for love of me, is the +one nearest to the Round Pond to persons coming from the north. + +You may be sure that she and I had words over this fiendish +cruelty. When next we met I treated her as one who no longer +existed, and at first she bridled and then was depressed, and as +I was going away she burst into tears. She cried because neither +at meeting nor parting had I lifted my hat to her, a foolish +custom of mine, of which, as I now learned to my surprise, she +was very proud. She and I still have our tiffs, but I have never +since then forgotten to lift my hat to Irene. I also made her +promise to bow to me, at which she affected to scoff, saying I +was taking my fun of her, but she was really pleased, and I tell +you, Irene has one of the prettiest and most touching little bows +imaginable; it is half to the side (if I may so express myself), +which has always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, she +acquired it by watching Mary. + +I should be sorry to have it thought, as you may now be thinking, +that I look on children as on puppy-dogs, who care only for play. +Perhaps that was my idea when first I tried to lure David to my +unaccustomed arms, and even for some time after, for if I am to +be candid, I must own that until he was three years old I sought +merely to amuse him. God forgive me, but I had only one day a +week in which to capture him, and I was very raw at the business. + +I was about to say that David opened my eyes to the folly of it, +but really I think this was Irene's doing. Watching her with +children I learned that partial as they are to fun they are moved +almost more profoundly by moral excellence. So fond of babes was +this little mother that she had always room near her for one +more, and often have I seen her in the Gardens, the centre of a +dozen mites who gazed awestruck at her while she told them +severely how little ladies and gentlemen behave. They were +children of the well-to-pass, and she was from Drury Lane, but +they believed in her as the greatest of all authorities on little +ladies and gentlemen, and the more they heard of how these +romantic creatures keep themselves tidy and avoid pools and wait +till they come to a gate, the more they admired them, though +their faces showed how profoundly they felt that to be little +ladies and gentlemen was not for them. You can't think what +hopeless little faces they were. + +Children are not at all like puppies, I have said. But do +puppies care only for play? That wistful look, which the +merriest of them sometimes wear, I wonder whether it means that +they would like to hear about the good puppies? + +As you shall see, I invented many stories for David, practising +the telling of them by my fireside as if they were conjuring +feats, while Irene knew only one, but she told it as never has +any other fairy-tale been told in my hearing. It was the +prettiest of them all, and was recited by the heroine. + +"Why were the king and queen not at home?" David would ask her +breathlessly. + +"I suppose," said Irene, thinking it out, "they was away buying +the victuals." + +She always told the story gazing into vacancy, so that David +thought it was really happening somewhere up the Broad Walk, and +when she came to its great moments her little bosom heaved. +Never shall I forget the concentrated scorn with which the prince +said to the sisters, "Neither of you ain't the one what wore the +glass slipper." + +"And then--and then--and then--," said Irene, not artistically to +increase the suspense, but because it was all so glorious to her. + +"Tell me--tell me quick," cried David, though he knew the tale by +heart. + +"She sits down like," said Irene, trembling in second-sight, "and +she tries on the glass slipper, and it fits her to a T, and then +the prince, he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is my true +love, Cinderella, what now I makes my lawful wedded wife.'" + +Then she would come out of her dream, and look round at the +grandees of the Gardens with an extraordinary elation. "Her, as +was only a kitchen drudge," she would say in a strange soft voice +and with shining eyes, "but was true and faithful in word and +deed, such was her reward." + +I am sure that had the fairy godmother appeared just then and +touched Irene with her wand, David would have been interested +rather than astonished. As for myself, I believe I have +surprised this little girl's secret. She knows there are no +fairy godmothers nowadays, but she hopes that if she is always +true and faithful she may some day turn into a lady in word and +deed, like the mistress whom she adores. + +It is a dead secret, a Drury Lane child's romance; but what an +amount of heavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in +this sad London of ours. Not much chance for her, I suppose. + +Good luck to you, Irene. + + +XIII + +The Grand Tour of the Gardens + +You must see for yourselves that it will be difficult to follow +our adventures unless you are familiar with the Kensington +Gardens, as they now became known to David. They are in London, +where the King lives, and you go to them every day unless you are +looking decidedly flushed, but no one has ever been in the whole +of the Gardens, because it is so soon time to turn back. The +reason it is soon time to turn back is that you sleep from twelve +to one. If your mother was not so sure that you sleep from +twelve to one, you could most likely see the whole of them. + +The Gardens are bounded on one side by a never-ending line of +omnibuses, over which Irene has such authority that if she holds +up her finger to any one of them it stops immediately. She then +crosses with you in safety to the other side. There are more +gates to the Gardens than one gate, but that is the one you go in +at, and before you go in you speak to the lady with the balloons, +who sits just outside. This is as near to being inside as she +may venture, because, if she were to let go her hold of the +railings for one moment, the balloons would lift her up, and she +would be flown away. She sits very squat, for the balloons are +always tugging at her, and the strain has given her quite a red +face. Once she was a new one, because the old one had let go, and +David was very sorry for the old one, but as she did let go, he +wished he had been there to see. + +The Gardens are a tremendous big place, with millions and +hundreds of trees, and first you come to the Figs, but you scorn +to loiter there, for the Figs is the resort of superior little +persons, who are forbidden to mix with the commonalty, and is so +named, according to legend, because they dress in full fig. +These dainty ones are themselves contemptuously called Figs by +David and other heroes, and you have a key to the manners and +customs of this dandiacal section of the Gardens when I tell you +that cricket is called crickets here. Occasionally a rebel Fig +climbs over the fence into the world, and such a one was Miss +Mabel Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miss Mabel +Grey's gate. She was the only really celebrated Fig. + +We are now in the Broad Walk, and it is as much bigger than the +other walks as your father is bigger than you. David wondered if +it began little, and grew and grew, till it was quite grown up, +and whether the other walks are its babies, and he drew a +picture, which diverted him very much, of the Broad Walk giving a +tiny walk an airing in a perambulator. In the Broad Walk you +meet all the people who are worth knowing, and there is usually a +grown-up with them to prevent their going on the damp grass, and +to make them stand disgraced at the corner of a seat if they have +been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish is to behave like +a girl, whimpering because nurse won't carry you, or simpering +with your thumb in your mouth, and it is a hateful quality, but +to be mad-dog is to kick out at everything, and there is some +satisfaction in that. + +If I were to point out all the notable places as we pass up the +Broad Walk, it would be time to turn back before we reach them, +and I simply wave my stick at Cecco's Tree, that memorable spot +where a boy called Cecco lost his penny, and, looking for it, +found twopence. There has been a good deal of excavation going +on there ever since. Farther up the walk is the little wooden +house in which Marmaduke Perry hid. There is no more awful story +of the Gardens by day than this of Marmaduke Perry, who had been +Mary-Annish three days in succession, and was sentenced to +appear in the Broad Walk dressed in his sister's clothes. He hid +in the little wooden house, and refused to emerge until they +brought him knickerbockers with pockets. + +You now try to go to the Round Pond, but nurses hate it, because +they are not really manly, and they make you look the other way, +at the Big Penny and the Baby's Palace. She was the most +celebrated baby of the Gardens, and lived in the palace all +alone, with ever so many dolls, so people rang the bell, and up +she got out of her bed, though it was past six o'clock, and she +lighted a candle and opened the door in her nighty, and then they +all cried with great rejoicings, "Hail, Queen of England!" What +puzzled David most was how she knew where the matches were kept. +The Big Penny is a statue about her. + +Next we come to the Hump, which is the part of the Broad Walk +where all the big races are run, and even though you had no +intention of running you do run when you come to the Hump, it is +such a fascinating, slide-down kind of place. Often you stop +when you have run about half-way down it, and then you are lost, +but there is another little wooden house near here, called the +Lost House, and so you tell the man that you are lost and then he +finds you. It is glorious fun racing down the Hump, but you +can't do it on windy days because then you are not there, but the +fallen leaves do it instead of you. There is almost nothing that +has such a keen sense of fun as a fallen leaf. + +From the Hump we can see the gate that is called after Miss Mabel +Grey, the Fig I promised to tell you about. There were always +two nurses with her, or else one mother and one nurse, and for a +long time she was a pattern-child who always coughed off the +table and said, "How do you do?" to the other Figs, and the only +game she played at was flinging a ball gracefully and letting the +nurse bring it back to her. Then one day she tired of it all and +went mad-dog, and, first, to show that she really was mad-dog, +she unloosened both her boot-laces and put out her tongue east, +west, north, and south. She then flung her sash into a puddle +and danced on it till dirty water was squirted over her frock, +after which she climbed the fence and had a series of incredible +adventures, one of the least of which was that she kicked off +both her boots. At last she came to the gate that is now called +after her, out of which she ran into streets David and I have +never been in though we have heard them roaring, and still she +ran on and would never again have been heard of had not her +mother jumped into a bus and thus overtaken her. It all +happened, I should say, long ago, and this is not the Mabel Grey +whom David knows. + +Returning up the Broad Walk we have on our right the Baby Walk, +which is so full of perambulators that you could cross from side +to side stepping on babies, but the nurses won't let you do it. +From this walk a passage called Bunting's Thumb, because it is +that length, leads into Picnic Street, where there are real +kettles, and chestnut-blossom falls into your mug as you are +drinking. Quite common children picnic here also, and the +blossom falls into their mugs just the same. + +Next comes St. Govor's Well, which was full of water when Malcolm +the Bold fell into it. He was his mother's favourite, and he let +her put her arm round his neck in public because she was a widow, +but he was also partial to adventures and liked to play with a +chimney-sweep who had killed a good many bears. The sweep's name +was Sooty, and one day when they were playing near the well, +Malcolm fell in and would have been drowned had not Sooty dived +in and rescued him, and the water had washed Sooty clean and he +now stood revealed as Malcolm's long-lost father. So Malcolm +would not let his mother put her arm round his neck any more. + +Between the well and the Round Pond are the cricket-pitches, and +frequently the choosing of sides exhausts so much time that there +is scarcely any cricket. Everybody wants to bat first, and as +soon as he is out he bowls unless you are the better wrestler, +and while you are wrestling with him the fielders have scattered +to play at something else. The Gardens are noted for two kinds +of cricket: boy cricket, which is real cricket with a bat, and +girl cricket, which is with a racquet and the governess. Girls +can't really play cricket, and when you are watching their futile +efforts you make funny sounds at them. Nevertheless, there was a +very disagreeable incident one day when some forward girls +challenged David's team, and a disturbing creature called Angela +Clare sent down so many yorkers that--However, instead of telling +you the result of that regrettable match I shall pass on +hurriedly to the Round Pond, which is the wheel that keeps all +the Gardens going. + +It is round because it is in the very middle of the Gardens, and +when you are come to it you never want to go any farther. You +can't be good all the time at the Round Pond, however much you +try. You can be good in the Broad Walk all the time, but not at +the Round Pond, and the reason is that you forget, and, when you +remember, you are so wet that you may as well be wetter. There +are men who sail boats on the Round Pond, such big boats that +they bring them in barrows and sometimes in perambulators, and +then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children in the +Gardens are these who had to walk too soon because their father +needed the perambulator. + +You always want to have a yacht to sail on the Round Pond, and in +the end your uncle gives you one; and to carry it to the Pond the +first day is splendid, also to talk about it to boys who have no +uncle is splendid, but soon you like to leave it at home. For +the sweetest craft that slips her moorings in the Round Pond is +what is called a stick-boat, because she is rather like a stick +until she is in the water and you are holding the string. Then +as you walk round, pulling her, you see little men running about +her deck, and sails rise magically and catch the breeze, and you +put in on dirty nights at snug harbours which are unknown to the +lordly yachts. Night passes in a twink, and again your rakish +craft noses for the wind, whales spout, you glide over buried +cities, and have brushes with pirates and cast anchor on coral +isles. You are a solitary boy while all this is taking place, +for two boys together cannot adventure far upon the Round Pond, +and though you may talk to yourself throughout the voyage, giving +orders and executing them with dispatch, you know not, when it is +time to go home, where you have been or what swelled your sails; +your treasure-trove is all locked away in your hold, so to speak, +which will be opened, perhaps, by another little boy many years +afterward. + +But those yachts have nothing in their hold. Does anyone return +to this haunt of his youth because of the yachts that used to +sail it? Oh, no. It is the stick-boat that is freighted with +memories. The yachts are toys, their owner a fresh-water +mariner, they can cross and recross a pond only while the stick- +boat goes to sea. You yachtsmen with your wands, who think we +are all there to gaze on you, your ships are only accidents of +this place, and were they all to be boarded and sunk by the ducks +the real business of the Round Pond would be carried on as usual. + +Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of +them are ordinary paths, which have a rail on each side, and are +made by men with their coats off, but others are vagrants, wide +at one spot and at another so narrow that you can stand astride +them. They are called Paths that have Made Themselves, and David +did wish he could see them doing it. But, like all the most +wonderful things that happen in the Gardens, it is done, we +concluded, at night after the gates are closed. We have also +decided that the paths make themselves because it is their only +chance of getting to the Round Pond. + +One of these gypsy paths comes from the place where the sheep get +their hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dresser's, +I am told, he said good-bye to them without a tremor, though Mary +has never been quite the same bright creature since, so he +despises the sheep as they run from their shearer and calls out +tauntingly, "Cowardy, cowardy custard!" But when the man grips +them between his legs David shakes a fist at him for using such +big scissors. Another startling moment is when the man turns +back the grimy wool from the sheeps' shoulders and they look +suddenly like ladies in the stalls of a theatre. The sheep are +so frightened by the shearing that it makes them quite white and +thin, and as soon as they are set free they begin to nibble the +grass at once, quite anxiously, as if they feared that they would +never be worth eating. David wonders whether they know each +other, now that they are so different, and if it makes them fight +with the wrong ones. They are great fighters, and thus so unlike +country sheep that every year they give Porthos a shock. He can +make a field of country sheep fly by merely announcing his +approach, but these town sheep come toward him with no promise of +gentle entertainment, and then a light from last year breaks upon +Porthos. He cannot with dignity retreat, but he stops and looks +about him as if lost in admiration of the scenery, and presently +he strolls away with a fine indifference and a glint at me from +the corner of his eye. + +The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there +is a drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you peer over the +edge you can see the trees all growing upside down, and they say +that at night there are also drowned stars in it. If so, Peter +Pan sees them when he is sailing across the lake in the Thrush's +Nest. A small part only of the Serpentine is in the Gardens, for +soon it passes beneath a bridge to far away where the island is +on which all the birds are born that become baby boys and girls. +No one who is human, except Peter Pan (and he is only half +human), can land on the island, but you may write what you want +(boy or girl, dark or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twist +it into the shape of a boat and slip it into the water, and it +reaches Peter Pan's island after dark. + +We are on the way home now, though, of course, it is all pretence +that we can go to so many of the places in one day. I should +have had to be carrying David long ago and resting on every seat +like old Mr. Salford. That was what we called him, because he +always talked to us of a lovely place called Salford where he had +been born. He was a crab-apple of an old gentleman who wandered +all day in the Gardens from seat to seat trying to fall in with +somebody who was acquainted with the town of Salford, and when we +had known him for a year or more we actually did meet another +aged solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in Salford. +He was meek and timid and carried his address inside his hat, and +whatever part of London he was in search of he always went to the +General Post-office first as a starting-point. Him we carried in +triumph to our other friend, with the story of that Saturday to +Monday, and never shall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. +Salford leapt at him. They have been cronies ever since, and I +notice that Mr. Salford, who naturally does most of the talking, +keeps tight grip of the other old man's coat. + +The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dog's +Cemetery and the chaffinch's nest, but we pretend not to know +what the Dog's Cemetery is, as Porthos is always with us. The +nest is very sad. It is quite white, and the way we found it was +wonderful. We were having another look among the bushes for +David's lost worsted ball, and instead of the ball we found a +lovely nest made of the worsted, and containing four eggs, with +scratches on them very like David's handwriting, so we think they +must have been the mother's love-letters to the little ones +inside. Every day we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the +nest, taking care that no cruel boy should see us, and we dropped +crumbs, and soon the bird knew us as friends, and sat in the nest +looking at us kindly with her shoulders hunched up. But one day +when we went, there were only two eggs in the nest, and the next +time there were none. The saddest part of it was that the poor +little chaffinch fluttered about the bushes, looking so +reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we had done it, and +though David tried to explain to her, it was so long since he had +spoken the bird language that I fear she did not understand. He +and I left the Gardens that day with our knuckles in our eyes. + + +XIV + +Peter Pan + +If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she +was a little girl she will say, "Why, of course, I did, child," +and if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she +will say, "What a foolish question to ask; certainly he did." +Then if you ask your grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan +when she was a girl, she also says, "Why, of course, I did, +child," but if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in those +days, she says she never heard of his having a goat. Perhaps she +has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and calls +you Mildred, which is your mother's name. Still, she could +hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore +there was no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This +shows that, in telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the +goat (as most people do) is as silly as to put on your jacket +before your vest. + +Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is +really always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. +His age is one week, and though he was born so long ago he has +never had a birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of his +ever having one. The reason is that he escaped from being a +human when he was seven days' old; he escaped by the window and +flew back to the Kensington Gardens. + +If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it +shows how completely you have forgotten your own young days. +When David heard this story first he was quite certain that he +had never tried to escape, but I told him to think back hard, +pressing his hands to his temples, and when he had done this +hard, and even harder, he distinctly remembered a youthful desire +to return to the tree-tops, and with that memory came others, as +that he had lain in bed planning to escape as soon as his mother +was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up the +chimney. All children could have such recollections if they +would press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been +birds before they were human, they are naturally a little wild +during the first few weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, +where their wings used to be. So David tells me. + +I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a +story: First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the +understanding being that it is quite a different story; and then +I retell it with his additions, and so we go on until no one +could say whether it is more his story or mine. In this story of +Peter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and most of the moral +reflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can be a stern +moralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs of +babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David's, +recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard. + +Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. +Standing on the ledge he could see trees far away, which were +doubtless the Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he +entirely forgot that he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and +away he flew, right over the houses to the Gardens. It is +wonderful that he could fly without wings, but the place itched +tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we were as dead- +confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Pan +that evening. + +He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby's Palace +and the Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his +back and kick. He was quite unaware already that he had ever +been human, and thought he was a bird, even in appearance, just +the same as in his early days, and when he tried to catch a fly +he did not understand that the reason he missed it was because he +had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, of course, a bird +never does. He saw, however, that it must be past Lock-out Time, +for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy to notice +him; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, +drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails made +him thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink. +He stooped, and dipped his beak in the pond; he thought it was +his beak, but, of course, it was only his nose, and, therefore, +very little water came up, and that not so refreshing as usual, +so next he tried a puddle, and he fell flop into it. When a real +bird falls in flop, he spreads out his feathers and pecks them +dry, but Peter could not remember what was the thing to do, and +he decided, rather sulkily, to go to sleep on the weeping beech +in the Baby Walk. + +At first he found some difficulty in balancing himself on a +branch, but presently he remembered the way, and fell asleep. He +awoke long before morning, shivering, and saying to himself, "I +never was out in such a cold night;" he had really been out in +colder nights when he was a bird, but, of course, as everybody +knows, what seems a warm night to a bird is a cold night to a boy +in a nightgown. Peter also felt strangely uncomfortable, as if +his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made him look +round sharply, though they were really himself sneezing. There +was something he wanted very much, but, though he knew he wanted +it, he could not think what it was. What he wanted so much was +his mother to blow his nose, but that never struck him, so he +decided to appeal to the fairies for enlightenment. They are +reputed to know a good deal. + +There were two of them strolling along the Baby Walk, with their +arms round each other's waists, and he hopped down to address +them. The fairies have their tiffs with the birds, but they +usually give a civil answer to a civil question, and he was quite +angry when these two ran away the moment they saw him. Another +was lolling on a garden-chair, reading a postage-stamp which some +human had let fall, and when he heard Peter's voice he popped in +alarm behind a tulip. + +To Peter's bewilderment he discovered that every fairy he met +fled from him. A band of workmen, who were sawing down a +toadstool, rushed