OMNIBUS NUTS
‘I’m sure people’s adopted children matter much more than their stupid
French exercises!’ wailed Kitty. Her own French exercise had been so
very stupid that Miss Miller had sentenced her to stay in after lessons
and write it over again; and now Emmeline had announced her intention
of going into the village to buy Diamond Jubilee’s food-supply. It was
really too hard, Kitty felt, to be kept in to-day of all days.
‘Leave the old thing,’ suggested Micky; ‘very likely she’ll forget to ask
for it to-morrow as she did for my declension.’
‘I can’t—she put me on my honour,’ said Kitty, kicking the table-leg
angrily.
‘Putting people on their honour is a horridly mean dodge,’ growled Micky.
‘I wonder whether, when people wanted to go lovely secret expeditions
to take food to Prince Charlie, they ever had to do stupid exercises
instead?’ said Kitty, giving another vicious kick to the table.
At that moment Emmeline entered, in hat and gloves. ‘I’ve taken the extra
money-box money,’ she told them, breathlessly; ‘it’s two shillings and
ninepence. That ought to last him nearly three weeks. About a shilling
a week is all we can reckon on, I’m afraid, though it doesn’t seem much
even for Omnibus Nuts. To be sure, there’s birthday money, but that won’t
be yet, and even when we get it, it will be wanted for bedclothes and
things. If only we could earn some more, somehow!’
‘Diamond Jubilee shall have all my egg-money,’ said Kitty eagerly. She
had a little family of bantams, and was allowed to sell the eggs to the
cook.
‘But there have been hardly any eggs lately,’ said Emmeline.
‘There’s only one hen now Whitey’s dead,’ said Kitty, rather injured.
‘I’m sure Specky does her best. It’s such a pity that last set of eggs
Whitey hatched all turned out gentlemen. If only they had been ladies we
might have had heaps of eggs.’
‘What are Omnibus Nuts, Emmeline?’ asked Micky five minutes later, as
they were ‘ralking’ to the village. (‘Ralking’ was a word of their own
used to describe a peculiar cross between walking and running, specially
invented by Micky for occasions like coming back from Church, when
running was forbidden.)
‘Oh, they’re a wonderful new food that’s just been invented, and
that’s ever so much cheaper than any of the ordinary foods. A person
could manage to live on them for ninepence a week, it says,’ explained
Emmeline. ‘They’re called Omnibus Nuts because they contain all the
things which are of use in all the other foods we eat. I read all about
them in that _Vegetarian Magazine_ which came the other day. I think
Diamond Jubilee ought really to do quite well if he has nine-pennyworth
of Omnibus Nuts every week, and three-pennyworth of chocolate, which
everyone says is about the most nourishing thing you can eat.’
‘Well, the chocolate will be decent, anyway,’ said Micky, with conviction.
A quarter of an hour’s ‘ralking’ brought them into the village.
‘Omnibus Nuts?’ said Mrs. Freeman, the fat and rather aggressive woman
who kept the shop which supplied the Woodsleigh people with the less
interesting wants of life—for exciting things like Christmas dinners or
new hats they usually went into Eastwich—‘no, we don’t keep them. What’s
more, I never heard tell of them.’
Emmeline’s face fell. According to the advertisement, all England was
munching Omnibus Nuts; it was very tiresome of Woodsleigh to be the one
exception.
‘How long would it take you to order them for us?’ she asked anxiously.
‘There’s the carrier coming from Eastwich to-morrow, but you’d not get
such things there, I don’t suppose, and it wouldn’t be worth our while
to order them special from London, not the little quantity you’d want. I
suppose it isn’t Miss Bolton who’s ordering them, by the way?’
‘No, but we shall want a very large quantity,’ said Emmeline, drawing
herself up—‘nine-pennyworth every week.’
‘Yes,’ chimed in Micky, ‘we shall want a quite enormous
quantity—somebody’s going to live just on Omnibus Nuts and chocolate.’
‘Well I never!’ ejaculated Mrs. Freeman, while Emmeline frowned and
pressed Micky’s foot hard.
‘Well, can you order them for us?’ she asked hastily, hoping by a return
to more formal business relations to avert suspicions.
‘Well, I don’t know, I’m sure,’ said Mrs. Freeman, eyeing her customers
doubtfully. ‘You see, we should have to order them special from London.’
‘I don’t suppose you would,’ said Emmeline, impatiently; ‘you’d be almost
sure to get them in Eastwich. Besides, once you’d got them in stock,
everybody in the village would be buying them—they’re like meat, and
milk, and vegetables all put together, it says, and they don’t cost
hardly anything, and there’s no need to cook them.’
Mrs. Freeman looked stolidly incredulous, and Emmeline was fast losing
what remained of her temper, when there came an unexpected interruption.
A bright-looking youth suddenly poked his head out of the half-open door
which divided the shop from an inner room, and joined in the conversation.
‘So you want Omnibus Nuts?’ he said. ‘Wonderful things! I know them well.
Pity they’re out of stock. Still, a famous specialist has just discovered
that monkey-nuts have exactly the same nutritious properties. Wouldn’t
you like some of them?’
