Page 6 of Half-Past Bedtime


  Here's a sailor come home from the Guineas, His face is as black as a leaf, His eyes are like forests of darkness, His heart is a hotbed of grief, His arms are like roots of the jungle, He has ladies tattooed on his skin, And his clothes smell of cinnamon--cardamom--tar. Oh, mother, must I let him in? Bang! Bang! [went the drums], Oh, mother, must I let him in?

  Then there was a chorus and the queerest sort of dance, and it allseemed somehow to be just wrong; and when they stopped and looked up ather window Doris really didn't know what to make of them. Then thesailor coughed, and scratched the back of his head, and said, "Begpardon, miss, but are you ten years old?"

  Doris said that she was.

  "And have you five brothers younger than yourself?"

  Doris said that she had.

  "And have you five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot?"

  Doris laughed and said that they could come and count them if theydidn't believe her word.

  They looked at one another with a peculiar expression, while the fivedrummers stared at the ground; and then the stout lady asked her if shewould come downstairs and let them count her eyelashes.

  "Why do you want to count my eyelashes?" asked Doris.

  "It's most important," said the greengrocer.

  "If you'll come downstairs," said the soldier, "we shall be most happyto tell you why."

  Doris pulled her head in and glanced round the bedroom. Jimmy and Jockowere still fast asleep. She put on her dressing-gown, but not herslippers, in case they should want to count her toes. Then she openedthe door and ran softly downstairs, and drew back the bolts, and wentinto the street.

  "Wouldn't it be better," said the stout lady, "if we went to a quieterplace?"

  "Well, there's a field," said Doris, "at the end of the street. Ofcourse, we might go along there."

  "You're sure you're not frightened?" asked the sailor.

  The five drummers still stared at the ground.

  "Not very much," said Doris. "You aren't going to hurt me, are you?"

  "God forbid!" said the elderly greengrocer.

  So they went up the street to the field at the end, and there they allcrouched under the hedge; and the sailor, whose name was Lancelot, didmost of the talking, because he was the biggest.

  "You see, we've all lost something," he said, "so we went to see an oldman as lives in the middle of Brazil. He's the wisest old geezer as everlived, and we all of us told him what we had lost. This here lady haslost her husband and has been trying to find him for years and years;and this here soldier has lost his character and can't find a general togive him a job; and this here greengrocer has lost his appetite and isgetting thinner and thinner; and as for me, I've lost my temper andcan't find a ship to sail in."

  "That's very sad," said Doris. "And what have these drummers lost?"

  "Their senses," said Lancelot. "Each of these here drummers has been andlost one of his senses. The first can't see, and the second can't hear,and the third can't smell, and the fourth can't taste, and the fifthcan't feel."

  "I see," said Doris. "And what did the old man tell you?"

  "Well," said Lancelot, "that's just what I'm coming to. He told us he'dthought of a magic song. There was four verses to it, and the wordsdidn't matter, he said, so long as they was each sung by somebody as hadlost something. After each verse there was a chorus, and in between theverses there was a dance. When we'd told him our troubles, he made upsome words for us, and then he lent us these here drummers. But whatyou've got to find, he said, is a little girl as can play this hereflute, for until you've found her you can sing as loud as you like, butyou won't sing right, and nobody won't hear you. But when you've foundher--that's what the old man said--she'll be able to blow this hereflute, for this here flute can play by itself if you find the rightlittle girl to blow it. Well, of course we was interested, so we askedhim to go on, and he said that it would play for just about an hour, andby the end of that time, he said, it would have settled all our troublesand all the troubles of the people as heard it. Only, first of all, hesaid, you must find the right little girl, and the time must bemidnight, and the moon must be full."

  "Dear me!" said Doris, "that sounds rather odd."

  "That's what _we_ thought," said the stout lady.

  "Well," said Lancelot, "naturally we asked him where this here girl wasto be found. But he shook his head, and he said as he didn't know, andthat all we could do was to go and look for her. You must travel about,he said, and sing this here music, but the only people as'll be able tohear you will be little girls twice five years old, with five brothersyounger than theirselves, and with five fingers on each hand, and fivetoes on each foot. And of them, he says, the only little girl as'll beable to play this here flute must have a hundred and five eyelashes onher right upper eyelid."

