The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes were
very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly gray eyes, and he
touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little as
though he would rather not.
We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Tree
pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows--the
ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated
after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox.
To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in
his thoughtfulness, had decreed that every one was to wear wire masks.
Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat
House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at each
other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti
(that's real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among
the village people--but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked it.
And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from
Rome, which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their
mouths and eyes.
So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in
attacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in your
equipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny
defended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that was how
Dicky and Oswald picked up.
The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit
Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only through
the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the
defending party weren't looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and
shoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that it
had lost its gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged
party, was of course soon overpowered and had to surrender.
Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert's uncle brought
us a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery
we tried to sell the Antiquities with.
The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on
the big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the
heat.
We saw the tramp coming through the beet-field. He made a dusty blot on
the fair scene.
When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have
said, and remarked:
"Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but
if you could so far oblige as to tell a laboring man the way to the
nearest pub. It's a dry day and no error."
"The 'Rose and Crown' is the best pub," said Dicky, "and the landlady is
a friend of ours. It's about a mile if you go by the field path."
"Lor' love a duck!" said the tramp, "a mile's a long way, and walking's
a dry job this ere weather."
We said we agreed with him.
"Upon my sacred," said the tramp, "if there was a pump handy I believe
I'd take a turn at it--I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn't! Though
water always upsets me and makes my 'and shaky."
We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainous
sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wall
with us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her long
deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend.
Besides, the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it.
And we considerably out-numbered the tramps, anyway.
Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and the
tramp's need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to the
hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges, and
get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without when the
others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty.
Meanwhile Alice said:
"We've got some ginger-beer; my brother's getting it. I hope you won't
mind drinking out of our glass. We can't wash it, you know--unless we
rinse it out with a little ginger-beer."
"Don't ye do it, miss," he said, eagerly; "never waste good liquor on
washing."
The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beer
and handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on his
young stomach to do this.
The tramp was really quite polite--one of Nature's gentlemen, and a man
as well, we found out afterwards. He said:
"Here's to you!" before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rim
rested on his nose.
"Swelp me, but I _was_ dry," he said. "Don't seem to matter much what it
is, this weather, do it? so long as it's suthink wet. Well, here's
thanking you."
"You're very welcome," said Dora; "I'm glad you liked it."
"Like it?" said he. "I don't suppose you know what it's like to have a
thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free baths
and wash-houses and such! Why don't some one start free _drinks_? He'd
be a 'ero, he would. I'd vote for him any day of the week and one over.
Ef yer don't objec I'll set down a bit and put on a pipe."
He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questions
about himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows--especially
about there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he
dropped asleep in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for
that hadn't acted fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I
don't know if vestry is singular or plural), and we went home. But
before we went we held a hurried council and collected what money we
could from the little we had with us (it was ninepence halfpenny), and
wrapped it in an old envelope Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently
on the billowing middle of the poor tramp's sleeping waistcoat, so that
he would find it when he woke. None of the dogs said a single syllable
while we were doing this, so we knew they believed him to be poor but
honest, and we always find it safe to take their word for things like
that.
As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwards
that those words of the poor tramp's about free drinks had sunk deep in
all our hearts, and rankled there.
After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. People
tell you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just after
meals, but it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the stream
that just seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can't get
their feet into the water properly because of the bushes, so we keep
changing places. We had got some liquorice root to chew. This helps
thought. Dora broke a peaceful silence with this speech:
"Free drinks."
The words awoke a response in every breast.
"I wonder some one doesn't," H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly
toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadly
peril.
"Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.," observed Alice. "It would be a
glorious act! I wish _we_ could."
"What, sit still?" asked H. O.
"No, my child," replied Oswald, "most of us can do that when we try.
Your angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poor
and thirsty."
"Not for all of them," Alice said, "just a few. Change places now,
Dicky. My feet aren't properly wet at all."
It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changers
have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight and
hold on for all they're worth. But the hard task was accomplished and
then Alice went on:
"And we couldn't do it for always, only a day or two--just while our
money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade's the best, and you get a jolly
lot of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerely
thirsty persons go along the Dover Road every day."
"It wouldn't be bad. We've got a little chink between us," said Oswald.
"And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell us
about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. We
could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like _All
the Year Round_ Christmas numbers. Oh, do let's!"
Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to make
her calm.
"We might do it, just for one day," Oswald said, "but it wouldn't be
much--only a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of all
the people in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaid
said when she cried into the sea."
"I know a piece of poetry about that," Denny said.
"'Small things are best.
Care and unrest
To wealth and rank are given,
But little things
On little wings--'
Do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswald
was saying about the mermaid."
"What are you going to call it?" asked Noel coming out of a dream.
"Call what?"
"The Free Drinks game.
"'It's a horrid shame
If the Free Drinks game
Doesn't have a name.
You would be to blame
If any one came
And--'"
"Oh, shut up!" remarked Dicky. "You've been making that rot up all the
time we've been talking instead of listening properly." Dicky hates
poetry. I don't mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay's and
Kipling's and Noel's.
"There was a lot more--'lame' and 'dame' and 'name' and 'game' and
things--and now I've forgotten it," Noel said, in gloom.
