'I SAVED IT UP FOR A RAINY DAY.'
The little gipsy lass was a girl who would have been easy to lead but
was rather difficult to drive. A few kind words from the man whom up
till this time she had always looked upon as her father would have
sufficed to make her do anything in reason for him, and do it joyfully
too. When one has no heart in one's work one cannot do even one's duty
in the only way it should be done--namely, as a labour of love.
'It's love and it's kindness to all around us,' Mary had often told
Lotty, 'which make the wheels of life go merrily round.'
And, young though she was, Lotty could see the truth of Mary's statement
in nature everywhere around her, both in the camp, in the forest, and on
the sea itself.
Big, rough Bruin, with his jacket like a motor-driver's coat, could
never have danced so well and heartily had he not been encouraged by
kindness. The blackbird in the copse would scarce have sat so eident, so
patient, and so long on her grass-lined nest had not her beautiful
orange-billed mate been trilling his song to her from morn till dewy
eve, and if she did not know that the flute-like music was meant for
her ears and her ears only.
Ay, and those sturdy, bare-legged fisher-dames, with their creels upon
their backs, would not have worked so hard had it been for themselves
alone; but their Jimmies were on the sea, and their lads of husbands
loved them, and so they blithely sang:
'The boatie rows, the boatie rows,
The boatie rows fu' weel;
But mickle lighter is the heart
When love bears up the creel.'
Then Lotty's own heart was overflowing with kindness for all creatures.
Yes, and she even had a bit of love to spare for Biffins Lee. That she
was merely a property in his eyes she knew full well; he had scolded her
too, he had pinched her arms, and several times almost dashed her from
him till she had stumbled and fell and burst into piteous tears;
but--well, she had known him so long, and perhaps he really could not
help it. He had been more cruel to her since she had shrunk from making
a vulgar exhibition of herself in the _Cumberland_ wreck affair. She was
going away though, and she would be sorry to vex even Biffins Lee. Happy
thought: she would go and speak to him, and perhaps he would be a little
more kind to her for the last few days or weeks.
Ah! perhaps she was wrong. She did not go actually into his presence as
if she were seeking for an interview, she merely put herself in his way.
'Ah, Lot,' he cried gruffly, but not quite unkindly, 'you're there, are
you? Rather wanted to see you. I think our merman made a bit of a hit
last night'--he rattled the silver in his pocket. 'Now, if I could have
you next week to pose as the mermaid'----
'What!' cried Lotty, aghast.
'It would be the best hit in the countryside. It would make a man of
me--make a man of us all, so to speak. Another thing,' he continued
without giving her time to reply, 'is this: I don't care any too much
for that witch-wife Crona. I want you to stop going there, and I'll give
Chops the same order. She is only putting nonsense and idle stuff into
your head.'
'But, father, she has been such a good and kind friend to me, and I
could not well go through the forest to the station or anywhere without
seeing her. Besides'----
'No more, no more. I don't want to lose my temper, for I'm really a
good-natured fellow.'
Again he rattled the cash in his capacious pocket.
Lotty said not another word, but went quietly back to her little
caravan, to Wallace and to Mary.
'Mary,' she said, 'what do you think?'
'Couldn't guess, dear.'
'Mr Biff--my father, I mean--wants me to pose as mermaid next week, and
he seems very determined. I wish he would tell me to go away and get
work at some other show.'
'He won't do that, Lotty. But I'll see him for you, and let him know
there will be a general strike if he attempts to make you mermaid. But
it would not be for a fortnight anyhow.'
'A fortnight!' Lotty's spirits began to rise. She hoped to be far enough
away before then. And now she was smiling as she said, 'Mary, couldn't
you tell him that _you_ would be happy to be the mermaid?'
'_Me_ a mermaid, wearing a very low-bodiced dress, as I'm told mermaids
do! _Me_ a mermaid, Lotty, with my fragile, fairy-like form, twenty
stone and over. Ha, ha, ha!'
And good Mary laughed till the cups and saucers rang in the caravan
cupboard.
But Lotty grew a little serious again.
'Mary,' she said, 'I am going to be debarred from ever going to see my
fairy godmother any more. What shall I do?'
Mary put one fat arm round Lotty's waist and drew her nearer.
