THE LITTLE LADIES AGAIN--THE MEADS--THE DROWNED DOLL
"Mr. Buckle, sir, can you oblige me with eight farthings for
twopence?"
I had closely copied this form of speech from the apprentice, whose
ways, as I have said, I endeavoured in every way to imitate. Thus,
twopence being at that time the extent of my resources, I went about
for some days after my adventure at the tinsmith's with all my worldly
wealth in my pocket in farthings, pondering many matters.
[Illustration: She rolled abruptly over on her seat and scrambled off
backwards.]
I began to have my doubts about saddlery as a profession. Truth to
say, a want beyond the cutting and punching of leather had begun to
stir within me. I wished for a sister. Somehow I had never desired to
adopt one of my cousins in this relation, not even my dear friend
Polly; but since I had seen the little lady in the white beaver, I
felt how nice it would be to have such a sister to play with, as I had
heard of other sisters and brothers playing together. Then I fancied
myself showing her all my possessions at home, and begging the like
for her from my indulgent father. I pictured the new interest which my
old toys would derive from being exhibited to her. I thought I would
beg for an exhibition of the magic lantern, for a garden for her
like my own, and for several half-holidays. It delighted me to imagine
myself presenting her with whatever she most admired, like some
Eastern potentate or fairy godmother. But I could not connect her in
my mind with the saddlery business. I felt that to possess so dainty
and elegant a little lady as a sister was incompatible with an
apprenticeship to Mr. Buckle.
Meanwhile I kept watch on the High Street from Mr. Buckle's door. One
morning I saw the donkey, the man, the Spanish saddle, and the beaver
bonnets come over the brow of the hill, and I forthwith ran to Nurse
Bundle, and begged leave to go alone to the tinsmith's, and invest one
of my eight farthings in a flat iron. It was only a few yards off, and
she consented; but, as I had to submit to be dressed, by the time I
got there the little ladies were already in the shop, and seated on
the two chairs. My fairy beauty looked round as I came in, and
recognizing me, gave a little low laugh, and put her head on her own
shoulder, and then peeped again, smiling so sweetly that I fairly
loved her. The other was too deeply engaged in poking and fumbling for
farthings in her glove to permit herself to be distracted by anything
or anybody. This process was so slow that the shopman came up to me
and asked what I wanted. I took a well-warmed farthing from the
handful I carried, and laid it on the counter, saying--
"A flat iron, if you please."
He put several before me, and after making a show of testing them on
the end of my comforter, I selected one at random. I know that I did
not do it with half the air which the little grey-beavered lady had
thrown over the proceeding, but I hardly deserved the scornful tone in
which she addressed no one in particular with the remark, "He has no
business with flat irons. He's only a boy."
She evidently expected no reply, for without a pause she proceeded to
count out five farthings on to the counter, saying as she did so, "A
frying-pan, a gridiron, a dish, and two plates, if you please." On
which, to my astonishment, miniature specimens of these articles, made
of the same material as the flat irons, were produced from the box
whence those had come. I was so bewildered by the severity of the
little lady's remarks, and the wonderful things which she obtained for
her farthings, that I dropped my remaining seven on to the shop floor,
and was still grubbing for them in the dust, when the children having
finished their shopping, came backwards off the seats as usual. They
passed me in the doorway, hand in hand. The little lady with the white
beaver was next to me, and as she passed she gave a shy glance, and
her face dimpled all over into smiles. Unspeakably pleased by her
recognition, I abandoned my farthings to their fate, and jumping up, I
held out my dusty hand to the little damsel, saying hastily but as
civilly as I could, "How do you do? I hope you're pretty well. And oh,
please, _will_ you be my sister?"
Having once begun, I felt quite equal to a full explanation of my
position and the prospect of toys and treats before us both. I was
even prepared, in the generous excitement of the moment to endow my
new sister with a joint partnership in the possession of Rubens, and
was about to explain all the advantages the little lady would derive
from having me for a brother, when I was stopped by the changed
expression on her pretty face.
I suppose my sudden movement had startled her, for her smiles vanished
in a look of terror, as she clung to her companion, who opened wide
her eyes, and shaking her grey beaver vehemently, said, "We don't know
you, Boy!"
