by E. Nesbit
CHAPTER 12. THE NOBLENESS OF OSWALD
The part about his nobleness only comes at the end, but you wouldnot understand it unless you knew how it began. It began, like nearlyeverything about that time, with treasure-seeking.
Of course as soon as we had promised to consult my Father about businessmatters we all gave up wanting to go into business. I don't know how itis, but having to consult about a thing with grown-up people, eventhe bravest and the best, seems to make the thing not worth doingafterwards.
We don't mind Albert's uncle chipping in sometimes when the thing'sgoing on, but we are glad he never asked us to promise to consult himabout anything. Yet Oswald saw that my Father was quite right; and Idaresay if we had had that hundred pounds we should have spent it on theshare in that lucrative business for the sale of useful patent, and thenfound out afterwards that we should have done better to spend the moneyin some other way. My Father says so, and he ought to know. We hadseveral ideas about that time, but having so little chink always stoodin the way.
This was the case with H. O.'s idea of setting up a coconut-shy on thisside of the Heath, where there are none generally. We had no sticksor wooden balls, and the greengrocer said he could not book so many astwelve dozen coconuts without Mr Bastable's written order. And as we didnot wish to consult my Father it was decided to drop it. And when Alicedressed up Pincher in some of the dolls' clothes and we made up ourminds to take him round with an organ as soon as we had taught him todance, we were stopped at once by Dicky's remembering how he had onceheard that an organ cost seven hundred pounds. Of course this wasthe big church kind, but even the ones on three legs can't be got forone-and-sevenpence, which was all we had when we first thought of it. Sowe gave that up too.
It was a wet day, I remember, and mutton hash for dinner--very toughwith pale gravy with lumps in it. I think the others would have left agood deal on the sides of their plates, although they know better, onlyOswald said it was a savoury stew made of the red deer that Edward shot.So then we were the Children of the New Forest, and the mutton tastedmuch better. No one in the New Forest minds venison being tough and thegravy pale.
Then after dinner we let the girls have a dolls' tea-party, on conditionthey didn't expect us boys to wash up; and it was when we were drinkingthe last of the liquorice water out of the little cups that Dicky said--
'This reminds me.'
So we said, 'What of?'
Dicky answered us at once, though his mouth was full of bread withliquorice stuck in it to look like cake. You should not speak with yourmouth full, even to your own relations, and you shouldn't wipe yourmouth on the back of your hand, but on your handkerchief, if you haveone. Dicky did not do this. He said--
'Why, you remember when we first began about treasure-seeking, I saidI had thought of something, only I could not tell you because I hadn'tfinished thinking about it.'
We said 'Yes.'
'Well, this liquorice water--'
'Tea,' said Alice softly.
'Well, tea then--made me think.' He was going on to say what it made himthink, but Noel interrupted and cried out, 'I say; let's finish off thisold tea-party and have a council of war.'
So we got out the flags and the wooden sword and the drum, and Oswaldbeat it while the girls washed up, till Eliza came up to say she had thejumping toothache, and the noise went through her like a knife. So ofcourse Oswald left off at once. When you are polite to Oswald he neverrefuses to grant your requests.
When we were all dressed up we sat down round the camp fire, and Dickybegan again.
'Every one in the world wants money. Some people get it. The people whoget it are the ones who see things. I have seen one thing.'
Dicky stopped and smoked the pipe of peace. It is the pipe we didbubbles with in the summer, and somehow it has not got broken yet.We put tea-leaves in it for the pipe of peace, but the girls are notallowed to have any. It is not right to let girls smoke. They get tothink too much of themselves if you let them do everything the same asmen. Oswald said, 'Out with it.'
'I see that glass bottles only cost a penny. H. O., if you dare tosnigger I'll send you round selling old bottles, and you shan't have anysweets except out of the money you get for them. And the same with you,Noel.'
'Noel wasn't sniggering,' said Alice in a hurry; 'it is only his takingso much interest in what you were saying makes him look like that. Bequiet, H. O., and don't you make faces, either. Do go on, Dicky dear.'
