In after years Tuppenny never had any clear recollection of his
adventures while he was running away. It was like a bad mixed up dream
that changes into morning sunshine and is forgotten. A long, long
journey: noisy, jolting, terrifying; too frightened and helpless to
understand anything that happened before the journey’s end. The first
thing that he remembered was a country lane, a steep winding lane
always climbing up hill. Tuppenny ran and ran, splashing through the
puddles with little bare feet. The wind blew cold against him; he
wrapped his hands in his mop of hair, glad to feel its pleasant warmth
over his ears and nose. It had stopped growing, and his chilblains had
disappeared. Tuppenny felt like a new guinea-pig. For the first time
he smelt the air of the hills. What matter if the wind were chilly; it
blew from the mountains. The lane led to a wide common, with hillocks
and hollows and clumps of bushes. The short cropped turf would soon
be gay with wild flowers; even in early April it was sweet. Tuppenny
felt as though he could run for miles. But night was coming. The sun
was going down in a frosty orange sunset behind purple clouds—was
it clouds, or was it the hills? He looked for shelter, and saw smoke
rising behind some tall savin bushes.
Tuppenny advanced cautiously, and discovered a curious little
encampment. There were two vehicles, unharnessed; a small shaggy pony
was grazing nearby. One was a two-wheeled cart, with a tilt, or hood,
made of canvas stretched over hoops. The other was a tiny four-wheeled
caravan. It was painted yellow picked out with red. Upon the sides were
these words in capital letters—“ALEXANDER AND WILLIAM’S CIRCUS.”
[Illustration]
Upon another board was printed—The Pigmy Elephant! The Learned Pig!
The Fat Dormouse of Salisbury! Live Polecats and Weasels!
The caravan had windows with muslin curtains, just like a house. There
were outside steps up to the back door, and a chimney on the roof. A
canvas screen fastened to light posts sheltered the encampment from the
wind. The smoke which Tuppenny had seen did not come from the chimney;
there was a cheerful fire of sticks burning on the ground in the midst
of the camp.
Several animals sat beside it, or busied themselves with cooking. One
of them was a white West Highland terrier. When he noticed Tuppenny he
commenced to bark. The pony stopped grazing, and looked round. A bird,
who had been running up and down on the grass, flew up to the roof of
the caravan.
The little dog came forward barking. Tuppenny turned and fled. He heard
yap! yap! yap! and grunt, grunt, grunt! and pattering feet behind him.
He tripped over his hair, and fell in a twittering heap.
A cold nose and a warm tongue examined Tuppenny and turned him over.
He gazed up in terror at the little dog and a small black pig, who
were sniffing all over him. “What? what? what? Whatever sort of animal
is it, Sandy?” “Never saw the like! it seems to be all hair! What do
you call yourself, fuzzy wig?” “P-p-please sir, I’m not a fuzzy wig, a
fuzzy pig, a please sir I’m a guinea-pig.” “What, what? a pig? Where’s
your tail?” said the little black pig. “Please Sir, no tail, I never
had—no guinea-pig—no tail—no guinea-pigs have tails,” twittered
Tuppenny in great alarm. “What? what? no tails? I had an uncle with no
tail, but that was accidental. Carry him to the fire, Sandy; he is cold
and wet.”
Sandy lifted Tuppenny delicately by the scruff of the neck; he held his
own head high and curled his tail over his back, to avoid treading on
Tuppenny’s hair. Paddy Pig scampered in front; “What! what! we’ve found
a new long-haired animal! Put more sticks on the fire Jenny Ferret! Set
him down beside the dormouse, Sandy; let him warm his toes.”
The person addressed as Jane Ferret was an oldish person, about twelve
inches high when she stood upright. She wore a cap, a brown stuff
dress, and always a small crochet crossover. She filled up the teapot
from a kettle on the fire, and gave Tuppenny a mug of hot balm tea and
a baked apple. He was much comforted by the warmth of the fire, and by
their kindness. In reply to questions he said his name was “Tuppenny”;
but he seemed to have forgotten where he came from. Only he remembered
vaguely that his hair had been a grievance.
The circus company admired it prodigiously. “It is truly
mar-veel-ious,” said the Dormouse stretching out a small pink hand, and
touching a damp draggled tress. “Do you use hairpins?” “I’m afraid, I’m
sorry, I haven’t any,” twittered Tuppenny apologetically. “Let hairpins
be provided—hair—pins,” said the Dormouse, falling fast asleep. “I
will go fetch some in the morning if you will lend me your purse,” said
Iky Shepster the starling, who was pecking a hole in the turf to hide
something. “You will do nothing of the sort. Bring me my teaspoon,
please,” said Jenny Ferret. The starling chittered and laughed, and
flew to the top of the caravan where he roosted at night.
The sun had set. The red fire-light danced and flickered round the camp
circle. The pony dozed beside the caravan, lazily whisking his long
tail. Sandy was lying stretched before the fire and panting with the
heat. He watched Tuppenny with bright brown eyes, through his shaggy
white eyebrows. “Tuppenny, where are you going to?” “I have forgotten.”
“What do you intend to do with yourself?” “I don’t know.” “Let him ride
in the tilt-cart,” said Pony Billy; they were the first words that he
had spoken. “Tuppenny, will you come with us? You shall have your share
of fun, and peppercorns, and sugar candy. Come with us and join the
circus, Tuppenny!” cried all the little animals. “I think I would like
to, yes please, thank you,” twittered Tuppenny shyly. “Quite right,
quite right! what! what!” said the small black pig, “Lucky you found us
today; we will be over the hills and far away tomorrow.”
“Wake up, wake up! Xarifa Dormouse! get into your sleeping box. And
you, Tuppenny, shall go to bed in this hamper. Good night!”
[Illustration]