CIHM Microfiche Series (i\Aonographs) ICIMH Collection de microfiches (monographies) Canadian Inttltuw lor Hiatorical Microraproductiom / Inttitut Canadian da microraproductlona Mitoriquaa Tachnical and Bibliographic Notea / Notea technique at biUiographiquea Th« Inttttutt hat attamptad to obtain tha ba«t original copy avallabia lor filming. 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Whenever poaaible, these have been omitted from fikning / II se peut que cntainaa pages blanches ajouttes kvs d'une restauratlon appa ra isse n t dans le texle, male, kxaque eels Malt poaaible, cee pages n'cnt pas M famul .ubdue. her hwy^ncy, « if it were ,h.n.e to w.lk h.ppjr before one .he h« iMicd. and at »uch time, the n..tle of her gown i. wh!.pered word, of comfort to me. and »»r ann, •« kindljr wing, that wi.h I wa. a little bojr like D.vid. I .1,0 detect in her a fearful elation, which I rm unaware of until .he ha. pa«ed. when it come, bach to me like a faint note of cUUenge. Eye. that .ay you never mu.t, now tluit wy. why don't you? and a mouth that «.y. I rather wi.h J-ou could: .uch i. the portrait of Mary A a. ■he and I pan by. Once .he dared to addre„ me, «, that .he could bet to David that I had .poken to her. I wa» in the Kensington Garden., and .he a.ked would I tell her the time ple«.e. ju.t a. children a.k. and forget a. they run back with it to their nur«. But I wa, prepared even for thi,. and raising my hat I pointed with my .taff to « cWk in the distance. She .hould have been overwhelmed, but a, I walked t% THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD on lUtrning intently. I tliou|{ht with ilUpl<«»ur» that I heard hrr laughing. Her laugh i* rtry like David**, whom I eouid punch all day in onirr to hear him laugh. I dare ■ay ahe put thii Uugh into him. She ha< been put- ting qualitice into David, altering him. turning him forever on a Uthe iince the day *he fint knew him, and indeed long before, and all ao deftly that he it itill called a rliild of nature. When you re- kaee David'a hand lie ii immediately lort like an arrow from the bow. No looner do you ca»t eyee on him than you are thinking of birds. It ie diffi- cult to bclicv» that he walkt to the Ker^ington Gardeni; he always seems to have alighted there: and weri' 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 Udy who alTects to be greatly surpriurd by it. He strikes a hundred gallant poses in a day ; when he tumbles, which is often, he conies 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 climb- ing a tree while she stood beneath in unutterable « "AVID AND I JOURNEY •mjukh; ^- l^d to Wt hi„ cli«b. W bo,, mut ''» '•« '«». .vwy bni„ch. D«»W "-I ..m her pr«Jigiou.ly ; he think. h» - «ood tut .h. will b. .bl. to g.t him into h..„„, •H-wevcr «ughtr h. b. OtherwU. h. would' t«.. PM. I« light-h«rt««j,. p,ri«p. .h. h„ jj^^. ^.m..t.l,th.t.Ui.«,.ueh.d«.„h,thid« " ' "" *«'y •«« of it," I ttpiitd. "U Ac .uch . dc M jrou think h.rr h. .A«I "H^ven help h.r." I «id. "if rf,. b. not d«,„ than th«t.» ^^ H«.ve„ help .11 „^t^ if th,^ ^ ^^ d««. for their Uy will ccrUinI, know it in th.t TT *"'* *""' °' ^'^ '•'^ "'«" --y -ther .Und. «ve.led before her little «,„. Th.t dre.d hour tick, between .ix .„d «ven, when children «o to bed kter the reveUtion h« ce«ed to come He « l.pt in for the night now and Ue. quietly there. m«km. ^.u g,,.^^ ^^,^^^.^^ ^^^ ^^ r THK LITTLK WHITE BIRD upon hb motlMr. H* ia •umniinii up jruur dajr. Nothing in tht r«v«latioM (hat livpt ywt togtthcr •nd jrtt apart in plajr tint* can lavt you now ; you two r.rt of no agt, no tiptrien'w of lift i, , jmtm y i; it ia tha bojr'i hour* and you liav* come up f>i, judgment. "Havt I done wvll to-day, my lonr You have got to lay it, and nothing nviy you liide from him; he linowi all. How lilce your voice ha* grown to hi«, but more trcmuloui, and both so lolcmn, w unlilie the vmoe of either of you by day. "Ycu were a little unjutt to me to-day about the apple; were you not, mother f" Stand there, woman, by the foot of the bed and croai your hand* and tnewer him. "Yw, my eon, I wa*. I ti jught " Tut whut you thought will not affect the v . diet. "Wa* i' fair, mother, to uty that I could stay out till liz, and then pretend it wa* lis before it wa* quite sis?" "No, it wa* very unfair. I thought " "Would it have been a lie if / had laid it wa* quite nxt" DAVID AND I JOURNEY **Oti« my Mm, my mmi I I sImU ntvtr toll jreu • lU •gkin." "No, mottwr, pItM* dont." "Mjr boy, havt I doM vtU to^y on Um whoWr SuppMc h* were unabb to My yw. ThMt Mc th* nMfctt pcccadiUott, you may My. b it then • little thing to b» fabc to tht •gr««nMnt you ti,(ncd when you got the boyf There art mothen who avoid their children in that hour, but thit wiil not Mve them. Why u it that m many women are Hfraid to be left alone with their thoughti between >ix and wrenF I am not asking thti of you, Mary. I believe that when you cloa* David'i door lof tly there i> a gladncM in your cyef, and the awe of one who knowi that the God to whom little boyi My their pniyeri hat r face very like their mother*!. I may mention here that David w a itout be- liever in prayer, and ha« had hii fint flght with another young Diriitian who challenged him to th« jump and prayed for victory, which David thought wai taking an unfair advantage. T THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "So Mary i. twcntjr-«x! I ,«j,, David, .he ii getting on. Tell her that I am coming in to ki,. her when ihe is fifty-two." He told her, and I understand that she pre- tended to be indignant. When I pass her in the street now she pouU Clearly preparing for our meeting. She has also said, I learn, that I shall not think so mucn of her when she is fifty-two, mean- ing that she will not be so pretty then. So little does the wx 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 consid- ering 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 DAVID AND I JOURNEY linger there also, to bloom in your twilight like evening primroaes. 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 caUs 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. Oftencst 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 n.-ver 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 S >■ THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD .hop.. When in .hop, he «.k. the .Je.n»n how much money he make, in « d.y, and which d«wer he keep, it in, and why hi, hair i. red, and doe. he like AchiUe., of whom David ha, lately heard, and i, ,o enamoured that he want, to die to meet him. At ,uch time, the ,hopkeeper, accept me a. hi, father, and I cannot explain »he peculiar plea.- ure thi. give, me. I am alway. in two mind, then, to linger that we may have more of it, and to snatch him away before he volunteer, the informa- tion, "He i, not really my father." When David meet, Achille, I know what will happen. The little boy will Uke the hero by the hand, call him father, and drag him away to «,me Round Pond. One day, when David wa. about five, I ,ent him the following letter: "Dear David: If you reaDy want to know how it began, wiU you come and have a chop with me to-day at the club?" Mary, who, I have found out, open, all hi. let- ters, 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 know. 10 DAVID AND I JOURNEY not how it began henelf . I chuckled, gueuing that the expected something romantic. He came to me arrayed ai for a mighty journey, and looking unusually solemn, as little boys always do look when they arc wearing a great coat. There was a shawl round his neck. "You can take some of them o*," I said, "when we come to summer." "Shall we come to summer?" he asked, properly %wtd. "To many summers," I replied, "for we are going away back, David, to see your mother at the 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 vas 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 comer 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: 11 I THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "It w«..t ™.ke „e too little, will it. f.ther?" by wh.ch he .e.„t that he hoped it would not do for h.m altogether. He .lipped hi. h.„d nervously into ni.ne..„dlp„titi„„,yp^k,t. You can't think how little DaWd looked a. we entered the portal, of the club. It TBK LTTTLB MUUBBT OOTXBNEM iLS I enter the club smoking-room you are to con- ceive 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 alwnyf 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; witli the aid of William I light my cigarette, and now she is re-readir.g 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 authori- ties have come for her letter. I scowl at a fellow- member who has had the impudence to enter the IS ^ 'i THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •moking-room, and her two little chargei are pull- ing her away from the pott-offlce. When I look out at the window again the ii gone, but I ihall ring for her to-morrow at two (harp. She mutt have paMed the window many time* before I noticed her. I know not where (he livei, though I luppoK it to be hard by. She ii Uking the little boy and girl, who buUy her, to the St. James'i Park, ai their hoop* tell me, and *he ought to look cru*hed and faded. No doubt her mittnn overwork* her. It muit enrage the other servant* to *ee her .eporting herself a* if ghe were quite the lady. I noticed that «he had sometime* other letter* to po*t, but that the posting of the one only was a process. They shot down the slit, plebeians all, but it foUowed pompously like royalty. I have even seen her blow a kiss after it. Then there wa» her ring, of which she was a* 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 14 THE NURSERY GOVERNESS I doubt not it wai the cheapest trinket. S'.ie vie- cd it from afar by itretching out her hand; ihe •toopcd to see how it looked near the ground; ihe considered it» effect on the right of her and on the left of her and through one «^e 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 iiappy. No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of a young man loved her. And so, in- stead of crying because she was the merest nobody, she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down Pall Mall, very trim as to her Uckle 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, f.nd 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 I« I THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD • week. And what doei ihe with itf Attend cImms for uMking her a more accomplUhed pcrMn? Not •he. Thii ia wha» ihe doei: leU sail for PaU Mall, wearing all her pretty things, including the blue feathen. and with luch a sparkle of expectation on her face that I stir mjr coffee quite fiercely. On ordinary days she at leart 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 mcanUme a long-Uggcd oaf is waiting for her outside the post-offlce, where they meet •rery Thursday, a fellow who always wears the Mine 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 caUed every one of them out. He •eems to be quite unaware that he is a pretty fel- low, but Lord, how obviouriy Mary knows it. I 16 THK NURHKHY GOVERNESS conclude that he belong, to the •rtiitic claMn, he i» w euiljT elated and dcpreMe.!; and becauM he Carrie, hi* left thumb curiou.ljr, an if it were feel- ing for the hole of a palette, I have entered hU name among tlie painter.. I flnd pleasure in de- ciding that they arc .hocking bad pirture., for obviou.ljr no one buy. them. I feci »ure Mary uiyi they arc .plendid, .he i. that wrt of woman. Hence the rapture with which he greet, her. Her flnt effect upon him i* to make him »hout with laugh- ter. He laugh, .uddenly haw from an eager exult- ing face, then ham again, and then, when you are thanking heaven that it i> at la.t over, come, a final kav, louder than the other.. I Uke them to be roan of joy bccau.e Mary i. bi«, and they have a ring of youth about them that is hard to bear. I could forgive .lim everything bhvc hi. youth, but it i. .o aggrcMivc that I have .ometimc. to order William testily to rloiic the window. How much more deceitful than her lover i. the little nursery govcme... The moment she come. into «ight she look, at the post-office and sees him. Then she look, straight before her, and now she 17 Y THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD b efawnred. Mid he nwhe* •crou to h«r in ■ glory, •»J iIm rtartu— positively iUrt*— m if he HmI taken her by lurpriie. Ohwrve her hand riiing lud- denly to her wicked little heart. Thii i» the mo- ment when I itir my coffee violently. He gain down at her in »uch rapture that he i* in eveiy- body'i way, and a« .he take* hin arm the givet it a little nqueeie. and then away they rtnit, Mary doinK nine-tenthn of the talking. I fall to wonder- ing wliat they will look like when they grow up. What A ludirroui difference do IhcN two no- bodie* make to each other. You can lee that they are to be married when he haa twopence. Thuii I have not an atom of nympathy with thia girl, to whom London in famouK only ai the reai- dence of a young man who miitakci her for lome- one ebe, but her happincM had become part of my repa.t at two r.M. and when one day ihe walked down Pall Mali without gradually posting a letter I wa« most indignant. It was as if William had disobeyed orders. Her two charge, were as sur- prised as I, and Dointed qucstioningly to the slit, at which she shook her head. She put. her finger la THE NURSERY OOVKRNE88 to bar tjrn, txactljr like a hmI Ubjr, and w {Mnad from the (trctt. N«xl dajr the miim thing happciwd, and I waa •o furioiu that I bit througli my cigarrtte. Thura- dajr came, when I prajrnl that there might be an end of thii annoyancr, but no, neither of thtm appeared on that acquainted ground. Had they rh.xnged their po«t-ofRrc? No, for her eyet were red every day, and heavy wai her foolinh little heart. Love had put out hi> lighti, and the litti* nunery govemn* walked in darknmn. I fell I could complain to the oonmiittee. Oh, you Klftih young lany of a man, after all you have laid to her, won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Not he. Little nurury govcmcH, I appeal to you. An- noying girl, be joyous a« of old during the five minutes of the day when you arc anything to mc, and for the rent of the time, m> far a« I am con- cerned, 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 che.«p Italian 19 TIIK LITTLK WHITK BIRD mUurnnl, «ml in the end Itr hail lo rrunh iknrn hi* upinilion* with two panny >n>n». You ran lio brttrr tlmn that, ('mm-, Mary. Alt in vain. Hhc wanti to be lovnl: can't do without bvc from niomiiiK till ni^ht ; nevrr knew how little a woman nenla till nhe loat that little. They are all like tliii. Zoumla, nuMlani, if you are nnolved to be a drooping little llnure till you die, you miKht at katt do it in another atrrct. Not only doe« iilie nMliriounly depreM niv by walking past on ordinary day», Init I have diiirov- •red that every ThurMiay from two to three *lic •tandi afar oITi gaxing hopelcwiy at tlie romnntir po«t-o(licc where ahc and he ahall meet no more. In theie windy daya ahc ia like a homelcaa leaf blown about by paa«eni-by. There ia nothing I ran do except thunder at William. At laat ahe accomplialied her unworthy ambition. It waa a wet Tliura wai glaring win* fully at the poet-office and thuii in a twink I law that he itill adored my little govemcM. Whatever had been their quarrel he waa ai anxioui to make it up aa she, and pcrhape he had been here every Thunday while the wa« round the comer in Pall Mall, each watching the poet-office for an apparition. But from where they hovered neither could we the other. I think what I did wa* quite clever. I dropped my letter unteen at hie feet, and Muntcrcd back •1 >- THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD to the club. Of eoune, letter on the pavement feel I preiumed that he would est office. gentleman who find* a s bound to poet it, and naturally go to the near- With my hat on I strolled to the .moking-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 woc-bcgone a» 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 gaUy, "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 88 THE NURSERV rt^OVERNESS the window, but he reai .'lol it .ju,;t ».m l«te to mc the lady who wa» to bcr mv hi* mother. What I told him of her doings, however, intereated him greatly ; and he intimated rather ihyly that he wa« acquainted with the man who said, " Haw-haw- hatc." On the other hand, he irritated me by be- traying 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 Gar- dens ; and that the reason there are bars on nursery windows and a tall fender by the fire is because as THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD very little people «ometi™™ forget that they h, .e "° '""«"'■ "'"«•' ""d try to % away through Che window or up the chimney. Child«n in the bird ,Uge are difficult to catch. D«v.d know, that „a„y pe„p,, have none, and hi. dehght on a .umm.. afternoon i, to go with me to some spot in the Garden, where the,e unfortu- nate, may be ,cen trying to catch one with small piece, of cake. That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, and are even a little undecided about which 1. the better life, i, obvious to every student of them. Thus, if you leave you. empty peram- bulator under the trees and watch from a distance yo" will see the birds boarding it and hopping about from pillow to blanket in a twitter of excite- ment; they are trying to find out how babyhood would suit them. Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babie, stray from the tree where the nurse i. Sitting and are seen feeding the birds, not a grown- up near them. It is first a bit to me and then a bit to you, and aU the Ume such a jabbering and 84 THK NURSKRY GOVERNESS laughing from both .ido, of the raihng. They .^e oomparing note, and inquiring for old friend,, and w on; but what they ^y I «,„„„t ^^^^^^.^^^ ^^^ when I approach they all fly away. The flr,t time I ever .aw David wan on the sward b«h.nd the Baby', Walk. He wa, a mi»el-thru,h. attracted thither that hot day by a ho«e which lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickle of wa- ter, and David was on his back in the water, kick- ing up his legs. He used to enjoy b..ing told of th.s having forgotten all about it, and gradually !' "" *=""" ^'^^ *" '•■■- -ith a number of other •ncdents that had e my memory, though I remember :hat he was .entually caught by the leg w.th a long string and a cunning arrangement of twgs near the Round Pond. He never tires of this «tory, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to me rather than I to him, and when we come to the stnng he rubs his little leg as if itstill 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 i„ his eyes. S5 ' 1 < I m THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "Think of your mother," I wid leverely. He Mid he would often fly in to tee her. The flnt thing he would do would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug flr»t, and have a drink. "Tell her, father," he said with horrid heart- leuneu, "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 - boy." This shock to Mary was more than he could en- dure. "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. m HEk MABklAOE, HEl CLOTHES, HEt APPETITE, AND AN INVENTOEY OF HEB rUENITUEE A WEEK or two »ftcr I dropped the letter I wai in a hansom on my way lo certain barracks when loud above the city's roar I heard that accursed haw-haw-Aaw, and there they were, the two of them, just coming out of a shop where you may obtain nianos 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 order- ing a piano on the hire system. So they were to be married directly. It was all rather contemptibh, 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 greed- ily into the window of the sixpenny-halfpenny !*7 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD ■hop, which ii one of the motit dcliciouily dramatic •pot* in London. Mary won taking note* fcveri*hly on a slip of paper while he did the adding up, and in the end they went away gloomily will out buy- ing anything. I woi in high feather. "Match abandoned, ma'am," I *aid to myself; "outlook hopelcr.8 ; another visit to the Governcsacs' Agency inevitable; can't marry for want of a kitchen shovel." But I wo* imperfectly acquainted with the lady. A few days afterw(n th« procccdi. What do you think it wai? It wm • wonderful doll'i houw, with dolli >t tea down- •tairi and dolli going to b«d upstain, and a doll showing a doll out at the front door. Loving lip« had long ago licked moit of the paint off, but otherwise the thing was in admirable preservation ; obviously the joy of Mary's child'.ood, 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 hog 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 IP Si n THE LITTLE WHITE BIKD of • November evening, and wc were in • itrect of ■hopi that hat not in twenty yean decided whether to be genteel or frankly vulgar; here it mincM in the fashion, but take a itep onward and iti tongue ii in the cup of the ice-cream man. I uiually ruih thii street, which i» not far from my rooms, with the glass down, but to-night I was walking. Mary was in front of mc, leaning in a somewhat foolish way on the haw-er, and they were chatting excit- edly. She seemed to be remonstrating with him for going forward, yet niore 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 per- suade 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 SO HER MARRIAGE night I compomi the folloiring •phoriim: II b idle to attempt to ovcrtdie . pretty young woman carrying pork chop.. I wu now drtermlned to be done with her. Fir. t. l.ov.ever, to And out their abode, which wa« probably within cany diiUncc of the ihop. I oven conceived them lured into Uking their houie by the advertiMment, "Conveniently lituated for the Pork Emporium." Well, one day— now thi, really i. romantic and I am rather proud of it. My chamben arc on the •econd floor, and arc backed by un anxiou.ly polite itrcet between which and mine are little yard, called, I think, garden.. They arc ik> «n>all that if you have the tree your neighbour ho. the .hade from it. I wa. looking out at my back window on the day we have come I., when whom did I kc but the whilom nunery governcM sitting on a chair in one of the.e garden.. I put up my cye-glaw to make .ure, and undoubtedly it wa« .he. But .he Mt there doing nothing, which wa. by no mean, my conception of the jade, ro I brought a field- glaH to bear and discovered that the object wa. merely a lady's jacket. It hung on the back of a SI THE LITTLK WIIITK BIHU krtchfn clwiir, m^mrd to hr « fxxrry thing, .mi. I inu.t .uppo«.. w„ .„.pr„,|„| iherr for .n uiring. I WM ch«|trin«|. nml then I inxinlnl »Umx\y with myicif th«l. w it WM not M.ry. it niiwt k- .M„rjr'. j«ckct. I hiul mvir Mrn her w,«r .u,h « j,„.kol, mind you. yti I wa. confident, I r«„', uil why. no ciotl.« ,Uorb . little of tl«. ch«r«cter of tlicir wearer, w that I rccoKniwI tlii. jarket by a certain «»iuetry? If .»,. ha. a way with her »kirt« that •Iway. adverti«., „„. „f her pre«.nee. ,,„.fc. p,w,ibly •h. i. a. cunninK " ■•' jack.t.. Or ,K-rhap. »he i. her own leanuitrei., and put. in little turk. of herwif. Figure it what you plca«j but I beg to inform you that I put on my hat and Ave minute, after- ward law Mary and her hunband emerRc from the home to vhich I had calculated that garden be- longed. Now am I clever, or am I not? When they had left the .treet I examined the hou«e leiiurely, and a droll houw it i.. Seen from the front it appeam to comiitt of a door and a win- dow, though above them the trained eye may delect another window, the air-hole of lome apartment "KH MARRIAGE •Wch " """U b, ju.t like Mwy. ^^,^ rt 11*1 once bei.„ .„ op,„ „,_„ .... ^ '"*' "J' lather than ayuon\ and the m.».~i . "»" »P for «.„ ,w. """*" "*•« W ciei.ctedl.k.,,..,,:,!";'^^;— ^^^^ - --ie with he, .urroundin^. plCrr -id "o. for her flr.t remark Z ' ** "Tl. . Mplanatory. They get me cheap," ,he «,M ..u drink." '*' •««•«» I THK LITTI.K WHITK BIRD I bowed, mid wr |m«v<| on to tUt dmwlnnmoin. I torgH wMlirr I h«vi- dnrrilml Mury'. prrwiMl •ppMrann, but if to you have • pirtiirv of thai •unnjr drawinK-room. My flnt rHkHion wm, ||ow can ihc have found tlw money to jmy tor it alt! which ii alwajr. jrour flnt reflection wlien you ■« Marjr hemlf a-trippinf{ down the ilmt. I have no .pace (in that little room) to caU- logue all the whim-whain« with whirh »be I.mI made Jt beautiful, from the Iwnd-M-wn b.ll-rope which puUed no bell to tlic liand-|«inU-d ci«ar-box tl.Ht conUineii no ciRani. r\w floor wa« of « delicioui green with ezquuite oriental rugi; ffnxn and white, I think, wai the lady', nchcme of colour, lomethinK "»'. yw obwrrc, to keep the >un under. The window-curUin. were of ramc rare material and the colour of the purple clcmatia; they .wept the floor grandly and .Udgratcd a picture of Mary receiving vi.itori. The pmno we may ignore, for I knew it to be hired, but there were many dainty piece*, mo(tly in green wood, a wifa. a corner cup- board, and a mo.t captivating der';, which wa. to like iU owner that it could have uit down at her HER MAKRIAOK •ihI .UIh^I „ff • notr. 'IV writlnjr |«prr on thb .k.k l«,| tlK. wonl M,r, pri„t«| „„ a. implying llMit if II,. „. w..r. oIIkt M«r,. U»y .li.|„'t „«„t. Thrn- »,rr n»„y „i|.p,inii„g, „„ t|^, ,„„,^ „,^,|^ willioul fmrn™, nml I muxt iiunti.m Ihr olwmlrlWr, which w« oJ)vimi»l.v of fnlmlou. worili, for .h« h«"c» "So there is a stair," said I, and then. .u.pi- "ously, "did she make it?" ^ No, but how she had altered it. The stair led to Mary's bedroom, and I «ud I wou^ not look at that, nor at the studio, which J 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 arc safe, ma'am?" She thawed a little under my obvious sympathy and honoured me wif. some of her views and con fidences. The rental paid by Mary and her husband was not. It appeared, one on which any self-respect- «g domestic could reflect with pride. They g^ 37 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD tJ>e houu verjr cheap „„ the u„de«U«li„g th.t they we« to v.c.te it promptly if .„yo„e bought U for bu.lding purpo^. .