Part 3 (1/2)

_Colonel Lawley._ But what has this to do with the tinkers?

_Paul Ruttledge._ As I cannot find a broomstick that will turn itself into a white horse, I am going to turn tinker.

_Mr. Dowler._ I suppose you have some picturesque idea about these people, but I a.s.sure you, you are quite wrong. They are nothing but poachers.

_Mr. Algie._ They are nothing but thieves.

_Mr. Joyce._ They are the worst cla.s.s in the country.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Oh, I know that; they are quite lawless. That is what attracts me to them. I am going to be irresponsible.

_Mr. Green._ One cannot escape from responsibility by joining a set of vagabonds.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Vagabonds--that is it. I want to be a vagabond, a wanderer. As I can't leap from cloud to cloud I want to wander from road to road. That little path there by the clipped edge goes up to the highroad. I want to go up that path and to walk along the highroad, and so on and on and on, and to know all kinds of people. Did you ever think that the roads are the only things that are endless; that one can walk on and on and on, and never be stopped by a gate or a wall? They are the serpent of eternity. I wonder they have never been wors.h.i.+pped. What are the stars beside them? They never meet one another. The roads are the only things that are infinite. They are all endless.

_Mrs. Ruttledge._ But they must stop when they come to the sea?

_Paul Ruttledge._ Ah! you are always so wise.

_Mr. Joyce._ Stop talking nonsense, Paul, and throw away those filthy things.

_Paul Ruttledge._ That would be setting cleanliness before G.o.dliness. I have begun the regeneration of my soul.

_Mr. Dowler._ I don't see what G.o.dliness has got to do with it.

_Mr. Algie._ Nor I either.

_Paul Ruttledge._ There was a saint who said, ”I must rejoice without ceasing, although the world shudder at my joy.” He did not think he could save his soul without it. I agree with him, and as I was discontented here, I thought it time to make a change. Like that worthy man, I must be content to shock my friends.

_Mr. Dowler._ But you had everything here you could want.

_Paul Ruttledge._ That's just it. You who are so wealthy, you of all people should understand that I want to get rid of all that responsibility, answering letters and so on. It is not worth the trouble of being rich if one has to answer letters. Could you ever understand, Georgina, that one gets tired of many charming things? There are family responsibilities [_to_ MR. JOYCE], but I can see that you, who were my guardian, sympathize with me in that.

_Mr. Joyce._ Indeed I do not.

_Mrs. Ruttledge._ I should think you could be cheerful without ceasing to be a gentleman.

_Paul Ruttledge._ You are thinking of my clothes. We must feel at ease with the people we live amongst. I shall feel at ease with the great mult.i.tude in these clothes. I am beginning to be a man of the world. I am the beggarman of all the ages--I have a notion Homer wrote something about me.

_Mr. Dowler._ He is either making fun of us or talking great rot. I can't listen to any more of this nonsense. I can't see why a man with property can't let well alone. Algie are you coming my way?

[_They both go into the house, and come out presently with umbrella and coat._

_Mr. Green._ Depend upon it, he's going to write a book. There was a man who made quite a name for himself by sleeping in a casual ward.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Oh! no, I'm not going to write about it; if one writes one can do nothing else. I am going to express myself in life. [_To_ THOMAS RUTTLEDGE _who has returned with box._] I hope soon to live by the work of my hands, but every trade has to be learned, and I must take something to start with. [_To_ MRS. RUTTLEDGE.] Do you think you will have any kettles to mend when I come this way again?

[_He has taken box from_ THOMAS RUTTLEDGE _and unlocked it._