_Aged about Fifteen. The Cave, in July._
It wasn't a job I liked. Nor would almost anybody. Still people can't
_say_ very much to a girl, and I had been at school and so had lost
my--what shall I call it?--"sensitiveness."
As Sir Toady says, the golden rule is a first-rate thing--when you leave
school. Even with a little addition, it flourishes there too. But you
don't want to set up as a Christian martyr at school, I can tell you. It
was very noble in the time of St. Francis, and Dr. Livingstone, and
these people, and now-a-days there are people to whom we have to send
our sixpences--people we never see. Perhaps I shall be one when I am
older, but at school--these are Sir Toady's words--you find out what boy
has a down on you _and down him first_! It saves trouble.
Afterwards you can be as sweet and child-like as possible, and go about
the world taking people in with blue Madonna eyes all your life. But at
school, if you don't want to have the life of a dog, it has got to be
different.
Hugh John, of course, says that the principle of school life is for
everybody to obey one person. But, you see, that person is Hugh John. If
they don't, most likely he will hammer them. And afterwards he will
prove how they were wrong. He will do it at length, and at breadth, and
at depth, and unto the fourth dimension, till even fellows who can stand
up to his fists give in to him so as not to get lectured--or "jawed" as
they ignorantly call it. For really what Hugh John says could be taken
down and printed right off in a book.
And you have got to believe it, too. For he is always ready to support
his opinion, in the same manner as the Highland chief in _Kidnapped_.
"If any gentleman is not preceesely satisfied, I shall be proud to step
outside with him."
Joined to this faculty for laying down the law, he possesses an
admirable barbaric power of enforcing it, which would have been
invaluable in feudal times, and is not without its uses even now.
Well, three days after I went and called on Mrs. Donnan. It came about
quite naturally. She is a first-class person to call upon. No fuss or
anything--only you have to catch her on the hop. This time I saw her in
the garden gathering gooseberries, and in a moment she had her sunbonnet
half off her head, and the basket dropped in the furrow, but I was upon
her before she could get away.
"Oh, Mrs. Donnan, do let me help you!" I said.
"But, Miss----" she began, not knowing how to go on.
"I should love it," I added quickly, "and I promise not to eat a single
one. In fact I shall whistle all the time!"
"Oh, miss," she said, all in a flurry, "you know it is not that! You or
any of your family are only too welcome to come, and take as many as
they like."
"If you want to keep any for the preserving pot," I said, smiling at
her, "I should advise you not to say that to my entire family. There are
certain members of it who are capable of cleaning up the branches as
your dog Toby there would clean a bone!"
"Oh, you mean Master Toady," she said, all dimples in a moment at the
recollection. "He comes here often. But the garden is large, and bless
him! even he can't eat more than he can. More than that, he often leaves
a rabbit, or even a brace--and my man havin' been a butcher, is
remarkable fond of a bit o' game."
"Yes," I said, "my brother's shootings are like your garden, extensive.
Still, it is a wonder how he can keep them up on a shilling a day, and
all but twopence of it deferred pay!"
"It is a wonder, now I come to think of it!" said the good lady
meditatively. "He must be a careful lad with his money!"
"What I wonder at,"--I went on talking as soon as I had got her settled
back again at the picking of the gooseberries--"is that you never
thought of making the prettiest little shop-window in the world of your
cakes and pasties and jams and candies. You know nobody can make them in
the least like you. Besides, I have spoken to my father and others who
know lots more about it, and every one is sure that such a thing would
be a great boon to Edam, and that you are the very person to take it in
hand. It would not be like an ordinary shop. For every one knows that
your husband has made his fortune and retired. But it would give you
something to do. Shall I speak to Mr. Donnan about it?"
The poor woman flushed with pleasure at the very idea. So much I could
see. Yet she hesitated.
"HE would never consent--his position--his politics--Oh, no!" Mrs.
Donnan considered that I had better not speak to the master--at least
not then.
However, I thought differently, and it was after the good lady had asked
me to stay to tea that my chance came.