„d bec.u« they ^a «, litUe they h«d to ,„b„it to the indignity of the notice-board. Marv A j . * j ., 1^« .pace to be K>ld.» and had been Icnown to Aake her fi.t at then,. She wa, a, elated about her >.ou« a. if it were a real hou«., and alw.y. t«„bled when any po«,ible purchaser of space, called. A. I have told ybu my own aphorism I feel J ought in fairness to record that of this aggrieved .ervant. It wa. on the .ubject of art. "The diffl- culty." she „id. "is not to paint picture., but to get frame, for them." A home thru.t this. She could not honctly «.y that she thought much of her ma.ter', work. Nor. apparenUy. did any other person. Rcult, tinned meat.. Ye., one person thought a deal of it, or pre- tended to do so; was constantly fli„gi„g „p her hands ,n delight over it; had even been caught whispering fiercely to a friend, "Praise it, prai.e |t. pniise it!" This was when the painter w« sunk « gloom. Never, as I could well believe, wa, ,„<* HER MARRIAGE l::"" ^"^^- '-•"«-- back eo cheerful. avourably because il was framed. A friend of hpm " .«,. • ■ . 1-er.eedh.W ■ ""^ «""'-"^°""«' - 'but I would have turned awajr from it h»H * -Hptio„onthep.e.uredrLn:e;a« 7"" 'n - lady's handwriting and th "" "f-ancy portrait of T """ **■* """'»•• J- portrait of our dear unknown » Co„M •* fce n,eant for „,e? I cannot tell you how " . I suddenly became. '' ^°» how interested It represented a very fi„e looking fel.o^ :„.^ •nd not a day more than thirty. ' ^"^ "A friend of her.,, ma'am, did you say?" T „t^ quite shakilv "W„ j " sayi- I asked »naKily. How do you know that if „ i. never seen him ?» ' ^ y°" ^ave to her sue hk a?.;::; 7"'""^"''^'^*°-^ hi. eyes?- "' '^'"'* ^°'°- -^uld you .^, THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "And her reply, ma'am?" I wked eagerly. "She said, 'Beautiful blue cye«.' 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 1 ttvc seed her kiss her hand to that picture," said the maid. Taney Mary kissing her hand to me! Oh, the pretty love ! Fooh! I was staring at the picture, cogiUting what in- sulting message 1 could write on it, when I heard the woman's voice again. "I think she has known him since she vere 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 beneatl. 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 40 HER MARRIAGE ■hall tell you why. It waa becauK the engaging toy had been redecorated by loving handi; there were freih gowni for all the inhabitants, and the paint on the furniture wai scarcely dry. The little doll's house was almost ready for further use. I looked at the maid, but her face was expres- sionless. "I'lit it back," I said, ashamed to hare 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. 41 IV A MIOHT-PUCa There came » night when the husband wat alone in that rtreet waiUng. He can do nothing for you now. litUe numry governeM. you mu.t fight it out by youiWlf ; when there are great thing, to do in the houie the man muit leave. Oh, man, «.lfi.h, indelicate, coarw-grained at the best, thy woman'! hour hai come; get thee gone. He ilouchei from the hoaie, always her true lover I do believe, chivalrous, brave, a boy untU to-night; but was he ever unkind to her? It ir the unpardonable sin now; is there the memory of an unkindnes. to stalk the street with him to-night? And if not an unkindness, still might he not some- times have been a little kinder? ShaU we make a new rule of life from to-night: always to try to be a Uttle kinder than is necessary? Poor youth, she would come to the window if she were able, I am sure, to sign that the one litUe un- A NIGHT-PIECE kindneM i. long forgotten, to .end you • «««„. ing .mile till you and .he meet .gain; and. if you «re not to meet again, .tiU to und you a n-,«iur- ing, trembling .mile. Ah, no, that wa« for ye.terday; it i. too late now. He wander, the .treeU thinking of her to- night, but .he ha. forgotten him. In her great hour the man i. nothing to the woman; their love ii trivial now. He and I were on oppowte .ide. of the .treet, now become familiar ground to both of u., and diver, picture, row before me in which Mary ^ *■"'«'• Here wa. the morning after my only entry into her hou.e. The agent had promi«d me to have the obnoxiou. notice-board removed, but I apprehended that a. won «, the letter an- nouncing hi. intention reached her .he would re- move it henK;lf, and when I p«.«Kl by in the morn- ing there she wa, on a chair and a foot-rtool pounding lustily at it with a hammer. When it fell .he gave it such a vicious little kick. There were the nights when her husband came out to watch for the postman. I suppow he was 48 I' THE LITTl.K WHITE BIRD •WBiting •omc letter big with the fate of ■ picture. He dogged the pmtman from door to door like Ml aiMuin «» ■ giinrdian rnigel; never had he the courage to aik if there wai a letter for him, but almost aa it fell into thi.- box he had it out •nd tore it open, and then if the door clowd de- spairingly the woman who had been at the window •II this time preiwd hir hund to her heart. Hut 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 win- dow, when she sat at the piano singing and play- ing to him. Or while she played with one hand, she flung out the other for him to grasp. She was •o joyously happy, and she had such a romantie mind. I conceived her so sympathetic that she al- ways laughed before he came to the joke, and I am sure she had filmy eyes from the very start of « pathetic story. And so, laughing and crying, and haunted by whispers, the little nursery governess had grad- A NIOHT-PIKCE u«njr become another woman, Klorifltd, myiterioui. I luppow • man loon becomci uwd to the great change, and cannot recall a time when there were no babe* iprawling in hii Mary'i face. I am trying to conceive what were the thought! of the young hunband on the other side of the rtfeet. "If the barrier ii to be crotied to-night may I not go with htr? She ii not ao brave ai you think her. When she talked ao 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 wiU 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 ghosU, I believe, who creep into this THE LITTLK WHITE BIRD worU. •» dc«l jrouii« mother., r.tun»d to m how tWr chil.ln.„ r,rr. Th,« i. „„ ,^ j^,.,^, Vt»i enough to bring the depiwt«l bwk. ThcT glide into the •cqu.inted room .h.„ day .,kI «.«ht. their jailer., .re in the grip, .„d ,hi.p.r. How » ,t with jro... my child?" but .1,.,,., |«t • 'trangi. U„ ,,,„„,,, ^^.^^.^^ ^.^^^ ^,^^ ^^^^^ It .0 low th.1 he nuiy not l,c.r. Thej- bewl orer him to «» that he .lecp. pe.cefu%, ,nd repkce hi. "reet .rm bencth the coverlet, .nd they open th. dwwer. to count how m.ny little ve.t. he hu. They love to do thew thing.. Wh.t i. riddel .bout gho.U i, th.t thej may not know their child. Tl,ey expect hin. to be ju.t M he WM when they left him, wd they .,„ -.ly bewildered. .„d «>.rch for him from mnn to room, .nd h.te the unknown boy he h« b««n.. Poor, pM.ion.te «h.I., they .„.y even do him .n •njury. The« .re f gho.t. th.t go w.iling .bout old hou.e.. .nd foolish wild .toriv. .re invented to expWn wh«t i. .11 »o p.thetic .nd .imple. I know of . m.n who, .fter w.„dering f„. returned to hi" enrly home to p.„ the evening of hi. dayg in 46 A NIGHT-PIECE st 7 T """^ "^ ' •— •• '- .PP " All «.,„„,.„„. .^^ ^^^^ ^^ ""*'"'*" -^"^ "•-""•"• or deH. of Wo, J "»t bring! them Uck, »„d •'r.id of them a, they arc of. One bjr one the light, of the »*"11 • lamp burned ■ewi. the *« •« not u*. nearly m> .treet went out, bi'^ itcadily in the littl, "■y- I know not how window •"•Ppcned, •fter being for a long time other', rtep., we were togeth, 47 M the echo of each 'wnow. I can have had ii If THE LITTI.K WlirTK B I It D no dnir* to iWvivr him.bul m,m» rrnMin wiu imnM t0 Mcount for my vigil, uml I nvty Imvf miiI M>mc. IWng that hr mimnwlriuil, t»r aliovr my wiirib h* wu •Iwa^ri liitmiiiK 'w «Hl"r mhiiuU. |,ui iMiwrvrr It earn* about h« hail rancri'. ,< >\, i,|r» ihm | ,„ •a outeaai for a rvaMm mmili.i' u> hi* own, ami I kt hb iiii*takc pan*, il H-rtiml to inalti-r w litllr anil lo draw lu toKrthrf no naturally. V'v ulk«l logiihcr of manjr . ingi, lurli a* irorlillv ainhition. For long •mh'i'jn ha« bnn like an anriint iiuniory to nw, •'•"<• gloriotu day recalird from iii> .prinKtinw, m> much a thing of the past that I imi.t niaki n rail- way joarnty to r«vi«it it a* to loolr upon the |.Uh»- ant Add* in which tlul ncvnr »a« laid. But hi- Imd been ambitiou» yntrrday. I mentioned worldly ambitiun. "(Jood (iixl !" he M^ with a (builder. There wai a clock hard by that «tnirk thi qtmr- tcn, and one o'clock panwd and two. What lime in it now? Twenty pait two. And now? It i, itill twenty pa«t two. I atked him about hii rclativcn, and neithoi iw nor she had any. "We have a friend—" he began 4V A NIGHT. PIKC'B «- P.-.H. .»d U« «.„hw i„,o ,^^,^ •»H «». u«k««,„ „^ ,ho h.d b«.ghl «., 0, hu Pldur^. or WM .„pp«^ to h,,. done «H in . w* the atory, "It i. .h. who i«J.U .h.1 i. 1. ,,,,,. ,H, ^ p.«on. H.«M."8h.U.i„k.h,wiI|^k,,,„^„ known .o m. |f .„ytfci„g ^.^^^ ,^ ^ ,. ^^ vofc^udd«.,, ,.„» hu.k,. «8h. Md me." h. «id. J^'J.-^J.ndldi.eov^W^togiv.hi.W At thi. w p.rt«| .b^pt,^, « ,, J.J ,^ .^^^^^ thnH.gho„l th. night, to drift to«rth.r .g«„ p, , •"S "• *"'^ ♦- ♦•» '- 0' .«« thing, .h «d «k«l h.m to do should rf« not grt ov« thi. ,. wh.t th,j, w«, , know not. for th., ,ngulW him . th. fl«t .tep. He would dr.w b.ck from them .. dl-om«ed thing,. .«! „,,» moment h. w« goi„„ •ver them to him.elf lik. . child .t le«o„.. A child • In th.t .hort ye.r .he h.d n,.d. him entirely de- pendent on h.r. It i. ever thu. with women: their ««t delifaer.te act i, t. .„.ke their hu.baml help- 49 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD leM. There are few men happily nuuned who can ktock in a nail. But it was not of thii that I was thinking. I waa 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 ruiUe 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 oldiah gentlentan had opened the door and waved congratulations to my companion, who im- mediately 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-A- we bought y^terdrX* h^ now. though ,ou might not think it to fooui; ^ Jhat do ,o„ «, ,„ . ^, „, ^^^ ^^. "I think not, ma'am." "I8 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 ii THK MTTLE WHITE BIRD Ckthcdnl once, the wu lo iiuutcnt, >nd Porthoi gave me hii mind about it when w* got home. Ht detciti til.: kindergarten syitem, and ai ih* it ab- ■urdljr prejudiced in iti favour we have had to try other ihopi. We went to the Lowthcr Arcade for the rocking-horw. Dear Lowther Arcade I Ofttiima have wc wandered agape among thy enchanted palacn, Porthoi and I, David and I, David and Porthoe and I. I have heard that thou art vulgar, but I cal^not tee how, unlets it be that tattered children haunt thy portalt, thote awful yet tmiling entrancet to to much joy. To the Arcade there are two entrancet, and with much to be tung in laudation of that which opent from the Strand I yet on the whole prefer the other at the more truly romantic, becauic it it there the tattered onct oou- gregatc, waiting to tee the Davidt emerge with the magic lamp. We have alwayt a peni.7 for them, and I have known them, before entering the Arcade with it, retire (but whither?) to wath; turely the prettiest of all the complimentt that are paid to the home of toys. And now, O Arcade, to much fairer than tl\y U THE FIGHT FOR TIMOTHY Wiit End brother, wt are told that thou sH doomed, Mion to be turned into mi ratinghouw or • Ww for UMiren, MMietbing nuUy uwful. All thy ddigfate are under notice to quit. The Noah'i arki »re packed one within another, with clockwork hontu hameeicd to them ; the loldicn, knapeack on back, are kieeing their handt to the dear fonliih girU, who, however, will not be left behind them ; all the faul^footed thing! gather around the elephant, who it orer/ul ot drawing-room furniture ; the bird* flutter their wingi; the man with the icythe mows hie way through the crowd; the ballooni tug at their (tringt ; the ihip* rock under a twell of lail, everything is getting ready for the mighty exodui into the Strand. Tears will be shed. So we bought the horw in the Lowther Arcade, Porthoi, who thought it wai for him, looking proud but an( My, and it wai lent to the bandbox iiouie anonymously. About a week afterward I had the ill-luck to mccl Mary's husband in Kensingtim, «o I asked him what he had called his littl* girl. "It is a boy," he replied, with intolerable good- humour, "we call him David." THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD And th«n with a linguUr lack of taata ha WMtwl the nmmt of m^ hoy, I flicked my glore. "Timothy," uid I. I Mw a lupprawd unite on hii face, and laid hotly that Timothy wai a* good a name aa David. "I lik« it," he aMured me, and cxprewcd a hope that thej would become friend*. I boiled to tmy that I realljr could not allow Timothy to mix with boyi of the David clam, but I refrained, and liitcned coldly while he told me 4hat David did when you laid hif tocf were pigi going to markrt or returning from it, I forget which. He alw boasted of David'a weight (a lubjeet about which we are uncommonly touchy at the club), ai if children were for throw- ing forth for a wager. But no more about Timothy. Gradually this vexed me. I felt what a forlorn little chap Timothy waa, with no one to «ay a word for him, and I be- came hit champion and hinted iioinething about teething, but withdrew it when it leemed too ror- priiing, and tried to get on to lafer ground, luch ai bib* and general intelligence, but the painter feUow wai to willing to let me have my aay, and 00 THE FIOHT FOR TIMOTHY knew M much mor. .bout b.bi« ih,„ i, flt»i„« („ •».n to know, th.1 I p«l.^ brfor, him .nd womWM whjr th. deuc |» w„ |i,|,„i„^ ,„ ^ ^ ^,^^, tivfly. Vou HM^ r»m«nb.r • .torjr h* Iwd tol<| me about *»m. .nonjrmou, friend. "Hi. I.t«it," «id he now, "i* to wnci David a rocking-horw r I mu.1 «jr I could », no „.«,« for hi. mirth. "Pietur. it." «id he. ". rocking |,„^ ,„, . ^^^ not three montti. old t" I WM about to ..jr flereely: "The .tirrup. ,« wJju.Uble," but thought it be.t to laugh with him. But I wa. pained to hi„r that Marjr had laughwl. though heaven know. I have often laughed at her. "But wmncn are odd." he «id unexpectedly, and explained. It nppcar. thai in the middle of her merriment Mary had becwne grave and „id to him quite haughtily, "I «^ n^hing to laugh at." Then •he hau ki»ed the hor«i .olemnly on the no«. and ••id. "I wi.h he wa. here to see me do it." There •re moment, when one cannot help feelmg a draw- ing to Mary. But moment, only, for the next thing he uid 61 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD P"» her In • pwticuUrl/ odioua Ughl. Ht ia- formed nw Ihat tlic twwl aworn to hunt Mr. Aaen down. "8ht wont Miccccd." I Mid, ■nwring but iwr^ •Thm it will Iw her Ar.1 f.ilur,," MJd h«. "But ihc know* notliinK •bout the mnn." "You would not f.^ that if jrou h<«rd bcr talk- inK of him. 8he fyhtkm gcntk, whimiiciU, loorly old barhclor." "Oldr I wild. "Well, what (he mjti it that hr will Mon b« old If he docin't take cars. He ii a bachelor at aU erenti, and i« very fond of children, but haa ntrcr had om- to play with." "Could not play with a child though there wai one," I „id bru«,ucly: "ha» forgotten the way; could itand and «tarc only." "Vct, if the parent* wore prment. But he thinks that if he were alone with the child he could oomc out itron^." "How the deuce " I began "That ii what ihe layt," he e»pUined, apolo- 68 THEFIOHTFOR TIMC . „v "P-oh." I Mid. but umfouu.,,,, , w, . Hi.^. ««« «.. ..Do ,0- Uppcn .„ k„., ;„^ HI "H*h«i,8t.Ben»rrfdog." "How h«rc jrw, found U»t out r "8h» hu found it out" "But how?" "I don't know." I Wt Wm ,t one. for Portho. wm but . Uttle w..W..nd„.Tho.,^^„,,^^^,^^ ««e .n.truct.o„.: ..ghould ^o„ fl„d ^«.^„ ,„,. p.r.n.bul..or. ,„.t»„tjy hand W „„, ,„ y^ police on the cWse of att^..^- dog." •tt«npting to itnl the Now then. Mary. "Bjr the w.y." her m^nd «id .1 our nert 63 H THE LITTLE WHITE DIRD meeting, "that rocking-horse I told you of OMt three guincM." "She ha« 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 sup- plied at the Arcade : — looked like a military gentle- man ; tall, dark, and rather dressy ; fine Roman nose (quite so), carefully trimmed moustache going grey (not at all) ; hair thin and thoughtfully distrib- uted over the head like fiddlestrings, as if to make the most of it (pah!); dusted chair ni .. handker- chief before sitting down on it, and had other old- maidish ways (I should like to know what they are); tediously pdite, 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 64 THE PIGHT FOR TIMOTHY other do we grow at the club. I was pleated, on the whole, with this talk, for it at least showed me how she had come to know of the St. Bernard, but anx- iety returned when one day from behind my cur- tains 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. 1 was sure she also askti! whether by any chnncc it was called Timothy. And if not, whether that nurse knew any other nurse who had charge of a Timothy. Obviously Mary suspicioned mc.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 com- pare 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), 68 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD but I glided part what we put in hii bath (earbolio •nd • mop). The man had not the leait »u«picion of me, and I thought it rcamnable to hope that Mary would prove as generous. Yet wag I straitened in my mind. For it might be that she wag 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. 4BfV' *^^3>' VI A (HOCK It wag 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-lincr. 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? Halle! 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. 67 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "The deuce!" thought I, and followed her. Like one anxious to keep an appointment, she frequently cuniulteii 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 Visscd 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 ^ilt to you to kiss to-day, or any day, the watch your husband gave youP 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 desti- nation, a street of tawdry shops. She entered none of them, but paced slowly and shrinking from ob- servation 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, wailing. I, too, was waiting for him, wondering if this was A SHOCK the man, or Uiu, or thia, and I beliere I clutched my itick. Did I itupcct Mary? Oh, lureiy not for a mo- ment of time. But there wa< some f ooliihnen here ; ■he wai come without the knowledge of her hui- band, as her furtive manner indicated, to a meeting ■he dreaded and wai ashamed to tell him of ; she wa^ come into danger ; then it must be to save, not her- ■elf 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 conse- quences of which she might shield him by skulking here? Could that laugh of his have survived a dis- honour? The open forehead, the curly locks, the pleasant smile, the hundred ingratiating ways which we carry with iis 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 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD her hiuband'i, and I cuned him for it. But without conviction, for, after alt, what did I know of women? I have tome diitant memorira of them, some vain invention!. But of men — I have known one man indifferent well for over forty yean, have exulted in him (odd to think of it), shuddered at him, wcariid of him, been willing (God forgive me) to jog along with him tolerantly long after I have found him out; I know loniething of men, and, on my ioul, boy, I believe I am wronging you. Then Mary ia bene for some innocent purpoce, to do a good deed that were better undone, ai it so •caret her. Turn back, you fooliah, iioft heart, and I »hall say no more about it. Ubstinatc one, you saw the look on your husband's face as he left you. It is the «t .!,o light by which he paints and still sees to hojif, ' jpitc oil the disappointments of his not ignoble ambitions. That light is the dower you brought him, and he is a wealthy man if it docs 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, 70 A SHOCK and faltrred and returned like a bird to the weaiel. Again ihc looked at her watch and ki«wd it. Oh, Mary, take flight. What uiadneu is thiaf Woman, be gone. Suddenly ihe waa gone. With one mighty effort and a last terrifled look round, she popped into a pawnshop. Long before she emerged I understood it ail, I think even as the door rang and closed on her; wky the timid soul had sought a street where she was unknown, why she crept so many times past that abhorred iihop before desperately venturing in, why she lodted so often at the watc^ 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 waa 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 7» THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD ton big for her alight amw, even tlien I wm light- hcHrlcd. Without attempting to follow her, I wun- tercd homeward humming a match of wng with a great deal of fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o in it, for I can never remember wordi. I naw her enter another •hop, baby linen lop or Mme noniicnM> of that Miiii lo it waa plain for what ahe bad |>opped hor watch ; but what rarcd I ? I continued to sing mutt beauti- fully. I lunged gayly with my atick at a lamp-pott and miaaed it, whereat a atrcet-urrhin grinned, and I winked at him and alipped two-pence down hi* bw!k. I presume I would hare choten the eaiy way had time been given me, but fate willed that I ahould meet the huaband on hia homeward journey, and hia firat remark inspired mc to a folly. "How ia Timothy ?" he aakcd ; and the queation (qiened a way ao 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 waa so startled that he gave utter- 7« A SHOCK •nee to • very oath of pity, mmI I felt a tinking mjttlt, tor in thcM hMty wordi my little boy wm none, indeed ; all my bright drraiiM of Timothy, all my elToHi to ihelter him from M«ry'» acorn, went whittling down the wind. 7S VII m* hAtrt or TnoTHT So ■eeompliihcd a pcnon m th* reader murt have Kcn at once that I made awajr with Timothj in order to give hii little vetti and pinafore* and thoet to David, and, thrrrforc, dear lir or madam, rail not overmuch at nic for cauiing our painter pain. Know, too, tliitt though hii lyi^pathy ran free I ■con diicovered manjr of hii inquirici to be prompted by a mere lelliih desire to lave hia boy from the fate of mine. Such are parents. He ailced compauionatcly if there wai anything he could do for me, and, of coune, there wai some- thing 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 flrst hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of the many little things in the house that 7* TMK LA81' OP TIMoniV »«• no* hurtful U> rm fo lo«k upon. mmJ h« chiiph«i ny u„,\, a^pty „„„„,^ ^^^^^^ .^ ^^ ^^ othtr houM with it* litilr thinK. he mw. I ».. •«h.nwl to haru. him tht... but ho hud not • wif. flciency of th. little thinK.. -md U.idc. ,ny im- ptiUivcnMi h«d phm««| „«. i„,„ , d,u,,. „^ , ^^ •o I »i^„ in thin agr of ■pecialiMi. for »'iVin« awny cliiMren'i g«nmnf« from hoium where they « . . ,> iuddmly bc- oomc • p«inf Could I «.ll tlK.i,.? ( „uld I give them to the needy, who would probshly di«po«. of iikbi for gin? I f.-ld him of . friend wiH. „ u,ung child who had already refuMnl Uiem becauw it would b, unplcauint to him to be reminded of Timoth/. and I think thi. w«, what touphetl him to the quick, to that he made the offer I wai waiting for. I h«d done it with a heavy foot. «„d by thi. time wa. in „ rage with both him an.l my«,l"f, but I alway. wa, n bungler, and, having adopted thi, mean, in a hurry, I could at the time .. o no other ea.y way out. Timothy', hold on life, a. you .nay have apprehended, wa. ever of the ,lighte.t, and I .uppow I alway, knew that he mu«t won revert to 7a fttMoean inounioN tmt chait (ANSI orxj ISO TEST CHAUT No. 2) j4 APPLIED llvMGE \n IS5J Eoal Main Strnt ?ffr?"*'' ***'' ^orfc 14609 US* C?16) *82 - 0300 - Phon. (7)6) 288 -5969 -Fox I II s THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD 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 bitter- ness 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 Ipve 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 76 THE LAST OF TIMOTHY M men and women with all the fun to pay for; and I think (thus foncy 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 an- other 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 dis- covered 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, ond thus lost to a finer sense of the proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, but apparently I rould not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to entering shops of any kind, save my tailor's, to 77 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD grow on mc, and to my tailor'. I fear I go too fre- quently. So I skulked near the .hop of the little gar- menU, jeering at myself, and it wa> .trangc to mc to reflect at, wy, three o'clock that if I had been brazen at half-pasL two all would now be over. To .how what wa. my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like man whom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, ju.t as I had drawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returned he was .till there, which .eemcd conclu- sive 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 per- suaded 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. 