So Dicky went on.
'There must be hundreds of millions of bottles of medicines sold everyyear. Because all the different medicines say, "Thousands of curesdaily," and if you only take that as two thousand, which it must be, atleast, it mounts up. And the people who sell them must make a great dealof money by them because they are nearly always two-and-ninepencethe bottle, and three-and-six for one nearly double the size. Now thebottles, as I was saying, don't cost anything like that.'
'It's the medicine costs the money,' said Dora; 'look how expensivejujubes are at the chemist's, and peppermints too.'
'That's only because they're nice,' Dicky explained; 'nasty things arenot so dear. Look what a lot of brimstone you get for a penny, and thesame with alum. We would not put the nice kinds of chemist's things inour medicine.'
Then he went on to tell us that when we had invented our medicine wewould write and tell the editor about it, and he would put it inthe paper, and then people would send their two-and-ninepence andthree-and-six for the bottle nearly double the size, and then when themedicine had cured them they would write to the paper and their letterswould be printed, saying how they had been suffering for years, andnever thought to get about again, but thanks to the blessing of ourointment--'
Dora interrupted and said, 'Not ointment--it's so messy.' And Alicethought so too. And Dicky said he did not mean it, he was quite decidedto let it be in bottles. So now it was all settled, and we did notsee at the time that this would be a sort of going into business, butafterwards when Albert's uncle showed us we saw it, and we were sorry.We only had to invent the medicine. You might think that was easy,because of the number of them you see every day in the paper, but it ismuch harder than you think. First we had to decide what sort of illnesswe should like to cure, and a 'heated discussion ensued', like inParliament.
Dora wanted it to be something to make the complexion of dazzlingfairness, but we remembered how her face came all red and rough whenshe used the Rosabella soap that was advertised to make the darkestcomplexion fair as the lily, and she agreed that perhaps it was betternot. Noel wanted to make the medicine first and then find out whatit would cure, but Dicky thought not, because there are so many moremedicines than there are things the matter with us, so it would beeasier to choose the disease first. Oswald would have liked wounds.I still think it was a good idea, but Dicky said, 'Who has wounds,especially now there aren't any wars? We shouldn't sell a bottle a day!'So Oswald gave in because he knows what manners are, and it was Dicky'sidea. H. O. wanted a cure for the uncomfortable feeling that they giveyou powders for, but we explained to him that grown-up people do nothave this feeling, however much they eat, and he agreed. Dicky saidhe did not care a straw what the loathsome disease was, as long as wehurried up and settled on something. Then Alice said--
'It ought to be something very common, and only one thing. Not the painsin the back and all the hundreds of things the people have in somebody'ssyrup. What's the commonest thing of all?'
And at once we said, 'Colds.'
So that was settled.
Then we wrote a label to go on the bottle. When it was written it wouldnot go on the vinegar bottle that we had got, but we knew it would gosmall when it was printed. It was like this:
BASTABLE'S CERTAIN CURE FOR COLDSCoughs, Asthma, Shortness of Breath, and all infections of the Chest
One dose gives immediate relief It will cure your cold in one bottle Especially the larger size at 3s. 6d. Order at once of the Makers To prevent disa
ppointment
Makers:
D., O., R., A., N., and H. O. BASTABLE 150, Lewisham Road, S.E.
(A halfpenny for all bottles returned)
------------
Of course the next thing was for one of us to catch a cold and try whatcured it; we all wanted to be the one, but it was Dicky's idea, and hesaid he was not going to be done out of it, so we let him. It was onlyfair. He left off his undershirt that very day, and next morning hestood in a draught in his nightgown for quite a long time. And we dampedhis day-shirt with the nail-brush before he put it on. But all was vain.They always tell you that these things will give you cold, but we foundit was not so.
So then we all went over to the Park, and Dicky went right into thewater with his boots on, and stood there as long as he could bear it,for it was rather cold, and we stood and cheered him on. He walked homein his wet clothes, which they say is a sure thing, but it was no go,though his boots were quite spoiled. And three days after Noel began tocough and sneeze.
