Part 16 (1/2)

grow patchy, and the grease trickle down from the left corner of Desdemona's nose--which, being naturally rubicund, had been worked up for the occasion.

I was, of course, too much of a young lady to be allowed to visit the Fair under any available escort. In the evening I might possibly, in company with Somebody, be permitted to peruse the outsides of the booths. But the real delights were for the children. Strong in the possession of a half-crown apiece (to be spent as you please without accounting), Sir Toady and the Maid made havoc among the Aunt Sallies and the Cocoa-nut shysters.

A plan of campaign was evolved, simple but effective. Sir Toady, who was a good shot, took over the Maid's half-crown, and bound himself by a great oath to deliver up half the proceeds.

As for me, I caught glimpses of His Majesty's uniform darting from stall to stall, from range to range, followed by a b.u.t.terfly figure in skimp white. This was the Maid, keeping track of profit and loss. She had good cause. Was she not involved to the extent of two-and-sixpence, her maiden mite?

Sir Toady appeared to be reckless, and put wholesale propositions before the Cocoa-nut shysters, as thus--”Suppose I give you two s.h.i.+llings cash, how many throws can I have for it, and can I pick my own nuts if I win?”

Some refused and some accepted. Those who refused were, commercially speaking, the lucky merchants. Sir Toady's aim was deadly. He did not mind throwing at an Aunt Sally, though this he considered rather old-fas.h.i.+oned play. A bull's-eye trap-door, which opened at the smack of the ball, was his favorite. And he cleaned up one merchant from whom he had secured the easy terms of forty throws for half-a-crown. So completely did he do it that the fellow, who saw his pile of nuts rapidly wasting away, brazenly repudiated his bargain, and would even have tried to lay hands on the pile already in the bag over the Maid's shoulder.

But the shyster reckoned without a knowledge of his Toady. You see, there was not in Edam man, woman, or child who did not know Sir Toady.

And though at one time or another most had had their private disagreements with that youth, he was still an Edamite of the Edamites.

Stained with early (orchard) crime, he yet retained the sympathy of gentle and simple. The very ”smoutchies” of a younger time rallied at his call, and if the nuts had not instantly been paid over, the overturned ”gallery” would have been sacked on the instant by promiscuous brigandage, the very police looking on with broad, benignant smiles.

”Such a young codger as he were!” grumbled the man afterwards, half in anger, half in admiration. ”I had made a bad bargain. I see _that_ at once. 'Give me back them nuts. You've 'ad 'em on false pretenses!' sez I.

”'Sorry! So I have!' says he, smooth as b.u.t.ter. And with that he outs of his breast-pocket with his lanyard and blows a whistle like a bo'sum's mate! Then they ran from every quarter. My poor ole stall were on its back in half a jerk, and if it hadn't been for my young gent, so should I--_and_ mauled into the bargain!

”Served me right, you say, for shovin' of my head into such a wasp's nest! But how was I to know?--I puts it to ye, mates. How was _I_ to know?--_me fresh from London_!”

I had gone up to the Cave of Mystery, armed with the three-draw telescopes, which Hugh John had left behind him as too precious to be risked in the give-and-take of school--though, according to information received, it was mostly ”give” with Hugh John.

I saw a procession detach itself from the dense flow of the crowd, led by the white-frocked Maid and a dark blue Sir Toady, both laden down by sackloads of cocoa-nuts. It was impossible for them to carry them all the way home to the House in the Wood. Equally impossible to trust the youth of Edam, satisfactory enough when fighting was on hand, but unreliable when it came to division of the spoils.

The Imps staggered across the road, pursued by a riotous tail of infantry of no known line. Arrived at the shop door of New Erin Villa, they were met by Mrs. Donnan--who, on such a busy day, had come out for a breath of fresh air.

”What in the world have you got there, children?” cried the Dame, holding up astonished hands to heaven.

”Cocoa-nuts! Wads and las.h.i.+ngs of cocoa-nuts!” cried Sir Toady. ”I shot for them all. I threw for them. I won them. And when the man would have cheated me, I whistled the whole Fair Green down on him. _Then_ I saved his life! But I don't know what to do with them now I have them! They won't hatch out, and if they would, I haven't got a big enough hen!

Here, you!”

And opening one of the bags, he bowled half-a-dozen of the nuts among the crowd of smoutchies, who instantly became a swarming, fighting anthill on the plainstones of the street.

”Stop, Master Toady,” said Mrs. Donnan, ”do stop! I will show you what to make of them. Some of them will be good----”

”All are good,” a.s.serted Sir Toady; ”_I_ picked them! At college they teach us, over at the canteen, how to know the good ones from the bad!”

By this time I was down at the shop door, having struck the main road near the Station Bridge. I fled to meet them, pa.s.sing on the way Butcher Donnan, who for the day had turned the blue and gold van into a fine selling booth on the Market Hill, where he presided over half-a-dozen temporary a.s.sistants, keeping a wary eye on all, both buyers and sellers.

The children were tired, and stood panting. Sir Toady was unexpectedly pessimistic. Maid Margaret looked rather world-weary. Both had begun to think that, after all, there were better ways of spending five s.h.i.+llings than shooting for cocoa-nuts.

”What rot!” said Sir Toady, shaking one disgustedly close to his ear.

”Can't eat them all--make us ever so sick, and I have to join on Friday!

No time to get better! Bah!”

”It was all your fault, Toady,” moaned the Maid, ”_and_ I want my half-crown back!”