Mrs. Freeman abruptly turned her back on the children, and Emmeline, who
could not see her grin, was much impressed by the young man’s long words
and confident air.
‘You’re _quite_ sure they’re as good as Omnibus Nuts?’ she asked, with
only a slight touch of doubt in her voice. ‘They would really do instead
of meat and vegetable and all the other things?’
‘I’ve lived on them myself for six weeks together, and felt as chirpy as
could be at the end of the time,’ said the young man, gravely.
‘Well, then, I think they _must_ be all right,’ decided Emmeline, with a
sigh of relief ‘so we’ll take some, please.’
The last part of Emmeline’s sentence was addressed to Mrs. Freeman, but
that lady had become suddenly and unaccountably busy with something in a
dark corner of the shop, and it was the youth who came forward to serve
them.
‘What quantity would you like?’ he asked, politely.
‘Well,’ began Emmeline, ‘I meant to have spent two-and-threepence on the
Omnibus Nuts.’
‘You shall have our entire stock of monkey-nuts for two-and-threepence,’
said the young man, promptly. ‘It comes cheaper buying them in large
quantities, you know; but, of course, we can sell you a smaller amount if
you prefer.’
‘Oh, I think we’ll take them all. I know it comes cheaper in the long
run,’ said Emmeline, feeling herself quite an experienced housekeeper.
She had often heard grown-up people talk of things being cheaper in the
long run.
‘Shall we send them for you?’ asked the young man, as he reached down the
jar containing the monkey-nuts.
‘Oh no, we’ll take them with us, please,’ said Emmeline hastily.
‘I’ll make two parcels of them then. They’d be rather a lot for one to
carry. Now, is there anything else we can do for you, to-day?’ he added,
as he poured out the monkey-nuts into two large, stout paper-bags.
‘I’ll have sixpennyworth of milk-chocolate please,’ said Emmeline. ‘I
suppose it _is_ more nourishing than plain chocolate?’
‘Most nourishing thing you can eat next to monkey-nuts, and, of course,
Omnibus Nuts,’ said the youth cheerfully, as he served her with it.
‘George Albert, I’m ashamed of you—telling such crams!’ exclaimed Mrs.
Freeman, as soon as the children had left the shop.
‘It was all in the way of business,’ said George Albert, ‘and I dare say
monkey-nuts will do every bit as well as Omnibus Nuts, whatever they may
be.’
Emmeline meantime gave Micky a little lecture as they walked away from
the shop.
‘I do wish you would be more careful,’ she was saying. ‘You very nearly
let out about Diamond Jubilee just now.’
‘I never said his name even,’ said Micky indignantly; ‘I’ve been most
frightfully careful.’
‘You said quite enough to let out, if anyone had been paying much
attention,’ said Emmeline, severely. ‘Luckily Mrs. Freeman seemed
thoroughly stupid, but I don’t feel sure that sharp young man mayn’t have
guessed something.’
Micky thought it as well to change the subject.
‘We seem to have got a great many monkey-nuts for one boy,’ he remarked,
peering into his bag. ‘Don’t you think he’ll get rather tired of them
before they’re done?’
‘Oh no, Micky. What silly ideas you have!’ said Emmeline impatiently.
‘You must remember that Diamond Jubilee isn’t like us. I expect he’s
often been used to going days and days without the least little scrap
of food; so he ought to be only too thankful to have plenty of nice,
nourishing monkey-nuts.’
They had got well outside the village, and were just passing a farm
famous for its apple-orchard, when Emmeline was startled, and Micky
interested, by sounds of wrath and battle.
‘Get out, you young varmint!’ shouted an angry voice; ‘and if ever I
catch you in my orchard again I’ll give you such a warming——’
Emmeline lost the rest of the sentence in her fright and dismay at being
almost knocked down by a ragged, dirty, and altogether disreputable
little tramp, who rushed out into the road looking the very picture of
guilt.
‘Diamond Jubilee!!!!!!’ she gasped, with at least six notes of horror in
her voice, but terror of the promised warming had lent wings to Diamond
Jubilee’s usually laggard feet, and he flew past her quite unheeding.
He never once stopped till forty good yards lay between himself and the
farm; then he turned round, and after making quite sure that he was not
being pursued, gave vent to language which it was just as well Micky and
Emmeline were too far off to catch. As it was they merely got the benefit
of the eloquent gesture—a favourite one in Diamond Jubilee’s circle—by
which he expressed his utter and unspeakable contempt for the farmer.
Perhaps it was then for the first time that Emmeline fully realised the
appalling amount of training her adopted son would need before he would
be at all a satisfactory missionary.
‘Micky, he’s a _dreadful_ little boy!’ she gasped.
Indignation caused her to quicken her pace, and as Diamond Jubilee, now
no longer in fear of pursuit, was sauntering along like the proverbial
snail, they soon overtook him. He greeted them with a cool ‘Hello!’
‘Diamond Jubilee, I can’t tell you how ashamed and grieved I am,’ began
Emmeline, in the voice which she considered suitable to a sorrow-stricken
and virtuous parent addressing an unworthy child.
Diamond Jubilee gave her an impudent stare.