78 THE LAST OF TIMOTHY "I mean, .ir," wid I, "that I .hall wait here un'il you retire," and with that I put my back to a d,op- window. By this time he wa. grown angry, and ..id he, "I have no engagement." and he put hi, back to the .hop-window. Each of u. wa. doggedly deter- mined to tire the other out, and we mu.t have looked ridiculou.. We aI.o felt it, for ten minute, afterward, our pa..ion. having died away, we shook hand, cordially and agreed to call han«>n«. Must I abandon the entcrpriw? Certainly I knew diver, ladies who would make the purchaw. for me, but first I mu.t explain, and, rather than explain it ha. ever been my cu.tom to do without. I wa. in this despondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mr.. Kicking heartened me like a cor- dial, for I saw in them at once the en I pointed out the girl to him. Ai icon as •he law WilliaiK ihc ran into the middle of Pall Mall, regardlcM of hanaoini (many of which ■eemcd to pou over her), nodded her head nignifl- cantly three times and then diuppcarcd (prob- ably on a atrctcher). She wa« the tawdriest little Arab of about ten yean, 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. "Prcad, 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 ail- ing, and as one who likes after dinner to believe 82 INt'ONSIDEKATK WAITER th«t there ii no dintrcM in the world, I dnind to he told by William th.t the ,i«n«l, meant her re- turn to health. He amwerd inconniderately, how- ever, that the doctor feared the wortt. "Bah, the doctor," I aaid in a rage. "Yei, iir," Mid William, "What ii her confounded ailment?" "She wa« alius one of the ililicate kind, but full of ipirit, and you ICC, tir, ihe hai had a baby-prl lately •• "William, how dare you," I «.id, but in the Mme moment 1 «aw that thi« father might he 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 with- out 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 litUe letter." "There were three nods to-day?" "Yes, sir." 88 r*- m TJIK LITTLK WIMTK BIRD "I •up|KMr you liv€ in lonir low part, WillUmf" The impuilt lit fillow looked «» if Ik- »«uld h«vt ■truck nic. "tMf Dniry Ijinc," In- wid, flu»liing. "luit it i»n't low. And now," he Krottncd, "•Ire'* ■fcarvd ihc will die without my being there to hold her hand." "She iho- ■ ' not wy wch thingn." "She never *»y» thcni, nir. She allu> pretend* to be feeling stronger. B- 1 I knowi what is in her mind when I am leaving the hounc in the morning, for then ihe looks at me from her lied, and I looks at her from the door — oh, my God, sir!" "William P' At last he saw that I was angry, and it was characterist'j of him to beg my pardon and with- draw his wife as if she we-e some unsuccessful dish. I tried to forget his vulgar story in milliards, but he had spoiled my game, and next day to punish him I gave my orders through another waiter. As I had the window-scat, however, I could not but sec that the little girl was late, and though this mat- tered nothing to me and I had finished my dinner, I lingered till she came. She not only nodded three 84 INCONSIDKBATK WAITER limtt i«it w.y.d her h«l. •«! I ««., h.»inK ww flnUhnl my dinnrr. Willi«m cm* .twlthily toward n». "Il»r Urn- p.r.turo h- gone down, .ir,' he «id, r-aAinn hU Imttd* together. "To whom we you referring r I ».ked coldly, and retired to the billUrd-room, whcr* I pUyed • capital game. I took pain* to k..ow William that I had for- gotten hU miunJering., but I ob«rvcd the giri nightly, and once. in.tead of nodding, ihe thook her head, and that evening I --ould not get into a pocket. Next evening there wa. no William in the dining-room, and I thought I knew what had hap- pened. But, c;---nang to enter 'he library rather miwrably. I wo. .urpri«d to «e him on a ladder d.wting book-. We had the room practically to our- ielvci, for though wvcral membei-- sat ai: chair. koLling book, in their hand. ti.ey were dU a^Wp, and William descended the l«lA.-r to tell me hU blasting bile. He hod .wombat a meiv.ber ! "I hardly knew what . wa.. doing all day, air, for I had left her bu weakly that- ' 85 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD I lUunptd my foot. **I Iwg jrour pmtdon for ipcaking of her," ht had tht gran to tmy. "But Irme had |>romi«*d to come trrry two hour*; and when ihc camr about four o^clork and 1 mw iIm- wa« crying, it tort of blinded mc, *!r, and I ■iumblrd against a mrmbcr, Mr. B , and he Mid, 'Damn jrou !' Wrll, lir, I had but touched him afti>r all, and I wa* m broken it lort of itung me to be treated lo and I loat ny MBtte, and I laid, 'Damn pout' " Hi* ihamed head sank on hie cheat, and I think •ome of the reader* ihuddercd in their iletp. "I waa turned out of the dining-room at once, •nd lent here until the cnmmittcc have decided what to do with me. Oh, lir, I am willing to go op my knee* to Mr. B " How could I but deipiie a fellow who woukl b« thui abject for a pound a wtekt "For if I have to toll her I have lotl my place ■he will juit fall back and die." "I forbid your ipt.aking to me of that woman," I cried wryly, "unlcM you can ipeak pleawntly," and I left him to hit fate and went olT to lode for ad I N CO N 8 1 D K R A . K \*" A I T E R B "WW li thin »imy nbmit your ■wmrinK «t one of the waitenP" I lukni him. "You im-Kn nbout hii (wrkrinK at me," Mid B » redJcnin((- "I un gl«i Ihit WM it," I MiJ, "for I could not believe you Ruilty of aueh bad form. The ver- ■ion which reached me wai th... you iwore at each other, niul that hi wa» to be di»miued and jrou reprimanded." "Who told you thatr aikcd B , w o U a timi') man. "I am on the committee," I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of jther mattera, but preeently B , who hfJ been reflecting, iiaid: "Do you know I fancy I wa« wrong in thinking that the waiter iiwore at me, and I (hall withdraw the charge to-morrow." I wai plca«ed to find that William'i troubles were near an end without my having to interfere in hi* behalf, and I then remembered that he would not be able to lee the girl Irene from the library win- dow!, which are at the back of the club. I wan look- ing down at her, but she refrained from lignalliof S7 f THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD becauw ahe could not see William, and irritated by her ntupidity I went out and aakcd her how her mother was. "My," she ejacwlated after a long acrutiny of me, "I b'lievc you are one of them!" and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William tells them of our splendid fo, sir, but » To -top hi™ I had to ,,y, «A„d-ah-Willi.m r "'' " ''-•'^"''^ »-«- She ha. eat ! T: t«Pi«>ca— all of it." "" "How can you know, »irf» "By an accident." "Irene signed to the window?" "No." "Then you s«w her and went out and " "How dare you, William?" ••Oh sir, to do that for me! May God bl » William." " *"; '-^' -•• "o *»•« -'ations between Jwere 1^ strained. But I watched the girl, and her ;: omime was so illuminating that I knew the suffL, had again craned the platter on Tuesday, hid «e™Pted a boil«. egg „„ Wednesday (y„„:; J have seen Irene chipping it i„ p^j, putting in the salt), but relapse on I your Thursdi mother lav. Mall, and was in a woful state of very ill to-day, Miss Irene?" 89 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD I asked, OS aoon oa I had drawn her out of range of the club-windowB. "MyT' she exclaimed again, and I aaw an ecitatic look para between her and a still smaller girl with her, whom she referred to as a neigh- bour. 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 enor- mously impressed by Irene's intimacy with me, she gave me a good deal of miscellaneous information, as that William's real name was Mr. Kicking, but that he was known in their street, because of the number of his shirts, as Toff Kicking. That the street held he should get away from the club be- fore two in the morning, for his missus needed him more than the club needed him. That William re- plied (very sensibly) that if the club was short of w;.Iters at supper-time some of the gentlemen might 90 INCONSIDERATE WAITER be kept waiting for their marrow-bone. That he •at up with his miuus mo«t of the night, and pre- tended to her that he got lome 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 iiv 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 gen- tlemen drinks it." I turned from her with relief, but she came after me. "Ain't yer going to do it this time?" she de- manded with a falling face. "You done it last time. 91 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD I teU her you done it"-,hc pointed to her Wend who was looking wiitfully at mc— "ain't you to let her see you doin^, of it?" For a moment I thought that her desire was •nothor shiUing, but by . piece of pantomime .he showed that she wanted mc 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 sUy with an old nurse of mine, and Irene was with us, wear- ing the most outrageous bonnet. I formed a mean opinion of Mrs. Hicking's in- telligence 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 hod 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 M INCONSIDERATE WAITER AiJd on her knee and talked to it all the way I We never known a bolder little hu«y than thi. W She a-ked the infant i.p,„p,r ,„„«„„, «.ch a. "Oo know who gave „,e thi. bonnet?" and .".wered them herself. "It wa. the pretty ge„Ue- "..n there... and .everal time. I had to affect ,leep. becau«, .he announced. "Kiddy wanU to ki« the pretty gentleman... Irk.ome .. all thi. „ece«.rily wa. to a man of t-te I .offered .till more acutely when we reached our de.t.nation. where .,«g«,.ble circum.tance. co^peUed me to drink tea with a waiter', family. W.Umm knew that I regarded thank, from pe«on. of h.. cla„ a. an outrage, yet he looked them though he darrf not speak them. Hardly had he Z '7" "* ^'■^ ^""^ ^y "'y orde« than he remem- bered that I wa. a member of the club and jumped up. Nothmg i. in wor.e form than whispering, yet «gam and again he whi.pered to hi. poor, foolish wife. How are you now? You don't feel faint?" and when .he said she felt like another woman al- ready, hi. face charged me with the change. I could not but conclude f„,m the way d„, let the ' 99 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD twby pound her tliat the wai ■tronger than the pretended. I remMncd longer than wm necenary beeauie I had something to lay to William which I feared he would miiundentand, but when he announced that it wai time for him to catch a train back to London, at which hie wife paled, I delivered the menage. "WiUiarn," I laid, iMicking away from him, "th« head-waiter aikcd me to M>y that you could take a fortnight'i holiday. Your wage* will be paid a* luual." 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 litt]« dog. 94 INCONSIDERATE WAITER "It CM bt only the memory of lome woro«n," Mid (he, "tl»t makei you m kind to me .nd mine." Memory was the word the lued. .s if dl my 7o«th were fled. I .uppoee I reaUy .m quite elderly. "I ihould like to kiiow her luune. lir," ihe laid. "th«t I may meation her with loving retpect in my pMyert." I raiwd the wonun and told her the niune. It w*i not Mary. "But .he ha* a home," I „id, "„ jrou have, and I have none. Perhai-, ma'am, it would be better worth your while to menUon mt." It waa thii woman, now in health, whom I in- truded with the purchoie of the outfiU, "one for • boy of eix month.," I explained to her, "and one for a boy of a year," for the painter had boa«ted to me of David', rapid growth. I think .he wa. a little .urpriwd to find that both outfit, were for the Mune houM; and .he certainly betrayed an ignoble curio.ity about the mother*. Chri,tian name, but .he wa. much caiier to brow-beat than a fine lady would have been, and I am rare ihe •ad her daughter enjoyed thenuclve. hugely in the 95 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •hnpi, from one of which I ihall never forget Iren* •merging proudly with • commiMiomure, who con- ducted her under an umbrella In the cab whei I waa lying in wait. I think that wai the matt eelcttial walk of Irene's life. I told Mn. Hicking to give the article* a little active ill-treatroe-.t that they might not look quit* new, at which ihe exclaimed, not being in my lecret, and then to forward them to me. I then wnt them to llary and rejoiced in my deviliih cunning all the eveni..^, but chagrin came in the morning with a letter from her which ihowed ihe knf t all, that I wa« her Mr. Anon, and that there nevvr had been a Timothy. I think I wa« 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 false- hoods in it, T may mention that she said David kvcd me already. She hoped that I would oome INCONSIDERATE \7AITEK J« ofUn to.« hwhwUmI, who w« r^ p^ of my frienddiip, wd wgg,rt«l that I U«,uJd p., lum «jr flrrt rWt to^y .t U.^ „viock. «, hour ^ whJch. « I h.pp,^ to know. h. i. .lw.y, .w.y Idnnii . p.intfa|^k«on. In dK,rt. .h. wiu.W flr.1 to ««t B. Jon., «, that .he might dmw Ih. J- licou.. t^f^tvi romance out of me, ^ .ft«. WMd rep-tll to him. with .igh. «d littl. p.«« •t him over her pocket-handkerchief. Sh, h«] dropped what were meant to look like two tew, for me upon the paper, but I .hould not wonder though they were only artful drop, ol water. I *nt her a .tilT and tart „p|y, d«>li„i„g to "Old any communication with her. 97 DC A CONntMBD iniflTSB 1 AM in dugtr, I iw, of bmng included Mnonn th* whinwimi fcUowi, which I lo little dmire th«t I have got me into my writing-chair to eomliat the charge, btit, having lat for an unconeeionable time with pen peiied, I am come agiUtedljr to the fear that there may be loniething in it. So long a time haa . ipaed, you muiit know, ilnee I abated of the ardrmn of tclf-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many maty doon) for the be- ginning of thii change in me, if changed I am; I Mcm ever to sec thit lame 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 seek- ing for the explanation of things, and found to be inadmissible. Having failed in those days to dis- cover why I was driven from the garden, I suppoM A CONFIRMED HPINSTKR I CMWfl to be cnanioumi of my " •• of aonic AUJ piuiU, .nd lUn prrluip. the whiin««liti« btgnn to collect uniMiUccd. It ii • ,..iinfui thought to mc to-night, that he could mke up glorioui once, thi* man in ttie el- bow-chair by the Arc, who i« humorouily known at the club M • "conflrmed •pinrter." I Temcmlw him wcU when ue other forgotten triflet of niiM witk H th t make the dilferenct behrtm that nan and thif. I remember Inr speaking of m. mile, Ulling me it wai my one adornment, and taking it tnm M*. to to ipcak, for a moment to let me n* how •he looked in it; .he delighted to make iport of me when ihe wai in a wayward mood, and to show me aU my nngainly tricks of voiee and gcrtoN, ciaggerated and glorified in her entrancing sdf, like a sta • calling to the earth: " Sec, I will show 100 A CONFIRMED 8PIN8TKH jrou how jrou hoU>|. ro„«|." ^| j,,^ ^^^ ^^ • eHali*ng« to nw in htr »jrn to .top her if I dand, •ng becauNi all the pretty thing, were «id and done with, or .he wa. making doleful confewion. about her«,lf, «, impul.ive and generou. and con- fidential, and .o devoid of humour, that they com- pelled even a tragic .wain to laugh. She made a looking-gla.. of hi. face to «ek wofuUy i„ it whether .he was at all to blame, and when hi. arm. went out for her, and .he stepped back .o that they fell empty, .he mourned, with dear .ympathy, hi. lack of .kill to seize her. For what her soft eye. said was that she was always waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgave her, because there wa. nothing to forgiv., 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 i A CONFIRMED SPINSTER «verythi„g to your husband, mvo a girl from the dream of youth, have you never known that double- chinned i„du.triou. man laugh suddenly in a rev- •".! '"'* '*"* "P- " ■' he fancied he we,« being nailed from far-away? I hear her hailing me now. She wa. «, light- hearted that her laugh is what comes first acroM the years; so high-spirited that she would have wept hke Mary of Scot, because she could not lie on the bare plain, like the men. I hear her. but it » only a. an echo; I see her, but it is as a light among disUnt trees, and the middle-aged man can draw no nearer; she was only for the boys. There w« 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 «ga.n her love. She was so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but she was as young a. If she were the first woman. The world must have rung with gallant deeds and grown lovely thought. lOS THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD for numbcrleu ccnturic* before iihc could be; ihe was the child of all the brave and wiatful imagin- ings 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- oods. No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noble scale, her attributes were so generous, her unncr unconquerably gracious, her move- ments 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 hcod on high now, but hor face OS friendly, her manner as gracious os before, she 104 A CONFIRMED SPINSTER in your, for the catching. That wa> ever the unspoken compact Utween her ami the hunt^ men. It may be but an old trick come back to me with those memories, but again I cla«p my hand* to my brows in ama at the thought that all this was for mc could I retain her love. For I won it, wonder of t 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 liazc, and she was truly seen for the first time, she raised her head, liko one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrighted eyes. r told her what had been revealed to me as I looked upo- 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 105 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD upon that (he wa> a bath to the cyn, like bank* of mow. Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is for him who can k;>ow her. I'he 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 con- scious 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. Siie had a look and a voice that were for me alone; her very finger-tips were charged with nrenses for me. And I lored 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 toniientings of me turned suddenly into sweetnesses, and who could torment like this exquisite fury, wondering in sud- 106 A CONFIRMED SPINSTER den flame why ihe could give hertelf to wnyoae, while I wondered only why ihe could give henelf to me. It may be that I wondered over-much. Per- hapi that was why I loat her. It wa* in the full of the moon that she wii meet re.' 're, but I brought her back, and at first she could have bit m;, hand, but then she came will- ingly. Never, I thought, shall sne 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 twi- light 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 eirde. i-i| THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD When I did understand I tried to cheat myiclf into the belief that there wiu no change, and tha dear heart bleeding for me tuuiiatcd in that poor pretence. She Mught to glide to me with iwimming eyes as before, but it showed only that this ca- ressing 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 pre- tences. 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 toler- ance while I strove futilcly to discover in what I wa» lacking and to remedy it. And when, at last, ■he 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 lias 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 108 A CONFIRMED SPIN8TKR me thoM dallying! in cnrhantnl Acldii. It may not have been m alway*, for I remcmbor a black night when a poor lieutenant lay down in an oarlens boat and let it drift toward the weir. But hig diHtaiit moani do not greatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (a» the waters bring him nearer) that thi* boy ii I, for it ia lomcthing to know that, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me aa from another. I law her again, years afterward, when »he wa» 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 'ler 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. 109 ■POBTINO SarLBCTIOMt I HAVE now told you (I prmume) how I bceuM whimiical, and I fear it would pleaie Mary not at •11. But speaking of her, and, a« the cat'i light keepi me in a ruminating mood, luppoie, instead of returning Mary to her lover by meani of the letter, I had presented a certain clubman to her eonsideration? 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 Are because I am subject to cold feet, I have sometimes toyed with it since. Why did I not think of this in lime? Was it be- cause 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 110 8PORTI>fO REFLECTIONS thtn bccnme piliful to watch that trembling old face trying to point the w«y of courage to the young one. In time, however, there came another youth, ai true, I dare lay. at the flmt, but not w well known to me, and I ihnigged my ihoulden eynic^y to we my old friend once more a match- maker. She took him to her heart and boaited of him: like one made young herwlf by the grcal t»*nt, the joyoualy drewed her pale daughter in her bridal gown, and, with iimilei upon her face, •he cast rice after the departing carriage. But loon after it had gone, I chanced upon her in her room, and the wai on her knee* in tear* before ths ipirit of the dead lover. "Forgive mc," the bc«ought him, "for I am old, and l-fc ii gray to friendless girb." The pardon she wanted was for pretending to her daughter that women should act thus. I am sure she frit herself soiled. But men arc of a coarser clay. At least I am, and irly twenty years had elapsed, and hire was I burdened under a load of affection, like a sack of returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them. Ill THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "They wr« all vrittvn to aaathtr woniM, ma'am, and yet I am in hope* tKat ymt will ind ■omrthinfc in them »bout your»elf." It would hav« •oundrd oddly to Mary, but life ii gray to fricnd- 1<« girb, and lomcthing might hare com* of it. On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of tlie wood of the little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to «cnd them both back then. The eatincw of it' tempted me. Betides, the would tire of me when I wai rwUly known to her. They all do, you eee. And, after all, why ihould he late hii laugh be- eauM I had loit my smile? And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea. I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden. Ill XI TNR •ITNAWAY PKIAMairLATOB I 80METIMKH met David in public pUcr* .uch u t»w Keiwington Ganlriu, whrrr he loninl it lur- rounded by iiii luite and wmrinK *•» Wank far* and glaM cyn of all carriaKF-pcoplc. On thrw oc- cwiona I alwajrt ctalki>d by, meditating on higher thing!, though Mary icvnicd to think mc very hard- hearted, and Irene, who luul bc<^>nie hii nunc (I forget how, but fear I had tomcthing to do with il), mn after me with meuagct, as, would I not call and lee him in hi* home at twelve o'clock, at which moment, it wcmed, he wa« at hi* bett. No, I would not "He lays tick-tack to the clock," Irene aaid, try- ing to marc me. "Poohr Mid I. "Other little •uni jeit sayg tick-tick,*" she told me, with a fluih of pride. "I prefer 'tick-tick,' » I wid, whereat she de- parted in dudgeon. '1 THK MTTI.r. WHITE BIRD Hail th»y hiul tl» inm to wheel him bthind • trt* knd Inivr him. I wouM have lookMl, but •< thejr Lirkwl it. I ikfifkil to wait until h» could walk, when it would bf ntoi* ea«y to waylay him. How- rvrr, he wai a rautiou* little gorfaal who, after many threat* to ri»e. alwaya «eemed to vnme to the ronshwion that he miKht do wowe than remain where he wan, and when he had completed hi* (Int year I loat |Mtience with him. "When I wa« hii age," I laid to Irene. "I wai runninK about." I conoullcd them oiuually about thin matter at the club, and they Iwd all been run- ning about at a year old. I made Ihii numc tlie following offer; If ih* would bring the dilatory boy to my roon» and leave him there for half an hour I would look at him. At fir«t Mary, to whom the offer wai pawed on, rejected it with hauteur, but prcwntly the waT- crctl, and the upuhot wb» that Irene, looking «com- ful and anxioun, arrived one day with the peram- bulator. Without calling eyei on iti occupant, I pointed Irene to the door: "In half-an-hour," I ■aid. lU THE HTNAWAV I'F.H A M liir 1. ATOH She bfggnJ pvrniiMion to niiiain, hihI promiiird to turn her bMk, ami mi on, but I wm obiiurali-, •mi ih* llicn dolivcml lirrwlf of • iHuwionatrly •ITi^ionatv farewrlt lo hc-r ph«rf(r, which wan milljr alt directed a({ainiit me, and tended with »h.w powerful word*: "Ami if he take* off your Mieks my pretty, majr he be blanted for ivcnnon." "I ihall probably take off lier sock*." I wid care- leuly to thit. Htr locks. Do you kc what made Irene •ereamf "It U a girl, ii it not?" I a«ked, thui neatly de- priving her of coherent upeech an I pu.lnil licr to the door. I then turned round lo— to begin, ami, after reflecting, I began by aitting down behind the hood of hi> carriage. My plan wan to aoctuitoni him to hi» new turrounding* before bumtinj^ on the acenc myself. I had varous thoughU. Was ho nwnkc? If not. better let him wake naturally. IlHlf-nn-hoiir «bs a k>ng time. Why hail I not said quartcr-of-an- hour? Anon, I saw that if I was to sit there much longer I should have said an hour, so I whistled 115 ' :l THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD loflly; but he took no notice. I remember trying to penuade myself that if I never budged till Irenp'i return, it would be an amusing triumph over Mary. I coughed, but still there was no re- sponse. 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 reaUy 116 THE HUNAWAY PEH AM J: I I. vTOtt nothing about children, so I shal : y only H.u, that I thought him very lilce what : i.jU .. would have been had he ever had a chance. I to whom David had been brought for judg- ment, 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 crav- ing to hear him signify that I would do. I have •toed 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 peJler'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 117 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD I looked so frightened, but the reason scarcely mat- tered 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 sod thoughts, or to rivet our friendship, or because the time had come for each of us to show the other what he could do, lie 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. US THE RUNAWAY I'KK AM B LLATOH He again held up his foot, which had a gouty appearance owing to its being contained in «. dumpy little worsted sock, and I thought he pro- posed 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; per- haps, 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 , . v. Had he heard her, and was he daring me? . , hat dire thing could happen if the sock was removed? I sought to reason with him, but he signed to me to look ■harp, 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 in- 119 I ■ il •M! ^ THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD Rtrument. He then towwd hiit foot luidc, »niilcd hii long triumphant smile and intimated that it wai now my turn to do sonictliing. I thought the be»t thing I could do would he to put hin »ock on him agiin, 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 nmnaged 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 moke it turn into a rabbit, which so many people can do. In the meantime Dovid, occupied with similar thoughts, very ncorly made it disappear alto- gether, and I was thankful to be able to pull it back by the chain. "Haw-haw-An«./" Thus he conmicnted 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 ISO TJIK RUNAWAY I'KK AMUUL ATOH out I «iiw Iriiic ut one iiul of llic «trcol sUring up at mjr window, and ut the other end Msry'i hushand staring up at my window, and beneath me Mary (.tarinR up ut my window. They Iiad all brolien their promise. I returned to David, and asked him in a low voice whether he would give me a kiss. He sliook his head about fix times, and I was in despair. Then the smile came, and I knew tliut he was teas- ing me only. He now nodded his head about six times. This was the prettiest of all his exploits. It was BO 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 tj see Mary and her husband and Tvcnc bearing down upon my chambers to take liin' 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 Gar- dens we went; it may have bcccn Manitoba we 131 I'll 11 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •Urted for, but wv arrived at the Kensington Gar- den!, and it had all been mi unpremeditated and •martly 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 lie had not yet made up his mind. Strange to say, I no longer felt shy. I was grown sudden^ ind'ffeiont to public comment, and my elation in- creased when I discovered that I was being pur- sued. 