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The Little School-Mothers

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Год написания книги
2017
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“I am ever so sorry,” said Pattie, colouring high; “but this is rather an unfortunate day. One of our maids is out, and Mother’s away; and, in short – do you greatly mind waiting in the drawing-room while I get the tea?”

“I don’t much care about tea at all,” said Harriet, who was not a bit gracious, and who was rather disgusted with the appearance of Pattie Pyke’s home. “You needn’t bother, as far as I am concerned.”

“And I don’t want no tea,” said Ralph; “I aren’t a bit hungry.”

He looked pleadingly and sorrowfully at Pattie, as much as to say: “Please, please, don’t trouble.”

Poor Pattie, whose face was scarlet with mortification, insisted on providing a meal.

“You can’t come into the school-room,” she said a little crossly. “The boys do leave it in such a mess. There is the rabbit-hutch in one corner, and I know Jim and Davie were washing Smut there this afternoon. You must come into the drawing-room. I will manage to get you some tea. Don’t stare, Anastasia. Go at once, and see that the kettle is boiling.”

Pattie conducted her guests into a small, very hot drawing-room. She then left them, and, after about a quarter of an hour, reappeared with a tray containing very poor tea and some stale cake. Oh, how hot was that little room! It faced due south, and scarcely a breath of air came through the open bay window. Ralph felt very tired; he did not know why. He had had a trying morning. Those sums had worried him, and Harriet’s conduct had also worried him, although he was not aware of that fact at present.

When the tea had come to an end Harriet said quickly:

“Now, the fun is really going to begin; you and I will hurry off to the fair, Pattie. I can’t stay late, as your know, for I must smuggle Ralph back before Miss Ford misses him. You will stay quietly here, Ralph. You will be a good boy? I couldn’t take you to the fair, even if I wished it; for, in the first place, I haven’t any money.”

“But I have a shilling – a whole shilling,” said Pattie, feeling all of a sudden quite grand and important.

“I am very sorry,” continued Harriet, speaking in a firm voice; “but I shall be obliged to borrow my entrance money from you, Pattie. I will pay you next week, when my pocket-money comes in. There will be enough for us both to go in and also to have a turn on the merry-go-round – ”

“And we must see the fat lady and the man with two heads,” said Pattie.

“But why mustn’t I see them, too?” asked Ralph, whose little face was scarlet now, and his voice quite choky with anger and disappointment.

“No, you mustn’t, Ralph,” said Harriet. “And now I will tell you why! I, your mother, don’t choose it. You have got to obey me, you know. I am a big girl, and you are a very little boy; you must stay here quietly, and wait for me. I will return for you before long. Now, be a good child, and don’t cry: it is very babyish to cry.”

Ralph stood quite still. The scarlet flush had faded from his face. After a minute, he said:

“Course it’s babyish, and I aren’t crying.”

“Then that is all right,” said Harriet. “Stay here till I fetch you. Come, Pattie.”

The two little girls left the room.

Book One – Chapter Ten

The Gipsies

How hot was that drawing-room to the tired little boy! His head quite ached, he did not know why; he could not understand his own sensations. There was a very ugly look-out, too, for the bay window opened into a tiny garden, which was full now of clothes hanging on lines and flapping in what little breeze there was. Ralph could not see anything beyond the white line of clothes.

He went to the window, half inclined to go into the garden; but, as it was so uninviting, he did not venture. He returned to the ugly room, and looked at what was left of the make-shift tea. It certainly was hard that he had not been allowed to go to the fair. He would so have liked to have a ride on the merry-go-round, and to see the fat lady and the man with two heads. How was it possible for anyone to have two heads? He felt his own little soft neck, and wondered where the other head could appear. He sat down very thoughtfully to consider this problem. It was really more difficult than borrowing ten, and much, much more interesting. It seemed to him even more interesting than seeing gipsies: the brown, brown gipsies, with their house on wheels, had none of them two heads. He would love beyond anything to gaze at the person who possessed such treasures.

Certainly his school-mother was not too kind. He could not understand her to-day, but, having chosen her, he felt somehow that it was his bounden duty to be as good as possible, and to think as kindly as possible about her. So he very determinedly shut away from his little mind all unkind thoughts with regard to Harriet. Of course, he was a troublesome little boy, and he ought to have known all about borrowing ten, and he ought to understand now why little boys should stay in very hot rooms while big girls went away to fairs and merry-go-rounds, and delightful shows full of queer people. Oh, yes: of course, it was all right; only he did wish his head was not so swimmy – yes, that was how he expressed his feeling.