So then Dicky said it was not fair.
'I can't help it,' Noel said. 'You should have caught it yourself, thenit wouldn't have come to me.'
And Alice said she had known all along Noel oughtn't to have stood abouton the bank cheering in the cold.
Noel had to go to bed, and then we began to make the medicines; we weresorry he was out of it, but he had the fun of taking the things.
We made a great many medicines. Alice made herb tea. She got sage andthyme and savory and marjoram and boiled them all up together with saltand water, but she _would_ put parsley in too. Oswald is sure parsley isnot a herb. It is only put on the cold meat and you are not supposed toeat it. It kills parrots to eat parsley, I believe. I expect it was theparsley that disagreed so with Noel. The medicine did not seem to do thecough any good.
Oswald got a pennyworth of alum, because it is so cheap, and someturpentine which every one knows is good for colds, and a little sugarand an aniseed ball. These were mixed in a bottle with water, but Elizathrew it away and said it was nasty rubbish, and I hadn't any money toget more things with.
Dora made him some gruel, and he said it did his chest good; but ofcourse that was no use, because you cannot put gruel in bottles and sayit is medicine. It would not be honest, and besides nobody would believeyou.
Dick mixed up lemon-juice and sugar and a little of the juice of the redflannel that Noel's throat was done up in. It comes out beautifullyin hot water. Noel took this and he liked it. Noel's own idea wasliquorice-water, and we let him have it, but it is too plain and blackto sell in bottles at the proper price.
Noel liked H. O.'s medicine the best, which was silly of him, because itwas only peppermints melted in hot water, and a little cobalt to makeit look blue. It was all right, because H. O.'s paint-box is the Frenchkind, with Couleurs non Veneneuses on it. This means you may suck yourbrushes if you want to, or even your paints if you are a very littleboy.
It was rather jolly while Noel had that cold. He had a fire in hisbedroom which opens out of Dicky's and Oswald's, and the girls used toread aloud to Noel all day; they will not read aloud to you when you arewell. Father was away at Liverpool on business, and Albert's uncle wasat Hastings. We were rather glad of this, because we wished to giveall the medicines a fair trial, and grown-ups are but too fond ofinterfering. As if we should have given him anything poisonous!
His cold went on--it was bad in his head, but it was not one of the kindwhen he has to have poultices and can't sit up in bed. But when it hadbeen in his head nearly a week, Oswald happened to tumble over Alice onthe stairs. When we got up she was crying.
'Don't cry silly!' said Oswald; 'you know I didn't hurt you.' I was verysorry if I had hurt her, but you ought not to sit on the stairs in thedark and let other people tumble over you. You ought to remember howbeastly it is for them if they do hurt you.
'Oh, it's not that, Oswald,' Alice said. 'Don't be a pig! I am somiserable. Do be kind to me.'
So Oswald thumped her on the back and told her to shut up.
'It's about Noel,' she said. 'I'm sure he's very ill; and playing aboutwith medicines is all very well, but I know he's ill, and Eliza won'tsend for the doctor: she says it's only a cold. And I know the doctor'sbills are awful. I heard Father telling Aunt Emily so in the summer. Buthe _is_ ill, and perhaps he'll die or something.'
Then she began to cry again. Oswald thumped her again, because he knowshow a good brother ought to behave, and said, 'Cheer up.' If we had beenin a book Oswald would have embraced his little sister tenderly, andmingled his tears with hers.
Then Oswald said, 'Why not write to Father?'
And she cried more and said, 'I've lost the paper with the address. H.O. had it to draw on the back of, and I can't find it now; I've lookedeverywhere. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. No I won't. But I'mgoing out. Don't tell the others. And I say, Oswald, do pretend I'm inif Eliza asks. Promise.'
'Tell me what you're going to do,' I said. But she said 'No'; and therewas a good reason why not. So I said I wouldn't promise if it came tothat. Of course I meant to all right. But it did seem mean of her not totell me.