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 wc 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 183 THE RUNAWAY PERAMBULATOR opened wider and wider, until they were the lixe of my medali, and then, with iU deliberation that diitinguiiihei hii 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, 183 ' » THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD and I worked ri'vcriahly, my cliiff fcnr being that, owing to bin youth, lie might .M know how niar- vclloui wan thia thing I wiw doing. It li an appeal to the intellect, a« well nii tn the iienMni, and no one on eurth ran do it except inywlf. When I paUMMl for ii moment exhausted he ligni-d gravely, with unclmngid face, that though it was undeniably funny, he had not yet decitletl whether it wa» funny enough, and, taking this for encouragement, at it l' went once more, till I law his forces wav-ring, 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 gather- ing of children. There was. in particular, one vul- gar little street-boy However, if that damped me in the moment of ia4 THE :UNAWAY PER AMBULATOR victory, I wm «»,„ u, ,ri,„„p,, ^|„,i„,„|y -^ ^^^ brg.n like defct. I h«J «,t mc do.,, on one of the g«rdcn-«.«l. in tl« Fig., with on.- : ,nd resting ean-l«,|j, on the ptrainbuUtor, in imitation of the nune,, it wa. w plcawnt to a«.,„„i. the air of one who walked with David daily, when to ,uy chagrin I Mw Mary approaching with quick .tealthy .tep., and already .o near n>e that flight would have been ignominy. Portho., of whon. .he had hold, bounde.1 toward me, waving hi. trnitorori tail, but •he .lowed on .eeing that I h„,l ol^erved her. She had run me down with my own dog. I have not mentioned that Portho. had lor .omc time now l»en a vi.itor at her hou«-. though never can I forget the .hock I got the i st time I mw him .trolling out of it like an afternoon caller. Of late he ha. avoided it, cn».ing to the other .ide when I go that way, and rejoining me farther on, «o I conclude that Mary', hu.band i. painting him. I waited her coming .tiffly, i„ great depre«ion of ipirit., and noted that her fir.t attention, were for David, who, .omewhat .habbily, gave her the end Of a .mile which had bc..„ iKgun for me. It .eemed 18.1 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD to rrlMvt her, for what one tiwjr call th* wild maternal look left her face, and trying to dMek little Raipe of breath, the mult of unieemljr run- ningi iihr nif^nnl to her ronfedcrntei to renMin in the background, and turned rurioun eyei on me. Had ihe ipoken a« ahe approached, I am lure her worda W(.....J have been aa fluahcd aa her face, but now her moulh puckered aa David'a doe* before he act* forth upon hia tmile, and I aaw that aha thought ahe had me in a pan \ at laat. "I could not help being a little anxioua," ahe aaid craftily, but I muat own, with aomc aweetneaa. I merely raiacd my hat, and at that ahe turned quickly to David — I ciinnot underatand why the movement waa ao haaty — and lowered her face to hia. Oh, little trump of a boy ! Inatead of kiaaing her, he aeized her face with one hand and tried to work her eycbrowa up and down with the other. He failed, and hia obvioua diaappointment in hia mother waa aa nectar to me. "I don't underatand what you want, dailing," aaid ahe in diatreaa, and looked at me inquiringlyi and I underatood what he wanted, and let her ace 1 86 • THE RlfNAWAY PRRAMBI'LATOR th«t I undcftood. IM I |^„ p„p.^ ,„ ^„. m« with hn, I .hould U„ Mi.| ,u»,d|y ih.,. h«d *. kno,„ what h, wnM. ..jn ,h, ,«,,h „„» h.vc don. it, though .he h«l pr«rtii»d for fentv I Wed to expre. M thi. hy .nothcr inov«n.nt of my h«t. It caught David', eye .nd at ont* he appealed to mc with the met perfect confl,lence. She f«il„l to .ee what I .lid. for I .hyly «,ve her my back, bat the effect on David ^a. .niraculou,; he .igned to her to go. for he wa. engaged for the afternoon. What would you have done then, reader? I didn't. In my gr^-' .„,„e„t , ^^ „„„^^ ^, ^^^^ •ctcr to rai«, my n«t for the third time .„d walk •^•y. leaving the child to judge between u.. I walkd .lowly, for I know I mu.t give him time to get it out. and I li.tcncd eagerly, but that wa, un- neccMary. for when it did come it wa, a very roar of angui.h. I turned my head, and «.w David fiercely pu.hing the woman a,ide. that he might have one la,t long look at me. He held out hi. wi.t- ful arm, and nodded repeatedly, and I falterwJ, «t7 THK LITTLK WHITK BIRD but my gloriiHM nchniw mivwI in», •nH I walkid on. It WM a Khcmc ronrrivnl in • flMh« •nd trrt line* rtlcntkwiy punucd, to burrow umkr M«ry'i in- flumn with th« bojr, tipoiM; h«r to him in all her vagaritt, lake him utterly from her and make him mine. It* XII rnm plumntut ti.ii. in mndom A 1,1. |HT«nibul«tor. lead |„ ,1^. K..n.in««o., Oardrna. Not, hownrer, th.t yw, wilt w Dhv!,! in hi« perembulntor murli lonK.r, for «x>n after I Ant •hook ht> faith in hin mother, it pmnc to him ta ho up and doing, and lie up and did in the Broad Walk ii«.|f. where he would .Iniid alone mint elab- orately poineiJ, .igninjc iinperiou«ly to the Britiih public to time him, and looking hi* nmit heavenly ju.t before he fell. tr. fell with a ,h..„,.. «nd a. »hey alway« laughed then, be pretended tlrnt thi. wan bin funny way of flniihing. That wax on a Monday. ()n T«e««lay he climbed the .tone ntnir of the (Jold King, looking over hi. •boulder gloriou.ly at each .tep, and on Wwlnc- «Jay he .truck three and went into kniekerbocken. For the Kcniington Garden., you mu.t know, are full of diort cuU, familiar to aU who play there; rfv, 1 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD and the ihortest leada from the baby in long clothei 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 arc 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 cul- pably obtuse to my sinister design, having in- structed 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 shad- ow in the background. Irene, in short, did not im- prove 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 ISO THE PLEASANTEST CLUB aire 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 thot 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 applica- tion. Of saying that the handkerchief disappeared ISl f THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD into nothingncM, 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 faitli in legerdemain, and the eyebrow feat (which, however, is entirely an affair of skill) having yielded such good results, I natu- rally cast about for similar diversions when it ' ceased to attract. It lost its hold on David sudden- ly, 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 132 THE PLEASANTE8T CLUB without wordi, but I was duilluaioned. I remMnber oaet in thow later yean, when he could keep up luch apirited 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 be- cause he knew too much, or because he wore a trick shirt, he was the most depressing person I ever en- countered ; he felt none of the artist's joy, and it was sad to see one so well calculated to give pleas- ure 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 al- 188 ff^ THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD w«y( being polite children hovering near who run after you and restore it to you. The young man, •gain, 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 >iii some , astonishing things with pennies, but iron the penny that costs sixpence is uncertain, and just when you are saying trium- phantly thr.t 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 IM ;■ THE PLEA8ANTE8T CLUB One. While I itood by, ineering, be would give me the ecstatic look that meant, "Irene ii reaUy T«ry entertaining, isn't ihe?" 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 Hont teeth, as she told me, had faUen 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 pasMd 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 pro- prietary pride in it, had he seemed to understand that Irene's om poor little accomplishment, though IStf !l': THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD undeniably ihowy, woi without intellectual merit. I have somctimet italkcd away from him, intimat- ing that if hia regard wai to be got lo cheaply ,1 begged to retire from the competition, but the Gardens are the pleaianteat club in London, and I ■oon 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 in- stance, 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 man- tleshelf and sighed. And here is another pleasant memory. One day I had been over-friendly to an- other 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 136 THE PLEA8ANTE8T CLUB down with hi. foot and .tand> over tJicm, looking verjr noble and stern), «, I knew it. meaning at once; it was David's first public intimation that h« knew I belonged to him. Irene scolded him for striking that boy, and made him stand in disgrace at the comer of a seat in the Broad Walk. The scat at the comer 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 tiflTs, 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 tdking my fun of her, but she was really plea8ed,and I teU you.Irene has one of the prettiest 187 '!'■ THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •nd mint touching little bowi imagiiwble: it ii half to the tide (if I may w exprtw myKlf ), which hu always been my favourite bow, and, I doubt not, ■he acquired it by watching Mary. I ihould be wrry to have it tli,Might, ai you may now be thinking, that I look on children as on puppy-dogi, who care only for play. Pcrhapi 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, 1 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. 80 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 tM THE PLEA8ANTE8T CLUB how little ladie* and gentlemen behave. They wan children of the well-to-pau, and »he waa from Dniry Lane, but tlicy believed in her ai the greateat of all authoritici on little ladic* and gentlemen, and the more they heard of how theic romantic creature! keep thcnuelvc* tidy and avoid pooli and wait till they come to a gate, the more they admired them, though their facet ahowcd how profoundly they felt that to be little ladiei and gentlemen waa not for them. You can't think what hopeleu little faces they were. Children are not at all like puppiet, I have laid. 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 heraiDe. 189 Ml :l ■ ^1 Ml THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "Why wtTt the king md queen not kt homtl^ David wouid aak her breathlcHljr. "I •uppow," laid Irene, thinking it out, "thty WM away buying tlir victuab." She alwayi told the itory gating into vacancy, ■o that David thought it wa« really happening ■omcwhrrc up the Broad Walk, and when ihe came to it« great inoinenta her little boeoin heaved. Never •hall I forget the coaccntrated Mom with which the prince laid to the aiiileri, "Neither of you ain't the one what wore the glau ilipper," "And then — and then — and then — ," laid Irene, not artiitically to increaie the luipenie, but became it wai all M) glorioui to her. "Tell me — tell me quick," cried David, though he knew the tale by heart. "She »it» down like," iiaid Irene, trembling in iecond-sight, "and she trie* on the glaM ilipper, and it fits her to a T, and then the prince, he cries in a ringing voice, 'This here is iy true love, Cin- derella, what now I makes my lawful wedded wife.' " Then she would come out of her dream, and look 140 THE PLEA8ANTE8T CLUB round At the gniHim of th« Crdeni with an «- twordiwry eUUon. "Her. a. wm only « kitchen drudgt," the would ujr in • .tnngc lort voice .nd with Jiining ejre., "but wm true and faithful in word k .id deed, luch wu her reward." I am sure that had the fairjr godmother appeared jurt then and touched Irene with her w.nd, David would have been interested rather than aitoniihcd. A» for mjrielf, I believe I have lurpriied thii little girl'i Mcret. She knowi there are no fairy god- niothen nowailayi, but the hope, that if rite it al- way. true and faithful .he may lome day turn into • Wy in word and deed, like the miitreu whom •he adorn. It is a dead lecrct, a Dniry Lnne child't ro- mancc; but what an amount of licavy artillery will be brought to bear against it in thi. sad London ot ours. Not much chance for her, I tuppoM, Good luck to you, Irene. Ml xm TUB OBAMD TOO* Or THH «*k»k-'' You muit •«• for yourwIvM tlin^ it will be dM- nilt to follow our Mlvcp^urv* unlnw you ar* f> mil- {•r with the Keminfrion Oardeiu, m they now be- CMM known »o V .vid. They «re in London, where the King live., And you go to them erery day unle* you are looking decidedly fluihed, but no one hat erer be^n in the whole of the Oardcni, becauK it u K) ioon time to turn back. The reaion it is lorn time to turn back ii that you deep from twelve to one. If your mother wa» not to lure that you ileep from twelve to one, you could moet likolv «* the whole of them. 'lire Garden! arc boundrd on one »ide by a never- ending line of omnibuaea, over which Irene ha» such authority that if «he holds up her finger to any one of them it itop* immediately. She then ctomcb with you in lafety to the other tide. There are 14* TOUR OF THK 0ARDKN8 woi* gmtM to th. Garden. (Un on« g.lr, but that !• the 00. y«, K„ in .,, .„.; b,r„^ y^ ^ .„ y^ •poak to tl» Mr with Ih. Wloon.. wh. .iu jurt o«».i.le. n,i, i. .. „,., ,„ b,i„g j^i,,., „ ^ ^y v,ntuw. b«-«u«.. if .h, were to |„ ^ ,^, hold of th. n,ilin«. for one mo,„cnt. the balloon, would m her up, ,nd .be would be flown .w.^. Sh. .it. v-ry -luat. for Ihc balloon, are alwa>, tugging at her, and th. .train ha. given her quite a red face. Once .he wa. a new one, bec.u«. tlie old on. had •^ go, and David wa. verj- wrry for th. old one, but a. .he did let go, he wiJied h. had been there to Me. The Garden, ar. . Iremendou. big pUce, with million, and hundred, of tree., .nd flr.t you come to the Pig,, but you Morn to loiter there, for th. Pi«. » the r»ort of .uperior little per«,„., who .« forbidden to mix with the commonalty, and i. «, named, acrordinR to legend, becau.. they d™. in Ml fig. The dainty one. are the««|ve, contempt- uou.ly called Pig, by David .„d other hero... and jrou have a key to th. manner, and cu.lom. of thi. dandiacal action of the Gar., .n. when I tdj you THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD that cricket ii called crickeU here. OccMionBUy a rebel Fig climhi over the fence into the world, and ■uch a «>e wb§ Min Mabel Grey, of whom I shall tell you when we come to Miw Mabel Grey'» 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 comer of a seat if they hfive been mad-dog or Mary-Annish. To be Mary-Annish is to behave like a girl, whimpering because nuise won't cnrry 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 satis- faction in that. 144 1»: TOUR OF THE GARDENS If I were to point out all the notable place, u we p«. up the Broad Walk, it would be time to turn back before we roach them, and I .imply wave my -tick at Cecco', Tree, that memorable .pot -here a boy called Cecco lo,t his penny, and, look- ing for .t, found twopence. There ha, been a good deal of excavation going on there ever since. Far- mer up the walk i, the little wooden house in which Marmaduke Peny hid. The,, is no more awful -tory of the Gardens by day than this of .Marma- duke Perry, who had been Mar,-Annish three days Broad Walk dr^sed in hi. sister's clothes. He hid •n the little wooden house, and refused to emerge -t.l they brought him knickerbocker, 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 ce ebrated baby of the Gardens, and lived in the palace all alone, with ever so many dolls, ,„ people ™ng the bell, and up she got out of her bed. 145 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD though it wai past .ix o'clock, and .he Ughted a candle and opened the door in h. r nighty, and then they all cried with great rejoicing*. "Hail, Queen of England!" What puzzled David rao.t wan how 8hc 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 arc run, »nd even though you had no intention of runninR 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 arc 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, 146 I niiBi TOUR OF THE GAllDENS or elie one mother and one nunc, and for a long time .he was a pattern-child who alway. coughed off the table and said, "How do you do?" to the other Fig«, and the only game «hc played at wa« flinging a ball gracefully and letting the nurse bring it back to her. Then one day .he 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 cast, 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 si.e 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 DavVl and I have never been in though we have heard tnem 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 147 I' H THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD right the Baby Walk, which i. «> full of pwrani- buktors that you could croM from «dc to side itepping on babic, but the mnes 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 kiUed a good many btars. 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. 14t TOUR OF THE GARDENS Between the well and the Round Pond kk the cricket-pitchei, and frequently the chooiing of ■idei exhauati so much time that there is scarcely any cricket. Everybody wanU 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 fleldeiB have scattered to play at something else. The Gardens arc noted for two kinds of cricket: boy cricket, which is real cricket with a bat, and giri cricket, which is with a racquet and the gov- erness. Girls can't reaUy 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 for- ward girls challenged David's team, and a disturb ing creature called Angela Qare sent down so many yoricers 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 1*9 I THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD time at il'- Round Pond, however much yon try. You can be good in the Broad Walk all the time, but not at the Round Pond, and the reason ii that you forget, and, when you remember, you arc «o wet that you may a* well be wetter. There are men who tail boati on the Round Pond, »uch big boats that they bring them in barrows and some- times in perambulators, and then the baby has to walk. The bow-legged children in the Gardens •re 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 flrst 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 untU 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 saiU rise magicaUy and catch the breeze, and you put in on dirty nights at snug TOUR OP THE GARDENS harboun which are unknown to the lordly yachti. Night paawi in a twink, and again your rakish craft noMs for the wind, whalei ipout, you glide over buried cities, and have bruihes with piratia and cast anchor on coral isles. Vou 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 execut- ing 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 •way 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 thers to gaze <» you, 151 I If THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD your ihipi are only accidcnti of thii place, and were they all to be boaitled and lunk by the duck* the r«d bunncM of the Round Pond wpuld be ear* ricd on •■ tuual. Paths from everywhere crowd like children to the pond. Some of them are ordinary patht, which have a rail on each tide, and are made by men with their coats off, but other* are vagranti, wide at ont ipot and at another m> narrow that you can itand 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 moke themselves because it is their only chance of getting to the Round Pond. One of these gypsy paUis comes from the place where the sheep get their hair cut. When David shed his curls at the hair-dreswr's, I am told, he said ffood-bve to them without a tremor, thou^ t creature Mary has never been qr. ! bright ( since, so he despises the sheep as they run from ISS TOUR OP THE GARDENS their iWrer and calli out tauntingly, "Cowardy, cowardy cuitard!" But when the man Krip* them between hU legi David ihakei a fi«t at him for Uiing luch big fcinon. Another itartling moment i» when the man tumi back the grimy wool from the iheepi' ihoulden and they look suddenly Uke ladie. in the italb of a theatre. The iheep ai« lo 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 olher.now that they arc no differcnt.and if it makes them fight with the Hrong ones. They are great fighters, ami thus so unlike country sheep that every year they give PorthoB ., shock. He can make a field of countrv sheep fly by merely announcing his approach, but these town sheep come to«ard 71 with BO promise of gentle entertainment, and n a light from last year breaks upon Porthos. He cannot with ilignity retreat, but he stops and looks about him as if lost in admiration of the scenery, and presently he stroUs aw^y with a fine MS m THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD indiffcrenee •nd • glinl at me from tht eonwr oT hi* eye. The Serpentine begiiw ne«r here. It ii • krreljr kke, utd there ii a drowned foreft at the boUom of it. If you peer over the rdge you can tee th« tree* all growing upeide down, and they lay that at night there are aUo drowned rtan in it. If lo, Peter Pan leee them when he ii «ailing acroee the litke in the Thru.hU Neet. A «niall part only of the Serpentine ii in the Oardcnt, for won it pawet beneath a bridge to far away where the uland i» en which aU the bird* are bom that become baby boyi and girU. No one who it human, except PeUr Pan (and he ii only half human), can land on the bland, but you may write what you want (boy or girl, dark or fair) on a piece of paper, and then twiit it into the thape of a boat and ilip it into the water, and it reachei Peter Pan's iiland after dark. We are on the way home now, though, of counc, it if all pretence that we can go to to many of the place, in one day. I .hould have had to be carrying David long ago and retting on L-very Mat IM TOUR OF THE GARDENS Kke old Mr. Salford. That wm what wc callrtl him, beeauM he alwajri talkid to lu of a lovely plac* eaJled Salford where he had been bom. He wa* a crab-apple of an okd genlknian who wandered all day in the Uarilmii > rom icat to leat trying to fall in with MMncbody w!m> wai arquaintcd with the town of Salford, und when wc had known him for • year or more we actually liid meet another aged •otitary wlio had once sptnt 8atur.l«y to Monday in Salford. He wai meek and timid and carried his addrrM iniidc hie hat, and whatever part of London he wa* in aearch of he alwaya went to the General Poit-officc flrrt ai a itarting-point. Him we rarried in triumph to our other friend, with the itory of that Saturday lo Monday, and never ■hall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at him. They liave been croniet ever iince, and I notice that Mr Salford, who naturally doc« mort of i he talking, keepi tight grip of tlic other old man'* coat. Tlie two last place* before you come to our gate are the Dog's Cemetery and the chaffinch** nc»t, but we pretend not to know what the Dog's Ceme- ISS ! It THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD ttry U, »» Porthmi :» •!*•>• with u«. Th* m»» l» vefy Md. It U quit* white, »nfl the way w« found it wu wondtrful. W» wn* having MMthcr look MMHIR the biiflM* for D»vid'» loit wonti-d b«ll, and iii»te«d of the biJl w» foumt • lorcly n«rt made of tlw wonted, and containing four rggi, with «cr»lch«« on thuin very Jike David't hand- writing, io we think they mti»t have been the mother** loYe-lettpf» io the little onee inilde. Every day we were in th" Oaiden* we paid a call at the neat, taking care that no cruel boy ihould m* u*, and we dropped crumbe, and eoon the bird knew u« aa friend*, and lat in the neet looking at ue kindly with her »houlden hunched up. But one day when we went, there were only two eggi in the nest, and the next time there were none. The *addc«t part of it wa« that the poor little chaffinch fluttered about the bushe., looking *o reproachfully at ui that we knew ihe thought we had done it, and though David tried to explain to lier, it wa» eo long since he had spolccn the bird language that I fear she did not understand. He and I left the Gardens that day with our knuckles in our eyea. I5« i ' 'H znr MTBB FAN 1p 70U Mk jrour motW whether the knew .b „t Prter Pan whni she wm • litUe giri ihe wlU -sv. "Why, of eoum, I did, child," aad if you adi lii-r whcthrr he rode on a noat in Ukm dayi ihe will ••jr. "What a foolidi quntion to aak : wriainly he did." Then If you a«k your grandmother whether •he knew .bout Peter Pan when die wa. a giri, ■he alM My*, «1Vhy, of courie, I did, child," but if you ad[ her whether he rode on a goat in thoee •toye, ihe layi the never heard of hii having a goat. Perfaape the hai forgotten, jurt a* the loinetinM fotgeU your name and calli you MiWred, which i» your niothi>r>i name. Still, ihc couid hardly for- get such an important thing ai thr goat. There- fore there wai no goat when your grandmother wae a UtUe girl. Thi» ihowi that, in telling the itory ot Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (..* most PMipU do) ii ai tiJiy as to put on your jaeket before your veat til hd THE LIT'lLE WHITE BIRD Of couwe, it alio ihowi that PetiT it ever io M, but he i» 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 hat never had a birthday, nor is there the slightert 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 re- turn to the tree-tops, and with that memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to es- cape as soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up the chimnej. All children could have such recollections if they would press their hands hard to their temples, for, 158 ! ill PETER PAN hmri»g htm bird! before they were hunun, thej •» i»tur«Dy • little wild during the first few week., «,d very itchy at the shoulder., where their wiiigi uied to be. So David telle me. I ought to mention here that the following is WW way with a story: First, I tell it to him, and tfwn he tell, it to me, the understanding being that it i. quite a different story; and then I reteU it wkh hi. additions, and so we go on until no one «»«iW -y whether it is more his story or mine. In *W« rt»y of Peter Pan, for insUnee, the bald nar- »*tive and most of the moral reflections are mine, though nftt aU, for thi. boy can be a stem moralist. but the interesting bits about the ways and cus- *«n» of babies in the bird-stage are mostly remi- >i.eence. of David's, recaUed by pressing his hands to his temple, and thinking hard. Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing on the ledge he could see <»ee. far away, which were doubtless the Kensing- ton Gardens, and the moment he saw them he en- Uwly forgot that he was now a litUe boy in a night- gpxm, and away he flew, right over the houses to i -1 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD the Ganleiu. It U wonderful that he could «y with- out wingi, but the place itched tremendouily, and, perhapa we could all fly if we were u dead-confi- dont-sure of our capacity to do it a* was bold Peter Pan that evening. He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the«aby*« Palace aad the Serpentine, and the flrrt thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. He waa quite unaware already that he had ever been hu- man, and thought he waa a bird, even in Rppeaiv ance, just the same as in his early days, md when he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he missed it was because he had at- tempted 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, draw- ing water, and so on, and the sight of the water- pails made h.m thirsty, so he flew over to the Bound 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, PETER PAN wry litUe water oune up, and that not m ittnA- ing a. „«„1, „ „„t he tried a puddle, and he Ml flop into it. When a ml bird fall, i„ «op. he apread. out hi. feather, and peck^ them dry, but Peter could not remember what wa. the thing to do, and he decided, rather .ulkiljr. to go to deep on the weeping beech in the Baby Walk. ' At fint he found some diJHculty in balancing hiniwlf on a branch, but pre«:ntly he remembered the way, and fell aaleep. 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 nighU when he was a bird, but, of course, as everybody knows, what seems a warm night to a bird is a cold ..ight to a boy in a night- g^. Peter also fp't strangely uncomforUble, as if his head was stuffy, he heard loud noises that made him look round sharply, though they were reaUy himself sneering. 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 1«1 4. : tel. ! THE LITTLE WHITE BIBD ■track him, no he decided to nppwl *> *• fniriee for enlightenment. They we reput«l to know m good deal. There were two of them itrolliiig along the Beby Walk, with their arma rousi'l each other*! woiati, and he hopped down to addren them. The fairiei have their tiffn witli the bird», but they uauaUy give a civil answer to a civil question, and he waa quit* Migry when these two ran away the moment they ■aw him. Another was lolling on a garden-chaw, leading a postage-stamp which some human had kt faD, and when he heard Peter's v■ :*rtened to And himself at last at home, as the uirds call the island. All of them were asleep, induding 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 nieuning. "Lode 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. 10* PETEH PAN "How many rf jrour toes we thumlMr wid Sol* omon • little cruelly, and Peter m» to hii eomter- nstioB, that all hii toM were fingen. The iboek waa •o great that it drove away hii cold. "Rufle your feathen," laid that grim old Solo- mon, and Peter tried mo«t desperately hard to ruf- it hii feathen, but he had none. Then he row up, quaking, and for the flnt 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 m«ther," he sud 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 suppow! I can stiil 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." 1 65 4 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "And never cvrn go to the Kenuagtaa Qmr- dm?" P«ter uked tragically. "How could you get •crcwr" wiid SoIobmni. ib promiied very kindly, however, U< teach Peter •• many of the bird wayi a» could ue learned by ona of luch an awkward shape. "Then I ihaVt be esacUy a huBMir Brtar aeked. -No." "Nor exactly a bird r "Na" «What.hallIbe?" "You will be a Betwixt-and-Between," Solonon said, and certainly he wa« a wiec old fellow, for that i* 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 ware 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, wliM they tired of sitting on their eggi, used to get the 166 PETEH PAN young one to bnak th«ir nhclb ■ day Won the right time by whi.perinB to them that now waa their ehanoe to lee Peter waihing or drinking tm eating. Thouwnd* gathered round him daily to watch him do Umk thingii, junt aa you watch the PMOocki, and they icreamed with delight when he liftMi the oniita they flung him with hii hand* inrtead of in the uaual way with the mouth. All his food wa« brought to him from the Garden* at 8ol- omon'i order* by the birdi. He would not eat wormt or inwoU (which they thought very «iUy of him), •o they brought him bread in their beaks. Thue, when yon cry out, "Greedy! Greedy!" to the bird that fliet awjy with the- big crurt, you know now that you ought not to do thii, for he ii very likely tiJiing it to Peter Pan. Peter wore no night-gown now. You we, the biida were always begging him for biu of it to line their nentn 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 un- happy. He was usually very happy and gay, and m :H.I I, THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD Dm NMon wai that Botomon had ktpt hh pnmdM •ltd taught him many of the bird wajrt. To be mMj plaaaad, for iMtaoec, and alwajrt to bf r^y doing ■omtthing, and to think that what«T«r ht wai doing wa« a thing of vaat importance. Pttcr bccanw vny elevOT at helping the bird* to build their nertt; •oon he could build better than a wood-pigeon, and nearly aa well aa a blackbird, though never did he •atiafy the finchet, and he made nice little water- traughi near the nceta and dug up wonni for the young onei with hii llngen. He alw> became very learned in bird-lore, and knew an eait-wind from a wert-wind by iti nnell, and he eould tec the gnwt growing and hear the iniect* walking about inside the tree-trunki. But the beet thing Solomon had done wai to teach him to have a ^ad 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, 16* PKTKR PAN ■o he iiHuJc a pipe of mtk, nnd be uwd to lit Ht tli« «harv o( thf inUml of an cvrning, prMtMinf the MNigh of the wind and the ripple of the walw, ami catching handful, of the ihinc of the moon, •nd he put ihem all in hii pipe and played them no beautifully that even the bird* were deceit, d, and thejr would nay to each other, "Wai that a fl»h leapinK "" ^iv' water or wa« it Peter playing leaping flih on hi* pipe?" and •omctimM he played the birth of bird., and then th. /nothen would turn round in their nnU to nee whether they had laid an •SB- It you arc a child of the Oaideni you muit . know the chcttnut-tree near the liridge, which come* out in flower flnt of all the cliotnuU, but perhapa you have not heard why thii tree lead, the way. It w becaunc Peter wearic* for lumnicr and plays that it ha. come, and the chestnut being so near, hears him and w chuHtccl. But a« I'< tir Mit by the shore tootling divinely on hi. pipe he Mmetimes 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 169 !'.' maoeorr aHoiuTioN tbt chait (ANSI and ISO TtST CH*«T No. J) li^l^l^ _^ /1PPLIED IIVMGE Inc ^^ *e53 Eost Uoin StrMt ;rjS Roch*>t«r, New Yorh 14609 USA ^B (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone ^S (^'^) 3B6- 5909 -Fax THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD the arch of the bridge. He knew he could ever 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 a< 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 th^ 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 Um mod sailed away. 170 PETER PAN Once he really thought he had discorered a way of fcaching the Gardens. A wonderful white thingt Hke a runaway newspaper, floated high over the iiland and then tumbled, rolling over and over after tke manner of a bird that has broken its wing. P«tcr 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 •» 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 Mer ones felt grateful to him at this time be- cause 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 171 i ii THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD great good-nature they did it nevcral time*, and ■Iwayi initead of thanking them he cried, "Do it •gainT* which nhowi that even now he had not quite forgotten what it was to be n boy. At Uut, 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 ». 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 Serpentihe had he not caught hdd 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. in XV THC TMBUIH'i nut SHEIXEY wa» a young gentleman and ai grown-up ai he need ever expect to be. He wai a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are people who detpiae 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 » good one. They always r ' ^or 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 nestf ul ; it all depends on the mood you catch him in. He likes you to 178 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD leave it all to hiiii, nd if you mention particularly that you hope he will see hi* way to making it a boy (hit time, he ii ulmo«t nure to send another girl. And whether vou arc a lady or only a little boy who want! a. baby-sitter, always take pains to write your address clearly. You can't think what a lot of babies i^olomon iuu sent to the wron^ ^use, Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with their toe* 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 ordi- nary 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 de- 174 THE THRUSH'S NEST cided (wiicly, I think) to choow the beit way. But, flrat, he had to tell the birdi of the value of Shelley'* boat; and thouf{h they were too honeat to demand it back, he law that they were galled, and they cait >uch black looks at Solomon, wlr wa« rather vain of his cleverness, that lie flew away to the end of the island, and sat there very de- pressed 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 Mfe 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 anc* a boot- 175 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD Uet. When hi* itocking wu full. Solomon oUcu- ktcd that he woulil Iw able to retire on • com- petency. Peter now gave him > pound. He cut it off hii bank-note with a iharp itick. Thia m«de Solomon hia friend for e»er, «nd after the two had ronaulted together they railed a meet- ing of the thruahei. You will lee prc«ently why thniihe* only were invited. The Kheme to be put before them wa« really Peter*!, but Solomon did moet of the talking, be- cau»e he loon became irritable if other people talked. He began by »a.yiBg that he had been much imprcMed by the auperior ingenuity ihown by the thruihet in nnt-building, and this put them into good-humour at once, ai it wan meant to do; for all the quarreb 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 •* if he had used an unanswerable argument ; but, unfortunately, a Mrs. Finch had come to the meet- ing uninvited, and she squeaked out, "We don't build neats to hold water, but to hold eggs," an 1 176 THE THRU8H>8 NEST thtn tlM UinuhM ttoppcd ehccring, .nd Holomon WM w perplexed that he took wveral lipe of water. "Coiwider," he wid at hut, "how warm the mud makn the nert." "CoMider," cried Mn. Pinch, "that when water get. into the nciit it remaim there and jrour little onee are drowned." The thniihee begged Solomon with a look to lay •omething crushing in reply to thi», but again he wai perplexed. "Try another drink," fuggeeted Mr.. Finch pertly. Kate wa« her name, and all Katct are nauey. Solomon did try another drink, and it inipited Wm. "If," Mid he, "a finch*, net ii placed on the Serpentine it fill, and break, to piece., but a thnuh'. nert i« .till a. dry a. the cup of a awan'f back." How the thrushe. applauded! Now they knew why they lined their ne>ti with mud, and when Mr.. Finch called out, "We don't pUce our net. on the Serpentine," they did what they .houla have done at flr.t: chased her from the meeting. After thi. it wai DKMt orderly. What they liad been brought 177 m THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD tegatlMr to Una, Mid Holoinon, wm this: thrir young friend, Peter Pan, m they wtU kntw, wanted very much to be able to mm to the Oar'lem, and ne new propowd, with their help, to build a boat. At thii tla thnuhct began to Mgct, which mad* Peter tremble for hi« ■rhente. Solomon explained hiutily that what be meant WAS not one of the i ibroui boat* that humans uie ; the propowd boat wa* to be limply a ^hnish't neat i^rgc enough to hold Peter. But itill, to Peter*! agony, the thruihca were •ulky. "We arc very bu»y people," they grumbled, "and thii would be a big job." "i^hiite io," laid Solomon, "and, of coune, Peter would not allow you to work for nothing. You muit remember that he if now in comfortable cir- cumttancet, and he will jiay you tach waget at you have never been paid before. Peter Pan authoriws me to tay that you ihall all >v. ■p^ ■izpence a day." Then all the thnwhee hopped for joy, and that very day wa» begun the celebrated Building of the Boat. All their ordinary buiinen fell into arrean. 178 It %, ■"HE THRUHH'H NK8T i- lime tt yt»r whvn tliry iliould havt httn ptfring, but no' a thru.l.*. nnt wu bu'U ex- cept thU bid one. and m Holonion Mon ran «hort of Ibru-hi-. with which tu luppl^ the .lenmn.! frotn the mainland. The .tout. ratlKT Krc«ly chij.lrrn. »lio look w well in peranibuUlor. but gt't JHiffwl •wily when llK.y walk, were all jroung thru.he. once, and Uie. often aik ■pccially for lh.ni. Wl«t do jrou think Solomon did? He ^nt over to the houw-top. for a lot of .par,o.. ,„d ordcrtJ them to \»y their egg. in old thni»he«' ne.t. and lent their young to the ladie. and .wore they wr'., .11 thnuhet! It wa. known aftrrward on the i.land a. the Sparrow.* Year, and «,. vhen you meet, m you doubtle» wmctime. do. grow-up people who p .ff and blow iM. if they thought thcmwlve. bigger than they are, very likely they belong to that year. You aik them. Peter wa. a ju.t ma.ter. and paid hi. work people every evening. They .tood in row. on ih... branche., waiting politely while he cut tl«, p,.per .ixpcnce. out of hi. bank-note, and pre., .tly he wlW the roll, and then each hird. a. the name 179 si zi I II THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD wn» m*tili«nmJ, (Irw down •nd got liiprnM. It miul havf been a lln« »!i|ht. Anil at but. after nHMith* ot labor, Um boat wm flnuhnl. ()h, the drportmrnt of Peter aa he Mw it grovlng more and more like • ^reat thniah'i neat t F-om the very beginning of the building of it h« •Jept bjr iU aide, and often woke up to lay iwvct thing! to it, ami after it waa lined with mud and the mud had dried he alwajr* ilcpt in it. He ileepa in hi* nc«t itill, and hai a faednating way of curl- ing round in it, for it ii juit large enough to hold him comfortably wlicn he curU round like a kitten. It ie brown inaiilr, of courie, but outiide it k moetly green, being woven of g, uw and twiga, and when theae wither or anap the walla are thatched afrwh. There arc alao a few feathcn here and there, which came off the thrualie* while they wcr* building. The other birda were extremely jcaloua and aaid that >he boat would not balance on the water, but it lay moat biautifully ateady: they aaid the water would come into it, but no *ater came into it. Next they aaid that Peter had no oara, and thia cauied 180 THE THKIIHH'H NK8T Ui. (hrti.hr. to look ,.i ^h a(h«T in di.m.,. bat fttw r.pli«) that h. h«,l no m«l „f „,„, ,„, ,^ had ■ Niil, ami with »u,U « prfiu.l, Imppy Uct h» proAiwl • Mil whirh hr luid rMhio.,«| out of hit nightgown, .nd though i» »« .till r.thfr likt • night-gown it muHc . |o»,ly ^il. And tlmt • ■■ M, tht moon bring full, ,™i »|| ,h, bird. uUtp. h, did *ntmetin"!« he dragged it gleefully round the rim of the pond, and he was quite proud to think tliat iie hod diwovered what boy* 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. Alto 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. Perliaps tlic 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 186 THE THRUSH'S NEST the bitdi had never mentioned ftich things to him. LcHt it was alive, he addre««cd it politely, and then, ai it gave no anawcr, he went nearer and felt it cautiouily. He gave it a little push, and it ran from him, which made him think it muat be alive after all ; but, m 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 o^'ueT, but the perambulator had gone, and he never saw an- other 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 mis- takes? 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 wouid be impertinence. He thought he had the most splendid time in the Gardens, and to think you have it is 187 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •bKMt quite M good m really to have it. H« plajrcd without ceaning, while you often wa»te time by being mad-dog or Mary-Anniih. He could be nei- Umt of theic things, for he had never heard of them, but do ycu think he ii to be pitied for that? Oh, he waa merry. He wa» ai much mtrrier 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 leap- ing the feneet of the Giplens? That is how Peter leaps then. 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 himP You can be sorry for him for that, but don't be too soriy, tor the nest thing I mean to tell you is how he revisited her. It was the fairies who gave him the chance. 188 U>CK-OrT TIMS It b frightfully difllcult to know much about the fairin, and alir.ort the only thing known for cer- tain if that there are fairiee wherever then are children. Long ago chiluren were forbidden the Gardeni, and at that time there wa« not a fairy in the place; then the children were admitted, and the fairiei came trooping in that very evening. Iliey can't resist following the children, but you seldom »ee them, partly because they live in the daytime behind the railings, where you are not al- lowed 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, •nd I have heard of children who declared that 189 ! i i THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD ttwy had ncrer once mn a fairy. Very likely if they Mill thii in the Kemington Oanlcni, thcjr were standing lool(ing at a fairy alt the time. The rcaion they wtn chrated wa( that ihe pretended to be Mmething elac. Thii ia one of their hcA tricks. They usually pretend to be flower*, because the court sits in the Fairies' Basin, and there are so many flowers there, an;^ .tU 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 arc in and bi'4c for blue-belln, and so on. They like crocus and hyacinth time best of all, as t^:y arc partial to a bit of colour, but tulips (exutpt white ones, which arc the fairy-cradles) they con- sider garish, and they sometimes put off dressing like tulips for days, so ttiat the beginning of the tulip weeks is almost the best time to catch them. When thry think you arc not looking they skip along pretty lively, but if you look and they fear there is no time to hide, they stanr> quite still, pre- tending tu be flowen. Then, after you have passed without knowing that they were fairies, they nuh 190 LOCK-OUT TIME home and tell their mothcn tiwy liaw had *ueh ar. adventure. The Fairy Baiin, you remember, ii all covered with ground-ivy (from which tliey make their ca*tor-oil), with flowcn growing in it here and there. Moit of them really are llowert, but Kime of them are fairict. You never can be lure of then hu a good plan i« to walk by looking the other way, and then turn round iliarply. Another good plan, which David and I lomctimet follow, b to itarc them down. After a long time they can't help winking, and then you know for certain that they are fairiet. There are alio numben of them along the Baby Walk, which in a famous gentle pluce, a« apoti frequented by fairict are called. Once twenty-four of them had an extraordinary adventure. They were a girU* ichool out for a walk with the gov- cmeu, and all wearing hyacinth gowni, when she suddenly put her finger to her mouth, and then they all stood still on an empty bed and pretended to be hyacinths. Unfortuna'ely, what the governess had heord was tvo gardeners coming to plant new flowers ill that very bed. They were wheeling a 191 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD iMiideart with the flowen in it, aiid wtr« quit* mu- priMd to And th« btd oeeupifd. " Pity to lift thm hyacinthi," Mtid the one man. » Dulie'* orden," re- plied the other, and, having emptied the cart, they dug up the traarding-Mhool and put the poor, ter- rifled things in it in Ave rowi. Of courM, neither the ,^ovemeH nor the girli dare la on that they were fairict, m they were carted f»r away to a potting-ahed, out of which they eiicapcd in the Bi^t without their ihoM, but there was a great tow about it among the parenU, and the Mhool wai ruined. Ai for their houiet, it b nu aie looking for then, beoauM they are the exar? opposite of our houses. You can sec our houses by day but you can't sm them by dark. Well, you can see their houses by dark, but you can't see them by day, for they an the colour of night, and I never heard of anyone yet who could see night in the daytime. This does not mean t!iat 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 u entirely built 191 LOCK-OUT TIME of mM^-cokiurtd rImmi, and ii quite the loyeli«f • of all rojraJ rMidcncw, but the queen ioin«tinwt compkiiw beeauM the common people will peep in to «» wiMt the ia doinr 1 hey >re rerjr inquiiitivt- folk, and prnu quite hani a((ain«t the glan, and that i< whjr their now* are moetjjr >nul>by. The ■trceti arc milm long and very twiity, and have patha on earh lide made of bright worsted. The bird* UMd to iteal the wonted for their neeti, but a policeman hai been appointed to hold on at tlw other end. One of the great differences between t'le fairiea ' .d u» i» that they never do anything useful. Wlien the first baby laughed for the first lime, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skip- ping about. That was the beginning of fnirice. They look tremendously busy, you know, as if they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they arc doing, they could not tell you in the least. They arc frightfully ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe. They have a postman, but he ucvcr calls except at Christmas with his little box, and though they have beautiful 19S THE LITTLK VVIIITK BIRD ■choob, nithinff i* Uught In thtm; th» youngnt rhild bring chief prnon m alwajrt civetrd miitrna, •ml when ihe hai (ailed the roll, they all go out for ■ wklk and never coom back. It i* a very notice- able thing that, ' much with babin, they htn picked up a little of the fairy language. O' • .. David hai been thinking back hard about the y to.igue, wiUi hii hand* clutching hi> tem- ple*, 1 d he hai remembered a number of their phnue* which I iliall tell you lome day if I don't forget. He had heard Uem in the day* when he *•» a thruih, and though I •uggcrfed to him that perhapa it ii really bird language he i« remcmbir- ing, he lay. not, for thew phrar;. are about fun and adventure., and the bird* Ulkcd of nothing but ne.t-building. He di*tinctly remember, that the bird* uicd to go from .pot to .pot like ladie. at .hop window*, looking at the different net* and wying. "Not my colour, my dear," aud "How THE LITTLE WHITE DIUD would that ^^o with a soft lining?" and "But will it wear?" and "What hideous trimming!" and : I 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 sec 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 mush- rooms inside the ring, and these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. The chairs and the rings arc 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 196 LOCK-OUT TIME change the bcrf «, . baU night. «, that it uy, the GaHen. „e to close at .ix-thirty for instance m.te«l of .t .even. Thi. enable, them to get begun half an hour earlier. If on auch a night we could remain behind in the Gardens, a. the famous Maimie Mannering did, we might see delicious sighU, hundreds of lovely fai- ne, hastening to the ball, the married one. wearing their wedding-rings round their waists, the gentle- men, all in uniform, holding up the ladies' trains, and hnkmen running i„ f^nt carrying winter chernes, which are the fairy-lanterns, the cloak- room 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, «„d always welcome because they can lend a pi„, the supper- table, with Queen Mab at the head of it, and be- hind 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 m May it is made of chentnut-blossom. The way the fairy-servants do is this: The men. scores 197 c THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD of them, climb up the trees and ihake the branches, and the blossom falls like snow. Then the lady ser- vants 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, bcrberris wine, and cowslip wine, ind 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 but- ter, 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 duing 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 Chamber- 198 LOCK-OUT TIME I.in walk, behind her, carrying two little poU. on. of which contain, the juice of wall-flower and the other the juice of Solomon'. Seal.. Wall-flower ju.ce i, good for reviving dancer, who fall to the «round in a fit, and Sol ..on>. Seal, juice i. for brui.e,. They brui«, very ea.ily and when Peter play. fa.ter i fa.ter they foot it till they faU down m fiU. ^or. a, you know without my teUing you, Peter Pan is the fairie.' orchertra. He .it. .n the middle of the ring, and they would never dream of having a .mart dance nowaday, wthout him. "P. P." i. ,ritt,„ „„ ,^^ ^^^^ of the mvitation-card. rent out by all «ally good families. They are grateful little people, too, and at the princess's coming-of-age baU (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 «, 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 199 p^- THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD he hetiUted, not being cerUin what it wu himielf. "If I chmc to go back to mother," he aiked it loit, "could you give me that wiih?" Now thii question vexed them, for were he to return to hii 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 • very hr^tsome 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 disap- pointing. His second wish he would hold in reserve. SOO LOCK-OUT TIME They tried to diuuadc him, and even put ob- ■taclei in the way. "I can give you the power to fly to her houM," the Queen .aid, "but I can't open the door for you." "The window I flew out at will be open," Peter said confide, .,y. "Mother always keep, it open in the hope that 1 may fly back." "How do you know?" they asked, quite «ui- pri,^, and, really, Peter coulJ 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 ma.' ,p his mind SOI II [ ! SM t' THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD that hii iccoiul wish ihould be to become • bird. The window wm wide open, jiut w he knew it would be, and in he fluttered, and there woi hii mother lying a»lecp. Peter aliglited .oftly 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 wa» like a neit lined with her brown wavy hair. He remembered, though he hod long forgotten it, that ahe alway* gave her hair a holiday at night. How »wect the frill* of her night-gown were. He was very glad the wa» luch 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 202 LOCK-OUT TIME •o loftly, and .he would wake up. They .Iway. w.ke up at once if it i, you that «y. their name. Then ,he would give .uch « joyou. cry and Kjueezo him tight. How nice that would be to him, but oh. how exquisitely deliciou. it would be to her. Thnt I am afraid i. how Peter reganled it. In returning to hi. mother he never doubted that he wa. giving her the greatett treat a woman eon have. Nothing can be more .plendid, 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 doe. Peter .it .o long on the rail, why doe. he not tell hi. mother that he ha. come back? I quite .brink from the truth, which i. that he sat there in two minds. Sometimes he looked long- ingly at his mother, and sometimes he looked long- ingly at the window. CerUinly it would be pleas- ant to be her boy again, but, on the other hand, what time, those had been in the Gardens! Was he «. sure that he would enjoy wearing clothes again? He popped o«F the bed and opened some drawers to have a look at hi. old garments. They were still there, but he could not remember how you put them 303 i !■ THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD on. The kk\», for iiMtanw, were they worn on the h*mk or on the feeif He wm »boiit to try one of them on hi* hand, when he hud a gre«t adventure. Perhapt the drawer had creaked ; at any rate, hii mother woke up, for he heard her lay "Prtcr," ai if it wai the mo»t lovely word in the language. He remained litting on the floor and held hit breath, wondering how iihe knew that he had come back. If ihe laid "Peter" again, he meant to cry "Mother" and run to her. But the ipoke no more, (he made little moam only, and when next he peeped at her she wai once more aileep, with tears on her face. ■ It made Peter very miierable, and what do you think W8» the fint 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 him- self 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 AM ns LOCK-OUT TIME irindow. You muit not think that he m«diUt«d fly- ing •«., ,„d never coining back. He h.d quite decided to be hi. nwther". bojr, but h-iUted .bout beginning to-night. It wu the Kcond wi.h which troubled him. He no longer meant to make it a wi.h to be a bird, but not to a.k for a «jcond wi.h "emed wa.tcful, and, of cour*,. he could not a.k tor it without returning to the fairie.. Al«), if he put off adting for hi. wi.h too long it might go b«d. He Mked himwlf if he had not been hard- hearted to ty away without wying good-bye to Solomon. "I .hould like awfully to «iil in my boat ju.t once more," he wid wi.tfully to hi. .leeping mother. He quite argued with her a. if .he could hear him. "It would be .o .plcndid to tell the bird, of thi. adventure," he uid couxingly. "I promi.e to come back," he wid .olemnly and meant it, too. And in the end, you know, he flew away. Twice he cam. -k from the window, wanting to ki.. hi. mother, but he feared the delight of it might waken her, «> at la.t he played her a lovely ki.. on hi. pipe, and then he flew back to the Garden.. MS THE LITTI. K WHITK BIRD Many nighU nnd eren montlw putcd Men ha •iktd the hiria for his Mcond wUh ; and I am not mm that I quite know whjr he delayed m lonR. One rcaion wa« that he had lo nMnjr good-byee to ■ay, not only to hii particular friendii, but to a hundred favourite ipoti. Then he had hi* Init Mil, and hie very but tail, and hii lait lail of all, and ■o on. Again, a number of farewell fea«ts were given in hii honour; and another comfortable reaion was that, after all, there wai no hurry, for hii mother would ner->r weary of waiting for him. Thii laft rcaton di*plea«ed 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 olT laying to-day, because you can lay to-r ■ irrow," 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 pointrd this out to each other, and fell into la7y habits. But, mind you, though Peter was so slow in go- ing back to his mother, he was quite decided to go back. The best proof of this was his caution with SOS LOCK-OUT TIME U» fairin. Tlicjr wr.e mmt MxioiM that h* (IwuM wnain in the lUnkn* to pUy |„ thnn, and to briiiR thi* to paH thiy tried to trirk him into mak- ing .urh a remark a. "I »|.h the «»» wa. not «i wet," and wmc of them danced out of time in the hope that he m:.!" and she desists not until he rushes downstairs 211 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD in his combinations, scrcccliinK- When they came up to whip Maimic they usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and looking Uke the sweetest litHc angel, which seems to me to raiike it ah. ost worse. But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then Tony did most of the talk- ing. Vou 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 lu 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 d-iresay," replied Tony, carelessly. "Perhaps," she said, thrilling, "Peter Pan will gi e 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 212 THE LITTLE HOUSE 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 care- ful what you say about them. Maimie was one of the kind who liV» to fix a day for doing things, but Tony was no ' and, and when she asked him which day he ..as tc 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 213 [ 'i *rHE LITTLE WHITE BIRD leait you could tpoil it for to-morrow by flinging itonei, and many bright little boyt and girli were doing that. When Tony and his liiter arrived they wanted to go itraight 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 oue who laughs continuously becaiue there ore 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 sec 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 S14 THE LITTLE HOUSE com. of Meing • f.iry ball. Never, Tony Mt, could he hope for u better chance. He had to feel thl., for Maimie to plainly felt it for him. Her eager eye. a«ked the question, "I, it to^ay ?" and he gasped and then nodded. Maimie •lipped her hand into Tony'., and hers was hot. but his was cold. She did a very kind thing; she t H>k off her scarf and gave it to him ! "In case you should feel cold," she whispered. Her face wa. aglow, but Tony's was very gloomy. A. they turned on the top of the Hump he whi.- pered to her, "I'm afraid Nurse would see me, m 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 •0 many unknown terrors to fear, and she said aloud, "Tony. I shall race you to the ^ate," 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. «3rave, brave!" her doting SIS ] j! -: THE LITTLE WHITK BIRD eyet were crying when ahc got a dreadful ahoekt initead of hiding, her licro had run out at the gate I At thia bitter aight Maimic atoppcd blankly, at if all her lapful of darling treaaurea were auddenly ■pilled, and then for very diadain ahe could not ■ob; in a awell of protest againat all puling coward* •he ran to St. Govor'a Well aud hid in Tony'i stead. When the ayah reached the gate and aaw Tony far in front she thought her other charge wai 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 still- ness 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 oU right." It had a wooden sound and seemed to come Sl6 THE Ll'lTLK HOUSE from above, and «ht lookid up in time to ■mm> an elm tree «tretching out itn uniis and ^'awning. She was about to my, "I never knew you could speak !" when a metallic voice that sccmeil to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the elm, "I suppose it if. a bit coldish up there?" and the elm replied, "Not particularly, but you do Ret numb standing so long on one leg," and he flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off. Maimic was quite surprised to sec 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 w-: v^aring a russct-colourcd 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 a'»ut forty round the waist. There was a good deal going on in Om; Baby SI 7 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD W«lk, when Maimic arrived in time to we • nut^ noli* And • Penian lilac itep over the railing and ■ct o wrong," and of course after this they could not weU carry talc They then .aid, "Well-a-day," and "Such i. life!" for they can be frightfully wrca- tic, but .he felt rorry for tho«, of them «ho had no crutche., and .he wid good-naturedly, "Before I go to the fairie.' ball, I .hould like to Uke you for a walk one at a time; you can lean on me, you know." At thi. they clapped their hand., and .he e.- oorted them up to the Baby Walk and back again. one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round the very frail, «;tting their leg right when it got 210 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD too ridiculoun, and trcatiiiK the forrign on« quit* M courtcotuly lu the KtiKlinh, Ihouifh ihe could not undrratunil a word 'ivy Mid. Ttiry Ix-hnvrd well on the whole, though MinM whiiiiprrMi tlint nhc hml not taken Ihetn M fur a* ihe took Niincy or Umec or Dorothy, and othen jnggi'u her, but it vn» quite uninlentioimli and (he wiu too niueli of a Indy to ery out. So nnich walking tiren .V can be wfe for even f.irie. to tilt fhcm «n.l .»» c„„Hud«l that thi, murt be .notl.er «•*«• in which the do.-.or \^ ^ uCoU, quite cold!" Well, .h. followed the ribbon to « pkce whm it became a bridge over n dry puddle into which -..other fairy had fallen and been unable to clin.b out. At first thi. little danwel wa. afraid of Main.ic »ho nH»t kindly went to her aid. but ««„ .he Ji w her hand chatting gaily «„d explaining that her •>«« WM Brownie. .„d that tl»ugh only . poor THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD rtmt .wg.r .he wa. .he took Mveral step, forward and cried in an ectaiy, "Oh, Brownie, how splendid!" Everybody stood still, the music ceawd, the ligfaU went out, and all in the time you may Ulce to say "Oh dear !" An awful «.nsc of her peril came upon Maimie, too Ute she remembered that she was a lost child in a place where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the gate., .he heard the murmur of an angry multi- tude, she saw a thousand swords flashing for her blood, und she uttered a cry of terror and fled. How she ran! and all the time her eye. were starting out of her head. Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again. Her Uttle 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 stiU running long after she had dropped in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes falling on her 229 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD face were her mother kiuing her good-night. She thought her coverlet of »now wai a warm blankett and tried to pull it over her head. 4nd when the heard talking through her dreanu ihe thought it was mother bringing father to the nunery door to look at her a< ahe slept. But it woi the fairict. .1 am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief her. When she nuhed away they had rent the air with such cries a* "Slay her !" "Turn her into something extremely unpleas- ant !" 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 830 THE LITTLE HOUSE keeping rtep with it. They traced Maimic caiiily by her footprint! in the »now. But though they found her deep in mow in the Figi, it wcmcd impouible to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the form of thanking her, that is to nay, the new King stood on her body and read her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They »lso cleared the snow off her, but soon she was cov- ered 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 doc- tor'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 pres- ently the Cupids had a lovely idea. "Build a house round her," they cried, and at once everybody pep- SSI THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD ocivcd that thu wm the thing to do; in a momciit • hundred fairy wwyen were among the branehesi •rehitcett were running round Maimic, meaauring her; a bricklayer'! yard iprang up at her feet, ■eventy-flte maioni ruihed up with the foundation •tone and the Queen laid it, ovenecn were ap- pointed to keep the boyi off, acaffoldingi were run up, the whole place rang with hammen and ehikeb and turning lathei, and by this time the roof wai on and the glaiier* were putting in the window*. Tlie hnuKc wai exactly the liie of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of her anni wat extended and thif had bothered them for a lecond, but th?y buih a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were the liw of a coloured pict- nre-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 oouM 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. THE LITTLE HOUSE For iMUnct. two of them ran up • ladder and put on a chimney. "Now w» fear it i. quite «ni»hed," they .ighed. But no, for another two ran up the ladder, and tied lome amokc to the chimney. "That cerUinly flnbhei it," they cried reluct- •atly. "Not at all," cried a glow-worm, "if .he wcic to wake without leeing a night-light the mi^ bt frightened, lo I ahall be her night-light." "Wait one moment," laid a china merchant, "and I ahall make you a uucer." Now aki, it wa« abwlutely flniihed. Oh, dear no I "Graciou. me," cried a brau manufacturer, "there', 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 paint- ing it. Finished at last! "Finished! how can it be finished," the plumber demanded scornfully, "before hot and cold are put ass THK MTTLK W II IT K BIKU Inf •imI Iu' |>u( in ImiI itiiil raid. Ttirn «n mrmy of Kanlcncni nrrivnl «itli (airy mri* ami apadM and Miflii ami bulb* ami forrinicluHim, and loon tlw.v liad a flower gankn to the right of the veran- dah iinil a vcKct«Uc garden to the left, and roiM and rli'nuttiii on the walb of the liouie, and in lew time timn Ave minute* all thvw dear thingi were in full bloom. Oh, how beautiful the little houic wai now I But it wai at lait flniihed true ai true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They all kiHcd their hand* to it a* thejr went away, and the Uit to go wai Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the othen to drop a picaiant dream down the chimney. Ail through the night tlie cxquiiitc little home ftood tlierv in the Fig* taking care of Maimie, und ahc never knew. She ilept until the dream wa* quite finiRhcd and woke feeling deliciouily coey just as morning was breaking rom 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 answar, SS4 THK I.ITTIK IHUfHK •h« ••» up. whcrruptm hrr HmicI hit Ih* roof, and ;t oprnrd like the lid of ■ box, nmi to li.r U-wil- drmient nhr WW all aroiiiMl lirr tin- Kfnaiiif(<(iii Uardcni IjrinR drrp in »n<)W. An alir wm nut in tlM.- nunerjr »he wonilirni wlu-tliti Mii» wan nally lur- ••If, M »hc pinrluil liiT rlHt'lm, nnd tlii-n iilif knew it WM hcnwlf, itnd thin mnindcd lirr timt »hc wh in th« middle of • ({■'rat ndvrntiirr. Slir rcmrin- bemJ now cverythinK that h»d liappcnrd to liir from the rloxing of the f{ntoii up to her running away from tlie fniricn, but however, nhr aiikrd hcTMlf, had nhe |{ol info thi* funny pince? Slie ■tepped out by the roof, right over the garden, and then ahe naw Uie dear houw in which ahe had paned the night. It ao cntranrcd her that ahe could think of nothing eUr. "Oh, you darling, oh, you awcet, oh, you love !" ■he cried. Perhap* a human voice frightened the little houH, or maybe it now knew that its work wna done, for no sooner had Mi>!mii: apoken than it began to grow amaller; it ahrcnk so slowly that •he could scarce believe it was shrinking, yet she THB LITTLK WHITK BIRD •eon kMw that it could not ronUin her now. It •Iwajrt HmdnMi m eomplHe m ertr, but it brcmme' ■RwUtr •nd imiUlvr, and the garden dwindled at the MBic time, and the mow rrrpt rltaer, UppinR bouM and garden up. Now the houM » '. f.u •iw of a little dog's kmnel, nnd now of a Noah'i Ark, but still jrou could see the smoke and the door- handle and the roses r the wall, every one com- plete. The glow-wor.i light was waning too, but it was still i\< . "Darting, loveliest, don't goT' Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little house was now the siie of a reel of thread, but still quila rt mpletc. But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself, and where the littb- house had been was now one unbroken expanse of snow. Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her eyes, when slic heard a kind voice say, "Don't cry, pretty human, don't cry," and then she turned round and saw a beauti- ful little naked boy regarding her wistfully. She kacw at onoe that he must be Peter Pan. >S8 XVIII rVTRa'i OOAT MaIMIE ftit quite »hjr, but PHw kntw not what ■hjr WM. "I hop* jrou havt luui • good night," h* i»id Mmntlj. "TUnk ymi," ikt rtpliad, "I wm w eu$j md WMrm. But jrou"— Md ihe looked at hii nakcdntM •wkw«nil>— ** don't jrou feel the lewt bit coldr Now cold WM another word Peter had forgotten, ■o he •newered, "I think not, but I may be wrong; jrott tec I am rather Ignorant. I am not eiaotly a htf, Bolonon taye I am a Betwizt-and-Between." "So that it what it it called." laid Maimie thoughtfully. "That'i not mjr name," he explained, "my name it Peter Pan." "Yet, of coune," the uid, "I know, everybody knowi." You can't think how piaatcd Peter wat to learn M7 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD 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 thatf" 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 hu- miliated 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 838 PETER'S GOAT cried for the first time for I know not how long. Maimie was extremely lorry for him, and lent him her handkerchief, but he didn't know in the least whot to do with it, so she showed him, that is to «ay, she wiped her eyes, and then gave it back to him, saying "Now you do it," but instead of wip- ing his own eyes he wiped hers, and she thought it best to pretend that this as 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 iield out his hand, thinking she had offered to put something into it. This was a great shock to her, ',at 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, 839 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD and I darcMy the baby who had supplanted him waf now a man with whiiken. But you must not think that Peter Pan woa • boy to pity rather than to admire; if Maimie be- gan 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 fr» between the island and tlie 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 S40 PETEH'8 GOAT Md of the wicked thing »he did in the d«rk to frighten him (,he knew quite well that it wu wicked), but Peter mi.under.tood her meaning and Mid, "Oh, how I wi.h I wa. a. brave .. Tony." It quite irritated her. "You are twenty thouwnd time, braver than Tony." .he wid, "you are ever •o much the braveat boy I ever knew !" He could «»rcely believe .he meant it, but when he did believe ht ureamed with joy. "And if you want very much to give me a kin," Maimie wid. "you can do it." Very reluctanUy Peter began to take the thimble off hi. finger. He thought .he wanted it back. "I don't mean a ki..." .he .aid hurriedly, "I mean a thimMe." "What', that?" Peter asked. "If. like this," .he «,id, and kissed him. "I should love to give you a thimble," Peter said gravely. «, he gave her one. He gave her quite a number of thimble., and then a delightful idea came into hi. head! "Maimie," he said, "wiU you marry me?" Now, rtrange tc tell, the same idea had come at 841 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD czMtly the Mune time into Maimie't head. "I ihould iiJie to," ihe aniwered, "but will then be room in your boat for two?" "If you iqueeic doie," he said eagerly. "Perhapa the birda would be angry?" He auured her that the birdi would love to have her, though I am not ao certain of it niyielf. Abo that there were very few birds in winter. "Of counc 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— "tiiat 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 beau- tiful nest." Somehow this made her uneasy. "T think you are speaking more like a bird than a boy now," she said, holding back, and indet-d he was even S42 PETER'S GOAT looking r.th« like « bird. "After .11." .h, ««. "you .re only . Betwixt-.nd-Between." But it hurt him H, much th.t .he in.n»di.tely «ldcd. "It mu.t be . delicious thing to be." "Come .nd be one then, dear M.imie," he im- plored her, .nd they net off for the bo.t, for it wa. now Tery ne.r Open-G.te time. "And you .re not • bit like . „e,t," he whi.pered to plcwe her. "But I think it i, r.ther nice to be like one." ,hc w'd in « wornun', contr.dictory w.y. «A..d, Peter, d«u. though I cn't give them my fu., I wouldn't mind their building in it. Fancy . ne.t in my neck with little .potty egg. in it! Oh, Peter, how perw fectly lovely!" But a, they drew ne.r the Serpentine, Ae .hiv- ered . Mttle, and .aid, "Of cour«. I .hall go and «e mother often, quite often. It i. not a. if I wa. «iy- ing good-bye for ever to mother, it i. not in the leMt like that." no," answered Peter, but in his heart he "Oh. knew it was very like that, and he her w> had he not been her. He wm «, fond of her, he felt he could would have told quaking fear of losing not live S4i) THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD without her. "She will forget her mother in time, Mid be happy with mc," he kept naying to himielf, Mid he hurried her on, giving her thimble* by the way. But even when the had seen the boat and ex- claimed ecstatically over iti lovelinew, she itill talked tremblingly about her mother. "You know quite well, Peter, don't you," ihe laid, "that I wouldn't come unlen I knew for certain I could go back to mother whenever I want to? Peter, lay it T He laid 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. S44 PETEH'8 GOAT "But why don't you look at mc?" .he atked. tak- ing him by the arm. Peter tried hard not to look, he tried to pu.h off, then he gave a great gulp and jumped a.horc and •at down miwrably in the mow. She went to him. "What i. it. dear, dear Peter?" she laid, wondering. "Oh, Maimie," he cried, "it i.n't fair to Uke you with me if you think you can go back. Your mother-'-he gulped again-"you don't know them M well a« I do." And then he told her the woful rtory of how he had been barred out, and .he gasped all the time. "But my mother," .he said, "my mother" "Ye., .he would," wid Peter, "they are all the »ine. I dar^y .he i. looking for another one already." Maimie wid aghaat, "I can't believe it. You we, when you went away your mother had none, but my mother ha. Tony, and surely they are satisfied when they have one." Peter replied bitterly, "You should Ke the let- ter. Solwnon gets from ladies who have six." S*5 li THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD Juit then thvy heard a grating ertok, followed bjr ertak, criak, all round the Oardent. It wai th* Opening of the Gatn, and Peter jumped nervously into hit boat. He knew Maimic would not come with him now, and he wai trying iMravely not to cry. But Maimie wai lobbing painfully. "If I ihould be too late," ihe called in agony, "oh, Peter, if ahc hai got anotlier one already !" Again he aprang aihorc a* if ihe had called him back. "I ihall come and look for you to-night," ha •aid, aqueezing doac, "but if you hurry away I think you will be in time." Then he preaaed a laat thimble on her aweet little mouth, and covered hia face with hit hands ao that he might not aee her go. "Dear Peter!" ahe cried. "Dear Maimie !" cried the tragic boy. She leapt into hia arma, ao that it waa a sort of fairy wedding, and then ahe hurried away. Oh, how ahe haatened to the gates ! PetT, you may be aure, 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 »46 PETER'S GOAT ■om* night ihe would coiih- ImcIc to him; often h« thought he M» her waiting for him by the shore of the Serpentine u hii bark drew to land, but Maimie never went back. She wanted to, but the was afraid that if ihc law her dear Betwixt-and- Uefween again ihe would linger with him too long, and bcaidi'i the ajrah now kept a iharp eye on her. But ihc often talked lovingly of Peter and ihe knitted a kettle-holder for him, and one day when ihe wai wondering what Ea«t.r prcwnt he would like, her mother made a suggestion. "Nothing," she said tlioughtfully, "would be (o useful to him ai a goat." "He could ride on it," crihc continued to leave prewnU for Peter in the Oardeni (with letter. explaininK how humane pky with them), and ihe is not the only one who ha* done thii. David doci it, for initancr, and he and I know the likelicat place for leaving them in, and wc ihall tell you if you like, but f.