_An airless Court in a London back Street. TIME--August._
JIMMY (_aged eight, to Florrie, aged seven_). No, I ain't comin' to the
Reckereation Groun', not jess yit, I carn't.... I'm goin' ter wyte about
'ere till the lidy comes.... Why, 'er as is comin' to see my Muvver
'bout sendin' me fur a fortnight in the kerntry.... Yus, where I was
larst year.... It's settled as I'm ter go agine--leastways as _good_ as
settled. My Farver 'e've sent in a happlication to the K'mitty, and
Teacher 'e sez 'e kin reckermend me, an' Mr. and Mrs. Delves--them as
'ad the cottidge where I went afore--they've arst fur to 'ave me
agin--so you see, Florrie, it's all _right_. On'y I carn't settle to
nuffink afore I know when I'm goin', an' about the trine an' that. Yer
'ave to roide in a trine to git to the kerntry, yer know.... Wot, ain't
yer never bin there?... Yer'd wanter fawst enough if yer knoo what it
was loike.... There's grorss there, an' trees an' that.... Na-ow, a
_lot_ better 'n the Reckereation Groun'--that's all mide outer old
grivestones as the deaders 'as done wiv. There's 'ills an' bushes an'
'edges where yer can pick flowers.... There ain't no perlice to _git_
yer locked up.... An' everyfink smells so lovelly, kinder 'elthy
like--it mikes yer feel 'ungry.... Not like sassages an' inions
azackly--'tain't that sorter smell.... On'y 'ere and there, an' yer'd
'ardly tell they _was_ shops, they kerry 'em on that quoiet.... Yer
wouldn' call it poky if yer was there. Mr. Delves 'e _was_ a kind man,
'e was; mide me a whistle out a sickermore brornch, 'e did; and Mrs.
Delves, she lemme help her feed the chickings.... They 'ad a garding
beyind, an' there'd bin rasberries an' gooseberries a growin' on
bushes--strite, there 'ad--I ain't tellin' yer no lies--on'y they was
all gone by then. An' they 'ad a dog--Rover _'is_ nime was--'e was a
koind dog, lemme lay insoide of 'is kennel orfen, 'e would.... I'd like
ter 'ave a run over thet Common agen, too. I dessay as I shell--p'reps
the d'y arter to-morrer.... There's a pond on it, an' geese, an' they
comes at yer a stritching out their necks an' a-'issin' thet
sevidge.... Na-ow, yer've on'y got ter walk up to 'em, an' they goes
orf, purtendin' they took yer fur somebody else, an' wasn't meanin' no
offence. I ain't afride o' no geese, I ain't--nor yet Lily wasn't
neither. We sor a pig 'aving a ring put froo 'is nose one day. 'E
'ollered out like 'e was bein' killed--but 'e wasn't. An' there was a
blecksmiff's, where they put the 'orse's shoes on red 'ot, 'an the 'orse
'e never took no notice. Me and Lily used ter go fur long walks, all
under trees. Once she showed me a squill--"squerl" _she_ kep' a-calling
of it, till I tole 'er 'ow--an' it run up a tree zigzag, and jumped on
to another ever so fur. That was when we was pickin' nuts. We went a
blackberryin', too, one day.... Na-ow, there warn't nobody dead. An'
Lily ... Lily Delves 'er nime was, b'longed to them I was stoppin'
wiv.... I didn't notice partickler.... Older nor you, an' bigger, and
lots redder 'bout the cheeks.... She wasn't a bad sort--fur a gal.... I
dunno; I liked _all_ on 'em.... Well, there was Farmer Furrows, 'e was
very familiar, said as 'ow I might go inter 'is horchard and pick the
happles up as was layin' there jest fur the askin'. An' Bob Rumble, 'im
as druv Mr. Kennister the grocer's cart, 'e used ter gimme a roide along
of 'im when 'e was tikin' round porcels an' that. We'd go along lanes
that 'igh yer couldn't see nuffink fur leaves; and once 'e druv along a
Pork with tremenjus big trees in it, an' stagses walkin' about
underneath with grite big 'orns.... Suthink like 'im as is drawed
outside the public round the corner--on'y they warn't none o' them gold.
