Part 15 (1/2)

Boots couldn't but feel with increased acuteness what a base deceiver he was, when they consulted him at breakfast (they had ordered sweet milk-and-water, and toast and currant jelly, over night) about the pony. It really was as much as he could do, he don't mind confessing to me, to look them two young things in the face, and think what a wicked old father of lies he had grown up to be. Howsomever, sir, I went on a lying like a Trojan about the pony. I told 'em that it did so unfort'nately happen that the pony was half clipped, you see, and that he couldn't be took out in that state, for fear it should strike to his inside. But that he'd be finished clipping in the course of the day, and that to-morrow morning at eight o'clock the pheayton would be ready. Boots's view of the whole case, looking back upon it in my room, is, that Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, was beginning to give in.

She hadn't had her hair curled when she went to bed, and she didn't seem quite up to brus.h.i.+ng it herself, and its getting in her eyes put her out. But nothing put out Master Harry. He sat behind his breakfast-cup, a tearing away at the jelly, as if he had been his own father.

In the course of the morning, Master Harry rung the bell,--it was surprising how that there boy did carry on,--and said, in a sprightly way, ”Cobbs, is there any good walks in this neighborhood?”

”Yes, sir. There's Love Lane.”

”Get out with you, Cobbs!”--that was that there boy's expression,--”you're joking.”

”Begging your pardon, sir, there really is Love Lane; and a pleasant walk it is, and proud shall I be to show it to yourself and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior.”

”Norah, dear,” says Master Harry, ”this is curious. We really ought to see Love Lane. Put on your bonnet, my sweetest darling, and we will go there with Cobbs.”

Boots leaves me to judge what a Beast he felt himself to be, when that young pair told him, as they all three jogged along together, that they had made up their minds to give him two thousand guineas a year as head gardener, on account of his being so true a friend to 'em.

Well, sir, I turned the conversation as well as I could, and I took 'em down Love Lane to the water-meadows, and there Master Harry would have drowned himself in a half a moment more, a getting out a water-lily for her,--but nothing daunted that boy. Well, sir, they was tired out. All being so new and strange to 'em, they was tired as tired could be. And they laid down on a bank of daisies, like the children in the wood, leastways meadows, and fell asleep.

I don't know, sir,--perhaps you do,--why it made a man fit to make a fool of himself, to see them two pretty babies a lying there in the clear still sunny day, not dreaming half so hard when they was asleep as they done when they was awake. But Lord! when you come to think of yourself, you know, and what a game you have been up to ever since you was in your own cradle, and what a poor sort of a chap you are, after all, that's where it is! Don't you see, sir?

Well, sir, they woke up at last, and then one thing was getting pretty clear to me, namely, that Mrs. Harry Walmerses, Junior's, temper was on the move. When Master Harry took her round the waist, she said he ”teased her so”; and when he says, ”Norah, my young May Moon, your Harry tease you?” she tells him, ”Yes; and I want to go home!”

A billed fowl and baked bread-and-b.u.t.ter pudding brought Mrs. Walmers up a little; but I could have wished, I must privately own to you, sir, to have seen her more sensible of the voice of love, and less abandoning of herself to the currants in the pudding. However, Master Harry, he kep' up, and his n.o.ble heart was as fond as ever. Mrs.

Walmers turned very sleepy about dusk, and begun to cry. Therefore, Mrs. Walmers went off to bed as per yesterday; and Master Harry ditto repeated.

About eleven or twelve at night comes back the Governor in a chaise, along with Mr. Walmers and a elderly lady. Mr. Walmers says to our missis: ”We are much indebted to you, ma'am, for your kind care of our little children, which we can never sufficiently acknowledge. Pray, ma'am, where is my boy?” Our missis says: ”Cobbs has the dear child in charge, sir. Cobbs, show Forty!” Then Mr. Walmers, he says: ”Ah, Cobbs! I am glad to see _you_. I understood you was here!” And I says: ”Yes, sir. Your most obedient, sir.”

”I beg your pardon, sir,” I adds, while unlocking the door; ”I hope you are not angry with Master Harry. For Master Harry is a fine boy, sir, and will do you credit and honor.” And Boots signifies to me, that if the fine boy's father had contradicted him in the state of mind in which he then was, he thinks he should have ”fetched him a crack,” and took the consequences.

But Mr. Walmers only says, ”No, Cobbs. No, my good fellow. Thank you!”

and, the door being opened, goes in, goes up to the bedside, bends gently down, and kisses the little sleeping face. Then he stands looking at it for a minute, looking wonderfully like it (they do say he ran away with Mrs. Walmers); and then he gently shakes the little shoulder.

”Harry, my dear boy! Harry!”

Master Harry starts up and looks at his pa. Looks at me too. Such is the honor of that mite, that he looks at me, to see whether he has brought me into trouble.

”I am not angry, my child. I only want you to dress yourself and come home.”

”Yes, pa.”

Master Harry dresses himself quick.

”Please may I”--the spirit of that little creatur,--”please, dear pa,--may I--kiss Norah, before I go?”

”You may, my child.”

So he takes Master Harry in his hand, and I leads the way with the candle to that other bedroom, where the elderly lady is seated by the bed, and poor little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, is fast asleep. There the father lifts the boy up to the pillow, and he lays his little face down for an instant by the little warm face of poor little Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, and gently draws it to him,--a sight so touching to the chambermaids who are a peeping through the door, that one of them calls out, ”It's a shame to part 'em!”

Finally, Boots says, that's all about it. Mr. Walmers drove away in the chaise, having hold of Master Harry's hand. The elderly lady and Mrs. Harry Walmers, Junior, that was never to be (she married a captain, long afterwards, and died in India), went off next day. In conclusion, Boots puts it to me whether I hold with him in two opinions: firstly, that there are not many couples on their way to be married who are half as innocent as them two children; secondly, that it would be a jolly good thing for a great many couples on their way to be married, if they could only be stopped in time and brought back separate.

_Charles d.i.c.kens._