>r mcrcyV ukr a.m't aik ui before Porthoa, for were he to find out the place he would take eve.^- one of them. Though Peter still remember! Maimie he is be- come as gay ai ever, and often in sheer happiness he jump* off his Roat and lies kicking merrily on the gra**. Oh, he has a joyful time ! But he ha* .till S49 » THE LITTLB WHITK B I K I) • VBituc mvmor; that he wm ■ huimin oim, ■nd ii makn liim npccwUjr kind to tb« houM-twallo** whvn tiMjr revisit the iibiid, for hoiwt-twallowi w« Iht ipiriU of littk ehildrvn wlio have diwl. They alwayi build in the cavn of tht hoiuM where they lived «lirn they mvn hunwiM, and KinietinMi they try to fly in at a nur«cry window, and per- hapa tliat ie why Peter lovee them bcrt of aU tbe bird*. And the little hmuef Every lawful night (that ii to My. every night exct-pt ball nighU) the fairiM now build the little houu leet there ihouM be a human child loet in the Gardena, and Peter ridci Uie manbe* looking for loet one*, and if he Sndi them he carriee them on hi* goat to the little bouie, and when they wake up they are in it and when they *tcp out they lee it. The fairie* build the houne merely becaunc it i* lo pretty, but Peter ridee round in memory of Maimie and becauae he atill lovea to do j u«t ai he believe* real boy* would do. But you mu*t not think that, became lomewhere among the tree* the little houie i* twinkling, it i« u *afe thing to remain in the tiarden* after Lock- PETER'S OOAT «rt Tl... If ih. W on- .mon« th. r.iri« h.,, ptn t. b. out tut night thry .ill crrt.inl„„i^hl»f you, .nd .*«. though th., «« nrt. ym. m.y p-riri. of cold .ml d«rk btfor, Peter P.„ co^ .,„„., H. hM b«n loo Ut« «.»,r.l liim,. ..^ ,h«. I,.. «.. h. i. loo Ut. h. run. \Mck to ei« Thru.!.". N.,. for hi. p«WI., of rluoh M.imic h«l f„W him 0,. tnit UK, and he dig. , gr,v. („, thi d.ild .ml WteU a littk tombrtonr .nd crvn. the poor Ihing*. hiitj.1. on it. He doe. thi. .t once becu.c he think. »» i» what rtaf boy. would do, .ml you mu.t h.ve noticed the little .tone, .ml that there u« .Iw.y. two together. He puU then, in t«o. becau.e it ««„. «- lonely. I think that quit, the nH»t touchin„ •ight in the Garden, i. the two tomb.tone. of Wal- ter Stephen Matthew, and Phabe Phelp.. Thev .UmJ together at the .pot where the p.ri.he. of W..tmin.t.r St. Mary', i, «id to meet the ,«ri.h of Paddingtoo. Here Peter found the two babe., who had fallen unnoticed from their peranxmiaton.. Phcebe aged thirteen month, and Walter probably •till younger, for Peter «»m. to have felt a deU- cwgr about putting any age on hi. .tone. They THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD lie ude by lide, and the limple inscriptions read W St M. and 18a P.P. 1841. David sometimex 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 lock- ing 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 ail rather sad. I, 99* XIX AN nrTEBU>PBB UAVID and I had a tremendous adventure It wa» thi«, he pamed the night with me. We had often Ulked of it as a possible thing, and at last Mary consented to our having it. The adventure began with David's coining 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 ap- posite to the occasion in words, so we communi- cated our feelings by signs; as thus, David half sat down in a place where there was no cUir, 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' We were to do all the imporUnt things precisely S53 lEi THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD M they are done every evening at hin own hornet and 10 I am in a puzzle to iuaw how it wa* *ucll an adventure to David. But I have now laid enough to show you what an adventure it was to me. For a little while we played with my two medals, and, with the dclicac3' of a sleeping companion, David abstained on this occasion from uKkiug why one of them was aot 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 tiiat I won it, but he fights any boy of his year who says I didn't. Their fight- ing consists of challenging eai-h 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, :i8 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. AN INTERLOPER And David was deceived. To my exceeding joy ^ he itamped hii little foot, and was so naughty that, in gratitude, I gave him five minutes with a match- box. Matches, which he dn.ps on the floor when lighted, arc the greatest treat you can give David; indeed, I think his private heaven is a pkce with a roaring bonfire. Then I placed my hand carelessly on his shoul- der, 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 to- night, very near my own, but difl'erently 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 ror n without seeing the tumbler at once was impossible. I had tried it several times, and David saw and promptly did his frog busi- ness, 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 distaste- 8M . THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD fill levity, but anon made a noble amend by abrupt- ly offering me his foot ao if he had no longer UM for it, and I knew by intuition that he expected me to take off hia boot*. I took them off with all the coolnew of nn oM hand, and then I placed him on my kncL and removed hit blouse. This was a delightful experience, but I think I remained won- (^erfuUy calm until I came somewhat too suddenly to his little braces, wiiich 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 littk f^re 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 re- plied, very brave but in a whisper, as if he feared the bears and wolves might have him. When little SU6 AN INTERLOPER boyi are in bed there ii 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 waU, 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 near- ly remember," and presently ho added very grate- fully, 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." m •7Bk^' ll' I- i [■ II ii i m THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "Ym, David." Perhapi this diiturbed him, for by-and-by I had to inquire, "You are nai. frightened, are you?" "Am I not?" ))e aniwered politely, and I knew hi» hand wai groping in the darkneu, lo I put out mine and he held on tightly to one finger. "I am not frightened now," he whiipered. "And there ii nothing el»c you want?" "If there not?" he again asked politely. "Are you sure there'a not?" he addedt "What can it be, David?" "I don't take up very much room," the far-away voice laid. "Why, David," su.d 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 mc. For 'the rest of the night he lay on me and across me, and some- times his feet were at the bottom of the bed and wanetimes on the pillow, but he always retained AN INTERLOPER P0«»ion of my fl„gor, .ml occ«i„n,Ily h. woke n« to My th.t he WM keeping with me. I h«l not • good night. I Uy thinking. Of thi. little boy. who, i„ the mid.t of hi. phy wh.le I undrcKd him, h«l suddenly buried hi. head on my knee.. Of the won.,n who h«l been for him who could be lufficientl; daring. Of David', dripping littfc form in the bath, and how when I e«ayed to catch him he had .lipped from my arm. like a trout. Of how I had .tood by th- open door lirtening to hi. .weet breathing, hod .tood .o long that I forgot hi. name and called him Timothy. 259 XX U SATIS AMD POB1 11* COMPABB* Hut Mwy (poilt it all, when I lent David bMk to her in the morning, by inquiring too curiously into his penon and diKovering that I had put hit combinations on him with the buttons to the front. Per 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 pass- ers-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, OAVID AND PURTH08 .who now know D.Wd both b^ d., .„d b, nighl. •m minded to comp.„ him .nd PoHhg, the one with the other, both in thi. matter .nd in other matter, of graver account. And touching thii mat- ter of outward .how, luy ar« both very lordly, •nd neither of them like, it to b. referred to. but they endure in different way.. For David wy. 'Oh, ' bother!' and even at time. hiU out. but Portho. droop, hi. tail and let. thorn have their wiy. Yet i. he extolled a. beauUful and a darling ten time, for the once that David i. extolled. "The manner, of Portho. are therefore prettier than the manner, of David, who when he ha. wnt >"e to hid. from him behind a tree ««,etime. come. 'ot in „arch. and on emerging Umely from my concealment I find him playing other game, en- tirely forgetful of my exi.tence. Wherea, Portho. •Iway. come, in .earch. AUo if David wearie. of you he Kniple. not to .ay «,, but Portho.. in like circumstance., offer, you hi. paw. meaning 'Fare- well,' and to bearded men he doe. thi. aU the time (I think becau.e of a hereditary digt«.te for goat.), w that they conceive him to be enamoured Ili '! THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD of tlitm whtn ha U only btgging them eourtMMuly • to go. Thu» while the nwnnen of Porthot are more polite it a»y be argued that thoet of Darid are more efllcacioiu. "In gcntlencM David compare! ill with Porthoa. For whcrvai the one ahovn and ha* beep known to kick on iliglit provocation, the other, who li noiiily hated of all imall dogi bjr rcaion of liia liic, remon- •tratci not, even when they cling in froth and fury to hi* chest, but carrira them along tolerantly until they drop off from fatigue. Again, David will not unbend when in the company of baUci, expecting them unrcaaonabty to riic to hii level, but contrariwiw Porthoi, though terrible to trampe, luffen all thing* of babiei, even to an ex- ploration of hit mouth in an attempt to diicovcr what hi* tongue ia like at the other end. The com- ing! and going! of David are uimoticed by peram- bulaton, which lie in wait for the advent of Portho!. The itrong and wicked fear Portho! but no little creature fear! him, not the hedgehog! he convey* from place to place in hia mouth, nor the !parrowi that !teal hi* itraw from under him. DAVID AND P0RTH08 "In proof of which grntlcncM I MUur« hi. nd- wnturr wilh Ihe rMnt. Hiring gow for . timt to w»We in • nbbif country Porthwi ««, r|.t»d to diKOvcr .t Uit wi.irthing mwiJ that ran from him, •nd developing ,t once into .n «:.Uti<. .port,m.n h- did pound hotlj, in pur,uit. though «lw,y. „r.r- •hooting the mark by . hundred ^u .1. or « .nd wondering very much what hwl become of the rab- bit. There w.. , rteep path, from the top of which the rabbit .uddenly came ituo view, and the prac- tice of Porthoe wa. to advance up it on tiptoe, turning near the .ummit to give mc a Icaowing loolt and then bounding forward. Tlie rabbit her« did lomething triclcy with a hole in the ground, but Porthoi tore onwards in full faith that the game ... being played f.i-iy, and «lway. re- turned panting and puziling but gloriou*. "I rometim. s shuddered to think of hi. perplex- ity ihould 1* catch the rabbit, which however was extremely unlikely; neverthele., he did catch it, I know not how, but presume it to have been another than the one of which he wa. in chaw. I found him with it, hi. brow, furrowed in the deepert ifiS MKROOOrV MMIUmON THT CHAIT (WW and ISO TEST CHACT No. 2) ■u u|££ ■ 77 w .,. 12.0 1.8 Ni^l^l^ A /1PPLIED IM/GE Ine 1653 Ei»l Main StrMt RochaMar. N«w Yorh 14009 UM (716) MS - 0300 - Phoiw (716) 3a8-9M9-F« THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD thought. The rabbit, terrified but uninjured, cow- ered beneath him. Porthos gave me a happy look and again dropped into a weighty frame of mind. 'What 18 the next thing one docs?' wag 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 Porthoe 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-con- sciously, 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 864 DAVID AND FORTH OS I am pleMcd with him, ma'am, nothing else greatly matter, to Porthog. I told thi. .tory to David, hav- ing first extracted a promise from Wm 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 whi«* David has been properly commended, he can never- theless 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 firrt is that he is no snob but esteems the girl Irene (pretentiously called his nurse) more than any fine lady, and en- vies 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, al- ways barks at the top of the stairs for a servile in- vitation 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 sulking off for that purpose with a proud litUe housemaid who is looking up to him as if he were a warrior for whom she had paid a shilling. ass I .1 1 ? t THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "Again, when David and Portho. are in their bath, praiM i. due to the one and murt be withheld from the other. For David, a. I have noticed, love, to .pla.h in hi. bath and to .lip back into it from the hand, that would tran.fer him to a towel But Portho. ,t«nd. in hi. bath drooping ab- jectly like a .hamed figure cut out of ,ome limp material. "Furthermore, the inventivene.. of David is be- yond that of Portho., who cannot play bj himself, and knows not even how to take a «,lit«ry walk, while David invent, playfully all day long. Lastly, when David i. discovered of .ome offence and ex- pre..e. «,rrow therefor, he doe. that thing no more for a time, but look, about him for other offence., wLerea. Portho. incontinently repeat, his offence, in other words, he again buries his bone in the back- yard, and marvel, greatly that I know it, although hi. nose be crusted with earth. "Touching these matters, therefor*, let it be granted that David excel. Porthos; and in diver. .imilar qualitie. the one i. no more than a match for the other, as in the quality of curiosity; for, if DAVID AND PORTH08 • parcel come, into my chambrrs Portho. i. mi,, erablc until it i, opened, .„d I have noticed the wme thing of David. "A1.0 there i» the taking of medicine. For at production of the vial all gaiety .uddcnly depart, from Portho. and he look, the other way, but if I -y I have forgotten to have the vial refilled he •k.p. joyfully, yet think, he .till ha. a right to a chocokte, and when I remarked di,paragi„gly on thi. to David he looked .o .hy that there wa. re- vealed to me a picture of a certain lady treating him for youthful maladie.. "A thing to b- considered of in both i. their re- ceiving of punishments, and I am now reminded that the girl Irene (whom I take in thi. matter to be your mouthpiece) con.plain. that I am not ,uf- ficently severe with D, and do leave the chid- .ng of him for offence, against myself to her in the hope that he will love he. less and me more thereby. Which we have hotly argued in the Gar- den, to the detriment cf our dignity. And I here »ay that if I am slow to be severe to David, the rea«,„ thereof i, that I dare not be «vere to Po.. 867 'n i! THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD thoi, and I have ever aought to treat the one the •ame with the other. "Now I refrain from railing hand or voice to Portho. because hi* great heart ia nigh to breaj- ing if he no much an suipecti t' ' all ii not well between him and mc, and having .truck him once lome year, 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 prc»ence, 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 lite unto t:.at of the noble Portho*. "And if you retort that David is naturally a de- praved 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 mentJMi a notable passage that has come to my ears. 868 DAVID AND P0RTH08 "A. thu.. th.t D.vid h.vi„g herd . horrid *ord m the .trwt. uttered it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal puni.h- ment. whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David continuing to ,*joice excecd-nglj, in h.. word, the father .poke darlcly of « cane, but the mother ruihed between the combaUnt.. That the problematical cha.ti«ment became to David an 6b- ject of romantic interct. That thi. darkened the happy home. That cting from hi, path a weeping •nother, the go«led father at la,t dashed from the hou.e yelling that he wa. away to buy a cane. That he merely walked the street, white to the lip, be- cau« of the terror David mu.t now be feeling. And that when he returned, it wa, D.vid radiant with hope who opened the door and then burst into tear, because there wa. no cane. Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to Ux me with want of severitj. Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am comparing with Portho.. "But to make an end of this coi pari.on. I men- tion that Portboc is ever wishful to express grat- itude for my kindness to him. so that looking up I' 1 y THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD from my booK I «, hi. mournful .jr« flxed upon m* w,th • pM.ion.te .tUchment. .nd then I kno,* that the weU-nigh unbearable u^„e„ which come, •nto the face of dog, i. bec.u« they cnnot «y Thunk you to their mMter.. Wh.«., David take. my kindncM a. hi. right. But r„r hi., while I .houW chide him I cannot do -o. for of all the way. David ha. of making me to love him the mo.t po.Kn.nt i. that he erpect. it of me a. a matter of cour.e. David i. all for fun, but none may plumb the depth, of Porthb.. Neverthele« I ,„ „„t nearly doing «, when I lie down bcide him on the floor and he put. an arm about my neck. On my »oul, m.'Mi, a protecting arm. At .uch time, it i. a. if e.ch of u. knew what wa. the want of the other. "Thu. weighing Portho. with David it wei* hard to tell which i. the worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and «, we .hall both be pleaMd." aro XXI WHLIAM PATHIOM Wk h«d been together, wc three. i„ „y ,«,„., ««v.d telling me .bout the Uiry |.„gu.g, .„,, Portho. lolling on the ^.f. li.tening, „ one nm^ Wjr. It » hi. f.vourite place of . dull day, ,„d under him were «,me .heet, of ncw.paper. which I •pread there .t .uch time, to deceive my hou..- keeper, who think, dog. .hould lie on the floor. Fah-i, me tribber i. what you „y to the fairie. when you want ther., to give you . cup of tea. but .t ;. not «, cy a. it look., for all the r's .hould be pronounced a. «-•,. and I forget thi. « often that David believe. I .hould And difliculty in mak- ing mywilf understood. "What would you wy," he a.ked me, "if you wanted them to turn you into a hollyhock?" He thmk. the ea.e with which they can turn you into thin.T. i« their mo«t engaging quality. The «n.wer !« Fmr;) me lukka. but though he had often told me thi. I again forgot the lukka. «7I ' THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD "I ihould nmr dwwn," I »« (to eor«r my dk- «>««tur,). "of ..king tfcw, , turn „« ;„,„ „^. thing. If I WM . hoUyhock I .ho„Id •«.„ wilhw. Durkl." H. hinwelf )Md prorided n» with U)-. objection not kmg b.rore, but now h. .«m«l to think it D«rely .iHj,. Ju^ before the Unwlo wither be- irJn.." he Mid .iriljr, ..yo« Mty t. then, Fairs, ne hoU." *"•*» •» Wo nifMU «Tuni me UA .giJn," •ad Dtrid*. diecorery nuuie me uncomforUWe, for I knew he h«l hitherto kept hi. di.'.nce of the f«lriet mwnljr bec.u« of • feeling th«t their coo- renion. «re permanent. So I retumtd him to hi. home. I wnd him home fiwn mj room, under the rare of Portboi. I m«y walk on the other iide unknown to them, but they hare no need of me, for at .uch fame. ..othing would Induce Porthoe to depart from the rare of David. If anyone addreue. them tic growl. wfHy ,^1 •how. the teeth that cnindi bone. a. if tliey were W««iit.. Thu. amirably the two pa« on to Mary', houee, wh..-re Portho. bark. hi. knock-and-ring ,i? W II.LIA.M PATKR80K Urk till ih, door i. op,„«|. Smnrtimc 1» „«, ,„ •ilh Ikvid, but on ,hi. «^„i^ .„ „ij ^.,_^^^ on th, .trp. N.rthi„K r..m.rk.W« i„ thi.. bul h. H.d not rrtum to mc. not th.t d.y nor next d.y nor in week, .nd month.. I ,„ . „„„ ,r,,,rnughi; •nd I).vid *on. hi. knuckle in hi. ,y„. (on^l^, "t, *.• had lo.t our dcr P"rtho.-,t lcMt-w,||_ «.mcthin« di«,uirti.^ h.p,H„„|. I ,,„„.i it, know wh.1 to think o, it even now. I know wh.t D«v.d think.. Howem. jrou .h.11 ♦hink u vou choow. My flr.t hope w«. ',h.l Portho. h«l .trolW t„ the Garden, and got locked in for the -.ight, wd a... o.t „ .con „ Lork-out wm over I w.. there to m«kc ;.nq„irit^. But there wa. no new. of Portho., though I i .arntJ ihat «>meo„e wa, believed to hare' "pent the ni.fht in the Garden., a y„u„g g,„tlen«r. who walked out ha.tily the moment the «.te. we,« opened. He h«l «.,d nothing, however, of having «^n a dog. I feared an accident ,. w, .'or I k.»w no thief couW .teal l.:r,. j-et even an ccident "»med incredible, he wa. alway. .o cautiou. at cro..ing. ; al«, tl could not poMibljr have been •7S *f li THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •n Mcidrat to PorthM irithout Uim Mag m aed- drnt lo MNiM'thing r\m. D»»id in th» miikll* of hi* gamM would iudd»nly rrmnnlwr the k»«I blunlc And utep Midv lo cry. It »Mi one of hi« qualitia tlut when he knew ht WM about to cry he turned aiide to do it and I ■J»ay» respected hii priracy and waited for him. Of courM being but a little boy he wai «on playing •gain, but hi* luddrn flood* of feeling, of which we never .poke, were dear lo mc in thoM dewlate ilayi. Wu had a favourite haunt, called the Story-wat, and we went back to that, meaning not to look at the griui near it where Porihoe UMd to •nxuA, but we could not help looking at it lidewayt, and to our diitrcM a man wat .itting on the acquainted i^jt He roM at our approach and took two itepe toward u». •© quick that they were almoet j-impe, then u he MW that wc were pauing indignantly I thought I heard him give a little cry. I put him down for one of your garrulous fellowi who try to lure .tranger. into talk, but next day, when wc found him sitting on the Story-seat itself, I had a longer wnitiny of him. He was dajdiacally 874 WILLIAM PATKR8UN dnMwl, Mcm«l to tril MrnictbltiK under twtnt/ jrt«rt Biid h«d • hamlHiinp wUtful fac* atop of • h~»jr. lumbning, almwt curpulrni Akuiv, )iirh hownrer did not bvtokra inactivity; f„r D.rid'i purph •»» (a conceit of hii inotWt of wliirh we were both heartiljr aihamcd) bi. ng off a. we neared him he leapt tlie railinK* •'H'oul tonrhing them and wa. barit with it in Ihm- nrromb; only Snrtead of delivering it itraiKhtway he wenied »o expect David to chaic him for it. You have introduced ^ourwlf to David when yoa jump the railing* without touching tl»m, and Will- Jam Patenon (ai proved to be hit name) wa« at once our friend. Wt- often found him waiting for Ui at the Story-K-al, and the gnat .tout fellow laughed and wept over our talc* like a three-year- old. Often he Mid with extraordinary pride, "You are telling the itory to me quite a* much ai to David, ar'n't you?" He wmi of an innocc.ce .uch a« you thall leldom encounter, and believed storici at which even David blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if David Mid that of counM- the« thingi did not really happen, and unable to r«Mt t7d THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD that appeal I would reply that they really did. I , never law him irate except when David waa »U11 iceptical, but then he would say quite warningly "He say« it is true, so it must be true." Tliis brings me to that one of his qualities, which at once grati- fied and pained me, his admiration for myself. His eyes, which at timei^ had a rim of red, were ever fixed upon me fondly except perhaps when I told him of Portho* and said that death alone could have kept hito 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 wan also, I think, the first time Paterson had entered them. "Take the sofa, Mr. Paterson," I said, ae I drew a chair nearer to the fire, and for the moment my eyes were 876 WILLIAM PATEHSON off him. Then I saw that, before »itting down on the »ofa, 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. I'ooh! 