The plans of nurses, not less than those of mice and men, are apt to get
into disorder. Mrs Durby having packed up the diamond ring in the
careful manner which we have described in a previous chapter, essayed to
get ready for her important journey to London on pawning purposes
intent, but she found that there were so many little preparations to
make, both in regard to her own toilette and to the arrangements of Mrs
Tipps' establishment, in prospect of its being left without its first
mate for a time, that a considerable period elapsed before she got her
anchor tripped and herself ready to set sail with the first fair wind.
Worthy Mrs Durby, we may observe, was fond of quoting the late
captain's phraseology. She was an affectionate creature, and liked to
recall his memory in this somewhat peculiar fashion.
In anticipation of this journey, Netta went one evening, in company with
Emma Lee, to pay Mrs John Marrot a friendly visit, ostensibly for the
purpose of inquiring after the health of baby Marrot, who, having
recently fallen down-stairs, swallowed a brass button and eaten an
unknown quantity of shoe-blacking, had been somewhat ailing. The real
object of the visit however, was to ask Mrs Marrot to beg of her
husband to take a special interest in Mrs Durby on her journey, as that
excellent nurse had made up her mind to go by the train which he drove,
feeling assured that if safety by rail was attainable at all, it must be
by having a friend at court--a good and true man at the helm, so to
speak.
"But la, Miss!" said Mrs Marrot, sitting on the bed and patting the
baby, whose ruling passion, mischief, could not be disguised even in
distress, seeing that it gleamed from his glassy eyes and issued in
intermittent yells from his fevered throat, "if your nurse is of a
narvish temperment she'd better not go with my John, 'cause _he_ usually
drives the Flyin' Dutchman."
"Indeed!" said Netta, with a puzzled smile; "and pray, what is the
Flyin' Dutchman?"
A yell and a glare from baby interrupted the reply. At the same instant
the 7:45 p.m. express flew past with a roar, which was intensified by
the whistle into a shriek as it neared the station. The house trembled
as usual. Netta, not unnaturally, shuddered.
"Don't be alarmed, Miss, it's only the express."
"Do expresses often pass your cottage in that way?" asked Netta, with a
touch of pity.
"Bless you, yes, Miss; they're always passin' day and night continooly;
but we don't think nothink of it. We've got used to it now."
"Does it not disturb you at night?" asked Emma Lee in some surprise.
"No, Miss, it don't--not in the least. No doubt it sometimes _do_
influence our dreams, if I may say so. As my son Bob says--he's a
humorous boy is my Bob, Miss--he says, says he, the trains can't awaken
_us_, but they _do_ awaken noo trains of ideas, especially w'en they
stops right opposite the winder an' blows off steam, or whistles like
mad for five minutes at a time. I sometimes think that Bob is right,
an' that's w'y baby have took to yellin' an' mischief with such a 'igh
'and. They do say that a man is knowd by the company he keeps, and I'm
sure it's no wonder that baby should screech an' smash as he do,
considerin' the example set 'im day an' night by them ingines."
Here another yell from baby gave, as it were, assent to these opinions.
"But, as I was sayin'," continued Mrs Marrot, "the Flyin' Dutchman is
the name that my 'usband's train goes by, 'cause it is the fastest train
in the kingdom--so they say. It goes at the rate of over sixty miles an
hour, an' ain't just quite the train for people as is narvish--though my
'usband do say it ain't more dangerous than other trains--not s'much so,
indeed, wich I believe myself, for there ain't nothink 'appened to my
John all the eight years he have drove it."
"Is sixty miles an hour _very_ much faster than the rate of ordinary
trains?" asked Emma.
"W'y, yes, Miss. Or'nary trains they run between twenty and forty miles
an hour, though sometimes in goin' down inclines they git up to fifty;
but my 'usband _averages_ sixty miles an hour, an' on some parts o' the
line 'e gits up the speed to sixty-five an' siventy. For my own part
I'm quite hignorant of these things. To my mind all the ingines seem to
go bangin' an' rushin' an' yellin' about pretty much in the same furious
way; but I've often 'eard my 'usband explain it all, an' _he_ knows all
about it Miss, just as if it wor A, B, C."
Having discussed such matters a little longer, and entered with genuine
sympathy into the physical and mental condition of baby, Netta finally
arranged that her old nurse should go by the Flying Dutchman, seeing
that she would be unable to distinguish the difference of speed between
one train and another, while her mind would be at rest, if she knew
herself to be under the care of a man, in whom she could trust.
"Well, Miss, I dessay it won't much matter," said Mrs Marrot,
endeavouring to soothe the baby, in whom the button or the blacking
appeared to be creating dire havoc; "but of course my 'usband can't
attend to 'er 'isself, not bein' allowed to attend to nothink but 'is
ingine. But he'll put 'er in charge of the guard, who is a very
'andsome man, and uncommon polite to ladies. Stay, I'll speak to Willum
Garvie about it now," said Mrs Marrot, rising; "he's in the garding
be'ind."
"Pray don't call him in," said Netta, rising quickly; "we will go down
to him. I should like much to see your garden."