away, leaving their tools behind them. A +milkmaid turned her pail upside down and hid in it. Soon the +Gardens were in an uproar. Crowds of fairies were running this +away and that, asking each other stoutly, who was afraid, lights +were extinguished, doors barricaded, and from the grounds of +Queen Mab's palace came the rubadub of drums, showing that the +royal guard had been called out. A regiment of Lancers came +charging down the Broad Walk, armed with holly-leaves, with which +they jog the enemy horribly in passing. Peter heard the little +people crying everywhere that there was a human in the Gardens +after Lock-out Time, but he never thought for a moment that he +was the human. He was feeling stuffier and stuffier, and more +and more wistful to learn what he wanted done to his nose, but he +pursued them with the vital question in vain; the timid creatures +ran from him, and even the Lancers, when he approached them up +the Hump, turned swiftly into a side-walk, on the pretence that +they saw him there. + +Despairing of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds, but +now he remembered, as an odd thing, that all the birds on the +weeping beech had flown away when he alighted on it, and though +that had not troubled him at the time, he saw its meaning now. +Every living thing was shunning him. Poor little Peter Pan, he +sat down and cried, and even then he did not know that, for a +bird, he was sitting on his wrong part. It is a blessing that he +did not know, for otherwise he would have lost faith in his power +to fly, and the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease +forever to be able to do it. The reason birds can fly and we +can't is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith +is to have wings. + +Now, except by flying, no one can reach the island in the +Serpentine, for the boats of humans are forbidden to land there, +and there are stakes round it, standing up in the water, on each +of which a bird-sentinel sits by day and night. It was to the +island that Peter now flew to put his strange case before old +Solomon Caw, and he alighted on it with relief, much heartened to +find himself at last at home, as the birds call the island. All +of them were asleep, including the sentinels, except Solomon, who +was wide awake on one side, and he listened quietly to Peter's +adventures, and then told him their true meaning. + +"Look at your night-gown, if you don't believe me," Solomon said, +and with staring eyes Peter looked at his night-gown, and then at +the sleeping birds. Not one of them wore anything. + +"How many of your toes are thumbs?" said Solomon a little +cruelly, and Peter saw to his consternation, that all his toes +were fingers. The shock was so great that it drove away his +cold. + +"Ruffle your feathers," said that grim old Solomon, and Peter +tried most desperately hard to ruffle his feathers, but he had +none. Then he rose up, quaking, and for the first time since he +stood on the window-ledge, he remembered a lady who had been very +fond of him. + +"I think I shall go back to mother," he said timidly. + +"Good-bye," replied Solomon Caw with a queer look. + +But Peter hesitated. "Why don't you go?" the old one asked +politely. + +"I suppose," said Peter huskily, "I suppose I can still fly?" + +You see, he had lost faith. + +"Poor little half-and-half," said Solomon, who was not really +hard-hearted, "you will never be able to fly again, not even on +windy days. You must live here on the island always." + +"And never even go to the Kensington Gardens?" Peter asked +tragically. + +"How could you get across?" said Solomon. He promised very +kindly, however, to teach Peter as many of the bird ways as could +be learned by one of such an awkward shape. + +"Then I sha'n't be exactly a human?" Peter asked. + +"No." + +"Nor exactly a bird?" + +"No." + +"What shall I be?" + +"You will be a Betwixt-and-Between," Solomon said, and certainly +he was a wise old fellow, for that is exactly how it turned out. + +The birds on the island never got used to him. His oddities +tickled them every day, as if they were quite new, though it was +really the birds that were new. They came out of the eggs daily, +and laughed at him at once, then off they soon flew to be humans, +and other birds came out of other eggs, and so it went on +forever. The crafty mother-birds, when they tired of sitting on +their eggs, used to get the young one to break their shells a day +before the right time by whispering to them that now was their +chance to see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands +gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, just as +you watch the peacocks, and they screamed with delight when he +lifted the crusts they flung him with his hands instead of in the +usual way with the mouth. All his food was brought to him from +the Gardens at Solomon's orders by the birds. He would not eat +worms or insects (which they thought very silly of him), so they +brought him bread in their beaks. Thus, when you cry out, +"Greedy! Greedy!" to the bird that flies away with the big crust, +you know now that you ought not to do this, for he is very likely +taking it to Peter Pan. + +Peter wore no night-gown now. You see, the birds were always +begging him for bits of it to line their nests with, and, being +very good-natured, he could not refuse, so by Solomon's advice he +had hidden what was left of it. But, though he was now quite +naked, you must not think that he was cold or unhappy. He was +usually very happy and gay, and the reason was that Solomon had +kept his promise and taught him many of the bird ways. To be +easily pleased, for instance, and always to be really doing +something, and to think that whatever he was doing was a thing of +vast importance. Peter became very clever at helping the birds +to build their nests; soon he could build better than a +wood-pigeon, and nearly as well as a blackbird, though never did +he satisfy the finches, and he made nice little water-troughs +near the nests and dug up worms for the young ones with his +fingers. He also became very learned in bird-lore, and knew an +east-wind from a west-wind by its smell, and he could see the +grass growing and hear the insects walking about inside the +tree-trunks. But the best thing Solomon had done was to teach +him to have a glad heart. All birds have glad hearts unless you +rob their nests, and so as they were the only kind of heart +Solomon knew about, it was easy to him to teach Peter how to have +one. + +Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all day long, +just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly human, he +needed an instrument, so he made a pipe of reeds, and he used to +sit by the shore of the island of an evening, practising the +sough of the wind and the ripple of the water, and catching +handfuls of the shine of the moon, and he put them all in his +pipe and played them so beautifully that even the birds were +deceived, and they would say to each other, "Was that a fish +leaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping fish on his +pipe?" and sometimes he played the birth of birds, and then the +mothers would turn round in their nests to see whether they had +laid an egg. If you are a child of the Gardens you must know the +chestnut-tree near the bridge, which comes out in flower first of +all the chestnuts, but perhaps you have not heard why this tree +leads the way. It is because Peter wearies for summer and plays +that it has come, and the chestnut being so near, hears him and +is cheated. + +But as Peter sat by the shore tootling divinely on his pipe he +sometimes fell into sad thoughts and then the music became sad +also, and the reason of all this sadness was that he could not +reach the Gardens, though he could see them through the arch of +the bridge. He knew he could never be a real human again, and +scarcely wanted to be one, but oh, how he longed to play as other +children play, and of course there is no such lovely place to +play in as the Gardens. The birds brought him news of how boys +and girls play, and wistful tears started in Peter's eyes. + +Perhaps you wonder why he did not swim across. The reason was +that he could not swim. He wanted to know how to swim, but no +one on the island knew the way except the ducks, and they are so +stupid. They were quite willing to teach him, but all they could +say about it was, "You sit down on the top of the water in this +way, and then you kick out like that." Peter tried it often, but +always before he could kick out he sank. What he really needed +to know was how you sit on the water without sinking, and they +said it was quite impossible to explain such an easy thing as +that. Occasionally swans touched on the island, and he would give +them all his day's food and then ask them how they sat on the +water, but as soon as he had no more to give them the hateful +things hissed at him and sailed away. + +Once he really thought he had discovered a way of reaching the +Gardens. A wonderful white thing, like a runaway newspaper, +floated high over the island and then tumbled, rolling over and +over after the manner of a bird that has broken its wing. Peter +was so frightened that he hid, but the birds told him it was only +a kite, and what a kite is, and that it must have tugged its +string out of a boy's hand, and soared away. After that they +laughed at Peter for being so fond of the kite, he loved it so +much that he even slept with one hand on it, and I think this was +pathetic and pretty, for the reason he loved it was because it +had belonged to a real boy. + +To the birds this was a very poor reason, but the older ones felt +grateful to him at this time because he had nursed a number of +fledglings through the German measles, and they offered to show +him how birds fly a kite. So six of them took the end of the +string in their beaks and flew away with it; and to his amazement +it flew after them and went even higher than they. + +Peter screamed out, "Do it again!" and with great good-nature +they did it several times, and always instead of thanking them he +cried, "Do it again!" which shows that even now he had not quite +forgotten what it was to be a boy. + +At last, with a grand design burning within his brave heart, he +begged them to do it once more with him clinging to the tail, and +now a hundred flew off with the string, and Peter clung to the +tail, meaning to drop off when he was over the Gardens. But the +kite broke to pieces in the air, and he would have drowned in the +Serpentine had he not caught hold of two indignant swans and made +them carry him to the island. After this the birds said that +they would help him no more in his mad enterprise. + +Nevertheless, Peter did reach the Gardens at last by the help of +Shelley's boat, as I am now to tell you. + + +XV + +The Thrush's Nest + +Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever +expect to be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly +grown-up. They are people who despise money except what you need +for to-day, and he had all that and five pounds over. So, when +he was walking in the Kensington Gardens, he made a paper boat of +his bank-note, and sent it sailing on the Serpentine. + +It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to +Solomon Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a +message from a lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let +her have a good one. They always ask for the best one he has, +and if he likes the letter he sends one from Class A; but if it +ruffles him he sends very funny ones indeed. Sometimes he sends +none at all, and at another time he sends a nestful; it all +depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to leave it +all to him, and if you mention particularly that you hope he will +see his way to making it a boy this time, he is almost sure to +send another girl. And whether you are a lady or only a little +boy who wants a baby-sister, always take pains to write your +address clearly. You can't think what a lot of babies Solomon +has sent to the wrong house. + +Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he +took counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, +first with their toes pointed out, and then with their toes +pointed in, decided that it came from some greedy person who +wanted five. They thought this because there was a large five +printed on it. "Preposterous!" cried Solomon in a rage, and he +presented it to Peter; anything useless which drifted upon the +island was usually given to Peter as a play-thing. + +But he did not play with his precious bank-note, for he knew what +it was at once, having been very observant during the week when +he was an ordinary boy. With so much money, he reflected, he +could surely at last contrive to reach the Gardens, and he +considered all the possible ways, and decided (wisely, I think) +to choose the best way. But, first, he had to tell the birds of +the value of Shelley's boat; and though they were too honest to +demand it back, he saw that they were galled, and they cast such +black looks at Solomon, who was rather vain of his cleverness, +that he flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very +depressed with his head buried in his wings. Now Peter knew that +unless Solomon was on your side, you never got anything done for +you in the island, so he followed him and tried to hearten him. + +Nor was this all that Peter did to gain the powerful old fellow's +good will. You must know that Solomon had no intention of +remaining in office all his life. He looked forward to retiring +by-and-by, and devoting his green old age to a life of pleasure +on a certain yew-stump in the Figs which had taken his fancy, and +for years he had been quietly filling his stocking. It was a +stocking belonging to some bathing person which had been cast +upon the island, and at the time I speak of it contained a +hundred and eighty crumbs, thirty-four nuts, sixteen crusts, a +pen-wiper and a boot-lace. When his stocking was full, Solomon +calculated that he would be able to retire on a competency. +Peter now gave him a pound. He cut it off his bank-note with a +sharp stick. + +This made Solomon his friend for ever, and after the two had +consulted together they called a meeting of the thrushes. You +will see presently why thrushes only were invited. + +The scheme to be put before them was really Peter's, but Solomon +did most of the talking, because he soon became irritable if +other people talked. He began by saying that he had been much +impressed by the superior ingenuity shown by the thrushes in +nest-building, and this put them into good-humour at once, as it +was meant to do; for all the quarrels between birds are about the +best way of building nests. Other birds, said Solomon, omitted +to line their nests with mud, and as a result they did not hold +water. Here he cocked his head as if he had used an unanswerable +argument; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come to the +meeting uninvited, and she squeaked out, "We don't build nests to +hold water, but to hold eggs," and then the thrushes stopped +cheering, and Solomon was so perplexed that he took several sips +of water. + +"Consider," he said at last, "how warm the mud makes the nest." + +"Consider," cried Mrs. Finch, "that when water gets into the nest +it remains there and your little ones are drowned." + +The thrushes begged Solomon with a look to say something crushing +in reply to this, but again he was perplexed. + +"Try another drink," suggested Mrs. Finch pertly. Kate was her +name, and all Kates are saucy. + +Solomon did try another drink, and it inspired him. "If," said +he, "a finch's nest is placed on the Serpentine it fills and +breaks to pieces, but a thrush's nest is still as dry as the cup +of a swan's back." + +How the thrushes applauded! Now they knew why they lined their +nests with mud, and when Mrs. Finch called out, "We don't place +our nests on the Serpentine," they did what they should have done +at first: chased her from the meeting. After this it was most +orderly. What they had been brought together to hear, said +Solomon, was this: their young friend, Peter Pan, as they well +knew, wanted very much to be able to cross to the Gardens, and he +now proposed, with their help, to build a boat. + +At this the thrushes began to fidget, which made Peter tremble +for his scheme. + +Solomon explained hastily that what he meant was not one of the +cumbrous boats that humans use; the proposed boat was to be +simply a thrush's nest large enough to hold Peter. + +But still, to Peter's agony, the thrushes were sulky. "We are +very busy people," they grumbled, "and this would be a big job." + +"Quite so," said Solomon, "and, of course, Peter would not allow +you to work for nothing. You must remember that he is now in +comfortable circumstances, and he will pay you such wages as you +have never been paid before. Peter Pan authorises me to say that +you shall all be paid sixpence a day." + +Then all the thrushes hopped for joy, and that very day was begun +the celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary business +fell into arrears. It was the time of year when they should have +been pairing, but not a thrush's nest was built except this big +one, and so Solomon soon ran short of thrushes with which to +supply the demand from the mainland. The stout, rather greedy +children, who look so well in perambulators but get puffed easily +when they walk, were all young thrushes once, and ladies often +ask specially for them. What do you think Solomon did? He sent +over to the house-tops for a lot of sparrows and ordered them to +lay their eggs in old thrushes' nests and sent their young to the +ladies and swore they were all thrushes! It was known afterward +on the island as the Sparrows' Year, and so, when you meet, as +you doubtless sometimes do, grown-up people who puff and blow as +if they thought themselves bigger than they are, very likely they +belong to that year. You ask them. + +Peter was a just master, and paid his workpeople every evening. +They stood in rows on the branches, waiting politely while he cut +the paper sixpences out of his bank-note, and presently he called +the roll, and then each bird, as the names were mentioned, flew +down and got sixpence. It must have been a fine sight. + +And at last, after months of labor, the boat was finished. Oh, +the deportment of Peter as he saw it growing more and more like a +great thrush's nest! From the very beginning of the building of +it he slept by its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to +it, and after it was lined with mud and the mud had dried he +always slept in it. He sleeps in his nest still, and has a +fascinating way of curling round in it, for it is just large +enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a kitten. +It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, +being woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the +walls are thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here +and there, which came off the thrushes while they were building. + +The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat +would not balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully +steady; they said the water would come into it, but no water came +into it. Next they said that Peter had no oars, and this caused +the thrushes to look at each other in dismay, but Peter replied +that he had no need of oars, for he had a sail, and with such a +proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had fashioned out +of his night-gown, and though it was still rather like a +night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being +full, and all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as +Master Francis Pretty would have said) and depart out of the +island. And first, he knew not why, he looked upward, with his +hands clasped, and from that moment his eyes were pinned to the +west. + +He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, +with them to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington +Gardens beckoning to him beneath the bridge, and he could not +wait. His face was flushed, but he never looked back; there was +an exultation in his little breast that drove out fear. Was +Peter the least gallant of the English mariners who have sailed +westward to meet the Unknown? + +At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back +to the place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by +removing one of the sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward +by a contrary breeze, to his no small peril. He now let go the +sail, with the result that he was drifted toward the far shore, +where are black shadows he knew not the dangers of, but suspected +them, and so once more hoisted his night-gown and went roomer of +the shadows until he caught a favouring wind, which bore him +westward, but at so great a speed that he was like to be broke +against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he passed under the +bridge and came, to his great rejoicing, within full sight of the +delectable Gardens. But having tried to cast anchor, which was a +stone at the end of a piece of the kite-string, he found no +bottom, and was fain to hold off, seeking for moorage, and, +feeling his way, he buffeted against a sunken reef that cast him +overboard by the greatness of the shock, and he was near to being +drowned, but clambered back into the vessel. There now arose a +mighty storm, accompanied by roaring of waters, such as he had +never heard the like, and he was tossed this way and that, and +his hands so numbed with the cold that he could not close them. +Having escaped the danger of which, he was mercifully carried +into a small bay, where his boat rode at peace. + +Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to +disembark, he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the +shore to contest his landing, and shouting shrilly to him to be +off, for it was long past Lock-out Time. This, with much +brandishing of their holly-leaves, and also a company of them +carried an arrow which some boy had left in the Gardens, and this +they were prepared to use as a battering-ram. + +Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was +not an ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, +but to be their friend; nevertheless, having found a jolly +harbour, he was in no temper to draw off therefrom, and he warned +them if they sought to mischief him to stand to their harms. + +So saying, he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him +with intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among +the women, and it was because they had now observed that his sail +was a baby's night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, +and grieved that their laps were too small, the which I cannot +explain, except by saying that such is the way of women. The +men-fairies now sheathed their weapons on observing the +behaviour of their women, on whose intelligence they set great +store, and they led him civilly to their queen, who conferred +upon him the courtesy of the Gardens after Lock-out Time, and +henceforth Peter could go whither he chose, and the fairies had +orders to put him in comfort. + +Such was his first voyage to the Gardens, and you may gather from +the antiquity of the language that it took place a long time ago. +But Peter never grows any older, and if we could be watching for +him under the bridge to-night (but, of course, we can't), I +daresay we should see him hoisting his night-gown and sailing or +paddling toward us in the Thrush's Nest. When he sails, he sits +down, but he stands up to paddle. I shall tell you presently how +he got his paddle. + +Long before the time for the opening of the gates comes he steals +back to the island, for people must not see him (he is not so +human as all that), but this gives him hours for play, and he +plays exactly as real children play. At least he thinks so, and +it is one of the pathetic things about him that he often plays +quite wrongly. + +You see, he had no one to tell him how children really play, for +the fairies were all more or less in hiding until dusk, and so +know nothing, and though the birds pretended that they could tell +him a great deal, when the time for telling came, it was +wonderful how little they really knew. They told him the truth +about hide-and-seek, and he often plays it by himself, but even +the ducks on the Round Pond could not explain to him what it is +that makes the pond so fascinating to boys. Every night the +ducks have forgotten all the events of the day, except the number +of pieces of cake thrown to them. They are gloomy creatures, and +say that cake is not what it was in their young days. + +So Peter had to find out many things for himself. He often +played ships at the Round Pond, but his ship was only a hoop +which he had found on the grass. Of course, he had never seen a +hoop, and he wondered what you play at with them, and decided +that you play at pretending they are boats. This hoop always +sank at once, but he waded in for it, and sometimes he dragged it +gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was quite proud to +think that he had discovered what boys do with hoops. + +Another time, when he found a child's pail, he thought it was for +sitting in, and he sat so hard in it that he could scarcely get +out of it. Also he found a balloon. It was bobbing about on the +Hump, quite as if it was having a game by itself, and he caught +it after an exciting chase. But he thought it was a ball, and +Jenny Wren had told him that boys kick balls, so he kicked it; +and after that he could not find it anywhere. + +Perhaps the most surprising thing he found was a perambulator. +It was under a lime-tree, near the entrance to the Fairy Queen's +Winter Palace (which is within the circle of the seven Spanish +chestnuts), and Peter approached it warily, for the birds had +never mentioned such things to him. Lest it was alive, he +addressed it politely, and then, as it gave no answer, he went +nearer and felt it cautiously. He gave it a little push, and it +ran from him, which made him think it must be alive after all; +but, as it had run from him, he was not afraid. So he stretched +out his hand to pull it to him, but this time it ran at him, and +he was so alarmed that he leapt the railing and scudded away to +his boat. You must not think, however, that he was a coward, for +he came back next night with a crust in one hand and a stick in +the other, but the perambulator had gone, and he never saw +another one. I have promised to tell you also about his paddle. +It was a child's spade which he had found near St. Govor's Well, +and he thought it was a paddle. + +Do you pity Peter Pan for making these mistakes? If so, I think +it rather silly of you. What I mean is that, of course, one must +pity him now and then, but to pity him all the time would be +impertinence. He thought he had the most splendid time in the +Gardens, and to think you have it is almost quite as good as +really to have it. He played without ceasing, while you often +waste time by being mad-dog or Mary-Annish. He could be neither +of these things, for he had never heard of them, but do you think +he is to be pitied for that? + +Oh, he was merry. He was as much merrier than you, for instance, +as you are merrier than your father. Sometimes he fell, like a +spinning-top, from sheer merriment. Have you seen