  He felt in his pocket and pulled out a magnifying glass.

  "So that's why we want to count your eyelashes."

  They looked at her anxiously, all except the drummers, and they werestill looking at the ground.

  "All right," said Doris, "count away. I'm sure I don't know how manyI've got."

  She closed her eyes, and they stared through the magnifying glass, andbegan to count her right upper eyelashes. She became quite excited asthey went on.

  "A hundred and three," they said, "a hundred and four, a hundred andfive," and then they gave a great shout.

  "You're the one," they cried, "you're the very one! You've exactly ahundred and five!"

  She opened her eyes again and saw them dancing about.

  "Where's the flute?" she asked.

  The soldier gave it to her.

  "And the moon's full," said the greengrocer, "and it's a quarter totwelve. Perhaps we shall soon find my appetite."

  "And my character," said the soldier.

  "And my husband," said the stout lady.

  "And my temper," said Lancelot.

  But the drummers had lost hope, and still stared at the ground.

  "Now," said Lancelot, "we'd better go to the market-place. This herelittle girl will show us the way. And when the clocks have struck twelvewe'll sing our song and see what happens."

  So they went to the market-place, where the Town Hall was, and where allthe tram-lines criss-crossed; and the policeman on duty outside the Bankstared at them sleepily, but didn't say anything. There were also twodustmen with a cart clearing up rubbish and bits of newspaper, and awater-man watering the asphalt, and some postmen outside the Post Officeloading a mail-van. Then the deep bell in the old abbey tower began totoll the hour of midnight, and the moon looked down on them with hersilver face, and they stood in a row and began their song.

  Doris's hands were shaky, as you can imagine, when she lifted the fluteto her lips. But when she began to blow, the flute began to play; andoh, the difference it made to the song! For it was now a song with themaddest and sweetest and most beguiling melody that anybody in the worldhad ever imagined, or ever imagined that anybody could imagine. It beganvery softly, like a boy whistling, and the cracking of sticks in a deepwood, and then it sounded like birds singing, and water falling, andripe fruit dropping from trees. Then it grew louder, until it soundedlike thunder and sea-waves shattering on the beach; and then it grewsofter again, like leaves rustling, and crickets chirping in the grass.

  Before the stout lady had sung half the first verse, Doris could hardlystand still enough to play the flute. She could scarcely believe that itwas possible for anybody in the world to feel so happy. She saw thepoliceman running toward them, and the postmen, and the man from thewater-cart; and she saw the windows above the shops in the market-placethrown up, and people looking out. Then came the chorus, like thepealing of great bells, and the policeman and the postmen began to joinin, and people in their nightdresses and pyjamas came running out oftheir front doors, singing at the tops of their voices.

  Before the chorus was over there were nearly a hundred people singingand shouting and beating time, and the c
ymbals were clashing, and theconcertina was groaning, and the five drummers were hitting like mad.But it was the flute, it was Doris's flute, that soared up and up andled the whole music; and when the dance came, it was the magic ofDoris's flute that stole into the feet of all who heard it.

  Most of them were bare feet, like Doris's own, but some were in slippersand some in boots, and soon they were all whirling and twisting andhopping, as the people that they belonged to danced and sang. The newshad spread abroad now, and by the end of the second verse the whole ofthe market-place was simply crammed, and by the end of the third verseall the streets that led into it were bubbling over with people dancing.There were the ironworks men dancing with their employers, and Mr Josephdancing with his girls, and the heads of the cotton-mills dancing intheir pyjamas, arm-in-arm with the people that worked for them. Andthere was the French mistress dancing with the two dustmen, and therewas Miss Plum dancing with the chimney-sweep, and there was thepoliceman trying to dance with everybody, and everybody trying to dancewith him.