So Alice went out by the side door while Eliza was setting tea, and shewas a long time gone; she was not in to tea. When Eliza asked Oswaldwhere she was he said he did not know, but perhaps she was tidyingher corner drawer. Girls often do this, and it takes a long time. Noelcoughed a good bit after tea, and asked for Alice.
Oswald told him she was doing something and it was a secret. Oswald didnot tell any lies even to save his sister. When Alice came back she wasvery quiet, but she whispered to Oswald that it was all right. Whenit was rather late Eliza said she was going out to post a letter. Thisalways takes her an hour, because she _will_ go to the post-officeacross the Heath instead of the pillar-box, because once a boy droppedfusees in our pillar-box and burnt the letters. It was not any of us;Eliza told us about it. And when there was a knock at the door a longtime after we thought it was Eliza come back, and that she had forgottenthe back-door key. We made H. O. go down to open the door, because itis his place to run about: his legs are younger than ours. And we heardboots on the stairs besides H. O.'s, and we listened spellbound till thedoor opened, and it was Albert's uncle. He looked very tired.
'I am glad you've come,' Oswald said. 'Alice began to think Noel--'
Alice stopped me, and her face was very red, her nose was shiny too,with having cried so much before tea.
She said, 'I only said I thought Noel ought to have the doctor. Don'tyou think he ought?' She got hold of Albert's uncle and held on to him.
'Let's have a look at you, young man,' said Albert's uncle, and he satdown on the edge of the bed. It is a rather shaky bed, the bar thatkeeps it steady underneath got broken when we were playing burglars lastwinter. It was our crowbar. He began to feel Noel's pulse, and went ontalking.
'It was revealed to the Arab physician as he made merry in his tents onthe wild plains of Hastings that the Presence had a cold in its head. Sohe immediately seated himself on the magic carpet, and bade it bear himhither, only pausing in the flight to purchase a few sweetmeats in thebazaar.'
He pulled out a jolly lot of chocolate and some butterscotch, and grapesfor Noel. When we had all said thank you, he went on.
'The physician's are the words of wisdom: it's high time this kid wasasleep. I have spoken. Ye have my leave to depart.'
So we bunked, and Dora and Albert's uncle made Noel comfortable for thenight.
Then they came to the nursery which we had gone down to, and he sat downin the Guy Fawkes chair and said, 'Now then.'
Alice said, 'You may tell them what I did. I daresay they'll all be in awax, but I don't care.'
'I think you were very wise,' said Albert's uncle, pulling her close tohim to sit on his knee. 'I am very glad you telegraphed.'
So then Oswald understood what Alice's secret was. She had gone out andsent a telegram to Albert's uncle at Hastings. But Oswald th
ought shemight have told him. Afterwards she told me what she had put in thetelegram. It was, 'Come home. We have given Noel a cold, and I think weare killing him.' With the address it came to tenpence-halfpenny.
Then Albert's uncle began to ask questions, and it all came out,how Dicky had tried to catch the cold, but the cold had gone to Noelinstead, and about the medicines and all. Albert's uncle looked veryserious.
'Look here,' he said, 'You're old enough not to play the fool like this.Health is the best thing you've got; you ought to know better than torisk it. You might have killed your little brother with your preciousmedicines. You've had a lucky escape, certainly. But poor Noel!'
'Oh, do you think he's going to die?' Alice asked that, and she wascrying again.
'No, no,' said Albert's uncle; 'but look here. Do you see how sillyyou've been? And I thought you promised your Father--' And then he gaveus a long talking-to. He can make you feel most awfully small. At lasthe stopped, and we said we were very sorry, and he said, 'You know Ipromised to take you all to the pantomime?'
So we said, 'Yes,' and knew but too well that now he wasn't going to.Then he went on--
'Well, I will take you if you like, or I will take Noel to the sea for aweek to cure his cold. Which is it to be?'
Of course he knew we should say, 'Take Noel' and we did; but Dicky toldme afterwards he thought it was hard on H. O.
Albert's uncle stayed till Eliza came in, and then he said good night ina way that showed us that all was forgiven and forgotten.
And we went to bed. It must have been the middle of the night whenOswald woke up suddenly, and there was Alice with her teeth chattering,shaking him to wake him.