'I cannot ask you to disobey your father,' she said; 'but in this case,
I myself, with Skeleton, shall waddle over to Crona's to-night, and
Crona will write through me to the boss, and I think this will alter
matters very much, so that you and Chops can go to the cottage as often
as you have a mind to.'
'Mary, did Crona ever tell you anything in particular?'
'No, dear; but I simply think that as a witch or palmist, or something,
she can read the boss's future, as perhaps she has read his past, and
has a great influence over him. Lotty,' she continued, 'did Crona ever
tell you anything in particular?'
'She did, Mary; but I must not mention it even to you. Some day, though,
I may.'
Mary was hard on herself when she talked about her outdoor movements as
mere waddling, for once she started she could walk very well indeed, and
at climbing hills she could make even Skeleton puff and blow a bit.
Neither Skeleton nor she had been at the witch's cottage for six months
at least; but she was made heartily welcome now, and so was her bony
goodman. Even Tod Lowrie allowed Mary to smooth his triangular head, and
pussy ensconced herself in Mary's lap and at once began to sing. 'It
isn't often,' she appeared to think, 'that I have so comfortable a lap
as this to lie on, so I'll make the best of it for an hour or two.'
Joe the raven was impudently criticising towards the Living Skeleton. He
was perched on his favourite birch-tree branch when the bony one
appeared, and chuckled low to himself. 'Ho!' he said, 'set _him_ up! Ha,
ha, ha! Well, well, well! Ho, ho, ho!'
Then, as Skeleton took no notice of his taunts, he grew even more
insulting. He whistled like a 'glaud,' screamed like a curlew, and
cackled like a hen that has just dropped an egg somewhere.
_Kuk-kuk-kuk-kuk, kay-ay-kuk! Tee-hoy-it! Tee-hoy-it! Whew-ew-ew!_ 'Tod
Lowrie, Tod Lowrie! Have a bone, poor boy, have a bone, _kuk-kuk-kuk!_
Have a bone, have a hen, a hen, a bone, a bone, bone, bone.' _Scray-ay!_
'Surely,' cried Skeleton at last, 'surely, Crona, that bird is possessed
of an evil spirit?'
'It's just his exuberance,' said Crona, laughing; 'but I'll march him
indoors, then we'll all have tea; for, dear me, I am pleased to see you.
And, by the way, Mrs Pendlebury, here is a letter to our dear Lotty. I
told Mr Blake to send it through me, you know.'
'Joe, Joe, come down here.'
'I sha'n't--I won't--won't, sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't, sha'n't. Ho, ho,
ho!'
'Come at once when I tell you, sir!'
The bird came down obediently.
'Go directly into the house to your perch, sir.'
Joe obeyed and went waddling off with trailing wings. But just on the
threshold of the door he looked up at Skeleton again, and laughed so
derisively that if there had been a boot anywhere handy he would have
shied it at him.
'Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Set _you_ up!'
'We'll have peace now,' said Crona.
Said Biffins Lee to Lotty that evening: 'From the way Mary puts it, I
find that Crona isn't a bad sort after all. You may visit her, and take
Chops and your dog for safety. But mind'----
'What, father?'
'The mermaid--in ten days' time.'
Lotty did not care much. There was a joy at her heart to-night. She had
just received such a dear, kind letter from her Mr Blake, and had still
to read it--for the fifth time.
* * * * *
Antony's caravan was going to be taken to the district station, round by
the road, with farmer Duncan's three sturdy horses, his own having been
shipped to England days ago. And the duty of packing it so that nothing
should be broken during transit was to devolve upon Mary, with the
assistance of Lotty and Chops.
Now, it is really wonderful how little a great caravan, say twenty or
more feet long, is moved or shaken during a long journey by train after
the wheels have been taken off, and she lies snugly on the trolley, her
weight supported on her own springs. Instead of going by slow
luggage-train, on which her superb varnishing, gilding, and ornamental
scroll-work would have the certainty of being smoked and soiled,
however well covered up, she was to travel special rate, by
passenger-train, so that she would not really be on the road--so the
railway traffic-manager promised--more than four-and-twenty hours, from
the far north through London itself to Bristol. And here Antony Blake
had resolved to meet her himself, with his splendid horses, and drive
down to Manby Hall, in order that his people might see for themselves
what a palace-on-wheels the 'Gipsy Queen' really was.