"You'll find my Loo there, too," said Mrs Marrot with a motherly smile,
as she opened the door to let her visitors out. "You'll excuse me not
goin' hout. I dursn't leave that baby for a minute. He'd be over the--
there he--"
The sentence was cut short by a yell, followed by a heavy bump, and the
door shut with a bang, which sent Emma and her friend round the corner
of the house in a highly amused frame of mind.
John Marrot's garden was a small one--so small that the break-van of his
own "Flyin' Dutchman" could have contained it easily--but it was not too
small to present a luxuriance, fertility, and brilliance of colour that
was absolutely magnificent! Surrounded as that garden was by "ballast"
from the embankment, broken wheels and rail, bricks and stones, and
other miscellaneous refuse and _debris_ of the line, it could only be
compared to an oasis in the desert, or a bright gem on a rugged
warrior's breast. This garden owed its origin to Lucy Marrot's love for
flowers, and it owed much of its magnificence to Will Garvie's love for
Lucy; for that amiable fireman spent much of his small wage in
purchasing seed and other things for the improvement of that garden, and
spent the very few hours of his life, not claimed by the inexorable iron
horse, in assisting to cultivate the same.
We use the word `assisting' advisedly, because Loo would not hear of his
taking this sort of work out of her hands. She was far too fond of it
to permit that, but she had no objection whatever to his assistance.
There never was, so Will and Loo thought, anything like the love which
these two bore to each other. Extremes meet, undoubtedly. Their love
was so intensely matter of fact and earnest that it rose high above the
region of romance, in which lower region so many of our race do delight
to coo and sigh. There was no nonsense about it. Will Garvie, who was
naturally bold--no wonder, considering his meteor-like style of life--
saw all the flowers in the garden as well as any other man, and admired
them more than most men, but he said gravely that he wouldn't give the
end of a cracked boiler-tube for the whole garden, if she were not in
the midst of it. At which Loo laughed heartily, and blushed with
pleasure, and made no other reply.
It was quite delightful to observe the earnestness with which these two
devoted themselves to the training of honeysuckle and jessamine over a
trellis-work porch in that preposterously small garden, in which there
was such a wealth of sweet peas, and roses, and marigolds, and
mignonette, and scarlet geraniums, and delicately-coloured heliotropes,
that it seemed as though they were making love in the midst of a glowing
furnace. Gertie was there too, like a small female Cupid nestling among
the flowers.
"A miniature paradise," whispered Emma, with twinkling eyes, as they
approached the unconscious pair.
"Yes, with Adam and Eve training the flowers," responded Netta quite
earnestly.
Adam making love in the fustian costume of the fireman of the "Flying
Dutchman" was an idea which must have struck Emma in some fashion, for
she found it difficult to command her features when introduced to the
inhabitants of that little Eden by her friend.
"I have called to tell Mrs Marrot," said Netta, "that my old nurse,
Mrs Durby, is going to London soon, and that I wished your father to
take a sort of charge of her, more for the sake of making her feel at
ease than anything else."
"I'm quite sure he will be delighted to do that," said Loo; "won't he,
Will?"
"Why, yes," replied the fireman, "your father is not the man to see a
woman in distress and stand by. He'll give her in charge of the guard,
for you see, ma'am, he's not allowed to leave his engine." Will
addressed the latter part of his remarks to Netta.
"That is just what Mrs Marrot said, and that will do equally well.
Would _you_ like to travel on the railway, Gertie?" said Netta,
observing that the child was gazing up in her face with large earnest
eyes.
"No," answered Gertie, with decision.
"No; why not?"
"Because it takes father too often away, and once it nearly killed him,"
said Gertie.
"Ah, that was the time that my own dear mother received such a shock, I
suppose?"
"No, ma'am," said Will Garvie, "Gertie is thinkin' of another time, when
Jack Marrot was drivin' an excursion train--not three years gone by, and
he ran into a lot of empty trucks that had broke loose from a train in
advance. They turned the engine off the rails, and it ran down an
embankment into a ploughed field, where it turned right over on the top
of Jack. Fortunately he fell between the funnel and the steam-dome,
which was the means of savin' his life; but he got a bad shake, and was
off duty some six or eight weeks. The fireman escaped without a
scratch, and, as the coupling of the leading carriage broke, the train
didn't leave the metals, and no serious damage was done to any one else.
I think our Gertie," continued Will, laying his big strong hand gently
on the child's head, "seems to have taken an ill-will to railways since
then."
"I'm not surprised to hear it," observed Emma Lee, as she bent down and
kissed Gertie's forehead. "I have once been in a railway accident
myself, and I share your dislike; but I fear that we couldn't get on
well without them now, so you and I must be content to tolerate them,
Gertie."
"I s'pose so," was Gertie's quiet response, delivered, much to the
amusement of her audience, with the gravity and the air of a grown
woman.
"Well, good-evening, Gertie, good-evening," said Netta, turning to
Garvie; "then I may tell my nurse that the engine-driver of the express
will take care of her."
"Yes, ma'am, you may; for the matter o' that, the fireman of the express
will keep an eye on her too," said the gallant William, touching his cap
as the two friends left that bright oasis in the desert and returned to
Eden Villa.