with her hands clasped behind her, walked up and down in a very stately
manner. She looked at the caravan from time to time with an air of calm
delight, and seemed to be much pleased with the red panels and the brass
knocker.
When she had taken this exercise for some time, she sat down upon the
steps and called "George," whereupon a man in a carter's frock, who had
been hidden in a hedge up to this time, parted the twigs and looked out.
He was seated on the ground, and had on his legs a baking-dish and a
stone bottle, in his right hand a knife, and in his left a fork.
"Yes, missus," said George.
"How did you find the cold pie, George?"
"It warn't amiss, mum."
"We are not a heavy load, George?
"That's always what the ladies say," replied the man. "If you see a
woman a-driving, you'll always see she never will keep her whip still;
the horse can't go fast enough for her. If horses have got their proper
load, a woman always thinks that they can bear something more. What is
the cause of this here?"
"Would these two travellers make much difference to the horses if we
took them with us?" asked his mistress, pointing to Nell and the old
man, who were now ready to go on their way on foot.
"They'd make a difference, in course," said George slowly.
"Would they make _much_ difference?" repeated his mistress. "They can't
be very heavy."
"The weight o' the pair, mum," said George, eyeing them carefully,
"would be a trifle under that of Oliver Cromwell."
Nell was very much surprised that the man should know the weight of one
whom she had read of in books as having lived long before their time;
but she soon forgot the subject in the joy of hearing that they were to
go forward in the caravan, for which she thanked its lady earnestly.
She now helped to put away the tea-things, and the horses being by that
time harnessed, mounted into the van, followed by her delighted
grandfather.
Their kind friend then shut the door, and sat herself down by her drum
at an open window; and the steps being put up by George, and stowed
under the carriage, away they went, with a great noise of flapping, and
creaking, and straining, the bright brass knocker, which nobody ever
knocked at, knocking every moment a double knock of its own accord, as
they jolted heavily along.
*Chapter VI.*
*THE WAX-WORK SHOW.*
When they had travelled slowly forward for some short distance, Nell
looked timidly round the caravan. One half of it was carpeted, and so
cut off at the farther end as to form a sleeping-place, which was
shaded, like the little windows, with fair white curtains, though it was
very small.
The other half served for a kitchen, and was fitted up with a stove,
whose small chimney passed through the roof. It also held a larder,
several chests, a great pitcher of water, a few cooking utensils and
pieces of crockery.
The lady of the caravan sat at one window and little Nell and her
grandfather sat at the other, while the machine jogged slowly onward.
At first the two travellers spoke little, and only in whispers; but as
they grew more used to the place they began to talk about the country
through which they were passing, until the old man fell asleep. The
lady of the caravan then asked Nell to come and sit beside her.
"Well, child," she said, "how do you like this way of travelling?"
Nell replied that she thought it was very pleasant indeed. The lady of
the caravan sat looking at the child for a long time in silence. Then,
getting up, she brought out from a corner a large roll of canvas, about
a yard in width, which she laid upon the floor, and spread open with her
foot until it nearly reached from one end of the caravan to the other.
"There, child," she said, "read that."
Nell walked down it, and read aloud, in huge black letters, the words
"JARLEY'S WAX-WORK."
"Read it again," said the lady.
"Jarley's Wax-work," repeated Nell.
"That's me," said the lady. "I am Mrs. Jarley."
Giving the child a pleasant look, the lady of the caravan unfolded
another scroll, on which were the words "One hundred figures the full
size of life;" and then another, on which was written, "The only real
wax-work in the world."
When she had shown these to the astonished child, she brought forth
several handbills used to announce the show, one of which ran:--
"If I knowed a donkey wot wouldn't go
To see Mrs. Jarley's wax-work show,
Do you think I'd acknowledge him?
Oh; no, no!
Then run to Jarley's."
When she had shown all these treasures to her young companion, Mrs.
Jarley rolled them up, and having put them carefully away, sat down
again, and looked at the child in triumph.
"Never go into the company of a Punch any more," said Mrs. Jarley,
"after this."
"I never saw any wax-work, ma'am," said Nell. "Is it funnier than
Punch?"
"Funnier!" said Mrs. Jarley in a shrill voice. "It is not funny at
all."
"Oh!" said Nell very humbly.
