_Written at the Age of Sixteen._
Of all the local events which upheaved the world of children in Edam,
undoubtedly the greatest was the Harvest Fair. This happened somewhat
late in the year. For Edam lay high on the mountain slopes. Only the
herds and the sheep went higher. The harvesting lands were mostly in the
valley crofts, in the hidden "hopes" and broad waterside "holms." But
here and there a few hundred acres of oats lay angled up against the
steep side of a mountain, and in late October afforded a scanty, stocky
harvest, "_bleached_" rather than ripened by the slant, chill sun and
sweeping winds of the uplands.
In brief, then, the Harvest Fair was late in Edam. We were near enough
to the Borders, however, to be overstocked with gypsies. And it was
after them that the Gypsies' Wood and Tryst had been named.
A fine sight was Edam Fair. Far and wide it spread over the green, right
down to the verges of Esk-water. Ours was a Fair of the old-fashioned
kind. Rustics still stood about unhired with a straw in their
mouths--plowmen and "orra" men they! Maidens wore their breast kerchiefs
unknotted, and as soon as the bargain for six months was struck, and the
silver shilling of "arles" had passed, they knotted it firmly about
their throats. They were no longer "mavericks"--masterless cattle. They
had the seal of a place and an occupation upon their necks.
It was "Bell, the Byre Lass at Caldons"--"Jess Broon, indoor lass at the
Nuik"--"Jeannie Sandilands, '_dairy_' at the Boareland of Parton." These
were the proud titles of the "engaged" ones who wore the knotted
neckerchiefs.
But the "shows" were, after all, the most taking and permanent feature.
There was the continual joy of "Pepper's Ghost," where (as Fuz has
related) on a certain occasion the hero, new to his part, first of all
transfixed the ghost, and then threw down his clattering sword, with the
noble words, "Cold Fire is Useless!"
There was "Johnston's Temple of Terpsichore," on entering which you
always looked over your shoulder to see if the minister or any of the
elders were in sight. But how the girls danced, and how difficult it was
to stop watching those who danced on their hands with their feet in the
air, in order to observe those who danced on their feet with only their
hands in the air! Thus we lost distinction in our joys.
However, both sorts were applauded, and when the people in tights leaped
up and stood on each others' feet in order to form a pyramid, the
general feeling was that if indeed we were selling our souls to Satan,
at least we were getting the worth of our money!
We did not care much, after this, for the legitimate drama--though it
was funny, certainly, to see Othello's "livery of the burnished sun"
grow patchy, and the grease trickle down from the left corner of
Desdemona's nose--which, being naturally rubicund, had been worked up
for the occasion.
I was, of course, too much of a young lady to be allowed to visit the
Fair under any available escort. In the evening I might possibly, in
company with Somebody, be permitted to peruse the outsides of the
booths. But the real delights were for the children. Strong in the
possession of a half-crown apiece (to be spent as you please without
accounting), Sir Toady and the Maid made havoc among the Aunt Sallies
and the Cocoa-nut shysters.
A plan of campaign was evolved, simple but effective. Sir Toady, who was
a good shot, took over the Maid's half-crown, and bound himself by a
great oath to deliver up half the proceeds.
As for me, I caught glimpses of His Majesty's uniform darting from stall
to stall, from range to range, followed by a butterfly figure in skimp
white. This was the Maid, keeping track of profit and loss. She had good
cause. Was she not involved to the extent of two-and-sixpence, her
maiden mite?
Sir Toady appeared to be reckless, and put wholesale propositions before
the Cocoa-nut shysters, as thus--"Suppose I give you two shillings cash,
how many throws can I have for it, and can I pick my own nuts if I win?"
Some refused and some accepted. Those who refused were, commercially
speaking, the lucky merchants. Sir Toady's aim was deadly. He did not
mind throwing at an Aunt Sally, though this he considered rather
old-fashioned play. A bull's-eye trap-door, which opened at the smack
of the ball, was his favorite. And he cleaned up one merchant from whom
he had secured the easy terms of forty throws for half-a-crown. So
completely did he do it that the fellow, who saw his pile of nuts
rapidly wasting away, brazenly repudiated his bargain, and would even
have tried to lay hands on the pile already in the bag over the Maid's
shoulder.
But the shyster reckoned without a knowledge of his Toady. You see,
there was not in Edam man, woman, or child who did not know Sir Toady.
And though at one time or another most had had their private
disagreements with that youth, he was still an Edamite of the Edamites.
Stained with early (orchard) crime, he yet retained the sympathy of
gentle and simple. The very "smoutchies" of a younger time rallied at
his call, and if the nuts had not instantly been paid over, the
overturned "gallery" would have been sacked on the instant by
promiscuous brigandage, the very police looking on with broad, benignant
smiles.
"Such a young codger as he were!" grumbled the man afterwards, half in
anger, half in admiration. "I had made a bad bargain. I see _that_ at
once. 'Give me back them nuts. You've 'ad 'em on false pretenses!' sez
I.
"'Sorry! So I have!' says he, smooth as butter. And with that he outs of
his breast-pocket with his lanyard and blows a whistle like a bo'sum's
mate! Then they ran from every quarter. My poor ole stall were on its
back in half a jerk, and if it hadn't been for my young gent, so should
I--_and_ mauled into the bargain!
"Served me right, you say, for shovin' of my head into such a wasp's
nest! But how was I to know?--I puts it to ye, mates. How was _I_ to
know?--_me fresh from London_!"
I had gone up to the Cave of Mystery, armed with the three-draw
telescopes, which Hugh John had left behind him as too precious to be
risked in the give-and-take of school--though, according to information
received, it was mostly "give" with Hugh John.
