Meg's Friend: A Story for Girls

  CHAPTER XII.

  AN ACQUAINTANCE BY THE WAY.

  Meg decided that time for luncheon had come. The shadows lay long besidethe trees and marked afternoon. She felt so rested as she blithely atethe piece of plum-cake saved from last night's supper that it seemed toher that she could walk all the way. It was a generous slice, and shethrew crumbs for the birds, which flew down from the surrounding woodand became her guests.

  Meg would have gladly dallied awhile, but time was pressing. She mustget to London to-night. Taking off her shoes and stockings once more shecrossed the stream, pausing a moment to enjoy the sense of the runningwater against her bare ankles. Then she determinedly resumed shoes andstockings, and after bathing her hands and face she turned to go on herway.

  The road lay through hedges full of sweet-smelling eglantine and wildrose which stirred with every gust. As Meg trudged along she looked atthe marks in the sand left by the feet which had come and gone acrossit that day. They made a confused pattern, through which here and therea footprint came out distinctly. There was one of a big nailed shoe thatrecurred with a sort of plodding regularity, and there was another of adainty high-heeled boot that seemed to speed gayly along. There was aclumsy sprawling mark of a woman's foot that suggested slatternlyshodding, and by its side that of a child's naked foot. Meg wondered ifthese were a mother and child, beggars going up to London. Presentlyanother footmark attracted her attention. It was that of a single nailedboot, attended by what looked like the mark of one toe resting on theground, surmounted by another mark. Together these two prints seemed tomake a sign of admiration in the sand. Meg puzzled over this strangefootmark till she forgot all the others. It fascinated her; precedingher like a cheery mystery. After a while the trace vanished. Meg watchedfor it; but it had gone, and with it the road seemed to her to have lostsome of its interest. Presently she was startled by a "thump, thump"behind her. She felt a little startled, and she turned round to see whowas coming. It was a lad swinging himself actively along on a highcrutch. He soon overtook Meg, and as he passed he gave her a sidelongglance and touched his hat. He had a pleasant plain face, and brightbrown eyes. She noticed that as he went along he left on the road thatdouble mark that had such a quaint resemblance to a point of admiration.

  Meg had returned his salute with a nod, which was not wanting incordiality although it was somewhat stiff. This cripple seemed to her anacquaintance.

  "Nice day, miss!" said the boy.

  Meg nodded again.

  "Going this way, miss?" continued the cripple.

  "Yes," Meg replied, in a tone of embarrassed coolness, which was not,however, discouraging to conversation.

  "Going far, miss?"

  "Going to London," said Meg.

  The cripple looked at her with evident admiration.

  "Are you going to London?" asked Meg.

  "No," replied the lad, "I'm going part of the way."

  Meg did not like to press the question further, and the resources ofconversation seemed exhausted.

  "You see," said the boy after a pause, "I'm going to earn my livin' andthe livin' of my mither and the little chap."

  Meg looked at her companion with some surprise.

  "I'm agoing to where I can earn thirteen pence a day; there's where I'mgoing. What I want is, they may want for nothink off there," and theboy, with a jerk of his chin, indicated a backward direction.

  Meg felt curious to know how this crippled boy earned a living, but shedid not like to inquire. So she said, with vague encouragement tofurther confidence, "You love them very much?"

  "I love 'em," assented the cripple in a guarded tone. After a pause hecontinued, with more frankness, "I'm uncommon fond of the little chap.Mither can't earn enough, so he depends upon me, like. Now, how old doyou think I am?" He straightened himself for her inspection, and leanedupon his crutch with the air of a soldier on parade.

  Meg hesitated. The boy had a quaint, plucky face, childlike in line, andyet old by its expression of sagacity and caution. His arms and handswere well developed; one shriveled leg hung helpless at some distancefrom the ground. He seemed of no age and no distinct size.

  "I cannot guess," said Meg. "I am eleven and a half," she added, with agenerosity of confidence that invited a magnanimous return.

  "I am fourteen come next March," said the boy. "Now you think I can't donothink because of that ere leg." He glanced with some contempt down themaimed limb. "You thinks because I can't put my foot on the ground Ican't do nothink. I can do everythink." The cripple turned with aswagger, and the children resumed their walk.

  "I once punched a lad--he was older than me--who was worriting thelittle chap."

  "You did?" said Meg admiringly.

  "I did. He was striking the little chap in the face; and I comes uponhim, and with my fist I gives him a blow, and before he can look up Ihits him another, and when he knocks my crutch down I fastens uponhim--I drags him down, that's what I does."

  "You did right!" cried Meg.

  "And I just gives it to him till he lies quiet as a lamb. And says I tohim, 'If ye do it again I'll serves ye the likes again,' that what Isays," concluded the cripple, marching along with a triumphant "thump,thump," of his crutch.

  "I am glad you did it," said Meg, with a flush on her cheek and approvalin her eye.

  "That's what I does," repeated the cripple, with another swagger of hispendant body.

  Meg began to feel a great respect for this cripple, who seemed to herto have the spirit of a lion.

  "How are you going to earn money?" she asked, feeling an admiringfriendship now justified the question.

  The cripple, after a cautious moment, replied:

  "Blacking boots."

  "Oh!" said Meg, a little disconcerted.

  "Faither was a dustman. I'd raither be a dustman than anythink. Ye've acart, and there ye sits, and ye comes down only to clean away therubbish; and sometimes ye find an elegant teaspoon, and ye may find aring. Faither once found a gold ring with three red stones in it thatshine. There's nothink like being a dustman," said the boy, with an airof one taking a survey of all the learned professions. "I'd be adustman, but because of that ere leg. To be a dustman you must be halein all yer limbs, ye must; so a lady comes round and says I'm to be abootblack. She gives me brushes and a board and a pot of blacking, and Isets to; and I can make boots shine as will make your eyes blink. Nowyour boots," with a downward glance at Meg's feet, "are uncommondusty--I'll black 'em for you."