  Then a little man with a carroty moustache pushed through the crowd andcaught hold of the stout lady; and she nearly dropped her tambourine,because he was her long-lost husband. As for the greengrocer, he becameso hungry that he danced into one of Mr Joseph's shops, and Mr Josephgave him permission to eat everything that he could see. Funnily enough,too, both Uncle Joe and Captain Jeremy happened to be in town; and whenUncle Joe caught sight of the soldier he was so struck with his honestappearance that he gave him the names of three or four generals whowould be only too glad to have him in their armies. It was the same,too, with Lancelot, for when Captain Jeremy spoke to him his face becameso gentle that Captain Jeremy resolved at once to give him a job asbosun's mate.

  Then the French mistress came and kissed Doris, and then everybodycheered everybody else; and the five drummers shouted with joy, becauseeach of them had found the sense that he had lost. The blind one couldsee; and the deaf one could hear; and the one that couldn't feel feltsomebody squeezing him; and the one that couldn't smell suddenly smeltsomebody's tooth powder; and the one that couldn't taste had the biggestsurprise of all. For one of Mr Joseph's girls gave him a box ofchocolates, and it was the loveliest thing that had ever happened tohim; and after that, when she gave him some almond rock, he asked her ifshe would marry him, and she said that she would.

  For a whole hour Doris played her flute, and then it stopped, andeverybody looked at everybody else; and everybody else looked so queerand funny that everybody began to shout with laughter. Even the moonlaughed, and the end of it was that they all resolved to make up theirquarrels, because after what had happened it seemed so silly to go onquarrelling about anything. But what the tune of the song was no oneremembered; and next morning when Doris took the flute to school, noneof the girls could make it play anything, not even Gwendolen, who had aflute at home.

  "_H'shh_," said the man in the moon, Full-faced and white, And I listened, I listened so hard that I heard through the night,

  Faint through a crack In the ice of the whiteness, I heard Somebody whisper my name With a magical word.

  And the moon and the stars and the sky, And the roofs of the street, Fell in fragments of darkness and silver That danced at my feet.

  And we danced, and we danced, and we danced, And oh! tired was I When, full-faced and white, the cold moon Shone again in the sky.

  THE IMAGINARY BOY

  The Haunted Wood]

  VII

  THE IMAGINARY BOY

  Soon after Doris's adventure with the flute, Marian and Gwendolen made amost solemn vow. Marian pricked her finger with a needle and made a tinydrop of blood come, and then she rubbed it into the palm of Gwendolen'shand and promised to be faithful to her for ever. Then Gwendolen prickedher own finger and rubbed it into the palm of Marian's hand, and tookher dying oath that Marian should always be her greatest friend. Thenthey washed their hands under the nursery tap and cleaned the needle andput it back in the workbox, and Marian was very pleased, and so wasGwendolen, and when they told Cuthbert he said that he didn't mind much.

  Marian was pleased, because she knew that Gwendolen would ask her to teapretty often at the old farmhouse; and Gwendolen was pleased, becausethat was the first time that she had ever had a greatest friend; andCuthbert didn't mind much, because he had gone to a new school, wherethere was a boy called Edward Goldsmith, who was wonderfully strong, andcould dive into the water backward from the top diving-board at the townbaths. He was going to be a barrister like Mr Jenkins, who took theplate round at St Peter's Church, and after that he was going to beLord Chief Justice, like the great Lord Barrington at Fairbarrow Park.

  Gwendolen's aunt was pleased too, and so was Captain Jeremy whenGwendolen told him, and so were her father and mother, who were climbingthe Himalaya Mountains and writing a book called _Two Above theSnowline_. But Gwendolen didn't know, of course, about her father andmother being glad till she got a letter from them; and by then she hadbecome quite used to having Marian for her greatest friend.

  This letter came during the first week of the holidays, while Marian wasstaying for a few days with Gwendolen. Both Gwendolen's aunt and CaptainJeremy were away on a short voyage, and Marian and Gwendolen had thehouse to themselves, except for Mrs Robertson, the cook, Amy and Agnes,the two maids, and Percy, the boot-and-garden boy.

