The Little School-Mothers

Book One – Chapter Ten

The Gipsies

How hot was that drawing-room to the tired little boy! His head quite ached, he did not know why; he could not understand his own sensations. There was a very ugly look-out, too, for the bay window opened into a tiny garden, which was full now of clothes hanging on lines and flapping in what little breeze there was. Ralph could not see anything beyond the white line of clothes.

He went to the window, half inclined to go into the garden; but, as it was so uninviting, he did not venture. He returned to the ugly room, and looked at what was left of the make-shift tea. It certainly was hard that he had not been allowed to go to the fair. He would so have liked to have a ride on the merry-go-round, and to see the fat lady and the man with two heads. How was it possible for anyone to have two heads? He felt his own little soft neck, and wondered where the other head could appear. He sat down very thoughtfully to consider this problem. It was really more difficult than borrowing ten, and much, much more interesting. It seemed to him even more interesting than seeing gipsies: the brown, brown gipsies, with their house on wheels, had none of them two heads. He would love beyond anything to gaze at the person who possessed such treasures.

Certainly his school-mother was not too kind. He could not understand her to-day, but, having chosen her, he felt somehow that it was his bounden duty to be as good as possible, and to think as kindly as possible about her. So he very determinedly shut away from his little mind all unkind thoughts with regard to Harriet. Of course, he was a troublesome little boy, and he ought to have known all about borrowing ten, and he ought to understand now why little boys should stay in very hot rooms while big girls went away to fairs and merry-go-rounds, and delightful shows full of queer people. Oh, yes: of course, it was all right; only he did wish his head was not so swimmy – yes, that was how he expressed his feeling.

He sank down at last on a very uncomfortable sofa with a broken spring, and the next minute fell fast asleep. He did not know, poor little boy, how long he slept; but when he awoke he felt very much startled and puzzled, for it had grown quite late, and the sun had gone away, and the room was no longer so hot. The clothes, too, had all been taken down from their lines, and he could see across the ugly garden.

It was a very small garden; but there was a gate at the further end, and the gate was standing open; and beyond the gate was a field with a path leading across it; and, lo and behold! at the far, far end of the field was a very brown man standing quite still, and holding a lot of baskets in his hand. They were baskets of all sorts and shapes and sizes; and there was something about the man and the baskets which caused Ralph’s heart to beat.

He went cautiously to the window, and gazed across the garden and across the fields at the man. The man was very brown, and he carried baskets. Gipsies carried baskets; they always did; Ralph had heard so. He did not believe that there was ever a basket in the whole world that had not once been carried by a gipsy.

Suppose he went and talked to the man; there would be no harm in that; it would be interesting to him. Harriet had told him to stay where he was, but then Harriet did not know that there would be – first, an open window, and then an open gate, and beyond the gate a gipsy – the very person Ralph longed to see!

The temptation was too much for him. He was too tired, and too lonely, and too much a very little boy to resist it. Swiftly he rose from his uncomfortable sofa, pushed back his tumbled hair, and flying, first across the garden and then across the field, reached the brown man’s side.

“Please,” said Ralph earnestly, looking up with his brown eyes at the brown face, “is you a gipsy?”

“I be that, little master,” said the man, and he gazed down inquisitively and perhaps not unkindly at Ralph.

Ralph looked at him with great wonder and intense curiosity.

“Wot be yer wanting o’ me, little master?” said the man.

“I love gipsies!” said Ralph.

“Do yer, indeed? And wot’s yer name?”

“I am Ralph Durrant. I live at a school near. There are lots of girls in the school, and I’ve got a school-mother. My school-mother is at the fair, and I am alone here. I’m rather lonesome, and I’m so glad you have come, gipsy man, ’cause you can talk to me.”

“To be sure,” said the man, seating himself on a low stile, and taking from his pocket a very large clasp knife, with which he proceeded to sharpen a stick.

Ralph stood very near him without speaking, just glad to be close to him. From time to time the man looked at the child, and the child returned the man’s gaze.

“Where did yer say yer held out, youngster?” he remarked after a long pause.

“At a school with a lot of girls,” said Ralph. “Father sent me; it’s all right. How funny and sharp you make that stick, gipsy man!”

“I guess you mean you live at Abbeyfield?” said the man, now shutting up his knife and returning it to his pocket. “They be rich folks there, so I guess you must be rich. We gipsies is poor; our folks haven’t got any money.”

“Nor have I,” said Ralph eagerly. “I haven’t any money at all; if I had I ’spec’ I’d have been took to the fair. See, gipsy man, see, my pockets is quite empty.”

He turned out both his little pockets as he spoke, and looked at the man for sympathy.

“Dear, dear, dear!” said the man. “That is ’ard, now. But your folks is rich, bean’t they?”