I 'speck them gold ones is furrin'.... An' the grub--we 'ad beekstike
pudd'n o' Sundays, an' as much bread an' treacle every day as ever I
could eat, and I _was_ 'ungry when I was in the kerntry.... An' when I
come away Mrs. Delves, she gethered me a big noseguy fur to tike 'ome to
Muvver--kissantimums, merrigoles, an' dyliers, all sorts there was--an'
Murver she put 'em in a jug, and soon as ever I shet my eyes an'
sniffed, I could see that garding and Rover and Lily as _pline_--but
they went bad, an' 'ad to be froed aw'y at larst. I shall see 'em all
agine very soon now, though, won't thet be proime, eh?... Whatsy? 'Ere,
Florrie, you ain't _croying_, are yer?... Why don't yer arsk yer Farver
if 'e won't let _you_ go.... Oh, I thought as yer _wanted_ to go. Then
what _are_ yer----?... No, I ain't gled to git aw'y from you....
A-course I shell be gled to see 'er; but that ain't why, it's
jest----You ain't never bin in the kerntry, or you'd know 'ow I'm
feelin'.... There's the lidy comin' now. I must cut across an' 'ear
what she sez to Muvver. Don' tike on--'tain't o'ny fur a fortnight,
anyway.... Look 'ere, I got suthink' for yer, Florrie, bought it orf a
man what 'ad a tray on 'em--it's a wornut, d'ye see? Now open it--ain't
them two little choiner dolls noice, eh?... I'd rorther you 'ad it nor
'er, strite, I would!... I'll be back in a minnit.
[Illustration: "'Ere, Florrie, you ain't _croying_, are _yer_?"]
_After an Interval of Twenty-four Hours._
No, _I_ ain't bin nowhere particular.... Settled? yus, it's all settled
'bout me goin' ter the kerntry.... To-morrer? no, I ain't goin'
_to-morrer_.... Nex' week? not as I _knows_ on.... You wanter know sech
a _lot_, you do!... If I _do_ tell yer, you'll on'y go an' larf....
Well, I ain't goin' at all--_now_ I 'ope you're pleased.... What's the
good o' bein' _sorry_?... Oh, I don't keer much, I don't.... Set down on
this step alonger me, then, and don't you go saying nuffink, or I'll
stop tellin' of yer.... You remember me goin' in yes'day arternoon to
'ear what the lidy said? Well, when I got in, I 'eard 'er s'y, "Yus,
it'll be a great disappintment for '_im_, pore boy," she sez, "arter
lookin' forward to it an' all; but it can't be 'elped." And Muvver, she
sez, "'Is Farver'll be sorry, too; it done Jimmy ser much good larst
time. 'E can't pay not more nor 'arf-a-crownd a week towards it, but he
can manage that, bein' in work jess now." But the lidy sez, "It's this
w'y," she sez, "it costis us neelly arf a suffering over what the parint
pays fur each child, and we ain't got the fun's fur to send more 'n a
few, cos the Public don' suscroibe ser much as they might," she sez.
"An' so this year we're on'y sending children as is delikit, an' reelly
_wants_ a chinge." So yer see, I ain't a goin'. I dunno as I'm delikit;
but I _do_ want the kerntry _orful_ bad, I do. I wish I never 'adn't bin
there at all 'cos then preps I shouldn' mind. An' yit I'm gled I bin,
too. I dreamt about it larst night, Florrie, I did. I was a-settin' on
this 'ere step, sime as I am now, an' it was 'ot an' stoiflin', like it
is; an' all of a suddink I see Mr. Kennister's' cart wiv the grey 'orse
turn into our court an' pull up hoppersite, an' Bob Rumble 'e was
a-driving on it. An' 'e sez, "Jump up!" 'e sez, "an' I'll tike yer back
to Mr. Delves's cottidge." And I sez, "May Florrie come too?" An' 'e
sez, "Yus, both on yer." So up we gits, and we was droivin' along the
lanes, and I was showin' yer the squills an' the stagses, an' jes as we
come to the turn where yer kin see the cottidge----Well, I don'
remember no more on it. But it was a noice dream so far as I got wiv it,
an' if I 'adn't never bin there, I couldn' ha' dreamt it, _could_ I,
eh? An', like as not, I'll dream the rest on it anuvver night.... An'
you must try an' dream your share, too, Florrie. It'll be a'most like
bein' in the kerntry in a sort o' w'y fur both on us, won't it?