  Percy was the boy that used to open the door when Gwendolen's aunt livedin Bellington Square, and his father was a gamekeeper, called MrWilliams, who worked for Lord Barrington at Fairbarrow Park. Percy wassixteen, and was going to marry Agnes as soon as he had saved enoughmoney, and though he was rather proud, Marian and Gwendolen liked him,but not so much as they liked his father.

  They liked Mr Williams, because he knew all about rabbits, and used totake them through places marked PRIVATE; and they liked Mrs Williams,because she gave them peppermints and never minded how many questionsthey asked. Mr Williams was tall, with a grey moustache, and hisclothes smelt of tobacco, and he wore gaiters; and Mrs Williams wasshort, and her arms smelt of soap, and she was always popping upstairsto change her apron. They lived in a little cottage near the Park gates,and they had six children besides Percy, but Mr Williams was nearlyalways out, setting traps or counting the young partridges.

  Fairbarrow Park was about three miles round, and was half-way toFairbarrow Down; and in the middle of it was Lord Barrington's house,with its thirty bedrooms and all its gardens. There was an Italiangarden and a Dutch garden and a rose-garden and a water-garden; andthere were lawns as smooth as a ballroom floor, over which the peacockscried and strutted. But besides all these, and the Park in which theynestled, most of the country round belonged to Lord Barrington; and itwas in the woods and fields which he let to different farmers that thepheasants and partridges made their homes.

  When they had finished reading Gwendolen's letter, which came just aftertheir middle-day dinner, Marian and Gwendolen thought that they would goand see Mr Williams, and watch the young partridges that he was bringingup by hand. So they set off, and presently they found him just at thefarther edge of Lord Barrington's estate, where there was a little woodclimbing up the side of Fairbarrow Down. There was a sort of grassyhollow near the wood, and here Mr Williams had placed half a dozenhen-coops; and in front of these he had built a little mound, made oflumps of turf dug from the Down. In among these lumps of turf therewere thousands of ants and several ants' nests full of eggs; and a scoreof young partridges were scrambling over them, finding their afternoonmeal.

  Usually Mr Williams was glad to see the girls, and to let them play withthe young partridges, but this afternoon he only nodded to them and wenton smoking in silence. They were a little surprised, because it was sucha lovely afternoon, with the sky bluer than any ocean, and the fieldsall glittering with the leaves of the root crops, or hidden away underthe golden wheat. Here and there the reapers were already at workcutting the first of the oats and barley, and about a mile away theycould see the chimn
eys of the great house shining in groups between thetree-tops.

  The only dark spot was the thick and tangled pinewood, known as theHaunted Wood, into which Lord Barrington never allowed anybody besideshimself to go. It was inside the Park, and round two sides of it ran thePark wall, with sharp iron spikes on the top; and round the other twosides there was a barbed-wire fence, with a small gate in it, heavilypadlocked. For twenty years it had never been touched. When a tree fellover, it lay where it had fallen; between the trunks of the trees therehad grown a jungle of undergrowth; and only Lord Barrington had the keyof the gate.

  Mr Williams was still sitting down, staring moodily in front of him,when Marian asked him what was the matter, and was he angry with themfor coming?

  "No, no, it's not that," he said, "but I've just got the push. Hislordship has given me a month's notice. I'm got to quit and find a newjob, after forty-two years here, man and boy."

  Marian and Gwendolen stared at him in astonishment.

  "Why, whatever have you been doing?" Gwendolen asked.

  He took his pipe from his mouth and pointed to the Haunted Wood.

  "See that wood there," he said, "the Haunted Wood? Well, last night oneof these here dogs, he bolted into it, and I couldn't get him out, so Iwent in to hunt for him. I was only in there for about five minutes, butjust as I was coming out I met his lordship. He stared at me as if I wasa criminal in the dock, and give me a month's notice to leave hisservice.

  "'You know my rules,' he says, 'and you've broken them. It's no goodarguing,' he says, 'you've got to go.'"

 
Sir H. H. Bashford's Novels