TOM MEETS THE DWARF
IT was on a Thursday that Mrs. Burford and Nellie went to
Broadstairs, and the evening of the following day saw the former
at home again. Nellie had been in very low spirits when she had left
her, Mrs. Burford was obliged to admit, but the little girl had
promised to try to be happy and was to be trusted to keep her word.
"When she makes friends amongst the other children and begins to get
stronger I expect she'll settle down comfortably and not fret,"
she said hopefully; "as I told her, the time will soon slip by
to Christmas, and then—oh, think what a blessing it will be if she
returns to us well and strong!"
"Yes, won't it?" said Tom. He had had supper with his parents, and
now was alone with his mother, his father having left the house
to post a letter. "And won't we have a jollification when she comes
home!" he cried; adding, "Oh, Mother, I must tell you all my
experiences of yesterday! Such exciting experiences they were!"
"It seems to me that you're always having exciting experiences,
my dear," smiled Mrs. Burford. "Well, I'm ready to hear them."
She listened in silence whilst Tom spoke of his and Peter's adventure
with the cow, the colour fading from her cheeks; noticing which sign
of agitation the boy hastened to tell her all about Grace Lee and the
Sordellos, and thus diverted her thoughts into another channel.
"You'll have to write all this to Nellie, Mother," he said,
in conclusion, "for I'm sure I couldn't explain it properly, and
she'll be so interested, you know. Besides, I promised she should
hear everything that went on at home whilst she was away. I quite
meant to go to Hatwell Green to-day, but it's rained so heavily that
I've had to put off going till to-morrow."
"I don't understand why you are so anxious to find out whether or not
this little show-girl is related to the gipsies," said Mrs. Burford,
looking rather mystified.
"Because Moses Lee is a very kind man, and I believe if he knew
a relation of his was being served badly—of course I should tell him—
that he'd interfere," Tom promptly replied.
"I see. Well, it can do no harm your mentioning the child to him."
"That's what I think! Oh, I do hope the weather will clear by
to-morrow!"
Tom had his wish, for the following morning gave promise of a perfect
day. The rain clouds had all dispersed during the night, so that the
sun rose in a sky of cloudless blue. Directly after breakfast Tom set
out, with Tim, to walk to Hatwell Green; his most direct way out of
the town was to pass through the Market Square, and ten minutes after
he had left home found him there, lingering to look about him.
It was very quiet in the Square this morning. The vans belonging to
the menagerie were still covered; but, as Tom strolled around them,
he heard various sounds from within, the chattering of monkeys, and
the low growls of tigers and lions. Of course, he could not see any
of the wild animals, he had not expected that he would; but, on
turning his back on the menagerie his attention was attracted by the
quaint little figure of a man seated on the top step at the back of a
bright green caravan, reading a newspaper, and his eyes sparkled with
interest and excitement. "A dwarf!" he exclaimed, under his breath,
and stopped to look at him. The dwarf was an elderly man. His big
head was quite bald, and his large, rather flat face was covered with
wrinkles; he had a snub nose, and an extraordinarily wide mouth. For
several minutes he did not notice Tom, so that the boy was able to
have a long, steady look at him, during which he decided that he was
the ugliest dwarf he had ever seen; but, on turning his newspaper,
the dwarf suddenly caught sight of him, and speaking through his
nose, inquired: "Hulloa, youngster, what are you doing here?"
"Nothing," answered Tom, confused at being caught staring: "that is,
I was only looking at you. I beg your pardon."
"A cat may look at a king," quoted the little man, chuckling; "but a
king mayn't look at me—without paying; so you may consider yourself
privileged."
"Yes, certainly," agreed Tom, still more confused. "I've no right
here, and I'll go at once, and not tell anyone what you're like, or—"
"Oh, stop a minute!" interrupted the dwarf. "You needn't hurry—now
you've seen me. That dog yours?" He flicked his thumb and forefinger
at 'rim, who jumped up the steps of the caravan and allowed himself
to be patted.