"It isn't funny at all," repeated Mrs. Jarley. "It's calm
and--classical. No low beatings and knockings about, no jokings and
squeakings, like your precious Punches, but always the same, and so like
life that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, you'd hardly know the
difference. I won't go so far as to say that, as it is, I've seen
wax-work quite like life, but I've certainly seen some life that was
exactly like wax-work."
"Is it here, ma'am?" asked Nell.
"Is what here, child?"
"The wax-work, ma'am."
"Why, bless you, child, what are you thinking of? How could it be here,
where you see everything except the inside of one little cupboard and a
few boxes? It's gone on in the other vans to the next town, and there
it'll be shown the day after to-morrow. You are going to the same town,
and you'll see it, I dare say. I suppose you couldn't stop away if you
was to try ever so much."
"I shall not be in the town, I think, ma'am," said the child.
"Not there!" cried Mrs. Jarley. "Then where will you be?"
"I--I--don't quite know. I am not certain."
"You don't mean to say that you don't know where you're going to!" said
the lady of the caravan. "What line are you in? You looked to me at the
races, child, as if you were quite out of your place."
"We were there quite by accident," returned Nell; "we are poor people,
ma'am, and are only wandering about. We have nothing to do; I wish we
had."
"You amaze me more and more," said Mrs. Jarley after a while. "Why,
what do you call yourselves? Not beggars?"
"Indeed, ma'am, I don't know what else we are," returned the child.
"Lord bless me!" said the lady of the caravan. "I never heard of such a
thing. Who'd have thought it?"
She remained so long silent after this that Nell feared she was vexed.
At length she said,--
"And yet you can read. And write too, I shouldn't wonder?"
"Yes, ma'am," said the child timidly.
"Well, and what a thing _that_ is!" returned Mrs. Jarley. "_I_ can't."
Nell said, "Indeed!" in a tone of surprise and doubt. Mrs. Jarley said
no more, and after a while Nell withdrew to the other window and sat
down near her grandfather, who was now awake.
After a while the lady of the caravan roused herself, and calling the
driver to come under the window at which she was seated, spoke to him in
a low tone of voice, as if she were asking his advice. This talk at
length ended, she drew in her head again, and bade Nell come near.
"And the old gentleman too," said Mrs. Jarley; "for I want to have a
word with him.--Do you want a good place for your grandchild, master?
If you do, I can put her in a way of getting one. What do you say?"
"I can't leave her," answered the old man. "What would become of me
without her?"
"I should have thought you were old enough to take care of yourself, if
ever you will be," said Mrs. Jarley sharply.
"But he never will be," said the child, in an earnest whisper. "I fear
he never will be again. Pray do not speak harshly to him. We are very
thankful to you," she added aloud; "but neither of us could part from
the other if all the wealth of the world were halved between us."
Mrs. Jarley was a little taken aback at this, and looked somewhat
crossly at the old man, who took Nell's hand and kept it in his own.
After a pause, she thrust her head out of the window again, and spoke
once more to the driver.
Then she said to the old man, "If you work for yourself, there would be
plenty for you to do in the way of helping to dust the figures, taking
the checks, and so forth. What I want your grandchild for, is to point
'em out to the company.
"That would soon be learnt," the lady went on, "and she has a way with
her that people would like, though she does come after me; for I've
always been used to go round with visitors myself, which I should keep
on doing now, only that I do need a little ease."
Then Mrs. Jarley said that as for salary she could not pledge herself
until she had tested Nell's fitness for the work. But board and
lodging, both for her and her grandfather, she _would_ give; and she
also passed her word that the food should be always good and plentiful.
Nell and her grandfather talked it over; and while they were doing so
Mrs. Jarley, with her hands behind her, walked up and down the caravan,
as she had walked after tea on the green, with great dignity.
"Now, child?" cried Mrs. Jarley, coming to a halt, as Nell turned
towards her.
"We are very much obliged to you, ma'am," said Nell, "and will do as you
wish."
"And you'll never be sorry for it," returned Mrs. Jarley. "I am pretty
sure of that. So as that's all settled, let us have a bit of supper."
In the meantime the caravan rolled on, and came at last upon the paved
streets of a town, which were very quiet; for it was by this time near
midnight, and the people were all abed. As it was too late to go to the
exhibition room, they turned aside into a piece of waste ground that lay
just within the old town gate, and drew up there for the night, near to
another caravan in which part of the famous wax-work show had travelled.
