A DREAM OF LIONS
MEG was getting weary with her long tramp to London. Her first day
had been her best. She had not met with such kindness or good fortune
again, and as she made her way through towns and villages, only
gathering just enough pennies by her singing, to provide her with a
night's lodging and food, she began to wonder if she would ever reach
London and stroke the paws of lions.
She had to walk for miles along country roads which, as far as earning
money was concerned, was mere waste of time. And when she arrived at a
town or village, so anxious was she to get to the end of her journey,
that she stayed as short a time as possible and only waited to earn
enough for the day.
She had now been on the tramp for a fortnight, and her boots were none
the better for her hard walking. Every now and then, too, as she crept
into some outhouse and lay down to sleep, the Autumn air struck chill,
and she wondered, if Bostock refused to employ her, how she could
manage to keep herself through the cold winter.
But the girl was naturally courageous, and she would not indulge often
in these depressing thoughts. She tried to imagine herself sitting in
the cage of lions, whip in hand, quelling the beasts with her eyes,
surrounded by a crowd of admirers, among whom was Jem, and then leaving
her work on a Saturday night with seven pounds in her pocket; for that
was the sum promised to the successful candidate for training. She
would then buy Jem a respectable warm coat and a hat with a proper
crown, to say nothing of bright blue and red kerchiefs for his neck;
and little Steve should be provided with plenty of luxuries and a
comfortable lodging away from his Aunt and Uncle.
Meg would tramp for miles with a smile on her lips as she pictured
those golden days of her dreams, and it was only when she was tired
and hungry, and the realities of her life forced the dreams into the
background, that she lost heart.
Sometimes a fear crossed her lest Jem should never find her. He was the
one person in the whole world who cared whether she was dead or alive,
and the bare possibility of their never meeting again had brought tears
more than once into the eyes of the girl. But it was only when she was
very tired that this possibility crossed her mind. For her faith in him
was so firm, and her belief that he would look for her till he found
her, so strong, that as a rule, she looked forward without doubting to
meeting him in better circumstances.
Once, after a longer tramp than usual, when she had spent her last
penny and yet felt, as she neared a village, that she had not the
strength to earn one, she came to a little church, the door of which
was open, and peeping in, the quiet and calm of the place suggested
rest of which she was sorely in need. It was empty and the girl for the
first time in her life crossed the threshold of a church.
She sank down on the first bench and looked about her wonderingly. Meg
knew little more than a heathen; she knew that there was a God, whose
name she had often heard taken in vain; and that was all. But she had
a thirsty soul and often felt that there was some great and beautiful
secret, known to many, of which she was ignorant. Night after night,
as she lay sleeping under the stars, she would look up at the sky with
a great wonder at what she saw, and with a yearning after something
intangible. She had once spoken to Jem about her thoughts and he had
suddenly looked down upon her with a bright smile, as if about to
speak. Apparently however he could find no words in which to answer her.
Meg looked around the little church with interest; then crossing her
arms on the back of the bench she dropped her head on them and fell
fast asleep.
Suddenly she awoke to find that she was not alone. Several people
were kneeling in front of her and a clergyman from the reading desk
was saying the Confession, accompanied by the soft murmur of the
congregation.
"'We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep.'"
At the words Meg buried her head again in her arms. "Lost Sheep!" That
just seemed to describe her isolated condition. She sat sobbing till
the close of the service, when she slipped out before the rest of the
congregation.
Ten minutes afterwards she was singing in the village street to a crowd
of children who stared at her open mouthed. Several men who had been
working in the fields passed her on their way home, and more than one
stayed to listen. One who was the worse for drink pushed his way into
the crowd, calling out some rude remark to her. The hot blood rushed
into the girl's face and she longed for Jem's strong arm to teach the
brute a lesson. She stopped singing abruptly, and turned away, taking
refuge in a kind woman's cottage.
This was the first of several disagreeable experiences that the girl
passed through, and she found to her dismay that they had such an
effect upon her that her courage began to dwindle. She grew nervous
of tramping the lonely lanes, specially when it was dark, and even
the thought of Bostock's beasts could not induce her to continue her
journey after sunset, unless it was positively necessary to do so. If
she could not find someone to take her in for the night she would look
about her for a hay-rick or barn; anything was better, however rough
the accommodation, than walking by herself along the lonely roads.
At times her tramp to London became almost a nightmare. It never seemed
to grow nearer. She had had no idea that the distance was so great.
She wondered sometimes if she would not give it up. But if she did,
what then? The only thing for which she lived would be taken away from
her. No one would care if she lay down in the road and died. No one
was expecting her or wanted her, except Jem, and he was further away
every day. If she was robbed of the thought of Bostock's wild beasts,
she would be bereft of the one thing that made life worth living. No!
She would not give up hope! She must persevere, and surely a time would
come when she would be sitting calm and smiling among the lions, and
would go home with seven pounds in her pocket!