a greyhound +leaping the fences of the Gardens? That is how Peter leaps them. + +And think of the music of his pipe. Gentlemen who walk home at +night write to the papers to say they heard a nightingale in the +Gardens, but it is really Peter's pipe they hear. Of course, he +had no mother--at least, what use was she to him? You can be +sorry for him for that, but don't be too sorry, for the next +thing I mean to tell you is how he revisited her. It was the +fairies who gave him the chance. + + +XVI + +Lock-Out Time + +It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and +almost the only thing known for certain is that there are fairies +wherever there are children. Long ago children were forbidden +the Gardens, and at that time there was not a fairy in the place; +then the children were admitted, and the fairies came trooping in +that very evening. They can't resist following the children, but +you seldom see them, partly because they live in the daytime +behind the railings, where you are not allowed to go, and also +partly because they are so cunning. They are not a bit cunning +after Lock-out, but until Lock-out, my word! + +When you were a bird you knew the fairies pretty well, and you +remember a good deal about them in your babyhood, which it is a +great pity you can't write down, for gradually you forget, and I +have heard of children who declared that they had never once seen +a fairy. Very likely if they said this in the Kensington +Gardens, they were standing looking at a fairy all the time. The +reason they were cheated was that she pretended to be something +else. This is one of their best tricks. They usually pretend to +be flowers, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, and +there are so many flowers there, and all along the Baby Walk, +that a flower is the thing least likely to attract attention. +They dress exactly like flowers, and change with the seasons, +putting on white when lilies are in and blue for blue-bells, and +so on. They like crocus and hyacinth time best of all, as they +are partial to a bit of colour, but tulips (except white ones, +which are the fairy-cradles) they consider garish, and they +sometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so that the +beginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catch +them. + +When they think you are not looking they skip along pretty +lively, but if you look and they fear there is no time to hide, +they stand quite still, pretending to be flowers. Then, after +you have passed without knowing that they were fairies, they rush +home and tell their mothers they have had such an adventure. The +Fairy Basin, you remember, is all covered with ground-ivy (from +which they make their castor-oil), with flowers growing in it +here and there. Most of them really are flowers, but some of +them are fairies. You never can be sure of them, but a good plan +is to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round sharply. +Another good plan, which David and I sometimes follow, is to +stare them down. After a long time they can't help winking, and +then you know for certain that they are fairies. + +There are also numbers of them along the Baby Walk, which is a +famous gentle place, as spots frequented by fairies are called. +Once twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. They +were a girls' school out for a walk with the governess, and all +wearing hyacinth gowns, when she suddenly put her finger to her +mouth, and then they all stood still on an empty bed and +pretended to be hyacinths. Unfortunately, what the governess had +heard was two gardeners coming to plant new flowers in that very +bed. They were wheeling a handcart with the flowers in it, and +were quite surprised to find the bed occupied. "Pity to lift +them hyacinths," said the one man. "Duke's orders," replied the +other, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the boarding- +school and put the poor, terrified things in it in five rows. Of +course, neither the governess nor the girls dare let on that they +were fairies, so they were carted far away to a potting-shed, out +of which they escaped in the night without their shoes, but there +was a great row about it among the parents, and the school was +ruined. + +As for their houses, it is no use looking for them, because they +are the exact opposite of our houses. You can see our houses by +day but you can't see them by dark. Well, you can see their +houses by dark, but you can't see them by day, for they are the +colour of night, and I never heard of anyone yet who could see +night in the daytime. This does not mean that they are black, +for night has its colours just as day has, but ever so much +brighter. Their blues and reds and greens are like ours with a +light behind them. The palace is entirely built of many-coloured +glasses, and is quite the loveliest of all royal residences, but +the queen sometimes complains because the common people will peep +in to see what she is doing. They are very inquisitive folk, and +press quite hard against the glass, and that is why their noses +are mostly snubby. The streets are miles long and very twisty, +and have paths on each side made of bright worsted. The birds +used to steal the worsted for their nests, but a policeman has +been appointed to hold on at the other end. + +One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that +they never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for +the first time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they +all went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies. +They look tremendously busy, you know, as if they had not a +moment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they are doing, +they could not tell you in the least. They are frightfully +ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have a +postman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his little +box, and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in +them; the youngest child being chief person is always elected +mistress, and when she has called the roll, they all go out for a +walk and never come back. It is a very noticeable thing that, in +fairy families, the youngest is always chief person, and usually +becomes a prince or princess; and children remember this, and +think it must be so among humans also, and that is why they are +often made uneasy when they come upon their mother furtively +putting new frills on the basinette. + +You have probably observed that your baby-sister wants to do all +sorts of things that your mother and her nurse want her not to +do: to stand up at sitting-down time, and to sit down at +standing-up time, for instance, or to wake up when she should +fall asleep, or to crawl on the floor when she is wearing her +best frock, and so on, and perhaps you put this down to +naughtiness. But it is not; it simply means that she is doing as +she has seen the fairies do; she begins by following their ways, +and it takes about two years to get her into the human ways. Her +fits of passion, which are awful to behold, and are usually +called teething, are no such thing; they are her natural +exasperation, because we don't understand her, though she is +talking an intelligible language. She is talking fairy. The +reason mothers and nurses know what her remarks mean, before +other people know, as that "Guch" means "Give it to me at once," +while "Wa" is "Why do you wear such a funny hat?" is because, +mixing so much with babies, they have picked up a little of the +fairy language. + +Of late David has been thinking back hard about the fairy tongue, +with his hands clutching his temples, and he has remembered a +number of their phrases which I shall tell you some day if I +don't forget. He had heard them in the days when he was a +thrush, and though I suggested to him that perhaps it is really +bird language he is remembering, he says not, for these phrases +are about fun and adventures, and the birds talked of nothing but +nest-building. He distinctly remembers that the birds used to +go from spot to spot like ladies at shop-windows, looking at the +different nests and saying, "Not my colour, my dear," and "How +would that do with a soft lining?" and "But will it wear?" and +"What hideous trimming!" and so on. + +The fairies are exquisite dancers, and that is why one of the +first things the baby does is to sign to you to dance to him and +then to cry when you do it. They hold their great balls in the +open air, in what is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward +you can see the ring on the grass. It is not there when they +begin, but they make it by waltzing round and round. Sometimes +you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and these are fairy +chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. The +chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these little +people leave behind them, and they would remove even these were +they not so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very moment +of the opening of the gates. David and I once found a fairy-ring +quite warm. + +But there is also a way of finding out about the ball before it +takes place. You know the boards which tell at what time the +Gardens are to close to-day. Well, these tricky fairies +sometimes slyly change the board on a ball night, so that it says +the Gardens are to close at six-thirty for instance, instead of +at seven. This enables them to get begun half an hour earlier. + +If on such a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, as the +famous Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sights, +hundreds of lovely fairies hastening to the ball, the married +ones wearing their wedding-rings round their waists, the +gentlemen, all in uniform, holding up the ladies' trains, and +linkmen running in front carrying winter cherries, which are the +fairy-lanterns, the cloakroom where they put on their silver +slippers and get a ticket for their wraps, the flowers streaming +up from the Baby Walk to look on, and always welcome because they +can lend a pin, the suppertable, with Queen Mab at the head of +it, and behind her chair the Lord Chamberlain, who carries a +dandelion on which he blows when Her Majesty wants to know the +time. + +The table-cloth varies according to the seasons, and in May it is +made of chestnut-blossom. The ways the fairy-servants do is +this: The men, scores of them, climb up the trees and shake the +branches, and the blossom falls like snow. Then the lady +servants sweep it together by whisking their skirts until it is +exactly like a table-cloth, and that is how they get their +table-cloth. + +They have real glasses and real wine of three kinds, namely, +blackthorn wine, berberris wine, and cowslip wine, and the Queen +pours out, but the bottles are so heavy that she just pretends to +pour out. There is bread and butter to begin with, of the size +of a threepenny bit; and cakes to end with, and they are so small +that they have no crumbs. The fairies sit round on mushrooms, +and at first they are very well-behaved and always cough off the +table, and so on, but after a bit they are not so well-behaved +and stick their fingers into the butter, which is got from the +roots of old trees, and the really horrid ones crawl over the +table-cloth chasing sugar or other delicacies with their +tongues. When the Queen sees them doing this she signs to the +servants to wash up and put away, and then everybody adjourns to +the dance, the Queen walking in front while the Lord Chamberlain +walks behind her, carrying two little pots, one of which contains +the juice of wall-flower and the other the juice of Solomon's +Seals. Wall-flower juice is good for reviving dancers who fall +to the ground in a fit, and Solomon's Seals juice is for bruises. + They bruise very easily and when Peter plays faster and faster +they foot it till they fall down in fits. For, as you know +without my telling you, Peter Pan is the fairies' orchestra. He +sits in the middle of the ring, and they would never dream of +having a smart dance nowadays without him. "P. P." is written +on the corner of the invitation-cards sent out by all really good +families. They are grateful little people, too, and at the +princess's coming-of-age ball (they come of age on their second +birthday and have a birthday every month) they gave him the wish +of his heart. + +The way it was done was this. The Queen ordered him to kneel, +and then said that for playing so beautifully she would give him +the wish of his heart. Then they all gathered round Peter to +hear what was the wish of his heart, but for a long time he +hesitated, not being certain what it was himself. + +"If I chose to go back to mother," he asked at last, "could you +give me that wish?" + +Now this question vexed them, for were he to return to his mother +they should lose his music, so the Queen tilted her nose +contemptuously and said, "Pooh, ask for a much bigger wish than +that." + +"Is that quite a little wish?" he inquired. + +"As little as this," the Queen answered, putting her hands near +each other. + +"What size is a big wish?" he asked. + +She measured it off on her skirt and it was a very handsome +length. + +Then Peter reflected and said, "Well, then, I think I shall have +two little wishes instead of one big one." + +Of course, the fairies had to agree, though his cleverness rather +shocked them, and he said that his first wish was to go to his +mother, but with the right to return to the Gardens if he found +her disappointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve. + +They tried to dissuade him, and even put obstacles in the way. + +"I can give you the power to fly to her house," the Queen said, +"but I can't open the door for you. + +"The window I flew out at will be open," Peter said confidently. +"Mother always keeps it open in the hope that I may fly back." + +"How do you know?" they asked, quite surprised, and, really, +Peter could not explain how he knew. + +"I just do know," he said. + +So as he persisted in his wish, they had to grant it. The way +they gave him power to fly was this: They all tickled him on the +shoulder, and soon he felt a funny itching in that part and then +up he rose higher and higher and flew away out of the Gardens and +over the house-tops. + +It was so delicious that instead of flying straight to his old +home he skimmed away over St. Paul's to the Crystal Palace and +back by the river and Regent's Park, and by the time he reached +his mother's window he had quite made up his mind that his second +wish should be to become a bird. + +The window was wide open, just as he knew it would be, and in he +fluttered, and there was his mother lying asleep. Peter alighted +softly on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed and had a good +look at her. She lay with her head on her hand, and the hollow +in the pillow was like a nest lined with her brown wavy hair. He +remembered, though he had long forgotten it, that she always gave +her hair a holiday at night. How sweet the frills of her night- +gown were. He was very glad she was such a pretty mother. + +But she looked sad, and he knew why she looked sad. One of her +arms moved as if it wanted to go round something, and he knew +what it wanted to go round. + +"Oh, mother," said Peter to himself, "if you just knew who is +sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed." + +Very gently he patted the little mound that her feet made, and he +could see by her face that she liked it. He knew he had but to +say "Mother" ever so softly, and she would wake up. They always +wake up at once if it is you that says their name. Then she +would give such a joyous cry and squeeze him tight. How nice +that would be to him, but oh, how exquisitely delicious it would +be to her. That I am afraid is how Peter regarded it. In +returning to his mother he never doubted that he was giving her +the greatest treat a woman can have. Nothing can be more +splendid, he thought, than to have a little boy of your own. How +proud of him they are; and very right and proper, too. + +But why does Peter sit so long on the rail, why does he not tell +his mother that he has come back? + +I quite shrink from the truth, which is that he sat there in two +minds. Sometimes he looked longingly at his mother, and +sometimes he looked longingly at the window. Certainly it would +be pleasant to be her boy again, but, on the other hand, what +times those had been in the Gardens! Was he so sure that he +would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped off the bed and +opened some drawers to have a look at his old garments. They +were still there, but he could not remember how you put them on. +The socks, for instance, were they worn on the hands or on the +feet? He was about to try one of them on his hand, when he had a +great adventure. Perhaps the drawer had creaked; at any rate, +his mother woke up, for he heard her say "Peter," as if it was +the most lovely word in the language. He remained sitting on the +floor and held his breath, wondering how she knew that he had +come back. If she said "Peter" again, he meant to cry "Mother" +and run to her. But she spoke no more, she made little moans +only, and when next he peeped at her she was once more asleep, +with tears on her face. + +It made Peter very miserable, and what do you think was the first +thing he did? Sitting on the rail at the foot of the bed, he +played a beautiful lullaby to his mother on his pipe. He had +made it up himself out of the way she said "Peter," and he never +stopped playing until she looked happy. + +He thought this so clever of him that he could scarcely resist +wakening her to hear her say, "Oh, Peter, how exquisitely you +play." However, as she now seemed comfortable, he again cast +looks at the window. You must not think that he meditated flying +away and never coming back. He had quite decided to be his +mother's boy, but hesitated about beginning to-night. It was the +second wish which troubled him. He no longer meant to make it a +wish to be a bird, but not to ask for a second wish seemed +wasteful, and, of course, he could not ask for it without +returning to the fairies. Also, if he put off asking for his +wish too long it might go bad. He asked himself if he had not +been hardhearted to fly away without saying good-bye to Solomon. +"I should like awfully to sail in my boat just once more," he +said wistfully to his sleeping mother. He quite argued with her +as if she could hear him. "It would be so splendid to tell the +birds of this adventure," he said coaxingly. "I promise to come +back," he said solemnly and meant it, too. + +And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he came back from +the window, wanting to kiss his mother, but he feared the delight +of it might waken her, so at last he played her a lovely kiss on +his pipe, and then he flew back to the Gardens. + +Many nights and even months passed before he asked the fairies +for his second wish; and I am not sure that I quite know why he +delayed so long. One reason was that he had so many good-byes to +say, not only to his particular friends, but to a hundred +favourite spots. Then he had his last sail, and his very last +sail, and his last sail of all, and so on. Again, a number of +farewell feasts were given in his honour; and another comfortable +reason was that, after all, there was no hurry, for his mother +would never weary of waiting for him. This last reason +displeased old Solomon, for it was an encouragement to the birds +to procrastinate. Solomon had several excellent mottoes for +keeping them at their work, such as "Never put off laying to-day, +because you can lay to-morrow," and "In this world there are no +second chances," and yet here was Peter gaily putting off and +none the worse for it. The birds pointed this out to each other, +and fell into lazy habits. + +But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in going back to his +mother, he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this +was his caution with the fairies. They were most anxious that he +should remain in the Gardens to play to them, and to bring this +to pass they tried to trick him into making such a remark as "I +wish the grass was not so wet," and some of them danced out of +time in the hope that he might cry, "I do wish you would keep +time!" Then they would have said that this was his second wish. +But he smoked their design, and though on occasions he began, "I +wish--" he always stopped in time. So when at last he said to +them bravely, "I wish now to go back to mother for ever and +always," they had to tickle his shoulders and let him go. + +He went in a hurry in the end because he had dreamt that his +mother was crying, and he knew what was the great thing she cried +for, and that a hug from her splendid Peter would quickly make +her to smile. Oh, he felt sure of it, and so eager was he to be +nestling in her arms that this time he flew straight to the +window, which was always to be open for him. + +But the window was closed, and there were iron bars on it, and +peering inside he saw his mother sleeping peacefully with her arm +round another little boy. + +Peter called, "Mother! mother!" but she heard him not; in vain he +beat his little limbs against the iron bars. He had to fly back, +sobbing, to the Gardens, and he never saw his dear again. What a +glorious boy he had meant to be to her. Ah, Peter, we who have +made the great mistake, how differently we should all act at the +second chance. But Solomon was right; there is no second chance, +not for most of us. When we reach the window it is Lock-out +Time. The iron bars are up for life. + + +XVII + +The Little House + +Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington +Gardens, which is the only house in the whole world that the +fairies have built for humans. But no one has really seen it, +except just three or four, and they have not only seen it but +slept in it, and unless you sleep in it you never see it. This +is because it is not there when you lie down, but it is there +when you wake up and step outside. + +In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not +really it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light +after Lock-out Time. David, for instance, saw it quite +distinctly far away among the trees as we were going home from +the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw it the night he stayed so +late at the Temple, which is the name of his father's office. +Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted because then +she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, she saw +hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the +fairies building the house, for they build it every night and +always in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of +the lights was bigger than the others, though she was not quite +sure, for they jumped about so, and it might have been another +one that was bigger. But if it was the same one, it was Peter +Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen the light, so that is +nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one for whom the +house was first built. + +Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that +she was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime +she was the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother +Tony, who was a magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, +and she looked up to him in the right way, and tried in vain to +imitate him and was flattered rather than annoyed when he shoved +her about. Also, when she was batting she would pause though the +ball was in the air to point out to you that she was wearing new +shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the daytime. + +But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his +contempt for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for +with dark there came into her face a look that I can describe +only as a leary look. It was also a serene look that contrasted +grandly with Tony's uneasy glances. Then he would make her +presents of his favourite toys (which he always took away from +her next morning) and she accepted them with a disturbing smile. +The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so mysterious +was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to bed. +It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to +do it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse +threatened her, but Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. +And by-and-by when they were alone with their night-light she +would start up in bed crying "Hsh! what was that?" Tony +beseeches her! "It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!" and pulls +the sheet over his head. "It is coming nearer!" she cries; "Oh, +look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is +boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!" and she desists not until he +rushes downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they +came up to whip Maimie they usually found her sleeping +tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and +looking like the sweetest little angel, which seems to me to make +it almost worse. + +But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and +then Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his +talk that he was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it +as Maimie. She would have loved to have a ticket on her saying +that she was his sister. And at no time did she admire him more +than when he told her, as he often did with splendid firmness, +that one day he meant to remain behind in the Gardens after the +gates were closed. + +"Oh, Tony," she would say, with awful respect, "but the fairies +will be so angry!" + +"I daresay," replied Tony, carelessly. + +"Perhaps," she said, thrilling, "Peter Pan will give you a sail +in his boat!" + +"I shall make him," replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him. + +But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were +overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from +which the little people weave their summer curtains, and after +that Tony was a marked boy. They loosened the rails before he +sat on them, so that down he came on the back of his head; they +tripped him up by catching his boot-lace and bribed the ducks to +sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty accidents you meet with in +the Gardens occur because the fairies have taken an ill-will to +you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you say about them. + +Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing +things, but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which +day he was to remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he +merely replied, "Just some day;" he was quite vague about which +day except when she asked "Will it be to-day?" and then he could +always say for certain that it would not be to-day. So she saw +that he was waiting for a real good chance. + +This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with +snow, and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to +skate on but at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by +flinging stones, and many bright little boys and girls were doing +that. + +When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to +the pond, but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, +and as she said this she glanced at the time-board to see when +the Gardens closed that night. It read half-past five. Poor +ayah! she is the one who laughs continuously because there are so +many white children in the world, but she was not to laugh much +more that day. + +Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned +to the time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five +o'clock for closing time. But she was unacquainted with the +tricky ways of the fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and +Tony saw at once) that they had changed the hour because there +was to be a ball to-night. She said there was only time now to +walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as they trotted along +with her she little guessed what was thrilling their little +breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball. +Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance. + +He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her +eager eyes asked the question, "Is it to-day?" and he gasped and +then nodded. Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was +hot, but his was cold. She did a very kind thing; she took off +her scarf and gave it to him! "In case you should feel cold," +she whispered. Her face was aglow, but Tony's was very gloomy. + +As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, "I'm +afraid Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it." + +Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but +their ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and +she said aloud, "Tony, I shall race you to the gate," and in a +whisper, "Then you can hide," and off they ran. + +Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known +him speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried +that he might have more time to hide. "Brave, brave!" her doting +eyes were crying when she got a dreadful shock; instead of +hiding, her hero had run out at the gate! At this bitter sight +Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful of darling treasures +were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain she could not +sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she ran to +St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead. + +When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she +thought her other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight +came on, and scores and hundreds of people passed out, including +the last one, who always has to run for it, but Maimie saw them +not. She had shut her eyes tight and glued them with passionate +tears. When she opened them something very cold ran up her legs +and up her arms and dropped into her heart. It was the stillness +of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from another part +clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of the +Gates. + +Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard +a voice say, "So that's all right." It had a wooden sound and +seemed to come from above, and she looked up in time to see an +elm tree stretching out its arms and yawning. + +She was about to say, "I never knew you could speak!" when a +metallic voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well +remarked to the elm, "I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?" +and the elm replied, "Not particularly, but you do get numb +standing so long on one leg," and he flapped his arms vigorously +just as the cabmen do before they drive off. Maimie was quite +surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were doing the +same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and +crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its +shoulders but did not seem to mind her. + +She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured +pelisse and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her +showed except her dear little face and her curls. The rest of +her real self was hidden far away inside so many warm garments +that in shape she seemed rather like a ball. She was about forty +round the waist. + +There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie +arrived in time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over +the railing and set off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky +sort of way certainly, but that was because they used crutches. +An elderberry hobbled across the walk, and stood chatting with +some young quinces, and they all had crutches. The crutches were +the sticks that are tied to young trees and shrubs. They were +quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never known what +they were for until to-night. + +She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street +boy fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. +The way he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and +they shut like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with +snow. "Oh, you naughty, naughty child!" Maimie cried +indignantly, for she knew what it was to have a dripping umbrella +about your ears. + +Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the +chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly "Hoity- +toity, what is this?" that she had to come out and show herself. +Then the whole vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do. + +"Of course it is no affair of ours," a spindle tree said after +they had whispered together, "but you know quite well you ought +not to be here, and perhaps our duty is to report you to the +fairies; what do you think yourself?" + +"I think you should not," Maimie replied, which so perplexed them +that they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. "I +wouldn't ask it of you," she assured them, "if I thought it was +wrong," and of course after this they could not well carry tales. +They then said, "Well-a-day," and "Such is life!" for they can be +frightfully sarcastic, but she felt sorry for those of them who +had no crutches, and she said good-naturedly, "Before I go to the +fairies' ball, I should like to take you for a walk one at a +time; you can lean on me, you know." + +At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the +Baby Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a +finger round the very frail, setting their leg right when it got +too ridiculous, and treating the foreign ones quite as +courteously as the English, though she could not understand a +word they said. + +They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she +had not taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, +and others jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she +was too much of a lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and +she was anxious to be off to the ball, but she no longer felt +afraid. The reason she felt no more fear was that it was now +night-time, and in the dark, you remember, Maimie was always +rather strange. + +They were now loath to let her go, for, "If the fairies see you," +they warned her, "they will mischief you, stab you to death or +compel you to nurse their children or turn you into something +tedious, like an evergreen oak." As they said this they looked +with affected pity at an evergreen oak, for in winter they are +very envious of the evergreens. + +"Oh, la!" replied the oak bitingly, "how deliciously cosy it is +to stand here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked +creatures shivering!" + +This made them sulky though they had really brought it on +themselves, and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the +perils that faced her if she insisted on going to the ball. + +She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its +usual good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising +heart of the Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental +fairy, very poorly of a dreadful complaint, namely, inability to +love, and though he had tried many ladies in many lands he could +not fall in love with one of them. Queen Mab, who rules in the +Gardens, had been confident that her girls would bewitch him, but +alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. This rather +irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the Duke's +heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always +shook his bald head and murmured, "Cold, quite cold!" Naturally +Queen Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of +ordering the court into tears for nine minutes, and then she +blamed the Cupids and decreed that they should wear fools' caps +until they thawed the Duke's frozen heart. + +"How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' +caps!" Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very +recklessly, for the Cupids hate to be laughed at. + +It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being +held, as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous +parts of the Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the +dance without wetting their pumps. This night the ribbons were +red and looked very pretty on the snow. + +Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without +meeting anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade +approaching. To her surprise they seemed to be returning from +the ball, and she had just time to hide from them by bending her +knees and holding out her arms and pretending to be a garden +chair. There were six horsemen in front and six behind, in the +middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held up by two +pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a lovely +girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She +was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was +her neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and +of course showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat +could have glorified it. The high-born fairies obtain this +admired effect by pricking their skin, which lets the blue blood +come through and dye them, and you cannot imagine anything so +dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' busts in the jewellers' +windows. + +Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a +passion, tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even +fairies to tilt them, and she concluded that this must be another +case in which the doctor had said "Cold, quite cold!" + +Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge +over a dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been +unable to climb out. At first this little damsel was afraid of +Maimie, who most kindly went to her aid, but soon she sat in her +hand chatting gaily and explaining that her name was Brownie, and +that though only a poor street singer she was on her way to the +ball to see if the Duke would have her. + +"Of course," she said, "I am rather plain," and this made Maimie +uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost +quite plain for a fairy. + +It was difficult to know what to reply. + +"I see you think I have no chance," Brownie said falteringly. + +"I don't say that," Maimie answered politely, "of course your +face is just a tiny bit homely, but--" Really it was quite +awkward for her. + +Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He +had gone to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful +ladies in London were on view for half-a-crown the second day, +but on his return home instead of being dissatisfied with +Maimie's mother he had said, "You can't think, my dear, what a +relief it is to see a homely face again." + +Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie +tremendously, indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that +the Duke would choose her. So she scudded away up the ribbon, +calling out to Maimie not to follow lest the Queen should +mischief her. + +But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the +seven Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept +forward until she was quite near it, and then she peeped from +behind a tree. + +The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was +composed of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, +and so forming a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were +thousands of little people looking on, but they were in shadow +and drab in colour compared to the glorious creatures within that +luminous circle who were so bewilderingly bright that Maimie had +to wink hard all the time she looked at them. + +It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of +Christmas Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a +moment: yet out of love his dusky grace still was: you could see +it by the shamed looks of the Queen and court (though they +pretended not to care), by the way darling ladies brought forward +for his approval burst into tears as they were told to pass on, +and by his own most dreary face. + +Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart +and hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was +particularly sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps +in obscure places and, every time they heard that "Cold, quite +cold," bowed their disgraced little heads. + +She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell +you now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat +had got wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, +through which he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty +paddle. + +The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not +dance, so heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps +when they are sad and remember them again when they are merry. +David tells me that fairies never say "We feel happy": what they +say is, "We feel dancey." + +Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden +laughter broke out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who +had just arrived and was insisting on her right to be presented +to the Duke. + +Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though +she had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope +except Brownie herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. +She was led before his grace, and the doctor putting a finger +carelessly on the ducal heart, which for convenience sake was +reached by a little trapdoor in his diamond shirt, had begun to +say mechanically, "Cold, qui--," when he stopped abruptly. + +"What's this?" he cried, and first he shook the heart like a +watch, and then put his ear to it. + +"Bless my soul!" cried the doctor, and by this time of course the +excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting +right and left. + +Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much +startled and looked as if he would like to run away. "Good +gracious me!" the doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart +was evidently on fire, for he had to jerk his fingers away from +it and put them in his mouth. + +The suspense was awful! + +Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, "My Lord Duke," said the +physician elatedly, "I have the honour to inform your excellency +that your grace is in love." + +You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms +to the Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into +the arms of the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court +leapt into the arms of her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to +follow her example in everything. Thus in a single moment about +fifty marriages took place, for if you leap into each other's +arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman has to be +present. + +How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came +out, and immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays +as if they were ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild +abandon round the fairy ring. Most gladsome sight of all, the +Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps from their heads and cast +them high in the air. And then Maimie went and spoiled +everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight +over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps +forward and cried in an ecstasy, "Oh, Brownie, how splendid!" + +Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and +all in the time you may take to say "Oh dear!" An awful sense of +her peril came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was +a lost child in a place where no human must be between the +locking and the opening of the gates, she heard the murmur of an +angry multitude, she saw a thousand swords flashing for her +blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled. + +How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her +head. Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and +ran on again. Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that +she no longer knew she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was +sure of was that she must never cease to run, and she thought she +was still running long after she had dropped in the Figs and gone +to sleep. She thought the snowflakes falling on her face were +her mother kissing her good-night. She thought her coverlet of +snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her head. And +when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was +mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she +slept. But it was the fairies. + +I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to +mischief her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with +such cries as "Slay her!" "Turn her into something extremely +unpleasant!" and so on, but the pursuit was delayed while they +discussed who should march in front, and this gave Duchess +Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and demand a boon. + +Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was +Maimie's life. "Anything except that," replied Queen Mab +sternly, and all the fairies chanted "Anything except that." But +when they learned how Maimie had befriended Brownie and so +enabled her to attend the ball to their great glory and renown, +they gave three huzzas for the little human, and set off, like an +army, to thank her, the court advancing in front and the canopy +keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her +footprints in the snow. + +But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed +impossible to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They +went through the form of thanking her, that is to say, the new +King stood on her body and read her a long address of welcome, +but she heard not a word of it. They also cleared the snow off +her, but soon she was covered again, and they saw she was in +danger of perishing of cold. + +"Turn her into something that does not mind the cold," seemed a +good suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could +think of that does not mind cold was a snowflake. "And it might +melt," the Queen pointed out, so that idea had to be given up. + +A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, +but though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this +time all the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but +presently the Cupids had a lovely idea. "Build a house round +her," they cried, and at once everybody perceived that this was +the thing to do; in a moment a hundred fairy sawyers were among +the branches, architects were running round Maimie, measuring +her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, seventy-five +masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen laid it, +overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings were +run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning +lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were +putting in the windows. + +The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. +One of her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a +second, but they built a verandah round it, leading to the front +door. The windows were the size of a coloured picture-book and +the door rather smaller, but it would be easy for her to get out +by taking off the roof. The fairies, as is their custom, clapped +their hands with delight over their cleverness, and they were all +so madly in love with the little house that they could not bear +to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many +little extra touches, and even then they added more extra +touches. + +For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney. + +"Now we fear it is quite finished," they sighed. But no, for +another two ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the +chimney. + +"That certainly finishes it," they cried reluctantly. + +"Not at all," cried a glow-worm, "if she were to wake without +seeing a night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her +night-light." + +"Wait one moment," said a china merchant, "and I shall make you a +saucer." + +Now alas, it was absolutely finished. + +Oh, dear no! + +"Gracious me," cried a brass manufacturer, "there's no handle on +the door," and he put one on. + +An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door- +mat. Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters +insisted on painting it. + +Finished at last! + +"Finished! how can it be finished," the plumber demanded +scornfully, "before hot and cold are put in?" and he put in hot +and cold. Then an army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and +spades and seeds and bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had +a flower garden to the right of the verandah and a vegetable +garden to the left, and roses and clematis on the walls of the +house, and in less time than five minutes all these dear things +were in full bloom. + +Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last +finished true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the +dance. They all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and +the last to go was Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the +others to drop a pleasant dream down the chimney. + +All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in +the Figs taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept +until the dream was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously +cosy just as morning was breaking from its egg, and then she +almost fell asleep again, and then she called out, "Tony," for +she thought she was at home in the nursery. As Tony made no +answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, and it +opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all +around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was +not in the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, +so she pinched her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and +this reminded her that she was in the middle of a great +adventure. She remembered now everything that had happened to +her from the closing of the gates up to her running away from the +fairies, but however, she asked herself, had she got into this +funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over the garden, +and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the +night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else. + +"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!" she cried. + +Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it +now knew that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken +than it began to grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could +scarce believe it was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could +not contain her now. It always remained as complete as ever, but +it became smaller and smaller, and the garden dwindled at the +same time, and the snow crept closer, lapping house and garden +up. Now the house was the size of a little dog's kennel, and now +of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke and the +door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete. The +glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. +"Darling, loveliest, don't go!" Maimie cried, falling on her +knees, for the little house was now the size of a reel of thread, +but still quite complete. But as she stretched out her arms +imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself, +and where the little house had been was now one unbroken expanse +of snow. + +Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to +her eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, "Don't cry, pretty +human, don't cry," and then she turned round and saw a beautiful +little naked boy regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that +he must be Peter Pan. + + +XVIII + +Peter's Goat + +Maimie felt quite shy, but Peter knew not what shy was. + +"I hope you have had a good night," he said earnestly. + +"Thank you," she replied, "I was so cosy and warm. But you"--and +she looked at his nakedness awkwardly--"don't you feel the least +bit cold?" + +Now cold was another word Peter had forgotten, so he answered, "I +think not, but I may be wrong: you see I am rather ignorant. I +am not exactly a boy, Solomon says I am a Betwixt-and-Between." + +"So that is what it is called," said Maimie thoughtfully. + +"That's not my name," he explained, "my name is Peter Pan." + +"Yes, of course," she said, "I know, everybody knows." + +You can't think how pleased Peter was to learn that all the +people outside the gates knew about him. He begged Maimie to +tell him what they knew and what they said, and she did so. They +were sitting by this time on a fallen tree; Peter had cleared off +the snow for Maimie, but he sat on a snowy bit himself. + +"Squeeze closer," Maimie said. + +"What is that?" he asked, and she showed him, and then he did it. +They talked together and he found that people knew a great deal +about him, but not everything, not that he had gone back to his +mother and been barred out, for instance, and he said nothing of +this to Maimie, for it still humiliated him. + +"Do they know that I play games exactly like real boys?" he asked +very proudly. "Oh, Maimie, please tell them!" But when he +revealed how he played, by sailing his hoop on the Round Pond, +and so on, she was simply horrified. + +"All your ways of playing," she said with her big eyes on him, +"are quite, quite wrong, and not in the least like how boys +play!" + +Poor Peter uttered a little moan at this, and he cried for the +first time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely sorry +for him, and lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the +least what to do with it, so she showed him, that is to say, she +wiped her eyes, and then gave it back to him, saying "Now you do +it," but instead of wiping his own eyes he wiped hers, and she +thought it best to pretend that this was what she had meant. + +She said, out of pity for him, "I shall give you a kiss if you +like," but though he once knew he had long forgotten what kisses +are, and he replied, "Thank you," and held out his hand, thinking +she had offered to put something into it. This was a great shock +to her, but she felt she could not explain without shaming him, +so with charming delicacy she gave Peter a thimble which happened +to be in her pocket, and pretended that it was a kiss. Poor +little boy! he quite believed her, and to this day he wears it on +his finger, though there can be scarcely anyone who needs a +thimble so little. You see, though still a tiny child, it was +really years and years since he had seen his mother, and I +daresay the baby who had supplanted him was now a man with +whiskers. + +But you must not think that Peter Pan was a boy to pity rather +than to admire; if Maimie began by thinking this, she soon found +she was very much mistaken. Her eyes glistened with admiration +when he told her of his adventures, especially of how he went to +and fro between the island and the Gardens in the Thrush's Nest. + +"How romantic," Maimie exclaimed, but it was another unknown +word, and he hung his head thinking she was despising him. + +"I suppose Tony would not have done that?" he said very humbly. + +"Never, never!" she answered with conviction, "he would have been +afraid." + +"What is afraid?" asked Peter longingly. He thought it must be +some splendid thing. "I do wish you would teach me how to be +afraid, Maimie," he said. + +"I believe no one could teach that to you," she answered +adoringly, but Peter thought she meant that he was stupid. She +had told him about Tony and of the wicked thing she did in the +dark to frighten him (she knew quite well that it was wicked), +but Peter misunderstood her meaning and said, "Oh, how I wish I +was as brave as Tony." + +It quite irritated her. "You are twenty thousand times braver +than Tony," she said, "you are ever so much the bravest boy I +ever knew!" + +He could scarcely believe she meant it, but when he did believe +he screamed with joy. + +"And if you want very much to give me a kiss," Maimie said, "you +can do it." + +Very reluctantly Peter began to take the thimble off his finger. +He thought she wanted it back. + +"I don't mean a kiss," she said hurriedly, "I mean a thimble." + +"What's that?" Peter asked. + +"It's like this," she said, and kissed him. + +"I should love to give you a thimble," Peter said gravely, so he +gave her one. He gave her quite a number of thimbles, and then a +delightful idea came into his head! "Maimie," he said, "will you +marry me?" + +Now, strange to tell, the same idea had come at exactly the same +time into Maimie's head. "I should like to," she answered, "but +will there be room in your boat for two?" + +"If you squeeze close," he said eagerly. + +"Perhaps the birds would be angry?" + +He assured her that the birds would love to have her, though I am +not so certain of it myself. Also that there were very few birds +in winter. "Of course they might want your clothes," he had to +admit rather falteringly. + +She was somewhat indignant at this. + +"They are always thinking of their nests," he said +apologetically, "and there are some bits of you"--he stroked the +fur on her pelisse--"that would excite them very much." + +"They sha'n't have my fur," she said sharply. + +"No," he said, still fondling it, however, "no! Oh, Maimie," he +said rapturously, "do you know why I love you? It is because you +are like a beautiful nest." + +Somehow this made her uneasy. "I think you are speaking more +like a bird than a boy now," she said, holding back, and indeed +he was even looking rather like a bird. "After all," she said, +"you are only a Betwixt-and-Between." But it hurt him so much +that she immediately added, "It must be a delicious thing to be." + +"Come and be one then, dear Maimie," he implored her, and they +set off for the boat, for it was now very near Open-Gate time. +"And you are not a bit like a nest," he whispered to please her. + +"But I think it is rather nice to be like one," she said in a +woman's contradictory way. "And, Peter, dear, though I can't +give them my fur, I wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy a +nest in my neck with little spotty eggs in it! Oh, Peter, how +perfectly lovely!" + +But as they drew near the Serpentine, she shivered a little, and +said, "Of course I shall go and see mother often, quite often. +It is not as if I was saying good-bye for ever to mother, it is +not in the least like that." + +"Oh, no," answered Peter, but in his heart he knew it was very +like that, and he would have told her so had he not been in a +quaking fear of losing her. He was so fond of her, he felt he +could not live without her. "She will forget her mother in time, +and be happy with me," he kept saying to himself, and he hurried +her on, giving her thimbles by the way. + +But even when she had seen the boat and exclaimed ecstatically +over its loveliness, she still talked tremblingly about her +mother. "You know quite well, Peter, don't you," she said, "that +I wouldn't come unless I knew for certain I could go back to +mother whenever I want to? Peter, say it!" + +He said it, but he could no longer look her in the face. + +"If you are sure your mother will always want you," he added +rather sourly. + +"The idea of mother's not always wanting me!" Maimie cried, and +her face glistened. + +"If she doesn't bar you out," said Peter huskily. + +"The door," replied Maimie, "will always, always be open, and +mother will always be waiting at it for me." + +"Then," said Peter, not without grimness, "step in, if you feel +so sure of her," and he helped Maimie into the Thrush's Nest. + +"But why don't you look at me?" she asked, taking him by the arm. + +Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to push off, then he gave +a great gulp and jumped ashore and sat down miserably in the +snow. + +She went to him. "What is it, dear, dear Peter?" she said, +wondering. + +"Oh, Maimie," he cried, "it isn't fair to take you with me if you +think you can go back. Your mother"--he gulped again--"you don't +know them as well as I do." + +And then he told her the woful story of how he had been barred +out, and she gasped all the time. "But my mother," she said, "my +mother"-- + +"Yes, she would," said Peter, "they are all the same. I daresay +she is looking for another one already." + +Maimie said aghast, "I can't believe it. You see, when you went +away your mother had none, but my mother has Tony, and surely +they are satisfied when they have one." + +Peter replied bitterly, "You should see the letters Solomon gets +from ladies who have six." + +Just then they heard a grating creak, followed by creak, creak, +all round the Gardens. It was the Opening of the Gates, and +Peter jumped nervously into his boat. He knew Maimie would not +come with him now, and he was trying bravely not to cry. But +Maimie was sobbing painfully. + +"If I should be too late," she called in agony, "oh, Peter, if +she has got another one already!" + +Again he sprang ashore as if she had called him back. "I shall +come and look for you to-night," he said, squeezing close, "but +if you hurry away I think you will be in time." + +Then he pressed a last thimble on her sweet little mouth, and +covered his face with his hands so that he might not see her go. + +"Dear Peter!" she cried. + +"Dear Maimie!" cried the tragic boy. + +She leapt into his arms, so that it was a sort of fairy wedding, +and then she hurried away. Oh, how she hastened to the gates! +Peter, you may be sure, was back in the Gardens that night as +soon as Lock-out sounded, but he found no Maimie, and so he knew +she had been in time. For long he hoped that some night she +would come back to him; often he thought he saw her waiting for +him by the shore of the Serpentine as his bark drew to land, but +Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but she was afraid that +if she saw her dear Betwixt-and-Between again she would linger +with him too long, and besides the ayah now kept a sharp eye on +her. But she often talked lovingly of Peter and she knitted a +kettle-holder for him, and one day when she was wondering what +Easter present he would like, her mother made a suggestion. + +"Nothing," she said thoughtfully, "would be so useful to him as a +goat." + +"He could ride on it," cried Maimie, "and play on his pipe at the +same time!" + +"Then," her mother asked, "won't you give him your goat, the one +you frighten Tony with at night?" + +"But it isn't a real goat," Maimie said. + +"It seems very real to Tony," replied her mother. + +"It seems frightfully real to me too," Maimie admitted, "but how +could I give it to Peter?" + +Her mother knew a way, and next day, accompanied by Tony (who was +really quite a nice boy, though of course he could not compare), +they went to the Gardens, and Maimie stood alone within a fairy +ring, and then her mother, who was a rather gifted lady, said, + + "My daughter, tell me, if you can, + What have you got for Peter Pan?" + +To which Maimie replied, + + "I have a goat for him to ride, + Observe me cast it far and wide." + +She then flung her arms about as if she were sowing seed, and +turned round three times. + +Next Tony said, + + "If P. doth find it waiting here, + Wilt ne'er again make me to fear?" + +And Maimie answered, + + "By dark or light I fondly swear + Never to see goats anywhere." + +She also left a letter to Peter in a likely place, explaining +what she had done, and begging him to ask the fairies to turn the +goat into one convenient for riding on. Well, it all happened +just as she hoped, for Peter found the letter, and of course +nothing could be easier for the fairies than to turn the goat +into a real one, and so that is how Peter got the goat on which +he now rides round the Gardens every night playing sublimely on +his pipe. And Maimie kept her promise and never frightened Tony +with a goat again, though I have heard that she created another +animal. Until she was quite a big girl she continued to leave +presents for Peter in the Gardens (with letters explaining how +humans play with them), and she is not the only one who has done +this. David does it, for instance, and he and I know the +likeliest place for leaving them in, and we shall tell you if you +like, but for mercy's sake don't ask us before Porthos, for were +he to find out the place he would take every one of them. + +Though Peter still remembers Maimie he is become as gay as ever, +and often in sheer happiness he jumps off his goat and lies +kicking merrily on the grass. Oh, he has a joyful time! But he +has still a vague memory that he was a human once, and it makes +him especially kind to the house-swallows when they revisit the +island, for house-swallows are the spirits of little children who +have died. They always build in the eaves of the houses where +they lived when they were humans, and sometimes they try to fly +in at a nursery window, and perhaps that is why Peter loves them +best of all the birds. + +And the little house? Every lawful night (that is to say, every +night except ball nights) the fairies now build the little house +lest there should be a human child lost in the Gardens, and Peter +rides the marshes looking for lost ones, and if he finds them he +carries them on his goat to the little house, and when they wake +up they are in it and when they step out they see it. The +fairies build the house merely because it is so pretty, but Peter +rides round in memory of Maimie and because he still loves to do +just as he believes real boys would do. + +But you must not think that, because somewhere among the trees +the little house is twinkling, it is a safe thing to remain in +the Gardens after Lock-out Time. If the bad ones among the +fairies happen to be out that night they will certainly mischief +you, and even though they are not, you may perish of cold and +dark before Peter Pan comes round. He has been too late several +times, and when he sees he is too late he runs back to the +Thrush's Nest for his paddle, of which Maimie had told him the +true use, and he digs a grave for the child and erects a little +tombstone and carves the poor thing's initials on it. He does +this at once because he thinks it is what real boys would do, and +you must have noticed the little stones and that there are always +two together. He puts them in twos because it seems less lonely. + I think that quite the most touching sight in the Gardens is the +two tombstones of Walter Stephen Matthews and Phoebe Phelps. They +stand together at the spot where the parishes of Westminster St. +Mary's is said to meet the parish of Paddington. Here Peter +found the two babes, who had fallen unnoticed from their +perambulators, Phoebe aged thirteen months and Walter probably +still younger, for Peter seems to have felt a delicacy about +putting any age on his stone. They lie side by side, and the +simple inscriptions read + + +-----------+ +-----------+ + | | | | + | W | | 13a. | + | | | P.P. | + | St. M | | 1841 | + | | | | + +-----------+ +-----------+ + +David sometimes places white flowers on these two innocent +graves. + +But how strange for parents, when they hurry into the Gardens at +the opening of the gates looking for their lost one, to find the +sweetest little tombstone instead. I do hope that Peter is not +too ready with his spade. It is all rather sad. + + +XIX + +An Interloper + +David and I had a tremendous adventure. It was this, he passed +the night with me. We had often talked of it as a possible +thing, and at last Mary consented to our having it. + +The adventure began with David's coming to me at the unwonted +hour of six P.M., carrying what looked like a packet of +sandwiches, but proved to be his requisites for the night done up +in a neat paper parcel. We were both so excited that, at the +moment of greeting, neither of us could be apposite to the +occasion in words, so we communicated our feelings by signs; as +thus, David half sat down in a place where there was no chair, +which is his favourite preparation for being emphatic, and is +borrowed, I think, from the frogs, and we then made the +extraordinary faces which mean, "What a tremendous adventure!" + +We were to do all the important things precisely as they are done +every evening at his own home, and so I am in a puzzle to know +how it was such an adventure to David. But I have now said +enough to show you what an adventure it was to me. + +For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the +delicacy of a sleeping companion, David abstained on this +occasion from asking why one of them was not a Victoria Cross. +He is very troubled because I never won the Victoria Cross, for +it lowers his status in the Gardens. He never says in the +Gardens that I won it, but he fights any boy of his year who says +I didn't. Their fighting consists of challenging each other. + +At twenty-five past six I turned on the hot water in the bath, +and covertly swallowed a small glass of brandy. I then said, +"Half-past six; time for little boys to be in bed." I said it +in the matter-of-fact voice of one made free of the company of +parents, as if I had said it often before, and would have to say +it often again, and as if there was nothing particularly +delicious to me in hearing myself say it. I tried to say it in +that way. + +And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy he stamped his +little foot, and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him +five minutes with a matchbox. Matches, which he drops on the +floor when lighted, are the greatest treat you can give David; +indeed, I think his private heaven is a place with a roaring +bonfire. + +Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoulder, like one a +trifle bored by the dull routine of putting my little boys to +bed, and conducted him to the night nursery, which had lately +been my private chamber. There was an extra bed in it tonight, +very near my own, but differently shaped, and scarcely less +conspicuous was the new mantel-shelf ornament: a tumbler of milk, +with a biscuit on top of it, and a chocolate riding on the +biscuit. To enter the room without seeing the tumbler at once +was impossible. I had tried it several times, and David saw and +promptly did his frog business, the while, with an indescribable +emotion, I produced a night-light from my pocket and planted it +in a saucer on the wash-stand. + +David watched my preparations with distasteful levity, but anon +made a noble amend by abruptly offering me his foot as if he had +no longer use for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me +to take off his boots. I took them off with all the coolness of +an old hand, and then I placed him on my knee and removed his +blouse. This was a delightful experience, but I think I remained +wonderfully calm until I came somewhat too suddenly to his little +braces, which agitated me profoundly. + +I cannot proceed in public with the disrobing of David. + +Soon the night nursery was in darkness, but for the glimmer from +the night-light, and very still save when the door creaked as a +man peered in at the little figure on the bed. However softly I +opened the door, an inch at a time, his bright eyes turned to me +at once, and he always made the face which means, "What a +tremendous adventure!" + +"Are you never to fall asleep, David?" I always said. + +"When are you coming to bed?" he always replied, very brave but +in a whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have +him. When little boys are in bed there is nothing between them +and bears and wolves but the night-light. + +I returned to my chair to think, and at last he fell asleep with +his face to the wall, but even then I stood many times at the +door, listening. + +Long after I had gone to bed a sudden silence filled the chamber, +and I knew that David had awaked. I lay motionless, and, after +what seemed a long time of waiting, a little far-away voice said +in a cautious whisper, "Irene!" + +"You are sleeping with me to-night, you know, David," I said. + +"I didn't know," he replied, a little troubled but trying not to +be a nuisance. + +"You remember you are with me?" I asked. + +After a moment's hesitation he replied, "I nearly remember," and +presently he added very gratefully, as if to some angel who had +whispered to him, "I remember now." + +I think he had nigh fallen asleep again when he stirred and said, +"Is it going on now?" + +"What?" + +"The adventure." + +"Yes, David." + +Perhaps this disturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, "You +are not frightened, are you?" + +"Am I not?" he answered politely, and I knew his hand was groping +in the darkness, so I put out mine and he held on tightly to one +finger. + +"I am not frightened now," he whispered. + +"And there is nothing else you want?" + +"Is there not?" he again asked politely. "Are you sure there's +not?" he added. + +"What can it be, David?" + +"I don't take up very much room," the far-away voice said. + +"Why, David," said I, sitting up, "do you want to come into my +bed?" + +"Mother said I wasn't to want it unless you wanted it first," he +squeaked. + +"It is what I have been wanting all the time," said I, and then +without more ado the little white figure rose and flung itself at +me. For the rest of the night he lay on me and across me, and +sometimes his feet were at the bottom of the bed and sometimes on +the pillow, but he always retained possession of my finger, and +occasionally he woke me to say that he was sleeping with me. I +had not a good night. I lay thinking. + +Of this little boy, who, in the midst of his play while I +undressed him, had suddenly buried his head on my knees. + +Of the woman who had been for him who could be sufficiently +daring. + +Of David's dripping little form in the bath, and how when I +essayed to catch him he had slipped from my arms like a trout. + +Of how I had stood by the open door listening to his sweet +breathing, had stood so long that I forgot his name and called +him Timothy. + + +XX + +David and Porthos Compared + +But Mary spoilt it all, when I sent David back to her in the +morning, by inquiring too curiously into his person and +discovering that I had put his combinations on him with the +buttons to the front. For this I wrote her the following +insulting letter. When Mary does anything that specially annoys +me I send her an insulting letter. I once had a photograph taken +of David being hanged on a tree. I sent her that. You can't +think of all the subtle ways of grieving her I have. No woman +with the spirit of a crow would stand it. + +"Dear Madam [I wrote], It has come to my knowledge that when you +walk in the Gardens with the boy David you listen avidly for +encomiums of him and of your fanciful dressing of him by passers- +by, storing them in your heart the while you make vain pretence +to regard them not: wherefore lest you be swollen by these very +small things I, who now know David both by day and by night, am +minded to compare him and Porthos the one with the other, both in +this matter and in other matters of graver account. And touching +this matter of outward show, they are both very lordly, and +neither of them likes it to be referred to, but they endure in +different ways. For David says 'Oh, bother!' and even at times +hits out, but Porthos droops his tail and lets them have their +say. Yet is he extolled as beautiful and a darling ten times for +the once that David is extolled. + +"The manners of Porthos are therefore prettier than the manners +of David, who when he has sent me to hide from him behind a tree +sometimes comes not in search, and on emerging tamely from my +concealment I find him playing other games entirely forgetful of +my existence. Whereas Porthos always comes in search. Also if +David wearies of you he scruples not to say so, but Porthos, in +like circumstances, offers you his paw, meaning 'Farewell,' and +to bearded men he does this all the time (I think because of a +hereditary distaste for goats), so that they conceive him to be +enamoured of them when he is only begging them courteously to go. +Thus while the manners of Porthos are more polite it may be +argued that those of David are more efficacious. + +"In gentleness David compares ill with Porthos. For whereas the +one shoves and has been known to kick on slight provocation, the +other, who is noisily hated of all small dogs by reason of his +size, remonstrates not, even when they cling in froth and fury to +his chest, but carries them along tolerantly until they drop off +from fatigue. Again, David will not unbend when in the company +of babies, expecting them unreasonably to rise to his level, but +contrariwise Porthos, though terrible to tramps, suffers all +things of babies, even to an exploration of his mouth in an +attempt to discover what his tongue is like at the other end. +The comings and goings of David are unnoticed by perambulators, +which lie in wait for the advent of Porthos. The strong and +wicked fear Porthos but no little creature fears him, not the +hedgehogs he conveys from place to place in his mouth, nor the +sparrows that steal his straw from under him. + +"In proof of which gentleness I adduce his adventure with the +rabbit. Having gone for a time to reside in a rabbit country +Porthos was elated to discover at last something small that ran +from him, and developing at once into an ecstatic sportsman he +did pound hotly in pursuit, though always over-shooting the mark +by a hundred yards or so and wondering very much what had become +of the rabbit. There was a steep path, from the top of which the +rabbit suddenly came into view, and the practice of Porthos was +to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the summit to give me a +knowing look and then bounding forward. The rabbit here did +something tricky with a hole in the ground, but Porthos tore +onwards in full faith that the game was being played fairly, and +always returned panting and puzzling but glorious. + +"I sometimes shuddered to think of his perplexity should he catch +the rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; nevertheless he +did catch it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another +than the one of which he was in chase. I found him with it, his +brows furrowed in the deepest thought. The rabbit, terrified but +uninjured, cowered beneath him. Porthos gave me a happy look and +again dropped into a weighty frame of mind. 'What is the next +thing one does?' was obviously the puzzle with him, and the +position was scarcely less awkward for the rabbit, which several +times made a move to end this intolerable suspense. Whereupon +Porthos immediately gave it a warning tap with his foot, and +again fell to pondering. The strain on me was very great. + +"At last they seemed to hit upon a compromise. Porthos looked +over his shoulder very self-consciously, and the rabbit at first +slowly and then in a flash withdrew. Porthos pretended to make a +search for it, but you cannot think how relieved he looked. He +even tried to brazen out his disgrace before me and waved his +tail appealingly. But he could not look me in the face, and when +he saw that this was what I insisted on he collapsed at my feet +and moaned. There were real tears in his eyes, and I was +touched, and swore to him that he had done everything a dog could +do, and though he knew I was lying he became happy again. For so +long as I am pleased with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly +matters to Porthos. I told this story to David, having first +extracted a promise from him that he would not think the less of +Porthos, and now I must demand the same promise of you. Also, an +admission that in innocence of heart, for which David has been +properly commended, he can nevertheless teach Porthos nothing, +but on the contrary may learn much from him. + +"And now to come to those qualities in which David excels over +Porthos--the first is that he is no snob but esteems the girl +Irene (pretentiously called his nurse) more than any fine lady, +and envies every ragged boy who can hit to leg. Whereas Porthos +would have every class keep its place, and though fond of going +down into the kitchen, always barks at the top of the stairs for +a servile invitation before he graciously descends. Most of the +servants in our street have had the loan of him to be +photographed with, and I have but now seen him stalking off for +that purpose with a proud little housemaid who is looking up to +him as if he were a warrior for whom she had paid a shilling. + +"Again, when David and Porthos are in their bath, praise is due +to the one and must be withheld from the other. For David, as I +have noticed, loves to splash in his bath and to slip back into +it from the hands that would transfer him to a towel. But +Porthos stands in his bath drooping abjectly like a shamed figure +cut out of some limp material. + +"Furthermore, the inventiveness of David is beyond that of +Porthos, who cannot play by himself, and knows not even how to +take a solitary walk, while David invents playfully all day long. +Lastly, when David is discovered of some offence and expresses +sorrow therefor, he does that thing no more for a time, but looks +about him for other offences, whereas Porthos incontinently +repeats his offence, in other words, he again buries his bone in +the backyard, and marvels greatly that I know it, although his +nose be crusted with earth. + +"Touching these matters, therefore, let it be granted that David +excels Porthos; and in divers similar qualities the one is no +more than a match for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; +for, if a parcel comes into my chambers Porthos is miserable +until it is opened, and I have noticed the same thing of David. + +"Also there is the taking of medicine. For at production of the +vial all gaiety suddenly departs from Porthos and he looks the +other way, but if I say I have forgotten to have the vial +refilled he skips joyfully, yet thinks he still has a right to a +chocolate, and when I remarked disparagingly on this to David he +looked so shy that there was revealed to me a picture of a +certain lady treating him for youthful maladies. + +"A thing to be considered of in both is their receiving of +punishments, and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I +take in this matter to be your mouthpiece) complains that I am +not sufficiently severe with David, and do leave the chiding of +him for offences against myself to her in the hope that he will +love her less and me more thereby. Which we have hotly argued in +the Gardens to the detriment of our dignity. And I here say that +if I am slow to be severe to David, the reason thereof is that I +dare not be severe to Porthos, and I have ever sought to treat +the one the same with the other. + +"Now I refrain from raising hand or voice to Porthos because his +great heart is nigh to breaking if he so much as suspects that +all is not well between him and me, and having struck him once +some years ago never can I forget the shudder which passed +through him when he saw it was I who had struck, and I shall +strike him, ma'am, no more. But when he is detected in any +unseemly act now, it is my stern practice to cane my writing +table in his presence, and even this punishment is almost more +than he can bear. Wherefore if such chastisement inflicted on +David encourages him but to enter upon fresh trespasses (as the +girl Irene avers), the reason must be that his heart is not like +unto that of the noble Porthos. + +"And if you retort that David is naturally a depraved little boy, +and so demands harsher measure, I have still my answer, to wit, +what is the manner of severity meted out to him at home? And +lest you should shuffle in your reply I shall mention a notable +passage that has come to my ears. + +"As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, +uttered it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened +corporal punishment, whereat the father tremblingly intervened. +That David continuing to rejoice exceedingly in his word, the +father spoke darkly of a cane, but the mother rushed between the +combatants. That the problematical chastisement became to David +an object of romantic interest. That this darkened the happy +home. That casting from his path a weeping mother, the goaded +father at last dashed from the house yelling that he was away to +buy a cane. That he merely walked the streets white to the lips +because of the terror David must now be feeling. And that when +he returned, it was David radiant with hope who opened the door +and then burst into tears because there was no cane. Truly, +ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax me with want of severity. +Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am +comparing with Porthos. + +"But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is +ever wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that +looking up from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me +with a passionate attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh +unbearable sadness which comes into the face of dogs is because +they cannot say Thank you to their masters. Whereas David takes +my kindness as his right. But for this, while I should chide him +I cannot do so, for of all the ways David has of making me to +love him the most poignant is that he expects it of me as a +matter of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the +depths of Porthos. Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I +lie down beside him on the floor and he puts an arm about my +neck. On my soul, ma'am, a protecting arm. At such times it is +as if each of us knew what was the want of the other. + +"Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is +the worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my +dog, and so we shall both be pleased." + + +XXI + +William Paterson + +We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me +about the fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa +listening, as one may say. It is his favourite place of a dull +day, and under him were some sheets of newspaper, which I spread +there at such times to deceive my housekeeper, who thinks dogs +should lie on the floor. + +Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you want +them to give you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks, +for all the r's should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this so +often that David believes I should find difficulty in making +myself understood. + +"What would you say," he asked me, "if you wanted them to turn +you into a hollyhock?" He thinks the ease with which they can +turn you into things is their most engaging quality. + +The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told me +this I again forgot the lukka. + +"I should never dream," I said (to cover my discomfiture), "of +asking them to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock I +should soon wither, David." + +He himself had provided me with this objection not long before, +but now he seemed to think it merely silly. "Just before the +time to wither begins," he said airily, "you say to them Fairy me +bola." + +Fairy me bola means "Turn me back again," and David's discovery +made me uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept his +distance of the fairies mainly because of a feeling that their +conversions are permanent. + +So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my rooms +under the care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknown +to them, but they have no need of me, for at such times nothing +would induce Porthos to depart from the care of David. If anyone +addresses them he growls softly and shows the teeth that crunch +bones as if they were biscuits. Thus amicably the two pass on to +Mary's house, where Porthos barks his knock-and-ring bark till +the door is opened. Sometimes he goes in with David, but on this +occasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing remarkable in +this, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next day nor +in weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore his +knuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos-- +at least--well--something disquieting happened. I don't quite know +what to think of it even now. I know what David thinks. +However, you shall think as you choose. + +My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens and +got locked in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out was +over I was there to make inquiries. But there was no news of +Porthos, though I learned that someone was believed to have spent +the night in the Gardens, a young gentleman who walked out +hastily the moment the gates were opened. He had said nothing, +however, of having seen a dog. I feared an accident now, for I +knew no thief could steal him, yet even an accident seemed +incredible, he was always so cautious at crossings; also there +could not possibly have been an accident to Porthos without there +being an accident to something else. + +David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember the +great blank and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualities +that when he knew he was about to cry he turned aside to do it +and I always respected his privacy and waited for him. Of course +being but a little boy he was soon playing again, but his sudden +floods of feeling, of which we never spoke, were dear to me in +those desolate days. + +We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went back +to that, meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthos +used to squat, but we could not help looking at it sideways, and +to our distress a man was sitting on the acquainted spot. He +rose at our approach and took two steps toward us, so quick that +they were almost jumps, then as he saw that we were passing +indignantly I thought I heard him give a little cry. + +I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lure +strangers into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting on +the Story-seat itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He was +dandiacally dressed, seemed to tell something under twenty years +and had a handsome wistful face atop of a heavy, lumbering, +almost corpulent figure, which however did not betoken +inactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of his mother's of +which we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we neared him +he leapt the railings without touching them and was back with it +in three seconds; only instead of delivering it straightway he +seemed to expect David to chase him for it. + +You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railings +without touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be his +name) was at once our friend. We often found him waiting for us +at the Story-seat, and the great stout fellow laughed and wept +over our tales like a three-year-old. Often he said with +extraordinary pride, "You are telling the story to me quite as +much as to David, ar'n't you?" He was of an innocence such as +you shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at which even +David blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David +said that of course these things did not really happen, and +unable to resist that appeal I would reply that they really did. +I never saw him irate except when David was still sceptical, but +then he would say quite warningly "He says it is true, so it must +be true." This brings me to that one of his qualities, which at +once gratified and pained me, his admiration for myself. His +eyes, which at times had a rim of red, were ever fixed upon me +fondly except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and said that +death alone could have kept him so long from my side. Then +Paterson's sympathy was such that he had to look away. He was +shy of speaking of himself so I asked him no personal questions, +but concluded that his upbringing must have been lonely, to +account for his ignorance of affairs, and loveless, else how +could he have felt such a drawing to me? + +I remember very well the day when the strange, and surely +monstrous, suspicion first made my head tingle. We had been +blown, the three of us, to my rooms by a gust of rain; it was +also, I think, the first time Paterson had entered them. "Take +the sofa, Mr. Paterson," I said, as I drew a chair nearer to the +fire, and for the moment my eyes were off him. Then I saw that, +before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading the day's paper +over it. "Whatever makes you do that?" I asked, and he started +like one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushed +the paper aside. + +David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable, +and, despite my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to be +roused from it by a feeling that Paterson was looking at me +covertly. Pooh! what vapours of the imagination were these. I +blew them from me, and to prove to myself, so to speak, that they +were dissipated, I asked him to see David home. As soon as I was +alone, I flung me down on the floor laughing, then as quickly +jumped up and was after them, and very sober too, for it was come +to me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had set off without +asking where David lived. + +Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed. +They were walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhaps +nothing remarkable happened until they reached David's door. I +say perhaps, for something did occur. A lady, who has several +pretty reasons for frequenting the Gardens, recognised David in +the street, and was stooping to address him, when Paterson did +something that alarmed her. I was too far off to see what it +was, but had he growled "Hands off!" she could not have scurried +away more precipitately. He then ponderously marched his charge +to the door, where, assuredly, he did a strange thing. Instead +of knocking or ringing, he stood on the step and called out +sharply, "Hie, hie, hie!" until the door was opened. + +The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of my +sleep that night, and you may picture me trying both sides of the +pillow. + +I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back to +me charged with new meanings. There was his way of shaking +hands. He now did it in the ordinary way, but when first we knew +him his arm had described a circle, and the hand had sometimes +missed mine and come heavily upon my chest instead. His walk, +again, might more correctly have been called a waddle. + +There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed without +thanking me with an intensity that was out of proportion to the +little I had done for him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed ever +to take the sward rather than the seats, perhaps a wise +preference, but he had an unusual way of sitting down. I can +describe it only by saying that he let go of himself and went +down with a thud. + +I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club. +We had cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhat +finicking manner; yet having left the table for a moment to +consult the sweets-card, I saw, when I returned, that there was +now no bone on his plate. The waiters were looking at him rather +curiously. + +David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhat +singular manner, used to pat his head, for instance. I +remembered, also, that while David shouted to me or Irene to +attract our attention, he usually whistled to Paterson, he could +not explain why. + +These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, but +often when some new shock brought them back in force, yet, +unsupported, they would have disturbed me little by day. Day, +however, had its reflections, and they came to me while I was +shaving, that ten minutes when, brought face to face with the +harsher realities of life, we see things most clearly as they +are. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson loomed offensively, +and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to nigh twenty +years had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. He +could not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at mean +motives for generous acts. He had not a single base story about +women. It all seemed inhuman. + +What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson's +faith in me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it. +An easy task, you may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually a +change had come over the youth. I am now arrived at a time when +the light-heartedness had gone out of him; he had lost his zest +for fun, and dubiety sat in the eyes that were once so certain. +He was not doubtful of me, not then, but of human nature in +general; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He mixed with +boys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how +could he retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? He +heard your talk of yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of the +edifice went down. I have not the heart to follow him in all his +discoveries. Sometimes he went in flame at them, but for the +most part he stood looking on, bewildered and numbed, like one +moaning inwardly. + +He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time to +breathe upon the glass. So would your child be, madam, if born +with a man's powers, and when disillusioned of all else, he would +cling for a moment longer to you, the woman of whom, before he +saw you, he had heard so much. How you would strive to cheat +him, even as I strove to hide my real self from Paterson, and +still you would strive as I strove after you knew the game was +up. + +The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were days +when I could not endure looking at him, though surely I have long +ceased to be a vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but for +hours he and I would be together without speaking. It was so +upon the last day, one of those innumerable dreary days when +David, having sneezed the night before, was kept at home in +flannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the Story-seat. At +last I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of what +chained our tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go, +for soon the gates would close, but when I looked at him I saw +that he was more mournful than ever before; he shut his eyes so +tightly that a drop of blood fell from them. + +"It was all over, Paterson, long ago," I broke out harshly, "why +do we linger?" + +He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing +looks that had much affection in them. + +"You expected too much of me," I told him, and he bowed his head. +"I don't know where you brought your grand ideas of men and women +from. I don't want to know," I added hastily. + +"But it must have been from a prettier world than this," I said: +"are you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?" + +He rose and sat down again. "I wanted to know you," he replied +slowly, "I wanted to be like you." + +"And now you know me," I said, "do you want to be like me still? +I am a curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you +see that even David often smiles at me when he thinks he is +unobserved. I work very hard to retain that little boy's love; +but I shall lose him soon; even now I am not what I was to him; +in a year or two at longest, Paterson, David will grow out of +me." + +The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but "No," said I, "you +have found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and +that is why the loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shall +we go, Paterson?" + +He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was +far away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly. + +For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I +knew not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the +dark, and I switched on the light and slept at last. I was +roused by a great to-do in the early morning, servants knocking +excitedly, and my door opened, and the dear Porthos I had mourned +so long tore in. They had heard his bark, but whence he came no +one knew. + +He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me +from all points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and +lay down beside him, while he put his protecting arm round me and +looked at me with the old adoring eyes. + +But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose. + + +XXII + +Joey + +Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in +her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted +their fortunate papa. The reason they do this is because every +offer refused by their mother means another pantomime to them. +You see you can't trust to your father's taking you to the +pantomime, but you can trust to every one of the poor frenzied +gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a delicious little tear on +her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is pretty (but +dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering +together the babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one +door and bring a hansom, but others go from street to street in +private 'buses, and even wear false noses to conceal the +sufferings you inflict upon them as you grew more and more like +your sweet cruel mamma. + +So I took David to the pantomime, and I hope you follow my +reasoning, for I don't. He went with the fairest anticipations, +pausing on the threshold to peer through the hole in the little +house called "Pay Here," which he thought was Red Riding Hood's +residence, and asked politely whether he might see her, but they +said she had gone to the wood, and it was quite true, for there +she was in the wood gathering a stick for her grandmother's fire. +She sang a beautiful song about the Boys and their dashing ways, +which flattered David considerably, but she forgot to take away +the stick after all. Other parts of the play were not so nice, +but David thought it all lovely, he really did. + +Yet he left the place in tears. All the way home he sobbed in +the darkest corner of the growler, and if I tried to comfort him +he struck me. + +The clown had done it, that man of whom he expected things so +fair. He had asked in a loud voice of the middling funny +gentleman (then in the middle of a song) whether he thought Joey +would be long in coming, and when at last Joey did come he +screamed out, "How do you do, Joey!" and went into convulsions of +mirth. + +Joey and his father were shadowing a pork-butcher's shop, +pocketing the sausages for which their family has such a fatal +weakness, and so when the butcher engaged Joey as his assistant +there was soon not a sausage left. However, this did not matter, +for there was a box rather like an ice-cream machine, and you put +chunks of pork in at one end and turned a handle and they came +out as sausages at the other end. Joey quite enjoyed doing this, +and you could see that the sausages were excellent by the way he +licked his fingers after touching them, but soon there were no +more pieces of pork, and just then a dear little Irish +terrier-dog came trotting down the street, so what did Joey do +but pop it into the machine and it came out at the other end as +sausages. + +It was this callous act that turned all David's mirth to woe, and +drove us weeping to our growler. + +Heaven knows I have no wish to defend this cruel deed, but as +Joey told me afterward, it is very difficult to say what they +will think funny and what barbarous. I was forced to admit to +him that David had perceived only the joyous in the pokering of +the policeman's legs, and had called out heartily "Do it again!" +every time Joey knocked the pantaloon down with one kick and +helped him up with another. + +"It hurts the poor chap," I was told by Joey, whom I was +agreeably surprised to find by no means wanting in the more +humane feelings, "and he wouldn't stand it if there wasn't the +laugh to encourage him." + +He maintained that the dog got that laugh to encourage him also. + +However, he had not got it from David, whose mother and father +and nurse combined could not comfort him, though they swore that +the dog was still alive and kicking, which might all have been +very well had not David seen the sausages. It was to inquire +whether anything could be done to atone that in considerable +trepidation I sent in my card to the clown, and the result of our +talk was that he invited me and David to have tea with him on +Thursday next at his lodgings. + +"I sha'n't laugh," David said, nobly true to the memory of the +little dog, "I sha'n't laugh once," and he closed his jaws very +tightly as we drew near the house in Soho where Joey lodged. But +he also gripped my hand, like one who knew that it would be an +ordeal not to laugh. + +The house was rather like the ordinary kind, but there was a +convenient sausage-shop exactly opposite (trust Joey for that) +and we saw a policeman in the street looking the other way, as +they always do look just before you rub them. A woman wearing +the same kind of clothes as people in other houses wear, told us +to go up to the second floor, and she grinned at David, as if she +had heard about him; so up we went, David muttering through his +clenched teeth, "I sha'n't laugh," and as soon as we knocked a +voice called out, "Here we are again!" at which a shudder passed +through David as if he feared that he had set himself an +impossible task. In we went, however, and though the voice had +certainly come from this room we found nobody there. I looked in +bewilderment at David, and he quickly put his hand over his +mouth. + +It was a funny room, of course, but not so funny as you might +expect; there were droll things in it, but they did nothing +funny, you could see that they were just waiting for Joey. There +were padded chairs with friendly looking rents down the middle of +them, and a table and a horse-hair sofa, and we sat down very +cautiously on the sofa but nothing happened to us. + +The biggest piece of furniture was an enormous wicker trunk, with +a very lively coloured stocking dangling out at a hole in it, and +a notice on the top that Joey was the funniest man on earth. +David tried to pull the stocking out of the hole, but it was so +long that it never came to an end, and when it measured six times +the length of the room he had to cover his mouth again. + +"I'm not laughing," he said to me, quite fiercely. He even +managed not to laugh (though he did gulp) when we discovered on +the mantelpiece a photograph of Joey in ordinary clothes, the +garments he wore before he became a clown. You can't think how +absurd he looked in them. But David didn't laugh. + +Suddenly Joey was standing beside us, it could not have been more +sudden though he had come from beneath the table, and he was +wearing his pantomime clothes (which he told us afterward were +the only clothes he had) and his red and white face was so funny +that David made gurgling sounds, which were his laugh trying to +force a passage. + +I introduced David, who offered his hand stiffly, but Joey, +instead of taking it, put out his tongue and waggled it, and this +was so droll that David had again to save himself by clapping his +hand over his mouth. Joey thought he had toothache, so I +explained what it really meant, and then Joey said, "Oh, I shall +soon make him laugh," whereupon the following conversation took +place between them: + +"No, you sha'n't," said David doggedly. + +"Yes, I shall." + +"No, you sha'n't not." + +"Yes, I shall so." + +"Sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't." + +"Shall, shall, shall." + +"You shut up." + +"You're another." + +By this time Joey was in a frightful way (because he saw he was +getting the worst of it), and he boasted that he had David's +laugh in his pocket, and David challenged him to produce it, and +Joey searched his pockets and brought out the most unexpected +articles, including a duck and a bunch of carrots; and you could +see by his manner that the simple soul thought these were things +which all boys carried loose in their pockets. + +I daresay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not +been a half-gnawed sausage in one of the pockets, and the sight +of it reminded him so cruelly of the poor dog's fate that he +howled, and Joey's heart was touched at last, and he also wept, +but he wiped his eyes with the duck. + +It was at this touching moment that the pantaloon hobbled in, +also dressed as we had seen him last, and carrying, +unfortunately, a trayful of sausages, which at once increased the +general gloom, for he announced, in his squeaky voice, that they +were the very sausages that had lately been the dog. + +Then Joey seemed to have a great idea, and his excitement was so +impressive that we stood gazing at him. First, he counted the +sausages, and said that they were two short, and he found the +missing two up the pantaloon's sleeve. Then he ran out of the +room and came back with the sausage-machine; and what do you +think he did? He put all the sausages into the end of the +machine that they had issued from, and turned the handle +backward, and then out came the dog at the other end! + +Can you picture the joy of David? + +He clasped the dear little terrier in his arms; and then we +noticed that there was a sausage adhering to its tail. The +pantaloon said we must have put in a sausage too many, but Joey +said the machine had not worked quite smoothly and that he feared +this sausage was the