This caravan, being now empty, was given to the old man as his
sleeping-place; and within its wooden walls Nell made him up the best
bed she could. For herself, she was to sleep in Mrs. Jarley's own van
as a special mark of that lady's favour.
*Chapter VIII.*
*NELL THE BREAD-WINNER.*
Nell slept so long that when she awoke, Mrs. Jarley, wearing her large
bonnet, was already preparing breakfast. She heard Nell's excuses for
being late with great good-humour, and said that she should not have
roused her if she had slept on until noon.
"Because it does you good," said the lady of the caravan, "when you're
tired, to sleep as long as ever you can; and that's another blessing of
your time of life--you can sleep so very sound; _I_ can't, I'm sorry to
say."
Shortly afterwards the child sat down with her grandfather and Mrs.
Jarley to breakfast. The meal finished, Nell helped to wash the cups
and saucers, and put them in their proper places; and these duties done,
Mrs. Jarley dressed herself in a very bright shawl for the purpose of
passing through the streets of the town.
"The van will come on to bring the boxes," said Mrs. Jarley, "and you
had better come in it, child. I must walk, very much against my will;
but the people expect it of me. How do I look, child?"
Nell at once said that she looked very nice, and Mrs. Jarley went forth
with her head in the air.
The caravan followed at no great distance. As it went jolting through
the streets, Nell peeped through the window to see in what kind of place
they were. It was a pretty large town with an open square, in the
middle of which was the town hall, with a clock-tower and a
weather-cock.
The streets were very clean, very sunny, very empty, and very dull.
Nothing seemed to be going on but the clocks, and they had such drowsy
faces, such heavy, lazy hands, that they surely must have been too slow.
The very dogs were all asleep; and the flies, drunk with the moist sugar
in the grocer's shop, forgot their wings, and baked to death in dusty
corners of the window.
Rumbling along with a great noise, the caravan stopped at last at the
place of exhibition. Nell got down amidst a group of children, who
clearly thought that her grandfather was one of the wax figures. The
chests were quickly taken out and unlocked by Mrs. Jarley, who, with
George and another man, was waiting to decorate the room with the
hangings from them.
When the festoons were all put up as tastily as might be, the wax-work
figures were uncovered and set out on a platform running round the room
some two feet from the floor. There they stood more or less unsteadily
upon their legs, with their eyes and nostrils very wide open, and their
faces bearing a look of great surprise.
When Nell had looked at them all with great delight, Mrs. Jarley ordered
the room to be cleared of all but herself and the child. Then sitting
herself down in an armchair in the centre, she handed Nell a willow
wand, long used by herself for pointing out the characters, and was at
great pains to teach her what to do and say.
"That," said Mrs. Jarley in her grandest tone, as Nell touched a figure
at the beginning of the platform, "is a maid-of-honour in the time of
Queen Elizabeth, who died from pricking her finger while sewing upon a
Sunday. See how the blood is trickling from her finger; also the
gold-eyed needle of the time with which she is at work."
All this Nell said over twice or thrice, pointing to the finger and the
needle at the right times, and then passed on to the next.
When Nell knew all about that and could say it without a mistake, Mrs.
Jarley passed on to the fat man, and then to the thin man, the tall man,
the short man, the old lady who died of dancing at a hundred and
thirty-two, the wild boy of the woods, and many another. And so well
did Nell do her duty that by the time they had been shut up together for
a couple of hours she knew quite well the history of the whole show.
Mrs. Jarley was much pleased with her, and now carried her off to see
what was going on within doors.
The preparations outside had not been forgotten either. A nun was
telling her beads on the little portico over the door; and a brigand,
with the blackest possible head of hair, was at that moment being made
ready to be taken round the town in a cart.
In the midst of the plans for drawing visitors, little Nell was not
forgotten. The light cart in which the brigand was carried being gaily
dressed with flags and streamers, the child was placed in a seat beside
him, and rode slowly through the town, giving away handbills from a
basket to the sound of drum and trumpet. This was done each morning for
a few days.
The beauty of the child caused a great stir in the little country place.
Grown-up folks began to be interested in the bright-eyed girl, and some
score of little boys fell in love with her, and left nuts and apples for
her at the wax-work door.