‘Garn!’ he said. ‘What are you getting at me for?’
‘I’m much too upset to “get” at you as you call it,’ said Emmeline,
sorrowfully. ‘To think of _you_ robbing an orchard, Diamond Jubilee, and
after all I said to you this morning, too!’
It is painful to have to relate what followed, but as this is a true
history of Diamond Jubilee Jones and of Micky, his adopted father,
the regrettable incident cannot be shirked. Instead of being moved to
penitence by Emmeline’s appeal, Diamond Jubilee’s only answer was to jerk
his forefinger and thumb into a repetition of his former gesture, only
this time it was pointed not towards the farm, but at Emmeline herself.
The sight was too much for Micky’s sense of chivalry.
‘I’ll teach you to cheek my sister!’ he shouted, flinging down his bag
of nuts and rushing at Diamond Jubilee with doubled fists. ‘You little
beast, you!’
Now Diamond Jubilee, though older and a trifle taller than Micky,
was in nothing like as good form. Moreover, his recent visit to the
apple-orchard had been a bad preparation for a stand-up fight; so in
another minute he was lying on his back in the dusty road, while Micky
was seated firmly aside his prostrate body.
‘No, I shan’t get up till you’ve apologised,’ said Micky sternly.
‘Ow! You’re hurting me!’ squealed Diamond Jubilee.
‘Micky, do get up,’ said Emmeline. ‘You may really hurt him.’
‘Don’t care if I do. Shan’t get up till he’s apologised,’ said Micky.
‘I’m sure he’s very sorry, aren’t you, Diamond Jubilee!’ said Emmeline.
‘Ow!’ squealed Diamond Jubilee again.
‘Say after me, “I humbly apologise for being a cad,”’ said Micky,
relentlessly.
‘I humbly Polly’s eyes——’ gasped Diamond Jubilee, who would have said
anything required of him at that moment. ‘Ow! Get off, can’t you?’
‘Say “for being a cad,”’ persisted Micky, ‘then I’ll get off.’
‘Micky, _do_ get off,’ pleaded Emmeline, who was beginning to be really
unhappy.
‘For being a cad,’ repeated Micky, firmly.
‘For being a cad,’ groaned Diamond Jubilee; on which Micky sprang up with
the suddenness of a triumphant Jack-in-the-box.
‘Shake hands,’ commanded Micky, stretching out his paw as Diamond
Jubilee rose from the ground slowly and rather sulkily. For a moment the
street-arab seemed to hesitate. Then, sheepish but not unfriendly, he put
his very grimy little hands into Micky’s.
‘That’s the sporting way to end a fight,’ explained Micky; ‘and now
Emmeline and I will have to go home to dinner or we’ll be late, and
though Aunt Grace went to London this morning, so that there isn’t her to
think of, there’ll be a row with Jane, which is much worse.’
‘Yes, and we had better give you your own dinner, as we have met you,’
said Emmeline, ‘here it is—chocolate and monkey-nuts. They are quite the
best foods there are,’ she added hastily; ‘anyone who eats them could do
perfectly well without anything else.’
In spite of what she had said to Micky, a sneaking doubt as to whether
Diamond Jubilee would approve of being the person to try the experiment,
made Emmeline keep to general terms. There would be time enough to break
to him that chocolate and monkey-nuts were to form his sole and lasting
diet when he had already become fat and flourishing on them.
He accepted the two big bags of monkey-nuts and a small piece of milk
chocolate (she had judged it best to break off a fraction of that dainty
rather than to entrust him with the whole fortnight’s portion), without
any particular sign, either of pleasure or disgust. Probably his half
hour in the apple-orchard had made him unusually indifferent to what he
ate.
‘I shan’t give you any more nuts for three weeks,’ Emmeline told him, ‘so
you must be careful of them and not eat too many now. Can I trust you, I
wonder? I’d keep them for you only it wouldn’t be convenient.’
It would not have been at all convenient. Jane had a tiresome habit of
prying into cupboards and under beds and in all sorts of other places,
which the children felt ought to have been considered private; and as
another annoying trait in her character was a strong theory that nuts of
all kinds were bad for young people, the presence, however unobtrusive,
of two large bags of monkey-nuts in the house, would almost certainly
have led to trouble.
‘Garn! I aren’t _that_ fond of them monkey-nuts,’ said Diamond Jubilee
mildly. He had not the faintest suspicion, poor boy, that they were
expected to be his staple food even for that day, let alone for an
indefinite number of days to come!
They left him sitting under a hedge eating his chocolate, and with a bag
of monkey-nuts on either side of him. Numbers of other nuts which had
been spilt out of Micky’s bag when he flung it down, lay scattered about
the road, but Diamond Jubilee had made no effort to pick them up.
‘We forgot to tell him anywhere to meet us this afternoon,’ remarked
Micky, as he and Emmeline were crossing the garden.
‘Oh, I don’t know that I want to meet him again,’ said Emmeline
wearily—‘I mean not this afternoon,’ she added quickly, as Micky looked
up at her with round-eyed surprise.
[Illustration: “OH, WHAT _SHALL_ WE DO?” SHE SOBBED.]