The caravan would be protected by sheeting, soft and white but
impervious to dust and rain. This was made in different pieces, not as
one clumsy whole, nor did it hang too tightly, for if it had done so it
would, with its various ropes, tauten up during rain and injure the
sides.
The skylight itself was not covered, so that the saloon and the bedroom
both had plenty of light. Indeed, the side-sheets and roof-piece had
often been put over her when doing her great winter tour in the early
part of the year; and, independent of these, the fore and aft coloured
glass ports of the large domed skylight could be carried open for fresh
air.
Mary determined that the caravan should be quite ready for Antony to
step into as soon as it arrived at its far-off destination; so she
carefully fixed every vase and glass and cup in the cupboard, so that,
although they could not shift, they did not appear to be fixed. The
same with his books, fairy editions of a great many of his favourite
authors, in a fairy-like bookcase. It was Lotty herself who dusted and
arranged these, and it was indeed a labour of love, a labour to linger
over, thinking sadly as she did so of the kind and handsome friend she
might never see again.
But everything was ship-shape at last, and she spent all the time she
could spare in the dear old saloon so fraught with many happy
recollections. But one night, not long before the caravan was going to
start, while sleeping in her own little cot in the 'Silver Queen,' Lotty
dreamt a dream, and woke early in the morning thinking of it. She
thought that she was travelling all by herself, not in an ordinary
third-class carriage as she had intended, but in his--Antony's--caravan.
Lotty was a brave girl, and the romance of that dream appealed to her so
much that she determined it should come true. She would only be
twenty-four hours on the road, and she could let herself out when it
reached London, and, locking the door again, find her way to Highgate
Heath. Oh! the plan was delightful above all things, if it could only be
managed; and so she confided her plans to Chops, and between their two
wise heads it was determined that carried out they could and should be.
Crona was also taken into their confidence, and so was the kindly porter
at the railway station far away over the moor. Chops had been sent
across to purchase the little lass's ticket, and told the honest fellow.
He was, like everybody else, very fond indeed of Lotty, and delighted
now that she had taken him into her confidence.
'It'll be all right, won't it, George?' said Chops.
'Ay, that it will. Lo', I wouldn't mention the matter even to the wife
o' my boozum.'
Chops and Lotty worked together an evening or two before the 'Gipsy
Queen' started as secretly as if they had been a couple of smugglers or
pirates.
There was Lotty's big box to be sent away; but that would go after her,
and he, Chops, would see to it. During her journey she would only have
her best clothes on, and one bag that she could carry.
But then there were provisions and stores to be thought of--milk and
water and fruit, and a big box of chocolates that Chops had bought her.
Not even were candles and matches nor Lotty's flashlight forgotten.
As to Wallace--who was watching the pair of them, and no doubt wondering
a good deal what was up--he was to be left in the charge of Chops until
happier days came round, when she should meet them both again.
Well, the caravan was to start at midnight from the station, but she was
taken away to that place in the afternoon. The very last thing that
Lotty did was to gather a lapful of the wild-flowers he--Antony--loved
so well, and bedeck the saloon and bedroom therewith.
At long last Lotty had one more look round the camp to say good-bye to
Bruin. She dared not excite suspicion by saying good-bye to any one
else; but Mary noticed the poor girl had been crying, and wondered much
what was the reason of her sadness.
She only said, 'Good-night, Mary. Crona wants me to stop a while with
her, and I want to see her again.'
'See you to-morrow, anyhow,' said Mary.
That was all. And if Lotty had really told a little white fib, and she
feared she had, she was much concerned about it. She was very silent all
the way through the forest, and permitted Chops to lead her most of the
way. But just as they came in sight of Crona's cottage Chops stopped.
'Miss Lotty,' he said, 'which we've been good friends, hasn't us?'
'That we have, dear old Chops.'
'Well, ye wouldn't like to see me angry, just real angry, would ye?'
'Oh no, Chops.'
Then he popped a little paper-parcel into her bag. 'I don't want that,'
he said. 'I saved it up for a rainy day; and, oh Lotty, the rainy day
has come!'
Well, so far as the poor lad's face was concerned, it had, for Chops was
crying.