“Father’s made of money; I’ve heard folks say so.”

“Well, now; that is nice for you; and he’s fond of a little chap like you, ain’t he?”

“Father?” said Ralph. He paused for a minute; then said with great force: “Yes, Father’s fond of me.”

The man looked to right of him and to left of him. There was no one in sight. There was only very pretty little Ralph, in his pretty and expensive dress. There was a wood behind them, a wood to right of them, and a wood to left of them, and the doctor’s little, old-fashioned house at the further end of the field; the house was to all appearance empty for the time being.

The gipsy man drew Ralph close and took his hand. Ralph felt that brown hand of the gipsy man’s as hard as iron. His little heart gave a sort of jump; but he was not going to be at all frightened. He was glad, he was very glad, he had seen a brown, brown gipsy man for himself; he had spoken to him; whatever Harriet might or might not do in the future, he had seen a gipsy man himself.

“I must be saying good-night, now,” he remarked in a very polite voice. “I am so glad I has met you. Please, good-night, Mr Gipsy Man. I am going back. I must wait in a horrid, ugly drawing-room for my school-mother: I must say good-night, Mr Gipsy.”

“Not so fast, master,” said the man. “How do you know that I wants to say good-night to you? I’ve took a sort of a fancy to yer, little master.”

“Have you?” said Ralph, looking up at him.

“Yes – ’tain’t every little master as says such pretty words to us brown folks.”

“Oh, I love you all,” said Ralph.

“Now, see,” said the man, “that’s very pretty talk, very pretty, indeed; and how would little master like a basket for his very own to hold things – marbles and knives – ”

“Oh – and matches!” said Ralph, intensely excited all in a minute.

“Yes, and matches.”

“And pocket-hankershers,” said Ralph.

“To be sure! How would little master like such a basket with a lid to it, now, and a little handle?”

“Oh – it would be lovely!” said Ralph.

“There’s my good wife ’as got one, not like these,” – he kicked his own baskets with a look of contempt – “but a pretty one, to home. You come along ’ome with me, and I’ll give you one.”

“How far off is your house?” asked Ralph, in great excitement.

“No way ’tall; just through this wood, and through another field, and there you be.”

“Is it a house on wheels?” asked Ralph.

“Now, ain’t you a ’cute little master! There are wheels to our house.”

“And does it move?”

“In course, it moves!”

“I should love it to move,” said Ralph – “and to feel it move.”

“Then, you shall, my pretty little dear. You come along with me, and we’ll harness old Dobbin to the house, and take you a bit across the field and give you a basket, and you shall be back again here in time for your school-mother afore she misses you.”

Ralph considered for a minute.

“We must be very, very quick,” he said. “I shouldn’t like to vex my school-mother. Shall we run, brown gipsy man?”

“Yes,” said the man.

The next minute he had sprung lightly over the stile, had lifted Ralph across, and hand-in-hand they were running through the wood. In a very short time they had also crossed a field, and beyond the field was a wide clearing, where were tents, and brown babies, and brown men and women, and some mongrel dogs that rose lazily and wagged their tails when the big brown man and the little brown boy approached. A very hideous old woman, nearly bent double, and with a toothless jaw, advanced towards the pair, and a very young woman with a handsome face and flashing black eyes followed her.

The young woman wore a scarlet shawl twisted round her head, and a lot of beads round her neck, and long ear-rings in her ears. The man spoke at once:

“Here’s a little master,” he said, “who wants a basket. Flavia – you choose him the very prettiest basket we ’as got, and put a knife into it and some coloured beads, and take him into our house on wheels, and put Dobbin to the house, and make the house move right across the field. You understand, Flavia?” Flavia’s eyes flashed. She knelt down by Ralph, and took his two little hands, and looked into his face.

“Eh, but you are a sweet little man!” she said, and she kissed him on his red lips. Then, lifting him bodily in her arms, she carried him up the steps into the house on wheels.

“Here we be!” said Flavia; “and I’ll just find the prettiest basket of all for you, and I’ll find a knife, too, and show you how to sharpen sticks so as to make them like arrows. I’ll show yer lots o’ things, and I’ll be real good to yer.”

“Only – I must be going home,” said Ralph, who, somehow, now that he had got into the house on wheels, was not quite so sure that he liked it. It was so full of smoke, and so crowded with furniture, and there were such a number of brown babies bobbing up their heads in every direction that at first he felt he could not breathe. And then he wondered why his eyes hurt so much.

“You shall go home,” said Flavia, “as soon as ever the house moves across the field.”

“Perhaps,” said Ralph, trying to be very polite and not to show the least scrap of fear, “perhaps, gipsy lady, it might be best for me not to wait just now for your pretty house to move. Perhaps I had best come ’nother day, pretty lady, ’cause my school-mother will be coming back, and she’ll be wanting me.”