I saw a procession detach itself from the dense flow of the crowd, led
by the white-frocked Maid and a dark blue Sir Toady, both laden down by
sackloads of cocoa-nuts. It was impossible for them to carry them all
the way home to the House in the Wood. Equally impossible to trust the
youth of Edam, satisfactory enough when fighting was on hand, but
unreliable when it came to division of the spoils.
The Imps staggered across the road, pursued by a riotous tail of
infantry of no known line. Arrived at the shop door of New Erin Villa,
they were met by Mrs. Donnan--who, on such a busy day, had come out for
a breath of fresh air.
"What in the world have you got there, children?" cried the Dame,
holding up astonished hands to heaven.
"Cocoa-nuts! Wads and lashings of cocoa-nuts!" cried Sir Toady. "I shot
for them all. I threw for them. I won them. And when the man would have
cheated me, I whistled the whole Fair Green down on him. _Then_ I saved
his life! But I don't know what to do with them now I have them! They
won't hatch out, and if they would, I haven't got a big enough hen!
Here, you!"
And opening one of the bags, he bowled half-a-dozen of the nuts among
the crowd of smoutchies, who instantly became a swarming, fighting
anthill on the plainstones of the street.
"Stop, Master Toady," said Mrs. Donnan, "do stop! I will show you what
to make of them. Some of them will be good----"
"All are good," asserted Sir Toady; "_I_ picked them! At college they
teach us, over at the canteen, how to know the good ones from the bad!"
By this time I was down at the shop door, having struck the main road
near the Station Bridge. I fled to meet them, passing on the way Butcher
Donnan, who for the day had turned the blue and gold van into a fine
selling booth on the Market Hill, where he presided over half-a-dozen
temporary assistants, keeping a wary eye on all, both buyers and
sellers.
The children were tired, and stood panting. Sir Toady was unexpectedly
pessimistic. Maid Margaret looked rather world-weary. Both had begun to
think that, after all, there were better ways of spending five shillings
than shooting for cocoa-nuts.
"What rot!" said Sir Toady, shaking one disgustedly close to his ear.
"Can't eat them all--make us ever so sick, and I have to join on Friday!
No time to get better! Bah!"
"It was all your fault, Toady," moaned the Maid, "_and_ I want my
half-crown back!"
"Nonsense!" cried Toady. "I never will go into partnership with a girl
again. They always are sorry afterwards, whatever a chap does for them!
There is your bag full of nuts, good and sound. What more do you want?"
Maid Margaret wanted much more. She began to express her wants in terms
of candies and chocolates.
"Candies!" cried Mrs. Donnan; "why, if I weren't so busy, I would make
you two candy to dream about--and of those very cocoa-nuts too!"
"Do--oh, do make us some!"
"Well, come into the bakehouse, and we shall see!"
They went, Elizabeth Fortinbras and I smilingly assisting with the bags
of nuts. Elizabeth could not be spared out of the front shop, but I
stopped to watch, and of course Sir Toady and Maid Margaret pushed and
elbowed for good front seats.
Mrs. Donnan, quietly smiling as ever, seized a skewer, and with several
skillful taps made a hole in the end of the nut through which she let
the milk drop into a basin. Then with a heavy hammer she smashed the
shell into pieces.
It was a good nut, even as Sir Toady had prophesied. He had been well
taught at the canteen.
"Now," said the _cordon bleu_ of Edam, "who wants to do a bit of grating
for me?"
"_I_"--"_I_," shouted the children, and though I did not shout, I was
really as ready as any one. The white inside was dealt out to us, and
while the Maid and Sir Toady went at it (sometimes scraping their
fingers by way of variety), a respectable pile of soft flaky nut,
cream-colored and nice, began to appear.
When we were finished, Mrs. Donnan went to a bag, and measured out two
tablespoonfuls of white sugar to each one of the nut-flake, dropped the
whole into a sizeable patty pan, and poured the milk of the cocoa-nut
over it.
With Mrs. Donnan stirring hard, the whole was soon bubbling away
cheerfully--indeed, boiling like what lava does in a volcano (_ought
to_, at any rate), the bubbles bursting, and the nice smell making your
teeth water, so that it did not seem that you could ever wait for it to
cool.
Then, just when the bubbles began to burst with a warning "pop," Mrs.
Donnan turned everything into a well-buttered shallow dish. It made a
cake about as thick as your finger, and oh, but the smell was good! But
she laid the dish away in the ice-house--as she said, to cool. Really,
I think, to keep us from temptation, and prevent too early experimenting
upon the result.
Elizabeth Fortinbras would have none of us (not even me) in the front
shop that day. She was too busy. So, after one question put and answered
(it was about Hugh John), the three of us went out and walked in the
garden till the ice-house had done its work.
Well, do you know, that candy was famous. Just you try it, with the
explanations I have given you! It goes all right, you will find, and no
mistake.
Indeed, so well did it go that a bargain was soon struck, and
Elizabeth's clever fingers were busy printing out a placard:
FOR THIS DAY ONLY
CANARY ISLANDS COCOA-NUT
CANDY
A SPECIALTY.
Cut into cubes, the result was certainly fascinating. Even Fuz was
tempted to try. He came to scoff, but he remained to suck.
"_Now_, didn't I tell you!" said Sir Toady, when on the morrow he
received twelve silver shillings as his share of the venture from the
careful hands of Mrs. Donnan. "Never you grumble about your Admiral
Tuppens again. There you are! More cocoa-nut candy than we can eat
before next Friday, warranted wholesome by Fuz, and six bob apiece to do
what we like with! How about your old half-a-crown now?"
And the Maid was properly subdued, as, indeed, she ought to have been.
Sir Toady did not mention that without Mrs. Donnan he would have been a
very sorrowful investor indeed.
But then, male things love to take all the credit to themselves. Bless
you, they can't help it! It's born in them, like polywogs in ponds.