dog's bark, which distressed David, for he +saw how awkward it must be to a dog to have its bark outside, and +we were considering what should be done when the dog closed the +discussion by swallowing the sausage. + +After that, David had the most hilarious hour of his life, +entering into the childish pleasures of this family as heartily +as if he had been brought up on sausages, and knocking the +pantaloon down repeatedly. You must not think that he did this +viciously; he did it to please the old gentleman, who begged him +to do it, and always shook hands warmly and said "Thank you," +when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. + +Joey called David and me "Sonny," and asked David, who addressed +him as "Mr. Clown," to call him Joey. He also told us that the +pantaloon's name was old Joey, and the columbine's Josy, and the +harlequin's Joeykin. + +We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of +trouble. This was because his memory is so bad that he often +forgets whether it is your head or your feet you should stand on, +and he usually begins the day by standing on the end that happens +to get out of bed first. Thus he requires constant watching, and +the worst of it is, you dare not draw attention to his mistake, +he is so shrinkingly sensitive about it. No sooner had Joey told +us this than the poor old fellow began to turn upside down and +stood on his head; but we pretended not to notice, and talked +about the weather until he came to. + +Josy and Joeykin, all skirts and spangles, were with us by this +time, for they had been invited to tea. They came in dancing, +and danced off and on most of the time. Even in the middle of +what they were saying they would begin to flutter; it was not so +much that they meant to dance as that the slightest thing set +them going, such as sitting in a draught; and David found he +could blow them about the room like pieces of paper. You could +see by the shortness of Josy's dress that she was very young +indeed, and at first this made him shy, as he always is when +introduced formally to little girls, and he stood sucking his +thumb, and so did she, but soon the stiffness wore off and they +sat together on the sofa, holding each other's hands. + +All this time the harlequin was rotating like a beautiful fish, +and David requested him to jump through the wall, at which he is +such an adept, and first he said he would, and then he said +better not, for the last time he did it the people in the next +house had made such a fuss. David had to admit that it must be +rather startling to the people on the other side of the wall, but +he was sorry. + +By this time tea was ready, and Josy, who poured out, remembered +to ask if you took milk with just one drop of tea in it, exactly +as her mother would have asked. There was nothing to eat, of +course, except sausages, but what a number of them there were! +hundreds at least, strings of sausages, and every now and then +Joey jumped up and played skipping rope with them. David had +been taught not to look greedy, even though he felt greedy, and +he was shocked to see the way in which Joey and old Joey and even +Josy eyed the sausages they had given him. Soon Josy developed +nobler feelings, for she and Joeykin suddenly fell madly in love +with each other across the table, but unaffected by this pretty +picture, Joey continued to put whole sausages in his mouth at a +time, and then rubbed himself a little lower down, while old Joey +secreted them about his person; and when David wasn't looking +they both pounced on his sausages, and yet as they gobbled they +were constantly running to the top of the stair and screaming to +the servant to bring up more sausages. + +You could see that Joey (if you caught him with his hand in your +plate) was a bit ashamed of himself, and he admitted to us that +sausages were a passion with him. + +He said he had never once in his life had a sufficient number of +sausages. They had maddened him since he was the smallest boy. +He told us how, even in those days, his mother had feared for +him, though fond of a sausage herself; how he had bought a +sausage with his first penny, and hoped to buy one with his last +(if they could not be got in any other way), and that he always +slept with a string of them beneath his pillow. + +While he was giving us these confidences, unfortunately, his eyes +came to rest, at first accidentally, then wistfully, then with a +horrid gleam in them, on the little dog, which was fooling about +on the top of the sausage-machine, and his hands went out toward +it convulsively, whereat David, in sudden fear, seized the dog in +one arm and gallantly clenched his other fist, and then Joey +begged his pardon and burst into tears, each one of which he +flung against the wall, where it exploded with a bang. + +David refused to pardon him unless he promised on wood never to +look in that way at the dog again, but Joey said promises were +nothing to him when he was short of sausages, and so his wisest +course would be to present the dog to David. Oh, the joy of +David when he understood that the little dog he had saved was his +very own! I can tell you he was now in a hurry to be off before +Joey had time to change his mind. + +"All I ask of you," Joey said with a break in his voice, "is to +call him after me, and always to give him a sausage, sonny, of a +Saturday night." + +There was a quiet dignity about Joey at the end, which showed +that he might have risen to high distinction but for his fatal +passion. + +The last we saw of him was from the street. He was waving his +tongue at us in his attractive, foolish way, and Josy was poised +on Joeykin's hand like a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. +We could not exactly see old Joey, but we saw his feet, and so +feared the worst. Of course they are not everything they should +be, but one can't help liking them. + + +XXIII + +Pilkington's + +On attaining the age of eight, or thereabout, children fly away +from the Gardens, and never come back. When next you meet them +they are ladies and gentlemen holding up their umbrellas to hail +a hansom. + +Where the girls go to I know not, to some private place, I +suppose, to put up their hair, but the boys have gone to +Pilkington's. He is a man with a cane. You may not go to +Pilkington's in knickerbockers made by your mother, make she ever +so artfully. They must be real knickerbockers. It is his stern +rule. Hence the fearful fascination of Pilkington's. + +He may be conceived as one who, baiting his hook with real +knickerbockers, fishes all day in the Gardens, which are to him +but a pool swarming with small fry. + +Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of man thou art in the +flesh, sir, but figure thee bearded and blackavised, and of a +lean tortuous habit of body, that moves ever with a swish. Every +morning, I swear, thou readest avidly the list of male births in +thy paper, and then are thy hands rubbed gloatingly the one upon +the other. 'Tis fear of thee and thy gown and thy cane, which +are part of thee, that makes the fairies to hide by day; wert +thou to linger but once among their haunts between the hours of +Lock-out and Open Gates there would be left not one single gentle +place in all the Gardens. The little people would flit. How +much wiser they than the small boys who swim glamoured to thy +crafty hook. Thou devastator of the Gardens, I know thee, +Pilkington. + +I first heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver +Bailey. + +This Oliver Bailey was one of the most dashing figures in the +Gardens, and without apparent effort was daily drawing nearer the +completion of his seventh year at a time when David seemed unable +to get beyond half-past five. I have to speak of him in the past +tense, for gone is Oliver from the Gardens (gone to Pilkington's) +but he is still a name among us, and some lordly deeds are +remembered of him, as that his father shaved twice a day. Oliver +himself was all on that scale. + +His not ignoble ambition seems always to have been to be wrecked +upon an island, indeed I am told that he mentioned it +insinuatingly in his prayers, and it was perhaps inevitable that +a boy with such an outlook should fascinate David. I am proud, +therefore, to be able to state on wood that it was Oliver himself +who made the overture. + +On first hearing, from some satellite of Oliver's, of Wrecked +Islands, as they are called in the Gardens, David said wistfully +that he supposed you needed to be very very good before you had +any chance of being wrecked, and the remark was conveyed to +Oliver, on whom it made an uncomfortable impression. For a time +he tried to evade it, but ultimately David was presented to him +and invited gloomily to say it again. The upshot was that Oliver +advertised the Gardens of his intention to be good until he was +eight, and if he had not been wrecked by that time, to be as +jolly bad as a boy could be. He was naturally so bad that at the +Kindergarten Academy, when the mistress ordered whoever had done +the last naughty deed to step forward, Oliver's custom had been +to step forward, not necessarily because he had done it, but +because he presumed he very likely had. + +The friendship of the two dated from this time, and at first I +thought Oliver discovered generosity in hasting to David as to an +equal; he also walked hand in hand with him, and even reproved +him for delinquencies like a loving elder brother. But 'tis a +gray world even in the Gardens, for I found that a new +arrangement had been made which reduced Oliver to life-size. He +had wearied of well-doing, and passed it on, so to speak, to his +friend. In other words, on David now devolved the task of being +good until he was eight, while Oliver clung to him so closely +that the one could not be wrecked without the other. + +When this was made known to me it was already too late to break +the spell of Oliver, David was top-heavy with pride in him, and, +faith, I began to find myself very much in the cold, for Oliver +was frankly bored by me and even David seemed to think it would +be convenient if I went and sat with Irene. Am I affecting to +laugh? I was really distressed and lonely, and rather bitter; and +how humble I became. Sometimes when the dog Joey is unable, by +frisking, to induce Porthos to play with him, he stands on his +hind legs and begs it of him, and I do believe I was sometimes as +humble as Joey. Then David would insist on my being suffered to +join them, but it was plain that he had no real occasion for me. + +It was an unheroic trouble, and I despised myself. For years I +had been fighting Mary for David, and had not wholly failed +though she was advantaged by the accident of relationship; was I +now to be knocked out so easily by a seven year old? I +reconsidered my weapons, and I fought Oliver and beat him. +Figure to yourself those two boys become as faithful to me as my +coat-tails. + +With wrecked islands I did it. I began in the most unpretentious +way by telling them a story which might last an hour, and +favoured by many an unexpected wind it lasted eighteen months. +It started as the wreck of the simple Swiss family who looked up +and saw the butter tree, but soon a glorious inspiration of the +night turned it into the wreck of David A---- and Oliver Bailey. +At first it was what they were to do when they were wrecked, but +imperceptibly it became what they had done. I spent much of my +time staring reflectively at the titles of the boys' stories in +the booksellers' windows, whistling for a breeze, so to say, for +I found that the titles were even more helpful than the stories. +We wrecked everybody of note, including all Homer's most taking +characters and the hero of Paradise Lost. But we suffered them +not to land. We stripped them of what we wanted and left them to +wander the high seas naked of adventure. And all this was merely +the beginning. + +By this time I had been cast upon the island. It was not my own +proposal, but David knew my wishes, and he made it all right for +me with Oliver. They found me among the breakers with a large +dog, which had kept me afloat throughout that terrible night. I +was the sole survivor of the ill-fated Anna Pink. So exhausted +was I that they had to carry me to their hut, and great was my +gratitude when on opening my eyes, I found myself in that +romantic edifice instead of in Davy Jones's locker. As we walked +in the Gardens I told them of the hut they had built; and they +were inflated but not surprised. On the other hand they looked +for surprise from me. + +"Did we tell you about the turtle we turned on its back?" asked +Oliver, reverting to deeds of theirs of which I had previously +told them. + +"You did." + +"Who turned it?" demanded David, not as one who needed +information but after the manner of a schoolmaster. + +"It was turned," I said, "by David A----, the younger of the two +youths." + +"Who made the monkeys fling cocoa-nuts at him?" asked the older +of the two youths. + +"Oliver Bailey," I replied. + +"Was it Oliver," asked David sharply, "that found the cocoa-nut- +tree first?" + +"On the contrary," I answered, "it was first observed by David, +who immediately climbed it, remarking, 'This is certainly the +cocos-nucifera, for, see, dear Oliver, the slender columns +supporting the crown of leaves which fall with a grace that no +art can imitate.'" + +"That's what I said," remarked David with a wave of his hand. + +"I said things like that, too," Oliver insisted. + +"No, you didn't then," said David. + +"Yes, I did so." + +"No, you didn't so." + +"Shut up." + +"Well, then, let's hear one you said." + +Oliver looked appealingly at me. "The following," I announced, +"is one that Oliver said: 'Truly dear comrade, though the perils +of these happenings are great, and our privations calculated to +break the stoutest heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sights +I would endure still greater trials and still rejoice even as the +bird on yonder bough.'" + +"That's one I said!" crowed Oliver. + +"I shot the bird," said David instantly. + +"What bird?" + +"The yonder bird." + +"No, you didn't." + +"Did I not shoot the bird?" + +"It was David who shot the bird," I said, "but it was Oliver who +saw by its multi-coloured plumage that it was one of the +Psittacidae, an excellent substitute for partridge." + +"You didn't see that," said Oliver, rather swollen. + +"Yes, I did." + +"What did you see?" + +"I saw that." + +"What?" + +"You shut up." + +"David shot it," I summed up, "and Oliver knew its name, but I +ate it. Do you remember how hungry I was?" + +"Rather!" said David. + +"I cooked it," said Oliver. + +"It was served up on toast," I reminded them. + +"I toasted it," said David. + +"Toast from the bread-fruit-tree," I said, "which (as you both +remarked simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a +year, and also affords a serviceable gum for the pitching of +canoes." + +"I pitched mine best," said Oliver. + +"I pitched mine farthest," said David. + +"And when I had finished my repast," said I, "you amazed me by +handing me a cigar from the tobacco-plant." + +"I handed it," said Oliver. + +"I snicked off the end," said David. + +"And then," said I, "you gave me a light." + +"Which of us?" they cried together. + +"Both of you," I said. "Never shall I forget my amazement when I +saw you get that light by rubbing two sticks together." + +At this they waggled their heads. "You couldn't have done it!" +said David. + +"No, David," I admitted, "I can't do it, but of course I know +that all wrecked boys do it quite easily. Show me how you did +it." + +But after consulting apart they agreed not to show me. I was not +shown everything. + +David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on +an island, while Oliver passed his days in dubiety. They used to +argue it out together and among their friends. As I unfolded the +story Oliver listened with an open knife in his hand, and David +who was not allowed to have a knife wore a pirate-string round +his waist. Irene in her usual interfering way objected to this +bauble and dropped disparaging remarks about wrecked islands +which were little to her credit. I was for defying her, but +David, who had the knack of women, knew a better way; he craftily +proposed that we "should let Irene in," in short, should wreck +her, and though I objected, she proved a great success and +recognised the yucca filamentosa by its long narrow leaves the +very day she joined us. Thereafter we had no more scoffing from +Irene, who listened to the story as hotly as anybody. + +This encouraged us in time to let in David's father and mother, +though they never knew it unless he told them, as I have no doubt +he did. They were admitted primarily to gratify David, who was +very soft-hearted and knew that while he was on the island they +must be missing him very much at home. So we let them in, and +there was no part of the story he liked better than that which +told of the joyous meeting. We were in need of another woman at +any rate, someone more romantic looking than Irene, and Mary, I +can assure her now, had a busy time of it. She was constantly +being carried off by cannibals, and David became quite an adept +at plucking her from the very pot itself and springing from cliff +to cliff with his lovely burden in his arms. There was seldom a +Saturday in which David did not kill his man. + +I shall now provide the proof that David believed it all to be as +true as true. It was told me by Oliver, who had it from our hero +himself. I had described to them how the savages had tattooed +David's father, and Oliver informed me that one night shortly +afterward David was discovered softly lifting the blankets off +his father's legs to have a look at the birds and reptiles etched +thereon. + +Thus many months passed with no word of Pilkington, and you may +be asking where he was all this time. Ah, my friends, he was +very busy fishing, though I was as yet unaware of his existence. +Most suddenly I heard the whirr of his hated reel, as he struck a +fish. I remember that grim day with painful vividness, it was a +wet day, indeed I think it has rained for me more or less ever +since. As soon as they joined me I saw from the manner of the +two boys that they had something to communicate. Oliver nudged +David and retired a few paces, whereupon David said to me +solemnly, + +"Oliver is going to Pilkington's." + +I immediately perceived that it was some school, but so little +did I understand the import of David's remark that I called out +jocularly, "I hope he won't swish you, Oliver." + +Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged glances +and retired for consultation behind a tree, whence David returned +to say with emphasis, + +"He has two jackets and two shirts and two knickerbockers, all +real ones." + +"Well done, Oliver!" said I, but it was the wrong thing again, +and once more they disappeared behind the tree. Evidently they +decided that the time for plain speaking was come, for now David +announced bluntly: + +"He wants you not to call him Oliver any longer." + +"What shall I call him?" + +"Bailey." + +"But why?" + +"He's going to Pilkington's. And he can't play with us any more +after next Saturday." + +"Why not?" + +"He's going to Pilkington's." + +So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, +Oliver stretching himself consciously, and methought that even +David walked with a sedater air. + +"David," said I, with a sinking, "are you going to Pilkington's?" + +"When I am eight," he replied. + +"And sha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in +the Gardens any more?" + +He looked at Bailey, and Bailey signalled him to be firm. + +"Oh, no," said David cheerily. + +Thus sharply did I learn how much longer I was to have of him. +Strange that a little boy can give so much pain. I dropped his +hand and walked on in silence, and presently I did my most +churlish to hurt him by ending the story abruptly in a very cruel +way. "Ten years have elapsed," said I, "since I last spoke, and +our two heroes, now gay young men, are revisiting the wrecked +island of their childhood. 'Did we wreck ourselves,' said one, +'or was there someone to help us?' And the other who was the +younger, replied, 'I think there was someone to help us, a man +with a dog. I think he used to tell me stories in the Kensington +Gardens, but I forget all about him; I don't remember even his +name.'" + +This tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted away from us, but +David still walked by my side, and he was grown so quiet that I +knew a storm was brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. +"It's not true," he cried, "it's a lie!" He gripped my hand. "I +sha'n't never forget you, father." + +Strange that a little boy can give so much pleasure. + +Yet I could go on. "You will forget, David, but there was once a +boy who would have remembered." + +"Timothy?" said he at once. He thinks Timothy was a real boy, +and is very jealous of him. He turned his back to me, and stood +alone and wept passionately, while I waited for him. You may be +sure I begged his pardon, and made it all right with him, and had +him laughing and happy again before I let him go. But +nevertheless what I said was true. David is not my boy, and he +will forget. But Timothy would have remembered. + + +XXIV + +Barbara + +Another shock was waiting for me farther down the story. + +For we had resumed our adventures, though we seldom saw Bailey +now. At long intervals we met him on our way to or from the +Gardens, and, if there was none from Pilkington's to mark him, +methought he looked at us somewhat longingly, as if beneath his +real knickerbockers a morsel of the egg-shell still adhered. +Otherwise he gave David a not unfriendly kick in passing, and +called him "youngster." That was about all. + +When Oliver disappeared from the life of the Gardens we had +lofted him out of the story, and did very well without him, +extending our operations to the mainland, where they were on so +vast a scale that we were rapidly depopulating the earth. And +then said David one day, + +"Shall we let Barbara in?" + +We had occasionally considered the giving of Bailey's place to +some other child of the Gardens, divers of David's year having +sought election, even with bribes; but Barbara was new to me. + +"Who is she?" I asked. + +"She's my sister." + +You may imagine how I gaped. + +"She hasn't come yet," David said lightly, "but she's coming." + + + +I was shocked, not perhaps so much shocked as disillusioned, for +though I had always suspicioned Mary A---- as one who harboured the +craziest ambitions when she looked most humble, of such +presumption as this I had never thought her capable. + +I wandered across the Broad Walk to have a look at Irene, and she +was wearing an unmistakable air. It set me reflecting about +Mary's husband and his manner the last time we met, for though I +have had no opportunity to say so, we still meet now and again, +and he has even dined with me at the club. On these occasions +the subject of Timothy is barred, and if by any unfortunate +accident Mary's name is mentioned, we immediately look opposite +ways and a silence follows, in which I feel sure he is smiling, +and wonder what the deuce he is smiling at. I remembered now +that I had last seen him when I was dining with him at his club +(for he is become member of a club of painter fellows, and Mary +is so proud of this that she has had it printed on his card), +when undoubtedly he had looked preoccupied. It had been the +look, I saw now, of one who shared a guilty secret. + +As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at +myself, for, on my soul, I had been thinking well of Mary of +late. Always foolishly inflated about David, she had been +grudging him even to me during these last weeks, and I had +forgiven her, putting it down to a mother's love. I knew from +the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been giving him; I had +seen her embrace him furtively in a public place, her every act, +in so far as they were known to me, had been a challenge to +whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David. How could +I, not being a woman, have guessed that she was really saying +good-bye to him? + +Reader, picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about +the house at this time, on the understanding that everything was +going on as usual. Have not his toys acquired a new pathos, +especially the engine she bought him yesterday? + +Did you look him in the face, Mary, as you gave him that engine? +I envy you not your feelings, ma'am, when with loving arms he +wrapped you round for it. That childish confidence of his to me, +in which unwittingly he betrayed you, indicates that at last you +have been preparing him for the great change, and I suppose you +are capable of replying to me that David is still happy, and even +interested. But does he know from you what it really means to +him? Rather, I do believe, you are one who would not scruple to +give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands for +Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him. In your heart, ma'am, +what do you think of this tricking of a little boy? + +Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you, +are you sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an +unwritten compact in such matters between a mother and her first- +born, and I desire to point out to you that he never breaks it. +Again, what will the other boys say when they know? You are +outside the criticism of the Gardens, but David is not. Faith, +madam, I believe you would have been kinder to wait and let him +run the gauntlet at Pilkington's. + +You think your husband is a great man now because they are +beginning to talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the +newspaper columns that nobody reads. I know you have bought him +a velvet coat, and that he has taken a large, airy and commodious +studio in Mews Lane, where you are to be found in a soft material +on first and third Wednesdays. Times are changing, but shall I +tell you a story here, just to let you see that I am acquainted +with it? + +Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist +a picture which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine. But +no one spoke of the picture, no one wrote of it, and no one made +an offer for it. Crushed was the artist, sorry for the denseness +of connoisseurs was his wife, till the work was bought by a +dealer for an anonymous client, and then elated were they both, +and relieved also to discover that I was not the buyer. He came +to me at once to make sure of this, and remained to walk the +floor gloriously as he told me what recognition means to +gentlemen of the artistic callings. O, the happy boy! + +But months afterward, rummaging at his home in a closet that is +usually kept locked, he discovered the picture, there hidden +away. His wife backed into a corner and made trembling +confession. How could she submit to see her dear's masterpiece +ignored by the idiot public, and her dear himself plunged into +gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had they not been +married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers for +recognition, and so with her savings she bought the great work +anonymously and stored it away in a closet. At first, I believe, +the man raved furiously, but by-and-by he was on his knees at the +feet of this little darling. You know who she was, Mary, but, +bless