At breakfast the following morning the Blue Lady looked up from her
pilchards. She was eating slowly for pilchard bones are many in number
and very small. "Dorothea," she asked, "what about this cycling tour?
Do you want to go on to-day, or wouldn't it be rather nice to stay
here for one more night and just enjoy Draeth?"
"I should love it!" the Brown Lady replied.
Mrs. Tregennis was summoned. No, she didn't think the young gentleman
would at all mind having the chair-bed again; he'd slept very well
indeed and had been quite comfortable. As for her, well, she'd be
delighted for the ladies to stay.
Thus it was settled, and they stayed.
The tide was high that morning, and they pulled slowly up the
beautiful West River. After lunch they took photographs of Tommy at
play on the sands, and sat on the rocks reading. In the evening they
bathed for the second time that day, and went to bed at night
completely under the spell of Draeth.
The next morning it was arranged that they should stay yet one more
night, and it ended in the young gentleman sleeping on the chair-bed
in his sitting-room for a week. Then, however, the ladies were obliged
to leave. By the end of the week they had planned to reach Padstowe
after cycling all round the Cornish coast, and had arranged that
luggage should be awaiting them there at the Salutation Inn where they
had already engaged rooms.
The evening before they left the ladies went into Mrs. Tregennis's
bedroom to hear Tommy say his prayers. He was kneeling in the cot, and
by judicious pressure made the mattress rise and fall in such a way
that his petitions were more broken than is usually considered quite
reverent.
"Please God take care of Daddy, 'n bring the fishes, 'n Mammy, 'n keep
me good, 'n----"
A sudden somersault choked the rest. "I've got a sweet, Miss!"
The opening of the right hand disclosed a hot, melted chocolate cream,
whose pink inside now filled up the lines of the small, fat palm.
After much licking brown and pink disappeared, but an uncomfortable
stickiness was left behind. The Brown Lady brought a sponge and towel
and washed the stickiness away.
"Tommy," said the Blue Lady, "when you waken in the morning a wooden
horse called Dobbin will be downstairs under the kitchen table. That's
his new stable."
"Who be it for?" asked Tommy all thought of sleep dispelled.
"Well, it _might_ be for Jimmy Prynne."
"Mammy, Mammy," with even more than customary vigour, "is the Dobbin
that's goin' to be under the kitchen table for Jimmy Prynne?" Then
with a catch suspiciously like a sob, "Jimmy Prynne doesn't wipe his
nose with a hankycher; he sniffs does Jimmy Prynne."
"Oh, my dear soul," replied Mammy, in the doorway, "I haven't got no
Dobbin. 'Tis a grand thing for Jimmy Prynne if he's goin' to have a
horse for to ride. He'll be like the quality will Jimmy Prynne."
"Mammy," brokenly, "do you think as sometimes Jimmy Prynne'll lend his
wooden horse to me?"
"Tommy Tregennis," said the Blue Lady, throwing her arms round the
dejected figure still kneeling on the bed, but no longer bobbing up
and down. "Tommy Tregennis, if you go tightly to sleep, now at once, I
shouldn't be at all surprised if that wooden horse turned out to be
for you, and not for Jimmy Prynne at all."
At once Tommy lay down in bed and screwed up his eyes. Then, rubbing
his forehead, "There ain't no sleep there," he said.
So the Blue Lady held one hot hand in hers, and sitting on the side of
the cot sang many a nursery rhyme.
"Hush-a-bye, baby," was sleepily demanded a second time.
"Hush-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green,
Thy father's a nobleman, thy mother's a queen;
Thy sister's a lady and wears a gold ring,
And Johnnie's a horseman, and rides for the king."
"Was the horse called Dobbin?" Tommy asked, but before the answer came
he was riding a kicking wooden steed in the wonderful land of dreams.
Later in the evening Tommy's Ladies bought Dobbin. Mrs. Tregennis said
that no fisher-child in Draeth had ever before possessed such a toy.
It was dapple-grey and very strong; it moved on wheels and was high
enough from the ground for a boy of five to sit astride, slip his feet
into the stirrups, and so prepare to set out on great adventures.
Tommy was downstairs in his night-shirt at five o'clock the next
morning. He sat on Dobbin's back, kissed his carmine nostrils, poked
his glassy eyes, and wished to waken up the Prynne household to show
Jimmy Prynne his treasure and assert to him emphatically that Dobbin
was his, Tommy's, and his alone.
From this course, however, his mother dissuaded him. She told him that
as yet the horse did not belong to him; until it had been given to
him, he was certainly not justified in calling it his own.
"Perhaps after all," Mrs. Tregennis demurred, "it may be for some
other little boy in Draeth."
"No, Mammy, no; the ladies _said_ it was to be for me if I slept
tight. They said so, Mammy, they said it was mine."
To make quite sure of ownership, however, Tommy hurried up the two
flights of stairs and with both clenched fists hammered on the bedroom
door. "My ladies, my ladies; is the Dobbin for me?"
He returned to the kitchen triumphant, and convicted Mammy of lack of
faith.
When breakfast was over Tommy led Dobbin proudly up and down the alley
by the real leather reins. Three--then four--five--six--seven
children followed the horse and his master.
[Illustration: WHEN BREAKFAST WAS OVER, TOMMY LED DOBBIN PROUDLY
UP AND DOWN THE ALLEY.]
Then Jimmy Prynne stepped forward: "Tell ee what, Tommy Tregennis, 'll
give ee two cherries to ride him wanst down."
This bargain was concluded.
Ruby Dark parted with three treasured rusty pins for the privilege of
herself leading Dobbin three steps, one pin for each step. Although
she made her strides as long as possible her turn was soon over, and
other contracts were entertained.
In half-an-hour's time the Tregennis household was richer by three
rusty pins, one screw, one length of stamp-edging, one dead rose, a
parrot's feather and a piece of string.
After lunch that day the ladies left. Tommy smiled until they had
turned the corner, then a sudden despair seized him and he screamed
with grief. Dobbin's placid, glassy stare irritated him so much that
he hit him full in the face with his open palm. Afterwards in a fit of
remorse he flung his arms around the wooden neck and sobbed bitterly
into the flowing mane. Ten minutes later he and Dobbin slept together
on the kitchen floor.
The house seemed strangely quiet to Mrs. Tregennis when the ladies had
gone. No other visitors had become so much a part of the household.
A few days later the three gentlemen also left Draeth, and Mrs.
Tregennis prepared her house for the winter months. All the ornaments
from the sitting-rooms were wrapped up in paper and put away in a box
under the bed. The curtains and blinds were washed and folded
carefully to be in readiness for the spring; the Brussels carpet
upstairs was well swept and overlaid with newspapers; the velvet
mantel-border was turned up and brushed, and it, too, was swathed in a
paper covering. The best knives, spoons and forks were folded
separately in tissue paper and locked away in the cupboard underneath
the stairs.
When all these preparations were complete Mrs. Tregennis realized that
winter was indeed upon them.