Donnan came in, fanning himself with his broad-brimmed Panama. Things
had not been going well that afternoon. Nipper had been busy on account
of a rush of trade, and had not welcomed his father's criticisms too
gratefully. You see, the old man was accustomed to find fault with
Nipper's management, and that day there had been a shortage of ice in
the shop and a corresponding shortage in Nipper's temper.
Also, Mr. Donnan's more general perambulation had not turned out well.
Some rude and vagrant boys had dug out the pet wasp-nest he had been
saving up for the next dark night, and there were green flies all over
his best Lasalle rose-tree. Two of his best Dorkings had "laid away."
"I don't want any tea to-day, Cynthia!" he grumbled crossly. And without
looking at me he went to the sofa and threw himself down with a heavy
creaking of furniture.
"My dear," said his wife, "surely you have not seen this young lady who
has come to do you the honor of taking tea with you?"
"Nonsense," said I, "as long as there are such cakes to be had at New
Erin Villa, the honor is all on my side."
But the polite Irishman was already on his feet.
"Miss Sweetheart--Miss Sweetheart!" he said, "what a blind old
hedge-carpenter ye must have thought me! And you your own folks'
daughter, and your father treating me like a long-lost brother, _and_
instructin' me on hist'ry and the use of the globes!"
So we had tea, the prettiest little tea imaginable, with Mrs. Donnan
going about as soft-footed as a pussy cat, and purring like one too.
Butcher Donnan looked after her with a kind of sudden bitterness. "It's
all very well for _her_," he said; "she makes her life out of such
things, but what is there for me to do? I'm about at the end of my
tether!"
"Why, _help her_!" said I.
"Help her!" he muttered, not understanding. "Me, Butcher Donnan--why,
the girl is mazed! I can't do housework!"
[Illustration: "HELP HER! ME, BUTCHER DONNAN!"]
But I soon showed him I was not so mazed as he thought. He was tired of
doing nothing. He wanted a change. Very well then; here was this little
house right at the top of Edam Common, with the railway station
opposite, and everybody's business taking him that way two or three
times a day. What Edam wanted was a confectioner's shop. His wife was
dying to have one. He would look a fine figure of a man in a white
overall and cap! Hugh John had said it!
He whistled softly, and his little, deep-set eyes twinkled.
"I might ha' known," he said, "when I saw that long-legged brother of
yours looking at me as if to calculate what I was good for. He's the
fellow to make plans. Now the other----"
Here he laughed as he remembered Sir Toady Lion.
"More like me when I was his age!" he said. "But about the pastry-cook
foolishness. What put that into his head?"
"It isn't foolishness," I answered, "and nobody that I know of ever puts
anything into Hugh John's head!"
"He certainly is a wonder!" ("Corker" was what he _said_.)
Then I explained. One side of the villa was certainly expressly designed
for a shop, the drawing-room and back drawing-room having side
connections with the kitchen, only needed to be fitted with shelves and
counters. The other side of the house and all above stairs might remain
intact.
To my surprise Mr. Donnan never said a word concerning his position, his
political aspirations, his illuminations, and disporting of the green
harp of Ireland.
"But what are we to do with Cynthia's parlor furniture?" he asked
instead. I could see a look of joy flash across his wife's face.
"Donnan," she said, "we will make the empty room above into a parlor.
It's a perfect god-send. That boy should be paid by Government to make
plans for people!"
Butcher Donnan bent his brows a moment on his wife. "Oh, you are in it,
are you, Cynthia? Then I suppose I may as well go and order my white
apron and cap?"
"Think how well they will become you!" said his wife, who also must have
kissed the Blarney stone--the old one, not the new.
I agreed heartily. Butcher Donnan heaved a sigh. "And me, that never was
seen but in decent blue," he said, "me to put on white like a mere
bun-baker--and at my time of life!"
I said that it was certainly scandalous, but seeing that he would have
nothing to do with the work except to sell, and arrange the windows for
market-days, it would not matter so much.
"I shall need a small oven!" said his wife, "and a new set of French
'casserole molds' (which is to say patty-pans) _and_ some smaller brass
pans, also----"
"Perhaps I was wrong," I interposed cunningly, "to lead Mr. Donnan into
so much expense."