me, I seem to be praising you, and that was not the +enterprise on which I set out. What I intended to convey was +that though you can now venture on small extravagances, you seem +to be going too fast. Look at it how one may, this Barbara idea +is undoubtedly a bad business. + +How to be even with her? I cast about for a means, and on my +lucky day I did conceive my final triumph over Mary, at which I +have scarcely as yet dared to hint, lest by discovering it I +should spoil my plot. For there has been a plot all the time. + +For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a +book, my informant being David, who, because I have published a +little volume on Military tactics, and am preparing a larger one +on the same subject (which I shall never finish), likes to watch +my methods of composition, how I dip, and so on, his desire being +to help her. He may have done this on his own initiative, but it +is also quite possible that in her desperation she urged him to +it; he certainly implied that she had taken to book-writing +because it must be easy if I could do it. She also informed him +(very inconsiderately), that I did not print my books myself, and +this lowered me in the eyes of David, for it was for the printing +he had admired me and boasted of me in the Gardens. + +"I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither, nor yet the +labels," he said to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in +everything. + +I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse, the +token whereof is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls, each +labelled with a letter of the alphabet. When I take a note in A, +I drop its into the A box, and so on, much to the satisfaction of +David, who likes to drop them in for me. I had now to admit that +Wheeler & Gibb made the boxes. + +"But I made the labels myself, David." + +"They are not so well made as the boxes," he replied. + +Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination, as +I presumed it to be, and I said to him with easy brutality, "Tell +her about the boxes, David, and that no one can begin a book +until they are all full. That will frighten her." + +Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box. + +"One box!" I said with a sneer. + +"She made it herself," retorted David hotly. + +I got little real information from him about the work, partly +because David loses his footing when he descends to the +practical, and perhaps still more because he found me +unsympathetic. But when he blurted out the title, "The Little +White Bird," I was like one who had read the book to its last +page. I knew at once that the white bird was the little daughter +Mary would fain have had. Somehow I had always known that she +would like to have a little daughter, she was that kind of woman, +and so long as she had the modesty to see that she could not have +one, I sympathised with her deeply, whatever I may have said +about her book to David. + +In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little +book, and they came to her mostly in the morning when she was +only three-parts awake, but as she stepped out of bed they all +flew away like startled birds. I gathered from David that this +depressed her exceedingly. + +Oh, Mary, your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show +themselves to anyone but yourself. The shy things are hiding +within you. If they could come into the open they would not be a +book, they would be little Barbara. + +But that was not the message I sent her. "She will never be able +to write it," I explained to David. "She has not the ability. +Tell her I said that." + +I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her +ambitious project, so I questioned David and discovered that it +was abandoned. He could not say why, nor was it necessary that +he should, the trivial little reason was at once so plain to me. +From that moment all my sympathy with Mary was spilled, and I +searched for some means of exulting over her until I found it. +It was this. I decided, unknown even to David, to write the book +"The Little White Bird," of which she had proved herself +incapable, and then when, in the fulness of time, she held her +baby on high, implying that she had done a big thing, I was to +hold up the book. I venture to think that such a devilish +revenge was never before planned and carried out. + +Yes, carried out, for this is the book, rapidly approaching +completion. She and I are running a neck-and-neck race. + +I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to +an abrupt end. "And it really is the end this time, David," I +said severely. (I always say that.) + +It ended on the coast of Patagonia, whither we had gone to shoot +the great Sloth, known to be the largest of animals, though we +found his size to have been under-estimated. David, his father +and I had flung our limbs upon the beach and were having a last +pipe before turning in, while Mary, attired in barbaric +splendour, sang and danced before us. It was a lovely evening, +and we lolled manlike, gazing, well-content, at the pretty +creature. + +The night was absolutely still save for the roaring of the Sloths +in the distance. + +By-and-by Irene came to the entrance of our cave, where by the +light of her torch we could see her exploring a shark that had +been harpooned by David earlier in the day. + +Everything conduced to repose, and a feeling of gentle peace +crept over us, from which we were roused by a shrill cry. It was +uttered by Irene, who came speeding to us, bearing certain +articles, a watch, a pair of boots, a newspaper, which she had +discovered in the interior of the shark. What was our surprise +to find in the newspaper intelligence of the utmost importance to +all of us. It was nothing less than this, the birth of a new +baby in London to Mary. + +How strange a method had Solomon chosen of sending us the news. + +The bald announcement at once plunged us into a fever of +excitement, and next morning we set sail for England. Soon we +came within sight of the white cliffs of Albion. Mary could not +sit down for a moment, so hot was she to see her child. She +paced the deck in uncontrollable agitation. + +"So did I!" cried David, when I had reached this point in the +story. + +On arriving at the docks we immediately hailed a cab. + +"Never, David," I said, "shall I forget your mother's excitement. +She kept putting her head out of the window and calling to the +cabby to go quicker, quicker. How he lashed his horse! At last +he drew up at your house, and then your mother, springing out, +flew up the steps and beat with her hands upon the door." + +David was quite carried away by the reality of it. "Father has +the key!" he screamed. + +"He opened the door," I said grandly, "and your mother rushed in, +and next moment her Benjamin was in her arms." + +There was a pause. + +"Barbara," corrected David. + +"Benjamin," said I doggedly. + +"Is that a girl's name?" + +"No, it's a boy's name." + +"But mother wants a girl," he said, very much shaken. + +"Just like her presumption," I replied testily. "It is to be a +boy, David, and you can tell her I said so." + +He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy +would have suited him quite well, but he put self aside +altogether and was pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be +given her fancy. + +"Barbara," he repeatedly implored me. + +"Benjamin," I replied firmly. + +For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I +agreed to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was +to be a girl, and if I won it was to be a boy. + + +XXV + +The Cricket Match + +I think there has not been so much on a cricket match since the +day when Sir Horace Mann walked about Broad Ha'penny agitatedly +cutting down the daisies with his stick. And, be it remembered, +the heroes of Hambledon played for money and renown only, while +David was champion of a lady. A lady! May we not prettily say +of two ladies? There were no spectators of our contest except +now and again some loiterer in the Gardens who little thought +what was the stake for which we played, but cannot we conceive +Barbara standing at the ropes and agitatedly cutting down the +daisies every time David missed the ball? I tell you, this was +the historic match of the Gardens. + +David wanted to play on a pitch near the Round Pond with which he +is familiar, but this would have placed me at a disadvantage, so +I insisted on unaccustomed ground, and we finally pitched stumps +in the Figs. We could not exactly pitch stumps, for they are +forbidden in the Gardens, but there are trees here and there +which have chalk-marks on them throughout the summer, and when +you take up your position with a bat near one of these you have +really pitched stumps. The tree we selected is a ragged yew +which consists of a broken trunk and one branch, and I viewed the +ground with secret satisfaction, for it falls slightly at about +four yards' distance from the tree, and this exactly suits my +style of bowling. + +I won the toss and after examining the wicket decided to take +first knock. As a rule when we play the wit at first flows free, +but on this occasion I strode to the crease in an almost eerie +silence. David had taken off his blouse and rolled up his shirt- +sleeves, and his teeth were set, so I knew he would begin by +sending me down some fast ones. + +His delivery is underarm and not inelegant, but he sometimes +tries a round-arm ball, which I have seen double up the fielder +at square leg. He has not a good length, but he varies his +action bewilderingly, and has one especially teasing ball which +falls from the branches just as you have stepped out of your +ground to look for it. It was not, however, with his teaser that +he bowled me that day. I had notched a three and two singles, +when he sent me down a medium to fast which got me in two minds +and I played back to it too late. Now, I am seldom out on a +really grassy wicket for such a meagre score, and as David and I +changed places without a word, there was a cheery look on his +face that I found very galling. He ran in to my second ball and +cut it neatly to the on for a single, and off my fifth and sixth +he had two pretty drives for three, both behind the wicket. +This, however, as I hoped, proved the undoing of him, for he now +hit out confidently at everything, and with his score at nine I +beat him with my shooter. + +The look was now on my face. + +I opened my second innings by treating him with uncommon respect, +for I knew that his little arm soon tired if he was unsuccessful, +and then when he sent me loose ones I banged him to the railings. +What cared I though David's lips were twitching. + +When he ultimately got past my defence, with a jumpy one which +broke awkwardly from the off, I had fetched twenty-three so that +he needed twenty to win, a longer hand than he had ever yet made. +As I gave him the bat he looked brave, but something wet fell on +my hand, and then a sudden fear seized me lest David should not +win. + +At the very outset, however, he seemed to master the bowling, and +soon fetched about ten runs in a classic manner. Then I tossed +him a Yorker which he missed and it went off at a tangent as soon +as it had reached the tree. "Not out," I cried hastily, for the +face he turned to me was terrible. + +Soon thereafter another incident happened, which I shall always +recall with pleasure. He had caught the ball too high on the +bat, and I just missed the catch. "Dash it all!" said I +irritably, and was about to resume bowling, when I noticed that +he was unhappy. He hesitated, took up his position at the wicket, +and then came to me manfully. "I am a cad," he said in distress, +"for when the ball was in the air I prayed." He had prayed that +I should miss the catch, and as I think I have already told you, +it is considered unfair in the Gardens to pray for victory. + +My splendid David! He has the faults of other little boys, but +he has a noble sense of fairness. "We shall call it a no-ball, +David," I said gravely. + +I suppose the suspense of the reader is now painful, and +therefore I shall say at once that David won the match with two +lovely fours, the one over my head and the other to leg all along +the ground. When I came back from fielding this last ball I +found him embracing his bat, and to my sour congratulations he +could at first reply only with hysterical sounds. But soon he +was pelting home to his mother with the glorious news. + +And that is how we let Barbara in. + + +XXVI + +The Dedication + +It was only yesterday afternoon, dear reader, exactly three weeks +after the birth of Barbara, that I finished the book, and even +then it was not quite finished, for there remained the +dedication, at which I set to elatedly. I think I have never +enjoyed myself more; indeed, it is my opinion that I wrote the +book as an excuse for writing the dedication. + +"Madam" (I wrote wittily), "I have no desire to exult over you, +yet I should show a lamentable obtuseness to the irony of things +were I not to dedicate this little work to you. For its +inception was yours, and in your more ambitious days you thought +to write the tale of the little white bird yourself. Why you so +early deserted the nest is not for me to inquire. It now appears +that you were otherwise occupied. In fine, madam, you chose the +lower road, and contented yourself with obtaining the Bird. May +I point out, by presenting you with this dedication, that in the +meantime I am become the parent of the Book? To you the shadow, +to me the substance. Trusting that you will accept my little +offering in a Christian spirit, I am, dear madam," etc. + +It was heady work, for the saucy words showed their design +plainly through the varnish, and I was re-reading in an ecstasy, +when, without warning, the door burst open and a little boy +entered, dragging in a faltering lady. + +"Father," said David, "this is mother." + +Having thus briefly introduced us, he turned his attention to the +electric light, and switched it on and off so rapidly that, as +was very fitting, Mary and I may be said to have met for the +first time to the accompaniment of flashes of lightning. I think +she was arrayed in little blue feathers, but if such a costume is +not seemly, I swear there were, at least, little blue feathers in +her too coquettish cap, and that she was carrying a muff to +match. No part of a woman is more dangerous than her muff, and +as muffs are not worn in early autumn, even by invalids, I saw in +a twink, that she had put on all her pretty things to wheedle me. + I am also of opinion that she remembered she had worn blue in +the days when I watched her from the club-window. Undoubtedly +Mary is an engaging little creature, though not my style. She +was paler than is her wont, and had the touching look of one whom +it would be easy to break. I daresay this was a trick. Her +skirts made music in my room, but perhaps this was only because +no lady had ever rustled in it before. It was disquieting to me +to reflect that despite her obvious uneasiness, she was a very +artful woman. + +With the quickness of David at the switch, I slipped a blotting- +pad over the dedication, and then, "Pray be seated," I said +coldly, but she remained standing, all in a twitter and very much +afraid of me, and I know that her hands were pressed together +within the muff. Had there been any dignified means of escape, I +think we would both have taken it. + +"I should not have come," she said nervously, and then seemed to +wait for some response, so I bowed. + +"I was terrified to come, indeed I was," she assured me with +obvious sincerity. + +"But I have come," she finished rather baldly. + +"It is an epitome, ma'am," said I, seeing my chance, "of your +whole life," and with that I put her into my elbow-chair. + +She began to talk of my adventures with David in the Gardens, and +of some little things I have not mentioned here, that I may have +done for her when I was in a wayward mood, and her voice was as +soft as her muff. She had also an affecting way of pronouncing +all her r's as w's, just as the fairies do. "And so," she said, +"as you would not come to me to be thanked, I have come to you to +thank you." Whereupon she thanked me most abominably. She also +slid one of her hands out of the muff, and though she was smiling +her eyes were wet. + +"Pooh, ma'am," said I in desperation, but I did not take her +hand. + +"I am not very strong yet," she said with low cunning. She said +this to make me take her hand, so I took it, and perhaps I patted +it a little. Then I walked brusquely to the window. The truth +is, I begun to think uncomfortably of the dedication. + +I went to the window because, undoubtedly, it would be easier to +address her severely from behind, and I wanted to say something +that would sting her. + +"When you have quite done, ma'am," I said, after a long pause, +"perhaps you will allow me to say a word." + +I could see the back of her head only, but I knew, from David's +face, that she had given him a quick look which did not imply +that she was stung. Indeed I felt now, as I had felt before, +that though she was agitated and in some fear of me, she was also +enjoying herself considerably. + +In such circumstances I might as well have tried to sting a sand- +bank, so I said, rather off my watch, "If I have done all this +for you, why did I do it?" + +She made no answer in words, but seemed to grow taller in the +chair, so that I could see her shoulders, and I knew from this +that she was now holding herself conceitedly and trying to look +modest. "Not a bit of it, ma'am," said I sharply, "that was not +the reason at all." + +I was pleased to see her whisk round, rather indignant at last. + +"I never said it was," she retorted with spirit, "I never thought +for a moment that it was." She added, a trifle too late in the +story, "Besides, I don't know what you are talking of." + +I think I must have smiled here, for she turned from me quickly, +and became quite little in the chair again. + +"David," said I mercilessly, "did you ever see your mother +blush?" + +"What is blush?" + +"She goes a beautiful pink colour." + +David, who had by this time broken my connection with the head +office, crossed to his mother expectantly. + +"I don't, David," she cried. + +"I think," said I, "she will do it now," and with the instinct of +a gentleman I looked away. Thus I cannot tell what happened, but +presently David exclaimed admiringly, "Oh, mother, do it again!" + +As she would not, he stood on the fender to see in the mantel- +glass whether he could do it himself, and then Mary turned a most +candid face on me, in which was maternity rather than reproach. +Perhaps no look given by woman to man affects him quite so much. +"You see," she said radiantly and with a gesture that disclosed +herself to me, "I can forgive even that. You long ago earned the +right to hurt me if you want to." + +It weaned me of all further desire to rail at Mary, and I felt an +uncommon drawing to her. + +"And if I did think that for a little while--," she went on, with +an unsteady smile. + +"Think what?" I asked, but without the necessary snap. + +"What we were talking of," she replied wincing, but forgiving me +again. "If I once thought that, it was pretty to me while it +lasted and it lasted but a little time. I have long been sure +that your kindness to me was due to some other reason." + +"Ma'am," said I very honestly, "I know not what was the reason. +My concern for you was in the beginning a very fragile and even a +selfish thing, yet not altogether selfish, for I think that what +first stirred it was the joyous sway of the little nursery +governess as she walked down Pall Mall to meet her lover. It +seemed such a mighty fine thing to you to be loved that I thought +you had better continue to be loved for a little longer. And +perhaps having helped you once by dropping a letter I was charmed +by the ease with which you could be helped, for you must know +that I am one who has chosen the easy way for more than twenty +years." + +She shook her head and smiled. "On my soul," I assured her, "I +can think of no other reason." + +"A kind heart," said she. + +"More likely a whim," said I. + +"Or another woman," said she. + +I was very much taken aback. + +"More than twenty years ago," she said with a soft huskiness in +her voice, and a tremor and a sweetness, as if she did not know +that in twenty years all love stories are grown mouldy. + +On my honour as a soldier this explanation of my early solicitude +for Mary was one that had never struck me, but the more I +pondered it now--. I raised her hand and touched it with my lips, +as we whimsical old fellows do when some gracious girl makes us +to hear the key in the lock of long ago. "Why, ma'am," I said, +"it is a pretty notion, and there may be something in it. Let us +leave it at that." + +But there was still that accursed dedication, lying, you +remember, beneath the blotting-pad. I had no longer any desire +to crush her with it. I wished that she had succeeded in writing +the book on which her longings had been so set. + +"If only you had been less ambitious," I said, much troubled that +she should be disappointed in her heart's desire. + +"I wanted all the dear delicious things," she admitted +contritely. + +"It was unreasonable," I said eagerly, appealing to her +intellect. "Especially this last thing." + +"Yes," she agreed frankly, "I know." And then to my amazement +she added triumphantly, "But I got it." + +I suppose my look admonished her, for she continued +apologetically but still as if she really thought hers had been a +romantic career, "I know I have not deserved it, but I got it." + +"Oh, ma'am," I cried reproachfully, "reflect. You have not got +the great thing." I saw her counting the great things in her +mind, her wondrous husband and his obscure success, David, +Barbara, and the other trifling contents of her jewel-box. + +"I think I have," said she. + +"Come, madam," I cried a little nettled, "you know that there is +lacking the one thing you craved for most of all." + +Will you believe me that I had to tell her what it was? And when +I had told her she exclaimed with extraordinary callousness, "The +book? I had forgotten all about the book!" And then after +reflection she added, "Pooh!" Had she not added Pooh I might +have spared her, but as it was I raised the blotting-pad rather +haughtily and presented her with the sheet beneath it. + +"What is this?" she asked. + +"Ma'am," said I, swelling, "it is a Dedication," and I walked +majestically to the window. + +There is no doubt that presently I heard an unexpected sound. +Yet if indeed it had been a laugh she clipped it short, for in +almost the same moment she was looking large-eyed at me and +tapping my sleeve impulsively with her fingers, just as David +does when he suddenly likes you. + +"How characteristic of you," she said at the window. + +"Characteristic," I echoed uneasily. "Ha!" + +"And how kind." + +"Did you say kind, ma'am?" + +"But it is I who have the substance and you who have the shadow, +as you know very well," said she. + +Yes, I had always known that this was the one flaw in my +dedication, but how could I have expected her to have the wit to +see it? I was very depressed. + +"And there is another mistake," said she. + +"Excuse me, ma'am, but that is the only one." + +"It was never of my little white bird I wanted to write," she +said. + +I looked politely incredulous, and then indeed she overwhelmed +me. "It was of your little white bird," she said, "it was of a +little boy whose name was Timothy." + +She had a very pretty way of saying Timothy, so David and I went +into another room to leave her alone with the manuscript of this +poor little book, and when we returned she had the greatest +surprise of the day for me. She was both laughing and crying, +which was no surprise, for all of us would laugh and cry over a +book about such an interesting subject as ourselves, but said +she, "How wrong you are in thinking this book is about me and +mine, it is really all about Timothy." + +At first I deemed this to be uncommon nonsense, but as I +considered I saw that she was probably right again, and I gazed +crestfallen at this very clever woman. + +"And so," said she, clapping her hands after the manner of David +when he makes a great discovery, "it proves to be my book after +all." + +"With all your pretty thoughts left out," I answered, properly +humbled. + +She spoke in a lower voice as if David must not hear. "I had +only one pretty thought for the book," she said, "I was to give +it a happy ending." She said this so timidly that I was about to +melt to her when she added with extraordinary boldness, "The +little white bird was to bear an olive-leaf in its mouth." + +For a long time she talked to me earnestly of a grand scheme on +which she had set her heart, and ever and anon she tapped on me +as if to get admittance for her ideas. I listened respectfully, +smiling at this young thing for carrying it so motherly to me, +and in the end I had to remind her that I was forty-seven years +of age. + +"It is quite young for a man," she said brazenly. + +"My father," said I, "was not forty-seven when he died, and I +remember thinking him an old man." + +"But you don't think so now, do you?" she persisted, "you feel +young occasionally, don't you? Sometimes when you are playing +with David in the Gardens your youth comes swinging back, does it +not?" + +"Mary A----," I cried, grown afraid of the woman, "I forbid you to +make any more discoveries to-day." + +But still she hugged her scheme, which I doubt not was what had +brought her to my rooms. "They are very dear women," said she +coaxingly. + +"I am sure," I said, "they must be dear women if they are friends +of yours." + +"They are not exactly young," she faltered, "and perhaps they are +not very pretty--" + +But she had been reading so recently about the darling of my +youth that she halted abashed at last, feeling, I apprehend, a +stop in her mind against proposing this thing to me, who, in +those presumptuous days, had thought to be content with nothing +less than the loveliest lady in all the land. + +My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw +the little hut through the pine wood haze. I met Mary there, and +we came back to the present together. + +I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took +place no longer ago than yesterday. + +"Very well, ma'am," I said, trying to put a brave face on it, "I +will come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall +see." + +It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got +what she wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she +knew so well that the youthful romances are the best. + +It was now my turn to comfort her. "In twenty years," I said, +smiling at her tears, "a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored +within me a great fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, +and I swear to you, on the word of a soldier, that if there is +one of those ladies who can be got to care for me I shall be very +proud." Despite her semblance of delight I knew that she was +wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it was true. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Little White Bird, by J.M. Barrie + diff --git a/old/old/tlwbd10.zip b/old/old/tlwbd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d52b57d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/tlwbd10.zip |