He sank down at last on a very uncomfortable sofa with a broken spring, and the next minute fell fast asleep. He did not know, poor little boy, how long he slept; but when he awoke he felt very much startled and puzzled, for it had grown quite late, and the sun had gone away, and the room was no longer so hot. The clothes, too, had all been taken down from their lines, and he could see across the ugly garden.

It was a very small garden; but there was a gate at the further end, and the gate was standing open; and beyond the gate was a field with a path leading across it; and, lo and behold! at the far, far end of the field was a very brown man standing quite still, and holding a lot of baskets in his hand. They were baskets of all sorts and shapes and sizes; and there was something about the man and the baskets which caused Ralph’s heart to beat.

He went cautiously to the window, and gazed across the garden and across the fields at the man. The man was very brown, and he carried baskets. Gipsies carried baskets; they always did; Ralph had heard so. He did not believe that there was ever a basket in the whole world that had not once been carried by a gipsy.

Suppose he went and talked to the man; there would be no harm in that; it would be interesting to him. Harriet had told him to stay where he was, but then Harriet did not know that there would be – first, an open window, and then an open gate, and beyond the gate a gipsy – the very person Ralph longed to see!

The temptation was too much for him. He was too tired, and too lonely, and too much a very little boy to resist it. Swiftly he rose from his uncomfortable sofa, pushed back his tumbled hair, and flying, first across the garden and then across the field, reached the brown man’s side.

“Please,” said Ralph earnestly, looking up with his brown eyes at the brown face, “is you a gipsy?”

“I be that, little master,” said the man, and he gazed down inquisitively and perhaps not unkindly at Ralph.

Ralph looked at him with great wonder and intense curiosity.

“Wot be yer wanting o’ me, little master?” said the man.

“I love gipsies!” said Ralph.

“Do yer, indeed? And wot’s yer name?”

“I am Ralph Durrant. I live at a school near. There are lots of girls in the school, and I’ve got a school-mother. My school-mother is at the fair, and I am alone here. I’m rather lonesome, and I’m so glad you have come, gipsy man, ’cause you can talk to me.”

“To be sure,” said the man, seating himself on a low stile, and taking from his pocket a very large clasp knife, with which he proceeded to sharpen a stick.

Ralph stood very near him without speaking, just glad to be close to him. From time to time the man looked at the child, and the child returned the man’s gaze.

“Where did yer say yer held out, youngster?” he remarked after a long pause.

“At a school with a lot of girls,” said Ralph. “Father sent me; it’s all right. How funny and sharp you make that stick, gipsy man!”

“I guess you mean you live at Abbeyfield?” said the man, now shutting up his knife and returning it to his pocket. “They be rich folks there, so I guess you must be rich. We gipsies is poor; our folks haven’t got any money.”

“Nor have I,” said Ralph eagerly. “I haven’t any money at all; if I had I ’spec’ I’d have been took to the fair. See, gipsy man, see, my pockets is quite empty.”

He turned out both his little pockets as he spoke, and looked at the man for sympathy.

“Dear, dear, dear!” said the man. “That is ’ard, now. But your folks is rich, bean’t they?”

“Father’s made of money; I’ve heard folks say so.”

“Well, now; that is nice for you; and he’s fond of a little chap like you, ain’t he?”

“Father?” said Ralph. He paused for a minute; then said with great force: “Yes, Father’s fond of me.”

The man looked to right of him and to left of him. There was no one in sight. There was only very pretty little Ralph, in his pretty and expensive dress. There was a wood behind them, a wood to right of them, and a wood to left of them, and the doctor’s little, old-fashioned house at the further end of the field; the house was to all appearance empty for the time being.

The gipsy man drew Ralph close and took his hand. Ralph felt that brown hand of the gipsy man’s as hard as iron. His little heart gave a sort of jump; but he was not going to be at all frightened. He was glad, he was very glad, he had seen a brown, brown gipsy man for himself; he had spoken to him; whatever Harriet might or might not do in the future, he had seen a gipsy man himself.

“I must be saying good-night, now,” he remarked in a very polite voice. “I am so glad I has met you. Please, good-night, Mr Gipsy Man. I am going back. I must wait in a horrid, ugly drawing-room for my school-mother: I must say good-night, Mr Gipsy.”

“Not so fast, master,” said the man. “How do you know that I wants to say good-night to you? I’ve took a sort of a fancy to yer, little master.”
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