"Yes, he's mine," Tom answered; "or, I should say, he belongs to all
of us; he's a sort of family dog. I say, you're fond of dogs, aren't
you? Tim wouldn't make friends with you if you weren't."
The dwarf smiled, whilst his eyes—bright, dark eyes they were—
twinkled. All his wrinkles were kindly ones, Tom noticed, and his
smile was eloquent of good humour. "I'm fond of dogs and children,"
he answered, "more especially of dogs, for their instinct always
teaches them to trust me. With children it's different; they're
afraid of dwarfs, most of 'em."
"You weren't here last year, were you?" questioned Tom. "If so,
I didn't see you, and I saw nearly all the shows. There was a dwarf
here, but—"
"Oh, I know all about him," broke in the little man, in a disparaging
tone; "he's an inch and a half taller than I am. He won't come this
year, you'll find; it would be no good if he did, with me to compete
against. I'm the smallest dwarf in Europe—I should beat Tom Thumb
if he was living now, for I'm an eighth of an inch less in height
than he used to be."
"Really?" said Tom, politely, though secretly much amused.
"Yes, really," added the dwarf. "I'm Tiny Jim; in private life,
James Augustus Rumbelow. My wife's a fat lady. We're travelling with
Dumbell's menagerie, but we're a separate show—you have to pay extra
to see us."
Tom made no response to this; he was considering whether or not
he should speak to Tiny Jim about little Grace Lee.
"Of course you'll come and see 'Una and the Lion,'" the dwarf
continued; "that'll be the great draw, I expect. I hope—" He paused,
sighed, then added, more as if speaking to himself than to Tom: "They
say there's no need to be nervous, and every precaution will be made
for the child's safety—yes, yes, it'll be all right, I know!"
He folded his newspaper as he spoke, and rose to his feet, his head
scarcely reaching to the handle of the caravan door. Then a woman's
voice from within the caravan was heard.
"James Augustus Rumbelow," it said, "you ought to know better than
to stay out there gossiping with one of the public. Come in
to breakfast."
"All right, my dear, coming!" answered Tiny Jim; and, having bestowed
upon Tom a nod of farewell, he entered the caravan, and closed the
door.
After that Tom moved away, and was soon out of the town. Arrived at
Hatwell Green he found, to his great disappointment, that Moses had
left his wife and child with the caravan, and gone to a horse-fair,
which was being held that day in a town some ten miles distant.
"He's certain not to be back till late to-night, anyway," said Mrs.
Lee, regarding the boy curiously, for she naturally wondered what he
wanted with her husband; and perhaps not till to-morrow. He said
he might stop the night with some relatives.
"His relatives?" inquired Tom, eagerly.
"No," the woman replied, surprised at the question. "Mine."
"Because I know a little girl called Grace Lee," said Tom; "and I've
been thinking that she might be related to your husband. Her father,
who's dead, was a gipsy. He used to travel with a roundabout, and—oh,
I'm afraid you don't know anything about him!"
"No, sir," answered Mrs. Lee, rather doubtfully. "I suppose
he couldn't have been my husband's brother who went to Canada some
twelve years ago, could he? He was always a rolling stone, and he
might have come back to England without letting Moses know. Where is
the little girl you speak of living?"
Tom explained with whom Grace made her home, and that she was very
miserable with the Sordellos; and, he believed, harshly and cruelly
treated.
"Poor little maid!" exclaimed the gipsy woman, sympathetically.
"I'll tell Moses what you say, and he shall make inquiries at the
Fair on Monday, and find out all he can about the child."