"Never mind," Alice answered, "it'll come back to you in the silent
watches of the night; you see if it doesn't. But really, Noel's right,
it _ought_ to have a name."
"Free Drinks Company."
"Thirsty Travellers' Rest."
"The Travellers' Joy."
These names were suggested, but not cared for extra.
Then some one said--I think it was Oswald:
"Why not 'The House Beautiful'?"
"It can't be a house, it must be in the road. It'll only be a stall."
"The 'Stall Beautiful' is simply silly," Oswald said.
"The 'Bar Beautiful' then," said Dicky, who knows what the "Rose and
Crown" bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls.
"Oh, wait a minute," cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like he
always does when he is trying to remember things. "I thought of
something, only Daisy tickled me and it's gone--I know--let's call it
the Benevolent Bar!"
It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words.
"Benevolent" showed it was free, and "Bar" showed what was
free--_e.g._, things to drink. The "Benevolent Bar" it was.
We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meant
to do it the very next day. Procrastination is, you know, what--and
delays are dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to
spend our money on something else.
The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs. Pettigrew hates
tramps. Most people do who keep fowls. Albert's uncle was in London till
the next evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is always
chock full of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy.
Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the
Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of the
skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girls
sewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so we
added the girls' striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turn up
so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful,
especially when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs. Pettigrew's
sewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, which
we did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before.
They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the
noise and ask bothering questions. They had to balance it on one end of
the beer-stand. It was not easy. While they were doing the sewing we
boys went out and got willow poles and chopped the twigs off, and got
ready as well as we could to put up the awning.
When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the village
for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then we
made a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothing
else to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy's to show
we belonged to the Benevolent Bar.
The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocent
slumbers, and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked down
the day before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to give drinks
to as many people as possible.
We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to brekker.
After brek we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and after
filling it with clean water we just had to empty it again, because it
was too heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the trysting-spot and
left H. O. and Noel to guard it while we went and fetched separate pails
of water; very heavy work, and no one who wasn't really benevolent would
have bothered about it for an instant. Oswald alone carried three pails.
So did Dicky and the Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrels and
stood up three of them by the road-side, and put planks on them. This
made a very first-class table, and we covered it with the best
table-cloth we could find in the linen cupboard. We brought out several
glasses and some teacups--not the best ones, Oswald was firm about
that--and the kettle and spirit-lamp and the teapot, in case any weary
tramp-woman fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. and Noel
had to go down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; they
had not carried any of the water. And their having to go the second time
was only because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to put
on the bar to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The man
at the shop kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out of
our next week's pocket-money.
Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but no
one said anything except the man who said, "Bloomin' Sunday-school
treat," and as it was too early in the day for any one to be thirsty we
did not stop the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slaked
without cost at our Benevolent Bar.
But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened on
our breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard we
had made with "Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers," in
white wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. We
had meant to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pin it
to the front of the table-cloth, because I am sorry to say the awning
went wrong from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into the
road; it was much too hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besides
being no use. So we had just to cover our benevolent heads with our
hats, and take it in turns to go into the shadow of the tree on the
other side of the road. For we had pitched our table on the sunny side
of the way, of course, relying on our broken-reed-like awning, and
wishing to give it a fair chance.
Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody really
miserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress.
A man and woman were the first; they stopped and stared, but when Alice
said, "Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren't you thirsty?" they said, "No,
thank you," and went on. Then came a person from the village; he didn't
even say "Thank you" when we asked him, and Oswald began to fear it
might be like the awful time when we wandered about on Christmas Day
trying to find poor persons and persuade them to eat our Conscience
pudding.
But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald's fears by
being willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, "Thank you,
I'm sure," quite nicely.
After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty of
thirsty people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from the
crossroad.
We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the dregs
ere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea.
More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn't have it
because they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for his own
liquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn't over and above, at
present; and others asked if we hadn't any beer, and when we said "No,"
they said it showed what sort we were--as if the sort was not a good
one, which it is.
And another man said, "Slops again! You never get nothing for nothing,
not this side heaven you don't. Look at the bloomin' blue ribbon on 'em!
Oh, Lor'!" and went on quite sadly without having a drink.
Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and we
hailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, and asked
him to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said we were a real
good sort. How different from the man who wanted the beer. Then he went
on.
One thing I didn't like, and that was the way boys began to gather. Of
course we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who was old
enough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three glasses of lemonade
and asked for another, Oswald said:
"I think you've had jolly well enough. You can't be really thirsty after
all that lot."
The boy said, "Oh, can't I? You'll just see if I can't," and went away.
Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than Oswald; and
they all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the four new ones, but
he was determined in his behavior to the other one, and wouldn't give
him a drop. Then the five of them went and sat on a gate a little way
off and kept laughing in a nasty way, and whenever a boy went by they
called out:
"I say, 'ere's a go," and as often as not the new boy would hang about
with them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly all had
lemonade, we could see it had not made them friendly.
A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together and
are called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp coming
down the road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at the boys or
the beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the dogs with us, but of
course we had, because we had promised never to go out without them.)