  Meg hesitated; but the cripple had already unstrapped the parcel swungon his back, taken from it a brush, a pot of blacking, and a board, andwas down on one knee before her.

  Meg could not refuse. She placed first one foot then the other on theboard, and brush, brush went the active hands.

  Meanwhile a big struggle was going on within Meg. She had no money butthat threepenny-piece. Ought she to give it to the lad for blacking herboots? She put her hand into her pocket and turned the small silverpiece about.

  It was all that stood between her and penury. Still she could not accepta service without paying for it from this cripple, who was earning moneyfor the "little chap."

  "There!" said the boy rising, putting up his traps with an air of fineindifference to the effect produced by his action upon Meg's boots.

  "I am very much obliged," said Meg hesitatingly; "and here isthreepence."

  "I don't want yer money," replied the boy with an emphatic jerk of hishead. "Keep it; ye'll want it yerself."

  Meg's admiration for her companion increased. She gazed down on herboots. "They're splendid," she said fervently; "I never thought bootscould shine like that!"

  "Well, I thinks as no one can beat me at blacking," said the cripple,accepting the compliment. "It's my notions as when the sloppy weathercomes I'll make two shillings a day. But it's not a bootblack I'llremain."

  "What will you become?" asked Meg.

  "I do not mind telling you," replied the cripple with cautious slowness."I'm going to be a joiner. Ye th
inks as I can't. Ye thinks there's toomuch agin me. Why, everythink was agin me earning money. First thatschool-board, that was agin me. It wanted to set me all astray, spendingtime learning figures and spellin'; but I conquered the school-board. Igets too old for that after a bit. Then when I'm told by the lady ofthis situation in Weybridge to black boots every morning, there's fiftymiles for me to get over; and here's the cripple boy agin, two milesfrom Weybridge!"

  The lad gave a chuckle, a jerk of his head, and a thump of his crutch.

  "You've walked fifty miles!" said Meg, with the homage of round-eyedsurprise.

  "Fifty miles," repeated the boy. "Then a friend o' mine is a carpenter.He would not trust me with a tool two years agone; and now I can planeand drive nails with the best of them. I had no money to buy a box oftools. I'm going to work for it with the boots. All I wants is thesloppy weather, and a spell of it, and that's enough for me."

  Meg's admiration overflowed her pent-up heart, and moved her to confidein this cripple and ask his advice. She had not spoken to him of herschoolfellows, or of the object that had impelled her flight.

  "Suppose," she began, "some one had been very kind to you, very good,would you not run away from people who were unkind to you, and laughedat you, and despised you?"

  "No, I would stay to conquer them," said the cripple, stamping hiscrutch.

  "How would you conquer them?" said Meg.

  "I'd wear 'em out," said the lad. "Spite can't stand pluck; that's whatI've found out. I'd give 'em a laugh, and if they pushed me hard I'dgive 'em a slip of my crutch."

  Meg was silent awhile with appreciation of such courage. Then she said:

  "But suppose you felt sure there was a letter waiting for you, would younot go to get it?"

  "Depends upon that ere letter," replied the cripple with circumspection."If it was to tell me what to do to better myself I'd go and fetch itwere it at the other end of the country."

  "But," said Meg, with a quivering voice, letting out the secret fear ather heart, "suppose there was no letter waiting for you when you got tothe place?"

  "I'd go and look for the one as should ha' written it everywhere. I'dnot give over till I found him," said the cripple.

  "You would!" said Meg.

  "I would!" repeated the boy.

  "I wish you were going all the way to London," said Meg.

  "To take care of you?" asked the lad. "Wish I could, but I can't, miss.I have the kid and the mistress to think of. It's not so far; to-morrowyou'll get there."

  "To-morrow!" repeated Meg, aghast.

  "It's getting late," said the boy, "ye can't walk in the night. Now,what I say is, if ye find a barn, creep in there and lie in the straw;but if ye can get a hayrick and cover yerself all up to yer head, that'sfit for a king--better than a bed. I've slept in 'em, so I ought toknow."

  Meg could not speak from consternation; the prospect for a momentoverwhelmed her.

  "Perhaps ye'll meet a cart, and the driver will give ye a lift. Myfaither once gave a lift in his cart to a little girl going towardLondon," the cripple suggested.

  "I wish I could meet some one who would drive me," said Meg in falteringaccents.

  "If ye're frightened ye'll never find the person as was good to you,"the lad replied rousingly.

  "You were not frightened at night, all alone?" asked Meg.

  "I'm frightened of nothink," said the lad; "but ye're a little lady, sothat makes a difference."

  Meg asked herself if her companion's shriveled leg did not make up forthe disadvantages of sex, and she trudged along, resolved not to givein, but she wished she did not begin to feel so hungry again.

  Presently they came to a fingerpost.

  "What's written up there?" said the cripple.

  "Can't you see?" asked Meg, astonished.

  "I can't read," said the boy.

  "Oh!" exclaimed Meg, whose admiration received a great shock.

  "I'm ignorant," replied the boy, no whit disconcerted. "I'll conquerthat, too. I conquered that school-board because I wanted to earn. I'llconquer ignorance; it's as bad as the school-board."

  Meg's admiration revived.

  "Weybridge is written on that side," she said.

  "That's my way, then," said the cripple. "Good-by to ye, miss. I hopeye'll get all right. Don't forget the barn, or the hayrick if ye can getone."

  "Good-by," said Meg, wishing to shake hands, yet hesitating.

  The boy touched his hat and set off on his way.