This was not lost on Mrs. Jarley, who, lest Nell should become too
cheap, soon sent the brigand out alone again and kept the child in the
room, where she showed the figures every half-hour.
Although her work was hard, Nell found the lady of the caravan very kind
and thoughtful for her little helper's comfort. The child soon began to
receive little fees from the visitors for herself, and as her
grandfather, too, was well treated and useful, she was very happy and
contented.
But she often thought of the old house and the window at which she used
to sit alone in far-off London; and then she would think of poor Kit and
all his kindness, until the tears came into her eyes, and she would weep
and smile together.
Often, too, her thoughts turned to her grandfather, and she would wonder
how much he remembered of their former life. When they were wandering
about she seldom thought of this, but now she could not help wondering
what would become of them if he fell sick or her own strength were to
fail her. The old man was very patient and willing, and glad to be of
use; but he was a mere child--a poor, thoughtless, vacant creature. It
made her very sad to see him thus, and she would often burst into tears,
and going to some secret place, fall down upon her knees, and pray that
he might be restored.
*Chapter VIII.*
*TROUBLE FOR NELL.*
One evening when the show was not open, Nell and her grandfather went
out for a walk. As soon as they were clear of the town they took a
foot-path which ran through some pleasant fields, and wandered on till
sunset, when they stopped to rest.
The sky was dark and lowering. Large drops of rain soon began to fall,
and before long the storm clouds came sailing onward, and spread over
all the sky. Soon was heard the low rumbling of distant thunder, and
the lightning quivered through the darkness.
Fearful of taking shelter beneath a tree or hedge, the old man and the
child hurried along the highroad. They hoped to find some house in
which to seek a refuge from the storm. Drenched by the pelting rain,
and blinded by the lightning, they would have passed a house without
noticing it had not a man, who was standing at the door, called out to
them to enter.
"What were you going past for, eh?" he added, as he closed the door and
led the way along a passage to a room behind.
"We didn't see the house, sir, till we heard you calling," Nell replied.
"No wonder," said the man, "with this lightning in one's eyes.
By-the-bye you had better stand by the fire here, and dry yourselves a
bit. You can call for what you like if you want anything. If you don't
want anything, no matter. Don't be afraid of that. This is a
public-house, that's all. The 'Valiant Soldier,' by James Groves, is
pretty well known hereabouts."
The night being warm, there was a large screen drawn across the room to
keep in the heat of the fire. From the other side of this screen came
the sound of voices. Nell and her grandfather listened to them for a
few moments. Then the old man said hastily in a whisper,--
"Nell, they're--they're playing cards. Don't you hear them?"
"Look sharp with that candle," said a voice; "it's as much as I can do
to see the cards as it is. Game! Seven-and-sixpence to me, old Isaac.
Hand over."
"Do you hear, Nell--do you hear them?" whispered the old man again, as
the money chinked upon the table.
The child looked at the old man with alarm. His face was red and eager,
his eyes were strained, his teeth set, his breath came short and thick,
and the hand he laid upon her arm shook like a leaf.
"What money have we, Nell? Come, I saw you with money yesterday. What
money have we? Give it to me."
"No, no; let me keep it, grandfather," said the poor child. "Let us go
away from here. Do not mind the rain. Pray let us go."
"Give it to me, I say," cried the old man fiercely. "Hush, hush! don't
cry, Nell. If I spoke sharply, dear, I didn't mean it. It's for thy
good. I have wronged thee, Nell, but I will right thee yet; I will,
indeed. Where is the money?"
"Do not take it," said the child. "Pray do not take it, dear. For both
our sakes let me keep it, or let me throw it away; better let me throw
it away than you take it now. Let us go; do let us go."
"Give me the money," returned the old man; "I must have it.
There--there--there's my dear Nell. I'll right thee one day, child.
I'll right thee, never fear!"
She took from her pocket a little purse. The old man caught it from her
hand and hastily made his way to the other side of the screen, Nell
keeping close behind him.
The landlord had placed a light upon the table and was drawing the
curtain of the window. The speakers whom they had heard were two men,
who had a pack of cards and some silver money between them.