“Where do you live?” asked Flavia.

“In a big school with a lot of girls. I’s the only boy, and I’s staying there till Father comes back to fetch me.”

“He must mean Abbeyfield,” said the toothless crone, raising her head from where she was lying on a bundle of old sacks.

She had a pipe in her mouth, and as she spoke she puffed out a volume of smoke.

“Now, to think of it,” said Flavia. “Is that the house, the pretty house, you’re in? We go past Abbeyfield: we’ll put you out when we get there; it’ll save a lot of time.”

“But,” said Ralph, very nearly crying, and very nearly losing his manhood, “I’s not to wait in that house; I’s to wait in the house of a doctor – in a hot drawing-room. Oh, please, let me out!”

“There,” said Flavia, “we’re off at last. Just once across the field, little master, and then back you’ll go, basket and all.”

It was exciting; with whoops, and shouts, and cracking of several whips, the house on wheels began slowly to go forward. Gipsy men ran by it, and gipsy children shouted at each side of it, and the mongrel dogs all barked in chorus; and one little boy sat very still inside with a sad, beating heart.

What was going to happen? It was lovely to be in a house that moved, and Flavia was very pretty. But, somehow, he was very nearly losing his manhood, and he did think that in another minute tears must rush to his eyes.

Book One – Chapter Eleven

The Terror

The fair was delightful. The merry-go-rounds were much more enchanting than anything Harriet had ever dreamed about. Pattie was very generous, too, with her shilling, and that shilling seemed to go a long way.

Pattie had made a careful calculation. A penny each to be admitted to the fair, a penny each for a turn on the merry-go-round; a penny each for a visit to the fat lady; a penny each for a peep at the man with two heads. All this fun, this intoxicating delight, could be obtained for eightpence. There would still be fourpence over. Pattie explained to Harriet as they were approaching the fair how she meant to spend her money. Harriet nodded. Pattie’s programme was carried out to perfection.

How delightful it was! Oh, the fascination of that rush through the air on those prancing horses! And oh – the mystery of looking at the fat woman, and the thrill which went through them when they gazed at the man with two heads!

But the delight was short, and quickly over. They had not been half an hour at the fair, but the whole of their programme had been carried through, and eight pence out of Pattie’s twelve had vanished. Still, there were four more to spend. They might have two more turns each on the merry-go-round, or they might buy some gingerbread at the gingerbread stall. That stall was a most fascinating one, for the gingerbread was made into all kinds of funny shapes. There were gingerbread dogs, gingerbread cats, gingerbread birds; and there were also horses of gingerbread, and elephants of gingerbread, and – what was more exciting than anything else – the wonderful and handsome lady who sold the gingerbread cakes could write anything to order on them. She had a sort of pencil which she dipped in liquid sugar, and behold, Pattie’s name could appear on the cake, or Harriet’s name, or any other thing that the girls happened to ask for.

Should they have a gingerbread each? Oh yes, they must. Harriet decided that she would have written on her gingerbread cat, “Harriet – the Queen of Hearts.” She could get all this for a penny. She borrowed a penny from Pattie, and the deed was done. She would not eat her treasure on any account – she would carry it home with her. By and by, she might show it to the children in the old house in the country, and describe to them how she of all others on that special morning had won the heart of a little boy. She was in ecstasies over her treasure.

Pattie also secured a gingerbread cake with a suitable inscription. But now there were only two pennies left. They might have one more ride on the merry-go-round, and then they would go home. Had they done this, that which happened would not have happened, for they would have found little Ralph asleep on the sofa, and Harriet would have rushed back to the school with him before Miss Ford had time to miss either of them. But, just as they were about to leave the fair, who should come up and speak to Pattie, but her father’s chemist, for Dr Pyke kept his own dispensary.

The chemist was a young man of the name of Frost, very much addicted to eating gingerbreads and amusing himself at fairs. He was delighted to see Pattie; and Pattie, with some pride, introduced Harriet to him.

Mr Frost was a fat, podgy young man, and he felt quite pleased to walk with the little girls. With one on his right hand and one on his left he perambulated round and round the fair with them now.

“What have you seen?” he asked, and when they explained, he told them that they had practically seen nothing at all, and that now it would be his pleasure to give them a good time. He described what he meant to do, and certainly his programme was delightful. He himself would go on the merry-go-round with a little girl on each side of him, and they would fly right round not once, but several times; and afterwards, they would go into a little theatre and witness a wonderful piece of acting in which there was a giant and a pigmy, and some acting dogs, and an elephant and even a lion. The entertainment was of a jumble order, but it would be intensely exciting. It would take, Mr Frost said, no time at all. They must not miss it, however, for it really was first-rate, of that he could assure them.