With that promise Tom was obliged to be satisfied. He had come
to Hatwell Green through the meadows, and he returned the same way,
lingering on the banks of the stream which flowed through the meadows
to watch the trout jump, and to allow Tim to hunt field-mice, one of
the little dog's favourite pastimes, so that it was past noon before
he reached the town. Nevertheless, he loitered once more in the
Market Square, which presented a much busier appearance now, for
several fresh shows had arrived, and a shooting gallery was in course
of erection. Hoping he might see the dwarf again, Tom hovered around
the green caravan for some minutes; then, seeing no one, strolled on
to the menagerie vans. Little escaped his observation, and by and by,
under one of the vans, half hidden by a bundle of straw, he caught
sight of a crouching figure—the figure of Tiny Jim. The little man
appeared to be listening intently, and as Tom stopped to watch him,
he heard sounds within the van, the cracking of a whip, and the
growls of some animal. "I say, what's going on in there?" the boy
inquired of a big man in a plaid suit of clothes, who was leaning
against the van.
"What's that to do with you?" snapped the man, with a scowl.
"Nothing," said Tom, adding, "you have lost something."
"What?" questioned the man. He moved, and looked about him on the
ground as he spoke.
"Your manners," Tom replied, quietly, his face one broad smile
of amusement.
The man rapped out an angry word; then, suddenly catching sight
of the dwarf's crouching figure, his face turned purple with passion.
"What are you doing there, you rat?" he demanded, in a hoarse
whisper, addressing Tiny Jim. "Come out this minute! Do you hear?
Come out!" He knelt down as he spoke, and, catching the dwarf by the
collar, pulled him with a jerk from beneath the van; then, rising,
shook him roughly, till the poor little man's teeth actually
chattered in his head.
"Oh, Mr. Dumbell, don't, sir, don't!" cried Tiny Jim. "I was doing
no harm; and, indeed, I don't think any one saw me!"
"That boy did!" declared Mr. Dumbell, pointing at Tom. "It's no good
his denying it, for I shouldn't believe him!"
"I've no intention of denying it!" Tom replied, indignantly. "Do you
think I would tell you a falsehood? I did see him."
"And of course others have," said Mr. Dumbell, "which means he's lost
me several shillings maybe this morning. Folk won't want to pay
to see him at the Fair if they've seen him beforehand, not they!
Get along home with you!" He dropped his hold of the dwarf, who, pale
and trembling, slunk away.
"I hope he doesn't think I pointed him out to you," Tom said,
addressing Mr. Dumbell. "Why were you so rough? It was cruel to shake
him as you did, poor little fellow!"
"I lost my temper," admitted Mr. Dumbell. "Poor little fellow,
indeed! He's the most interfering, aggravating dwarf I ever had to do
with!"
He took up his former position against the van as he spoke, and there
Tom left him. The boy, after a few minutes' consideration, returned
to the green caravan, upon the closed door of which he rapped
sharply.
"Well?" said the dwarf's voice within.
"Please open the door a minute," requested Tom. "I've something
to say to you."
Tiny Jim opened the door about a foot, and looked out. "What do you
want?" he demanded.
"Only to tell you that I didn't point you out to Mr. Dumbell,"
Tom said, earnestly. "I was afraid you might think I had. You believe
me, don't you?"
"Why, yes, certainly!" replied Tiny Jim, his broad face brightening.
It clouded again a moment later, as he continued: "I ought not
to have been there, but the lion-trainer's putting the lions through
their performance, and I wanted to hear what was going on—hulloa!"
A purple-faced woman, whom Tom immediately recognised as Mrs.
Sordello, had rushed up to the caravan, and was demanding to be told
what the dwarf had done with "the child."
"I haven't seen her to-day," Tiny Jim answered. "You are talking
of Grace, I suppose?"
The woman assented. "You're not hiding her?" she asked. "No? Then,
what can have become of her? She knows Max wants her this morning.
I'll give her something to remember by and by! I'll—"
She broke off abruptly, for the dwarf had shut the caravan door
in her face, and, flinging up her head with an indignant gesture,
she moved away. She had taken no notice whatever of Tom, who, finding
Tiny Jim evidently had no intention of reappearing, now went home.
"That Mrs. Sordello is a wicked, cruel woman," he declared, after he
had told his morning's experiences to his mother; "you may depend
upon it that poor little girl has run away."