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 «ee 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 rath - solemniy, and perhaps nothing remarkable happened until they leached David's door. I say perhaps, for something did occur. A lady, who has 877 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD •everal pretty reaioni for frequenting the Gaideni, recognued David in the street, and wa* stooping to addrei. him, when Patenon did »omething that alarmed her. I was too far off to see what it wai, but had he growled "Hand, 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 knock- ing or ringing, he «tood on the step and called out •harply, "Hie, hie, hie.i" until the door was opened. The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, cm^ tailed me of my sleep that night, and you may pict- ure me trying both sides of the pillow. I recaUed 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 cor- rectly have been called a waddle. There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom de- parted without thanking me with an intensity that 878 WILLIAM PATERSON wai out of proportion to the little I had done for him. In the Garden., too. he ««med ever to take the .ward rather than the .eat., perhap, a wi.e preference, but he had an unusual way of .itUng down. I can dewribe it only by «iyi„g that he let go of himself and went down with a thud. I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with ■ne at the Club. We had cutlets, and I noticed that he ate hi, in a somewhat finicking manner; yet hav- ing 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 •n 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 at- tention, he usually whistled to Paten,on, 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 879 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD iti reflectioiM, and they came to me while I wai ■having, that ten mir.,tet when, brought face to face with the hanher realitiea of life, wc see thing! mo«t clearly a* they are. Then the beoutiful 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 iu 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 ar- rived at a time when the light-heartedness had gone out of him ; he had lost his zest for fun, and dubiety sat in the eyts 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 tlie Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but how could he retain his 380 WILLIAM PATER80N innocence when he had mixed with boy.? He l-^-m grour flic of youm-lve,, and «,. ,„di.,. that part of the edifice went down. I have not the heart to follow him in all hi. di.coverie.. Sometime, he went m flame at them, but for the mo.t part he •tood looking on, bewildered and numbed, like one moaning inwardly. He saw all. a. one fre.h to the world, before he h^ time to breathe upon the gla... S„ would your chdd be. madam, if born with a man', power,, and when disillusioned of all else, he would cling for a moment longer to you. the woman of whom, before he .aw you. he had heard so much. How you would .tnve to cheat him, even a. I strove to hide my real «>lf 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 speakmg. It was so upon the last day, one of those mnumerable dreary days when David, having 88J If.; .M •thk little white bird ■neeud the night before, wai kept at home in flan- nel, and I lat alone with Patcmon on the Story- Mat. At but I turned to addrcM him. Never had we tpoken of what chained our tonguei, and I meant only to iay now that we must go, for loon the gates would cloK, but when I looked at him I saw that he wai more mournful than ever before; he ihut hit eyef so tightly that a drop of blood fell from them. "It wai all over, Paterwn, long ago," I broke out harshly, "why do we linger?" He beat hii hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealing lodes 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: "arc 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 hke you." "And now you know me," I said, "do you want «88 WILLIAM PATERSON to be like me itiU? I .m . curioui person to ktUeh onetelf to. P«tenon ; don't you see that even David often .milei at me when he thinlu he it unoUerved. I work very hard to retain that litUe boy', love; but I .hall loM him won; even now I am not what I wa« to him ; in a year or two at longeit, Patenon, David will grow out of me." The poor fellow .hot out hi. hand to me, but "No," Mid I, "you have found me out. Everybody find, mc out except my dog. and that i. why the loM of him make .uch a difference to me. Shall we go, Patemon?" He would not come with me, and I left him on the Mat; when I wa. far away I looked back, and 3ie wa. .till sitting there forlornly. For long I could not cloie my ear. that night: 1 lay li.tening,I knew not what for. A .care wa. on me that made me dislike the dark, and I .witched on the light and .lept at la«t. I wa. roused by a great to-do in the early morning, servants knock- ing excitedly, and my door opened, and the dear Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard hi. bark, but whence he came no one knew, !8S i ill; THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD He wu in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all pointi I fling him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beiide him, while he put hia protecting arm round me and looked at me with the old adoring eyet. But we ne*er law Patenon again. You may think ae you chooi.. xxn yyiSE children .Iw.jr, choo« . „k*W who »" . locking «irt i„ h.r m.idc„ d.y.. ^ «, h«l KveriU o„ they do thi. i. becu.e every offer refund by their mother m..„ .^her panto- fther*. Uk.„g you to the pantomime, but you en ^t to every «,e of the poor frenzied gentlemen /or whom that Wy h« ,ept . deliciou. litUe te.r 0" her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It i, P«tty (but dreadfully affecting) to ^e them on Boxang Night gathering together the babie. of the.r old love.. Some knock at but one door and bnng a h.„«,m. but other, go f™„ ^rert to .treet '" f":"'* '''"'"• -'•<» «v«» wear fal.e „o«, to con- «^ the ouffering, you inflict upon them „ you IP^ more and more like your .weet cruel mamma. So I took David to the p«.tomime, and I hope m t! THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD you roUow my rtuoning. for I don't. Ht wmt with tht fairMt MitidpaUoM, paiuing on th« Umthold to pMT Dmugh tht holt in th* littk houM taXltd »P«7 HtN," which bt thought «m Rtd Uiding Hood't rwidence, and aikcd politely whether he might lee her, but thejr laid the hwi gone to the wood, and it wm quite true, for thert the wu in the wood gathering a itii' for her grandino»her*t Arc. She lang a beautiful fjng about the Boyi and their daihing ways, which ilattercd David eontid- crably, but the forgot to Uke away the ttiek after all. Other parU of the play were not lo nice, but David thought it all lovely, he really did. Yet he left tiie place in teart. All the way homt he tobbed in the darkest comer of the gfowkr, and if I tried to comfort him he ttruck me. The clown had done it, that man of whom ht expected thingi ao fair. He had aiked in a loud voice of the middling funny gentleman (then in tht middle of a eong) whether he thought Joey would be long in coming, and when at lait Joey did come he screamed out, "How do you do, Joey !" and went into convultioni of mirth. JOEY Jcy and hi. r.th,r wer. ,h»d^\ng pork- butcher', .hop. pock..ti„g U« «u«,R« for which •hetr f.miljr hw .urh . f.ul w..kn«., .ml «, when th. bulct. engagH Jo.j „ hi. .«i.Unl «•«• WM »o« not , ^^^ ^„ „^^^^^ ^1 .^ d.d not matter, for there w„ . box r.th»-r like .n "•-cream mwhine, and you put chunk, of pork in at one end and tunned a Undle and they cam. out a. «m„g„ .t the rther end. Joey quite en- Joy«l doing this and you could Me that the niu- -gw were excellent by the way he licked hi. finger, •fler touching them, but Mon th.-c were no more piece, of pork, and ju.t iher a dear little Iri.h terrier-dog came trotting down the -treet. « what did Joey do but pop it into the machine and it cwne out at Uie other end a. wiuwge.. It wa. thi. callou. act that turned all David*. mirU. to woe, and drove u. weeping to our growler. Heaven know. I have no wi.h to defend thi, cruel deed, but a. Joey told m. afterward, it i, very rf.«cult to «y what they will think funny and what barbarou.. 1 wa. forced to admit to him that David had perceived only the joyou. in the pokering of M7 THE LITTLK WIIITR BIRD Um peiiemwn'i Itfp. and hwl ntlM mil heartiljr "Do it again r »»efjr liiM Joey krwrknl th* pan- Uleon down »Hh one kick and li«l|ird him up 'h •aother. " hurU the poor chap," I wa« told by Joey, whom I "la agrtfaUy MirpriMd to (imi by no mram wanting in the more humane frelingn, "and he wouldn't itand it if there wann't the laugh to en- courage him." He BMiataincd that the dog got that laugh to encourage him aleo. However, he had not got it from David, whoee mother abi! father and nunc combined could not comfort hill., though thrv iwore that the dog waa •till alive and kicking, which -night all have been very well had not David eeen the lauiaga. 1' »ai to inquire whether anything could be done to atone that in coniiilcrable trepidation I wnt in my card to the clown, and the mult of our talk wai that he invited mr and David to have tea with him on Thursday next at hii lodging!. "I (haVt laugh," David laid, nobly true t the nemory of the little dog, "I iha'n't laugh once," JOKY ;^ui JL*"""' "'• '^ "- •"- •»-' » *»«W «» •" orM wit to Uugh. ^w . . do fcok ju.. Mor, ^ou «b .h.m. A wom-n m; « up ,, ,^,, ^,y ^^^^^ ^ ;^r-d tut h. w, M h;..„ .„ ,.,^.^ • j" '• *«"• '-'•''r. .„d thcgh th. voice »-9u.ckljr put bi. handover hi. mouth. '*""•' '"""^ """'O' ~""e. but not «, f„„„ - ^ou ought expert ; there were droU thing. « / «89 • 1 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD but they did nothing funny, you could lee that they were ju»t waiting for Joey. There were padded chain with friendly looking rents down the middle of them, and a table and a hone-hair aofa, and we sat down very cautiously on the sofa but nothing happened to lu. 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 gar- ments 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 290 H JOEY from beneath the table, and he wa. wearing hii pantomime clothe, (which he told lu afterward were the only doth™ he had) and hi. red and white face wa. m funny that David made gurgling sound., which were hi. laugh trying to force a pauage. I introduced David, who offered hi. hand .tiffly, but Joey, in.tead of taking it, put out hi. tongue and waggled it, and thi. was so droll that David had again to «,ve 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 .hall soon make him laugh," where- upon the foUowing conversation took place be- tween them : "No, you shaVt," 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." :! THE LITTLK WHITE BIRD By thi* time Jooy waa in a frightful way (bc- eauw he saw he wh« getting the wont of it), and he boaitcd that he had David'i laugh in hii pocket, and David challenged him to produce it, and Joey ■earched hia pocketa and brought out the moat un- expected articlos, including n duck nnd a bunch of carrota ; and you could see by hia manner that the ■impic aoul thought thcae were thinga which all b .yi carried Ioo8« in their pocketa. I dareaay David would have had to laugh in the end, had there not been a half-gnawed lauaage in one of the pocketa, and the aight of it reminded him ao cruelly of the poor dog»8 fate that he howled, and Jocy'a heart waa touched at last, and he also wept, but he wiped hia eyea with the duck. It was at this touching moment that the panta- loon 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. a9» JOEY Then Joey «rcnicd to have a great idea, and hit excitement wa, «, imprewivc that we .tood gazing at him. Fint, he counted the «au«ig«„ and Mid that they were two 8hort. and he found the mi«- ing two up the pantaloon', sleeve. Then he ran out of the room an ' came back with the «u«age-ro«- chine; and what do you think he did? He put aU the ,sage8 into the end of the maclune that they had iMued 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 hi. arm.; and then we noticed that there was a sausage ad- hering to its tail. The pantaloon said we must have •put in a sausage too many, but Joey said the ma- chine had not worked quite smoothly and that he feared this sausage was the dog's bark, which dis- tressed 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 893 THE LITTLK WHITK BIRD a>M family M hoartily «, if |,c h«J beon brought up on MUMgn. and knocking the pantaloon down repeatedly. You mu.t not think that he did this vic.ou.lyi he di.l it to plea.o the old gentleman, who begged him to do it, and alwayn .l»ok hand* warmly and .aid "Thank you." when he had done it. They are quite a simple people. Joey called David and me "Sonny," and aiked David, who addrewcd him an "Mr. Clown," to call him Joey. He al«i told u. that the pantaloon', name wa. old Joey, «„d the columbine'. Josy, and the harlequin's Jocykin. We were sorry to hear that old Joey gave him a good deal of trouble. Thi. wa. becau.e hi. mem- ory i. «, bad that he often forgets whether it i. " your head or your feet you should stand on, an(? he usually begins the day by standing on the end that happens to get out of bed first. Thus he re- quires constant watching, and the worst of it is, you dare not draw attention to his mistake, he is 80 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; hut w« 894 JOEY protended not to notirc. and t«lkc,l about th. wctttluT until he curie to. Jo.jr and Jn them, on the little dog. which was fooling .bout on the top of the sausage-machine, and hi. hand, "-ent out toward it convulsively, whereat David, in •udden fear, seized the dog in one arm and gal- 897 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD kntly civnchcd hi» other flst, and then Joey begged hi* pardon and bunt into team, each on* of whieh he flung againit the wall, where it exploded with a bang. David refuted to parilon him unleu he promiied on wood never to look in that way at the dog againt but Joey Mid promiiet were nothing to him when he wae ihort of MUMgee, and to hie wiicet eoune would be to present the dog to David. (Hi, the joy of David when he undentood that the little dog he had raved wai hii very own! I can tell you he wat now in a hurry to be oif before Joey had time to change hii mind. "AU I 'ask of you," Joey said with a break in his voice, "is to call him after me, and always to give him a Musage, 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 lost we raw of him was from the street. He was waving his tongue at us in his attractive, fool- ish way, and Josy was poised on Joeykin's hand like a butterfly that had alighted on a flower. We 898 JOEY eouU not cuMtljr tt old Joey, but we mw hb feet, and M feared the wont. Of roumc they arc not t»erything they should be, but one can't help liking them. Spa XXIII n>.>IMOTON'l On atUining the age of eight, or ther«ibout, children fl^ ,w«y from the (}»r.lrn». «„d n..vcr eom. back. When next you niett them they .re -^- and gentlemen holding up their umbrelUi to hail • haniom. Where the girb go to I know not, to lome pri- vate pkcc. I .uppo«., to put up their hair, but the bojri hare gone to Pilkington't. He !■ • man with a cane. You may not go to Pilkington'i in knickerbocken made by your mother, make .he ever •o artfully. They mu^* be r«al knickerbocker.. It if hi. Item rule. Hence the fearful fancination of Pilkington'i. He may be conceived ai one who, baiting hii hook with real knickerbocken., fl.hei all day in the Garden., which are to him but a pool .warming with .mall fry. Abhorred shade! I know not what manner of 800 PILKINOTON'g mM thou art in the a«h. .{,, but Agun th.. (mid- H and bUdiavMed, •nd of • Imo tortuou. habit of bodjr. thai move, evmr with a «wi.h. Every morn- ing. 1 .wear, »hou readcit avidly th« li.1 of male birthe in thy paper, and then are thy hand, rubbed gloatinKly the one upon the other. •Tin fear of thee and thy gown and thy cane, which are part of thee, that malic, the fairie. to hide by day ; wert thou to Unger but once among their haunU be- tween the hour, of Lock-out and Open Gate, there would be left not one .ingle gentle place in aU the Garden.. The little people would flit. How much wi-er they than the .mall boy. who .wim glamoui«l to thy crafty hook. Thou devaeUtor of the Qnt. den.. I know thee, Pilkington. I flnt heard of Pilkington from David, who had it from Oliver Bailey. Thi. Oliver Bailey wa. one of the moet da.hing figure, in the Garden., and without apparent effort wa. daily dr^.-ving nearer the completion of hi. •eventh year at a time when David wemcd unable to get beyond half-pa.t five. 1 have to .peak of him in Uie pa.t tenw, for gone i. Oliver from the iOl THK I.ITTI.K WlirTR BIRD O-nWn" (goM lo rilkinKton',) b«it ht k •tin . "«iH- lunonR iw. ,ml wnw Lrnlly d«d. an rtmtm. I»rr.l of l.im. .. lh.1 hi. MW .h,»«l twi., , a^. Oliver hinwir •» «|| „„ th,» m,!,. Hi. not ignobl, »mbilion ■rnn. ,1,,^, to liavt J»»n lo b. wrrckcd upon .n i.Und, indwd I ,«, loW that h< mcntionr,! it iminu-lingly in hb pr-jrw, .ml it w.. pcrUp, ineviUble that a hoy with .urh an outlook .hould fa«inate David. I am pnwd. th««,row. to be abl. to rtate on wood that it »a. Oliver hirn^lf who made the overture. On flrrt hearinK. from lonie Mtellite of Olivw-i, of Wrecked I.Und., a. they are called in the Oar- den.. David Mid wUlfulIjr that he .uppo.«| y^ iwHed to be very very good before you had any <*«nce of being wrecked, and the remark wa. con- wyed to Oliver, on whom it made an uncomfortable imprcMion. For a time he tried to ev«le it. but ultimately David wa. prewnted to him and invited glooimly to «y it .g,i„. The „p,hot wa. thai Oliver adverti.«l the Garden, of hi. intention to be good until he wa. eight, and if he had not been wrecked by that time, to be a. jolly bad a. a boy PILKINOTON'8 •wW bt. Ht WM MtunJIjr io l»d Ui«l •! Ui. Kind.fjl.rtm Ac«l,mjr, .hm Ih. mi.tr*«i ord.r«l whoew |«u| done th. Urt Mughty dwi to .».p /orwMd. OUw*. cuntom h«d »«*« to .l.p forward, not ncr»«,riljr b«.iw, he \uui don, il, but bMaiM J* prnumcd he verjf likely had. Th. rricnd.hip of th. t«o d.t«| from thi. time, •nd at flr.t I thought Oliw di.covcr«l gcner-ity In halting to David a. to an .quaJ: h. .bo walM hwd in hand with him, and .rn, rcpro»«J him for delinquencic like a loWng elder brother. But 'ti. • grajr worl,l even in the fj.rdon.. for I f.mnd that • new arrangement had been made which r«lueed Oliver to life-.!*,. He h«l wearied of well-doing, Md pamd it on. H> to speak, to hit friend. In other word., on David now devolved the tatk of being good until he wa. eight, while Oliver clung to him w cWly that the one could not be wrecked without the other. When thi. wa. made known to me it wu already too Ute to break the .pell of OUver. David wm top-heavy with pride in him, and, faith. 1 began to find mjr.elf very much in the cold, for Oliver SOS it] THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD WM frankly bored by mc and even David aeemed to think it would be convenient if I went and lat with Irene. Am I affecting to laugh? I was really diitre«Red and lonely, and rather bitter; and how humble I became. SomctimcH when the dog Joey i» 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 ai Joey. Then David would insist on my being suf- fered to join them, but it was plain that he had no real occasion for me. It was an unhcroic trouble, and I despised my- self. 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 Oli- ver 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 S04 PILKINGTnvs «t.rted „ the wreck of » • .np,e ». „ f.„i,y who looked up .„d, aw the.. u. ;..,.. but .oon. glonou. inspiration of the night turned it into the wreck of David A- and Oliver Bailey. At flr.t it w«. what they were to do when they were wrecked, but imperceptibly it became what they had done. I -pent much of my time .taring reflectively at the title, of the boys' rtories i„ 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, includ- ing 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 advent- ure. 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 washes, 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 temble night. 1 was the sole survivor of the ill- fated An^ PMc. So exhausted was I that they had SOS :||; THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD to carry me to their hut, and great wai my grati- tude when on opening my eye«, I found myielf 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 Pivid, 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 cOTitrary," I answered, "it was first ob- served by David, who immediately climbed it, re- 306 PILKINGTON'S w-rking, 'Thi. i. certainly the coco,^mcifera. for •ee, dear Oliver, the .lender column, .upporting the crown of leave, which fall with a grace that no art can imitate.' " "Thaf. what I «id," remarked David with u wave of his hand. "I »aid thing, like that, too," Oliver in.i.ted. "No, you didn't then," .aid David. "Ve., I did go." "No, you didn't .o." "Shut up." "Well, then, let's hear nro you .aid " Oliver looked appeali, ■ : me. "The follow- ing." I announced, "i. one uuit Oliver .aid: 'Truly dear comrade, though the peril, of the.e happen- ings are great, and our privations calculated to break the stoutest heart, yet to be rewarded by such fair sight. I would endure .till greater trial, and 8t.ll rejoice even as the bird on yonder bough.' » "That', one I .aid!" crowed Oliver. "I .hot the bird," said David instanUy "What bird?" "The yonder bird." S07 If; •! i THE LITTLE WHITE BIHD "No, jrou didn't." "Did I not thoot the bird?" "It w.. David who .hot the bird." I wid, "but it wa. Oliver who .aw by it, multi-colour.,1 plum- age that it wa, one of the P.Utacid^. ,.„ excellent •ubntitute for partridge." "Vou didn't «* that," «id Oliver, raU.er •wollen. "Ye., I did." "What did yoij geef" "I saw that." "What?" "You shut up." "David .hot it," I .ummed up, "and Oliver knew it. 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," i,aid David. "Toast from the bread-fruit-tree," I .aid, "which (as you both remarked simultaneously) bears two and sometimes three crops in a ye^,- and 308 I'lLKINGTON'S «!«. afford, a serviceable gum for the pitching of canoe*," "I pitohcd mine best," wid Oliver. "I pitchitl mine fartlicnt," ,ai(l David. "And «hon I had finished my repiut." «.id |. "J'ou «„,az«| „,c by ,,„„ji„^ ,„^. ^ ^.^ ^^^ ^ tobacco-plant." "I handed ii," 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 rub- bing two sticks together." At this they waggled their heads. "You couldnt have done it .'"said David. "No, David," I admitted, "I can't do it, but of course I know that all wreck -d boys do it quit, easily. Show me how you did t." But after consulting apart they agreed not to Jhow me. I was not shown everything. David was now firmly convinced that he had once been wrecked on an island, while Oliver pawed 309 THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD hi« dayi in dubiety. They used to argue it out to- gether and among their friendi. Ai I unfolded the itory Oliver listened with an open knife in hii 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 obout 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 filamentoia by its long narrow leaves the very day she joined us. Thereafter we had no more scrtfing ftx>m Irene, who listened to the story as hotly as any- body. This encouraged us in time to let in David's fother and mother, though they never knew it un- less 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 SIO PILKINGTON'S home. So we let them in, and there wn. no part of the .torjr he liked better than that which told of the joyou. meeting. Wc were in need of another woman at a.ny rate, nomeone more romantic look- iiiK than Irene, and Mary, I can a»,ure her now, had a bu.y time of it. She wm con tantly being carried off by cannibal., 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 be- lieved it all to be a, 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 repUles etched thereon. Thus many months passed with no word of Pil- kington, and you may h.. asking where he wr^■. all this time. Ah, my friends, he was very busy Ashing, 311 ili THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD though I WM M yet unaware of hi* cxiitencc. Moat •uddenly I heard llic whirr of hi* hated ml, at he (truck a flih. I remember that grim day with painful vividneu. it wa« a wet day, indeed I think it ha* rained for me more or le** ever *inee. A* aoon a* they joined me I law from the manner of the two boy* that they had *omcthinff to communicate. Oliver nudged Davia and retired a few paces, whereupon David *aid to me lolemnly, "Oliver ii goinjf to Pilkington'*.*' I immediately perceived that it wa* *ome ichool. but 10 Utile did I understand the import of David'* remark that I called out jocuUrly, "I hope he won't »wi»h you, Oliver." Evidently I had pained both of them, for they exchanged gUnces and retired for consultation be- hind a tree, whence David returned to lay with emphaai*, "He has two jackeU and two shirt* and two knickerbockers, all real one:" "Well done, Oliver!" said I, but it was the wrong thing again, and once more they dis- appeared behind the tree. Evidently they decided SIS I'ILKINGTON'8 «J..tthc time for pinin ,p,„|,i„^ ,„ ^^_ ,^ ^ U«vn) announcnl bluntly : "He w.nt. jrou not to cull him Oliver .ny lonjpT." "Wlwil .hall I call him?" "Bailey." "But whjrf" "Hi'» going to Pilkington'.. And h. can't pU» with lu anjr more after next Saturday » "Why not?" "He'i going to Pilkington'i." So now I knew the law about the thing, and we moved on together, Oliver .tretching him^lf con- »c'ou»ly, and methought that even David walked with a scdatcr air. "David," «.id I, with a .inking. ".,« you going to Pilkington's?" "When I am eight," he replied. "And .ha'n't I call you David then, and won't you play with me in the Garden, any more?" He looked at Bailey, and Bailey «g„aUed him to be firm. "Oh, no," udd David cheerily. SIS ;-w m THK LITTLK WHITE BIRU ThiM ■h.rpljr did I iMm how much longtr I WM to have of him. StmiiKc that • littl. boy cm give w much p.in. I dropp«| hi. hand .nd ».lk«d on in lilencr, .nd pmcntljr I did my moit churtiih to hurt him by ending the «torjr .bniplly in • very cruel w.y. "Ten year. h«ve el«pi«d." Mid I, ■'■incc I lut ipoke. and our two heme., now gay young men, are revi.iting the wrecked iaUnd of their childhood. 'Did we wreck ourwlve.,' laid one. •or wa. there MrtK r^ to help u.?* And the other who wa. the younn-i, replied, 'I think there wae •wneone to help u», a man with a dog. I Uiink he »td to tell me rtorie. in the Keniington Garden., Hut I forget aU about him; I don't nmember even hi» name.' " Thi. tame ending bored Bailey, and he drifted •way from u., but David .till walked by my .ide, and he wa. grown so quiet that I knew a .torm wa. brewing. Suddenly he flashed lightning on me. "If. not true," he cried, "if. a lie!" He gripped my hand. "I rfia'n't never forget you, father." Strange that a litUe boy can give w much plea.ure. •1« PILKINOTON'8 Ytt I eottld go on. "You will forgrt, D.»id. but Uiwt WM once • bo^ irho would have rrmcmbrrrd." "Timolhjrr Mid h« at onn. Ilr think. Timothy wai a real bojr, and ii very Jcaloui of him. He turned hi* bark to nic. and utood alone and wept pwMionateljr, while I waited for him. You may be wre 1 beKged hii pardon, and made it all ri({hl with him, and had him lauf(hin(i -nd happy aRain before I let him go. But neverthelra what I mid wai true. David ii not my boy, and he will forget. But Timothy would have remembeml. SIS fr XXIV Another itiork »•« wnitinK for mc fartlwr down Iht itory. For w» had muinnJ oiir advinturw. though we •rldom Mw Bailtjr now. At long intrrraii. wc inet him on our w.jr to or from the (Unhni. .nd. if U««re w«» nom- from PilkinKton". to mark him. mcthought he looked nt us nonicwhat longingly, a« if beneath hia real knickcrbocker. a monwl of the «gg-thell ititl adhered. OtlH-rwine hr gave David a not unfriendly kick in pn«,ing, and railed him "jroungiter." Tliat wai about all. When Oliver dinappeared from the life of the Garden! we had lofted him out of the .tory, and did very well without him, extending our operationn to the mainland, where they were on so va«t n lealc that we were rapidly depopulating the earth. And then raid David one day, "Shall we let Barbara in?" •10 BAHBAHA W. iiMi occwioiMlljr coniidrmJ Ih* gtvinff of B«il.y'. pUt. to wn. oUw child of th. 0«rd»n., dim. of IHvid*. jwr iMTiiiK -WRht election, nm with bribn: but BarUn wm »«► to me. "Who i« .h»ri ulwd. "Hht't my tuttr." You iM^ iimgint how I ^p^. "Sh* hun't comt jrrt," D.»jd Mid lightly, «bul •ht"* coming," I WM ihoeked, not perhap. k much .horki^i m