Then they fled to the side of the old man-servant as fast as their
white-gaitered legs would carry them.
I watered the dusty floor of the shop with tears of vexation as I
resumed my search for the farthings, and having found them I went back
to the saddler's, pounding them in my hot hand, and bitterly
disappointed.
I don't suppose that Rubens understood the feelings which gave an
extra warmth to my caresses, as I hugged him in my arms, exclaiming,
"_You_ aren't afraid of me, you dear thing!"
But he responded sympathetically, both with tongue and tail.
I had not frightened the little ladies away from the High Street, it
seemed. I saw them again two days later. They had been out as usual,
and some trifling mischance having happened to the Spanish saddle,
they called at Mr. Buckle's door for repairs. I was in the shop, and
could see the two little maidens as they sat hanging over their strap,
with a doll dressed very much like themselves between them. I crept
nearer to the door, where the quick grey eyes of the younger one
caught sight of me, and I heard her say in her peculiarly trenchant
tones--
"Why, there's that Boy again!"
I slipped a little to one side, and took up a tool and a bit of
leather with a pretence of working, hoping to be out of sight, and
yet to be able to look at the little white-beavered fairy, for whom my
fancy was in no way abated. But her keen-eyed sister saw me still, and
her next remark rang out with uncompromising distinctness--
"He's in the shop still. He's working. He must be a shop-boy!"
I dropped the tools, and rushed away to my sitting-room. My
mortification was complete, and it was of a kind that Rubens could not
understand. Fortunately for me, he simply went with my humour, without
being particular as to the reason of it, like the tenderest of women.
A day or two afterwards I went out with Rubens and Jemima Buckle for a
walk. Our way home lay through some flat green meads, crossed by a
stream, which, in its turn, was crossed by a little rustic bridge. As
we came into these fields we met a man whose face seemed familiar,
though I could not at first recall where I had seen him. Afterwards I
remembered that he was the tinsmith, and Jemima stayed to chat with
him for a few minutes, but Rubens and I strolled on.
It seemed an odd coincidence that, a few seconds after meeting the
tinsmith, I should meet the little white-beavered lady. She was
crossing the bridge. Her sister was not with her, nor the donkey, nor
the man-servant. She was walking with a nurse, and she carried a big
doll in her arms. The doll, as I have said before, was "got up"
wonderfully like its mistress. It had a miniature coat and cape and
frills, it had leggings, it had a white plush bonnet (so my wife
enables me to affirm), it had hair just the colour of the little
lady's locks.
As she crossed the bridge, she seemed much pleased by the running of
the water beneath her feet, and saying, "Please let Dolly 'ook," in
her pretty broken tones, she pushed her doll through the rustic work,
holding it by its sash. But, alas! the doll was heavy, and the sash
insecurely fastened. It gave way, and the doll plunged into the
stream.
Once more the sweet little face was convulsed by a look of terror and
distress. As the doll floated out on the other side of the bridge, she
shrieked and wrung her hands. As for me, I ran down to the edge of the
stream, calling Rubens after me, and pointing to the doll. Only too
glad of an excuse for a plunge, in he dashed, and soon brought the
unfortunate miss to shore by one of her gaitered legs. It was with
some triumph that I carried the dripping doll to its little mistress,
and heard the nurse admonish her to--
"Thank the young gentleman, my dear."
I have often since heard of faces "like an April sky," but I never saw
one which did so resemble it in being by turns bright and overcast,
with tears and smiles struggling together, and fear and pleased
recognition, as the face of the little blonde in the white beaver
bonnet. It was she who held out her hand this time, and as I took it
she said, "'ank you 'erry much."
"It was Rubens' doing, not mine," said I. "Rubens! shake hands, sir!"
But the little lady was frightened. She shrank away from the warm
greeting of Rubens, and I was obliged to shake hands with him myself
to satisfy his feelings.
The nursemaid had been wringing out the doll's clothes for the little
lady, but now they moved on together.
"Dood-bye!" said the little lady, smiling and waving her hand. I
waved mine, and then Jemima, having parted with the tinsmith, came up,
and we went home.
I never saw the beaver bonnets again.