"An hour. What shall we do for an hour? 'Tisn't long enough to go to
the hammer pond, nor yet to hunt snakes, because we should get so
interested that we should forget to come back. But, I say, would you
rather go back to the school field, where the other chaps are, or come
back and pick out your garden? We've all got gardens. Or have a game
at rounders, or--"
"No, no no," I said. "I like all this. It's all new to me. I was
never in the country like this before."
"Then you do like it?"
"Of course."
"That's right. Then you will not mind old Rebble's impositions, and the
Doctor being disagreeable, and going at us, nor the boys pitching into
you, as they all do--the big ones--when the Doctor's pitched into them.
Why, you don't look so miserable now as you did."
"Don't I?"
"No. It's awful coming away from home, I know, and I do get so tired of
learning so many things. You do have to try so much to get to know
anything at all. Now, let's see what shall we do for an hour?"
"Go for a walk," I suggested.
"Oh, that's no good, without you're going to do something. I know;
we'll go back and make Magg lend us his ferret, and then we'll try for a
rabbit."
"Very well," I said eagerly.
"No, that wouldn't do, because his ferret's such a beggar."
"Is he?" I said.
"Yes; he goes into a hole in a bank and comes out somewhere else, far
enough off, and you can't find him, or else he goes in and finds a
rabbit, and eats him, and then curls up for a sleep, and you waiting all
the time. That wouldn't do; there isn't time enough. You want all day
for that, and we've only got an hour. Wish I hadn't said we'd go and
see the owls."
"Shall we sit down and wait?" I suggested.
"No, no. I can't wait. I never could. It's horrid having to wait.
Here, I know. It's lunch-time, and we're here. Let's go into Polly
Hopley's and eat cakes and drink ginger-beer till it's time to go."
"Very well," I said, willingly enough, for walking had made me thirsty.
"I haven't got any money, but Polly will trust me."
"I've got some," I ventured to observe.
"Ah, but you mustn't spend that. You've got to help pay for the gun.
Come on.--Here, Polly, two bottles of ginger-beer, and sixpenn'orth of
bis--I say, got any fresh gingerbread?"
This was to a stoutish, dark-eyed woman of about one-and-twenty, as we
entered the cottage, in one of whose windows there was a shelf with a
row of bottles of sweets and a glass jar of biscuits.
"Yes, sir, quite new--fresh from Hastings," said the girl eagerly. And
she produced a box full of brown, shiny-topped squares.
"Was it some of this old Dicksee had yesterday?" said Mercer.
"Yes, sir. I opened the fresh box for him, and he had four tuppenny
bits."
"Then we will not," said my companion sharply. "Let's have biscuits
instead."
The biscuits were placed before us, and the keeper's daughter then took
a couple of tied-down stone bottles from a shelf.
"I say," cried Mercer, "I didn't introduce you. Burr junior, this is
Polly Hopley. Polly, this is--"
"Yes, sir, I know. I heard you tell father," said the woman quickly, as
she cut the string.
_Pop_!
Out came the opal-looking, bubbling liquid into a grey mug covered with
stripes, and then _Pop_! again, and a mug was filled for my companion,
ready for us to nod at each other and take a deep draught of the
delicious brewing--that carefully home-made ginger-beer of fifty years
ago--so mildly effervescent that it could be preserved in a stone
bottle, and its cork held with a string. A very different beverage to
the steam-engine-made water fireworks, all wind, fizzle, cayenne pepper,
and bang, that is sold now under the name.
"Polly makes this herself on purpose for us," said Mercer importantly.
"We boys drink it all."
"And don't always pay for it," said Polly sharply.
I saw Mercer's face change, and I recalled what he had said about
credit.
"Why--er--" he began.
"Oh, I don't mean you, sir, and I won't mention any names, but I think
young gen'lemen as drinks our ginger-beer ought to pay, and father says
so too."
I glanced at Mercer, whose face was now scarlet, and, seeing that he was
thinking about what he had said respecting credit, I quietly slipped my
hand into my pocket and got hold of a shilling.
"It is beautiful ginger-beer," I said, after another draught.
"Beautiful," said Mercer dismally, but he gave quite a start and then
his eyes shone brightly as he glanced at me gratefully, for I had handed
the shilling to the keeper's daughter, who took it to a jug on the
chimney-piece, dropped it in, and then shook out some half-pence from a
cracked glass and gave me my change.
"Here, put your biscuits in your pocket, Burr," cried Mercer, "and we'll
go on now."
Saying which, he set the example, finished his ginger-beer, and made the
keeper's daughter smile by declaring it was better than ever.
"Glad you like it, sir; and of course you know I didn't mean you, as
I've trusted before, and will again, because you always pay."
"Thank-ye. I know whom you mean," he replied. "Come on."
As soon as we were out of sight of the cottage, Mercer laid an arm on my
shoulder.
"I can't say what I want to," he said quickly, "but I liked that, and I
won't ever forget it. If ever old Eely hits you, I'll go at him, see if
I don't, and I don't care how hard he knocks me about, and if ever I can
do anything for you, to save you from a caning, I will, or from any
other trouble. You see if I don't. I like you, Burr junior, that I do,
and--and do come along, or we shall be late."