The man with the rough voice was a big fellow of middle age, with large
black whiskers, broad cheeks, a coarse, wide mouth, and bull neck. The
other man, whom his companion had called Isaac, was of a more slender
figure--stooping, and high in the shoulders--with a very evil face.
"Now, old gentleman," said Isaac, looking round, "do you know either of
us? This side of the screen is private, sir."
The old man replied by shaking the little purse in his eager hand, and
then throwing it down upon the table, and gathering up the cards as a
miser would clutch at gold.
"Oh! That, indeed," said Isaac; "if that's what the gentleman meant, I
beg the gentleman's pardon. Is this the gentleman's purse? A very
pretty little purse. Rather a light purse," added Isaac, throwing it
into the air and catching it again, "but enough to amuse a gentleman for
half an hour or so."
The child, in a perfect agony, drew her grandfather aside, and begged
him, even then, to come away.
"Come, and we may be so happy," said the child.
"We will be happy," replied the old man. "Let me go, Nell. I shall but
win back my own; and it's all for thee, my darling."
"God help us!" cried the child. "Oh, what hard fortune brought us
here?"
"Hush!" said the old man, laying his hand upon her mouth. "We must not
blame fortune, or she shuns us; I have found that out."
As he spoke he drew a chair to the table; and the other three closing
round it at the same time, the game began.
The child sat by and watched it with a troubled mind. Losses and gains
were to her alike. She only knew that the cards were evil things, and
that now her quiet, happy life was at an end.
The storm had raged for full three hours, and now began to lull; but
still the game went on, and still the poor child was forgotten.
The players sat for a long time at their game, and when it was over
Isaac was the only winner, and Nell's little purse was quite empty.
"Do you know what the time is?" said Mr. Groves, who was smoking with
his friends. "Past twelve o'clock."--"And a rainy night," added the
stout man.
"'The Valiant Soldier,' by James Groves. Good beds. Cheap entertainment
for man and beast," said Mr. Groves, quoting from his sign-board.
"Half-past twelve o'clock."
"It's very late," said the uneasy child. "I wish we had gone before.
What will they think of us? It will be two o'clock by the time we get
back. What would it cost, sir, if we stopped here?"
"Two good beds, one-and-sixpence; supper and beer, one shilling; total,
two shillings and sixpence," replied the landlord.
Now, Nell had still a piece of gold sewn in her dress, and when she
thought of the lateness of the hour she made up her mind to remain. She
therefore took her grandfather aside, and telling him that she had still
enough left to pay for their lodging, said that they ought to stay there
for the night.
"If I had but had that money before--if I had only known of it a few
minutes ago!" muttered the old man.
"We will stop here, if you please," said Nell, turning to the landlord.
"I think that's prudent," returned Mr. Groves. "You shall have your
suppers directly."
Very early the next morning they set out on their return journey, as
Nell wished to reach home before Mrs. Jarley was up. The child's heart
was very sore when she thought of all that had happened, but she could
not forget that the old man wished to win wealth only for her sake.
So she spoke to him very gently, trying to show him as clearly as she
could that she had no desire to become rich, and least of all by such
evil means.
"Let me persuade you--oh, do let me persuade you," said the child, "to
think no more of gains or losses.
"Have we been worse off," she went on, "since you forgot these cares and
we have been travelling on together? Have we not been much better and
happier without a home to shelter us than ever we were in that unhappy
house, when thoughts of winning wealth were on your mind?"
"She speaks the truth," murmured the old man. "It must not turn me; but
it is the truth--no doubt it is."
"Only remember what we have been since that bright morning when we
turned our backs upon it for the last time," said Nell; "only remember
what we have been since we have been free of all those miseries--what
peaceful days and quiet nights we have had--what pleasant times we have
known--what happiness we have enjoyed. If we have been tired or hungry,
we have been soon refreshed, and slept the sounder for it. Think what
beautiful things we have seen, and how contented we have felt. And why
was this change?"
The old man stopped her with a motion of his hand, and bade her talk to
him no more just then, for he was busy. After a time he kissed her
cheek, without a word, and walked on, looking far before him, as if he
were trying to collect his thoughts. Once she saw tears in his eyes.
When they reached the wax-work show they found that Mrs. Jarley was not
yet out of bed. Nell at once set herself to the work of preparing the
room, and had finished her task and dressed herself neatly before her
mistress came down to breakfast.