VII. The Last of Timothy
So accomplished a person as the reader must have seen at once that Imade away with Timothy in order to give his little vests and pinaforesand shoes to David, and, therefore, dear sir or madam, rail not overmuchat me for causing our painter pain. Know, too, that though his sympathyran free I soon discovered many of his inquiries to be prompted by amere selfish desire to save his boy from the fate of mine. Such areparents.
He asked compassionately if there was anything he could do for me, and,of course, there was something he could do, but were I to propose it Idoubted not he would be on his stilts at once, for already I had reasonto know him for a haughty, sensitive dog, who ever became high at thefirst hint of help. So the proposal must come from him. I spoke of themany little things in the house that were now hurtful to me to lookupon, and he clutched my hand, deeply moved, though it was another housewith its little things he saw. I was ashamed to harass him thus, but hehad not a sufficiency of the little things, and besides my impulsivenesshad plunged me into a deuce of a mess, so I went on distastefully. Wasthere no profession in this age of specialism for taking away children'sgarments from houses where they were suddenly become a pain? Could Isell them? Could I give them to the needy, who would probably dispose ofthem for gin? I told him of a friend with a young child who had alreadyrefused them because it would be unpleasant to him to be reminded ofTimothy, and I think this was what touched him to the quick, so that hemade the offer I was waiting for.
I had done it with a heavy foot, and by this time was in a rage withboth him and myself, but I always was a bungler, and, having adoptedthis means in a hurry, I could at the time see no other easy way out.Timothy's hold on life, as you may have apprehended, was ever of theslightest, and I suppose I always knew that he must soon revert to theobscure. He could never have penetrated into the open. It was no lifefor a boy.
Yet now, that his time had come, I was loath to see him go. I seemto remember carrying him that evening to the window with uncommontenderness (following the setting sun that was to take him away), andtelling him with not unnatural bitterness that he had got to leave mebecause another child was in need of all his pretty things; and as thesun, his true father, lapt him in its dancing arms, he sent his love toa lady of long ago whom he called by the sweetest of names, not knowingin his innocence that the little white birds are the birds that neverhave a mother. I wished (so had the phantasy of Timothy taken possessionof me) that before he went he could have played once in the KensingtonGardens, and have ridden on the fallen trees, calling gloriously to meto look; that he could have sailed one paper-galleon on the Round Pond;fain would I have had him chase one hoop a little way down the laughingavenues of childhood, where memory tells us we run but once, on a longsummer-day, emerging at the other end as men and women with all the funto pay for; and I think (thus fancy wantons with me in these desolatechambers) he knew my longings, and said with a boy-like flush that thereason he never did these things was not that he was afraid, for hewould have loved to do them all, but because he was not quite like otherboys; and, so saying, he let go my finger and faded from before my eyesinto another and golden ether; but I shall ever hold that had he beenquite like other boys there would have been none braver than my Timothy.
I fear I am not truly brave myself, for though when under fire, so faras I can recollect, I behaved as others, morally I seem to be deficient.So I discovered next day when I attempted to buy David's outfit,and found myself as shy of entering the shop as any Mary at thepawnbroker's. The shop for little garments seems very alarming when youreach the door; a man abruptly become a parent, and thus lost to afiner sense of the proprieties, may be able to stalk in unprotected, butapparently I could not. Indeed, I have allowed a repugnance to enteringshops of any kind, save my tailor's, to grow on me, and to my tailor's Ifear I go too frequently.
So I skulked near the shop of the little garments, jeering at myself,and it was strange to me to reflect at, say, three o'clock that if I hadbeen brazen at half-past two all would now be over.
To show what was my state, take the case of the very gentleman-like manwhom I detected gazing fixedly at me, or so I thought, just as I haddrawn valiantly near the door. I sauntered away, but when I returnedhe was still there, which seemed conclusive proof that he had smokedmy purpose. Sternly controlling my temper I bowed, and said with icypoliteness, "You have the advantage of me, sir."
"I beg your pardon," said he, and I am now persuaded that my wordsturned his attention to me for the first time, but at the moment I wassure some impertinent meaning lurked behind his answer.
"I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance," I barked.
"No one regrets it more than I do," he replied, laughing.
"I mean, sir," said I, "that I shall wait here until you retire," andwith that I put my back to a shop-window.
By this time he was grown angry, and said he, "I have no engagement,"and he put his back to the shop-window. Each of us was doggedlydetermined to tire the other out, and we must have looked ridiculous. Wealso felt it, for ten minutes afterward, our passions having died away,we shook hands cordially and agreed to call hansoms.
Must I abandon the enterprise? Certainly I knew divers ladies who wouldmake the purchases for me, but first I must explain, and, ratherthan explain it has ever been my custom to do without. I was in thisdespondency when a sudden recollection of Irene and Mrs. Hickingheartened me like a cordial, for I saw in them at once the engine anddecoy by which David should procure his outfit.
You must be told who they were.