JAMIE'S RIDE.
"Now, Jamie! the white gate."
"The white gate!--what about that?" He had forgotten his promise.
"You have a secret to tell me."
Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.
"What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in
the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up
hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets
stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won't he be
pleased?"
"Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that."
"Why not? Don't scold, Ju!"
"It is stealing."
"No, it is not. No one lives there."
"Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got,
and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch
it."
"Then why do you take snail-shells?"
"They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this
tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again."
"What--to Aunt Dunes? I daren't, she's so cross."
"Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the
cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced."
"Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!"
"I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to
have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs
to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be
very angry."
"He would beat me," said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. "I'd
rather have Aunt Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the
tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see
the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed his sister,
when they were alone, and she was determined with him. Before others
he tried to display his independence, by feeble defiances never long
maintained, and ending in a reconciliation with tears and kisses, and
promises of submission without demur for the future. With all, even
the most docile children, there occur epochs when they try their
wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud--epochs of
petulance or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face of
their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes
away to be renewed at a future period till manhood or womanhood is
reached, and then guide and teacher who is wise falls back, lays down
control, and lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first
attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or
feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the children is
sealed, they are spoiled for ever.
Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing to Judith,
but she never allowed herself to be conquered. She evaded provoking
them whenever possible; and as much as possible led him by his
affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his
sister, and appeals to his better nature were usually successful, not
always immediately, but in the long run.
Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to Judith; it had
strengthened her character. She had been forced from earliest
childhood to be strong where he was weak, to rule because he was
incapable of ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of
mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual
in a girl of her years.
Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt,
held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying
his sister's basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add to the
collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a
finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and
follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the
path.
Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no
main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a
gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the
other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at
once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was
driving, nudged his companion, and with the butt-end of the whip
pointed to the boy.
"Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms
against his sides, much as does a cock with his wings. "Come along; I
have something of urgent importance to say to you--something so good
that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make
your mouth water."
This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to
where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at
right angles to his trunk.
"Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance--and,
by George! you are in luck's way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah!
this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray,
whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y', into the gig."
Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait
for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have
a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved.
"Are you coming?" asked Scantlebray; "or do you need a more
ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?"
"I've got a basket of shells," said Jamie. "They belong to Ju."
"Well, put Ju's basket in--the shells won't hurt--and then in with
you. There's a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit
and look us in the face, and if you don't tumble off with laughing, it
will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest
fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of laughter. I should
have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the
valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable
there?"
"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seated himself where advised.
"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. "Don't be alarmed;
it's to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment,
and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with
laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great
Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I
saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!"
That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot
along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if
smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track.
"'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning
expression on Jamie's innocent face, "it's the looks of him. And when
he speaks--well, it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was
at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, 'Cutlets,
please!' The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my
mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young
gentleman how to make a rabbit."
Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip,
cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then
darting at Juno.
Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his
pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap.
"Just look at him," said the agent, "doing it in spite of the motion
of the gig. It's wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can't look
at it for fear of letting go the reins."
The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing as the party
jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front
teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed
what his brother was about.
"That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the immature rabbit.
Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was
Mr. Menaida.
"How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we're
jolly--all three," shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster
pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and
Menaida was no more in sight.
"Just look at his face, as he's a folding of that there
pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. "It's exploding work."
Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and
laughed--laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was
there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not
convulsed by it.
Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into
raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has
been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at
a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics
who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do
not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it
vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it
has pleased him.
We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would
stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our
feet.
"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's ears."
"Crrrh!" went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a
white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve.
"I can't drive, 'pon my honor; I'm too ill. You have done me for
to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. "Now, young hopeful,
what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I'll give you a shilling
if you will."
Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold
it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation
of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his
elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest
fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of
meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him.
"Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honor. Look the other way." But a
moment after--"Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young
hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly
untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears.
You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig
eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye
twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all
done by the two hands--by one, I may say, for the other serves as
trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the
shilling. But, honor bright, you don't deserve it; that naughty Scanty
helped you."
"Please," said Jamie, timidly, "may I get out now and go home?"
"Go home! What for?"
"I want to show Ju my shilling."
"By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress
Polgrean's sweetie shop?"
"But that's at Wadebridge."
"At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your shilling there. But
look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the
thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the
almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?"
Jamie's mind was at once engaged.
"Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or
barley-sugar?"
"I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie.
"Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and
Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man."
The funny brother nodded.
"And the basket of shells?" asked the elder.
"Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," said Jamie.
"I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some," said Mr.
Scantlebray, senior. "Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is
screwing his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I
believe he is laughing."
Presently Jamie got restless.
"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my
being away so long."
"Poor Ju!" said Scantlebray, the elder. "But no--don't you worry your
mind about that. We passed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where
you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable
knees--my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop Juno; we're
going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must
wait--wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling-to
himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: "Obadiah, old man, I wonder what
Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?" Again he
chuckled. "No place in your establishment for that party, eh?"
The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached.
"Now may I get out?" said Jamie.
"Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean's."
But presently Mrs. Polgrean's shop-window was passed.
"Oh, stop! stop!" cried Jamie. "We have gone by the sweetie shop."
"Of course we have," answered Scantlebray, senior. "I daren't trust
that brother of mine in there; he has such a terrible sweet tooth.
Besides, I want you to see the pig eating out of the trough. It will
kill you. If it don't I'll give you another shilling."
Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built house, with
a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It was stuccoed and painted
drab--drab walls, drab windows, and drab door.
"Now, then, young man," said Scantlebray, cheerily, "I'll unbuckle the
strap and let you out. You come in with me. This is my brother's
mansion, roomy, pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of
tea."
"And then I may go home?"
"And then--we shall see; shan't we, Obadiah, old man?"
They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened behind them;
then into a somewhat dreary room, with red flock paper on the walls,
no pictures, leather-covered, old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two
on the table--one of these a Bible.
Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed to cry. He was a
long way from Polzeath, and Judith would be waiting for him and
anxious, and the place into which he was ushered was not cheery, not
inviting.
"Now, then," said Mr. Scantlebray, "young hopeful, give me my
shilling."
"Please, I'm going to buy some peppermint and burnt almonds for Ju and
me as I go back."
"Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the chance?"
Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the stolid
brother, who was not preparing to show him the pig feeding out of a
trough, nor was he calling for tea.
"Come," said Scantlebray, the elder; "suppose I take charge of that
shilling till you have the chance of spending it, young man."
"Please, I'll spend it now."
"Not a bit. You won't have the chance. Do you know where you are!"
Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming frightened at the
altered tone of the valuer.
"My dear," said Mr. Scantlebray, "you're now an honorable inmate of my
brother's Establishment for Idiots, which you don't leave till cured
of imbecility. That shilling, if you please?"