'Oh, Oswald!' she said, 'I am so unhappy. Suppose I should die in thenight!'
Oswald told her to go to bed and not gas. But she said, 'I must tellyou; I wish I'd told Albert's uncle. I'm a thief, and if I die to-nightI know where thieves go to.' So Oswald saw it was no good and he satup in bed and said--'Go ahead.' So Alice stood shivering and said--'Ihadn't enough money for the telegram, so I took the bad sixpence out ofthe exchequer. And I paid for it with that and the fivepence I had. AndI wouldn't tell you, because if you'd stopped me doing it I couldn'thave borne it; and if you'd helped me you'd have been a thief too. Oh,what shall I do?'
Oswald thought a minute, and then he said--
'You'd better have told me. But I think it will be all right if we payit back. Go to bed. Cross with you? No, stupid! Only another time you'dbetter not keep secrets.'
So she kissed Oswald, and he let her, and she went back to bed.
The next day Albert's uncle took Noel away, before Oswald had time topersuade Alice that we ought to tell him about the sixpence. Alice wasvery unhappy, but not so much as in the night: you can be very miserablein the night if you have done anything wrong and you happen to be awake.I know this for a fact.
None of us had any money except Eliza, and she wouldn't give us anyunless we said what for; and of course we could not do that because ofthe honour of the family. And Oswald was anxious to get the sixpence togive to the telegraph people because he feared that the badness of thatsixpence might have been found out, and that the police might come forAlice at any moment. I don't think I ever had such an unhappy day. Ofcourse we could have written to Albert's uncle, but it would have takena long time, and every moment of delay added to Alice's danger. Wethought and thought, but we couldn't think of any way to get thatsixpence. It seems a small sum, but you see Alice's liberty dependedon it. It was quite late in the afternoon when I met Mrs Leslie on theParade. She had a brown fur coat and a lot of yellow flowers in herhands. She stopped to speak to me, and asked me how the Poet was. I toldher he had a cold, and I wondered whether she would lend me sixpence ifI asked her, but I could not make up my mind how to begin to say it. Itis a hard thing to say--much harder than you would think. She talked tome for a bit, and then she suddenly got into a cab, and said--
'I'd no idea it was so late,' and told the man where to go. And just asshe started she shoved the yellow flowers through the window and said,'For the sick poet, with my love,' and was driven off.
Gentle reader, I will not conceal from you what Oswald did. He knew allabout not disgracing the family, and he did not like doing what I amgoing to say: and they were really Noel's flowers, only he could nothave sent them to Hastings, and Oswald knew he would say 'Yes' if Oswaldasked him. Oswald sacrificed his family pride because of his littlesister's danger. I do not say he was a noble boy--I just tell you whathe did, and you can decide for yourself about the nobleness.
He put on his oldest clothes--they're much older than any you wouldthink he had if you saw him when he was tidy--and he took those yellowchrysanthemums and he walked with them to Greenwich Station and waitedfor the trains bringing people from London. He sold those flowers inpenny bunches and got tenpence. Then he went to the telegraph office atLewisham, and said to the lady there:
'A little girl gave you a bad sixpence yesterday. Here are six goodpennies.'
The lady said she had not noticed it, and never mind, but Oswald knewthat 'Honesty is the best Policy', and he refused to take back thepennies. So at last she said she should put them in the plate on Sunday.She is a very nice lady. I like the way she does her hair.
Then Oswald went home to Alice and told her, and she hugged him, andsaid he was a dear, good, kind boy, and he said 'Oh, it's all right.'
We bought peppermint bullseyes with the fourpence I had over, and theothers wanted to know where we got the money, but we would not tell.
Only afterwards when Noel came home we told him, because they were hisflowers, and he said it was quite right. He made some poetry about it. Ionly remember one bit of it.
The noble youth of high degree Consents to play a menial part, All for his sister Alice's sake, Who was so dear to his faithful heart.
But Oswald himself has never bragged about it. We got no treasure out ofthis, unless you count the peppermint bullseyes.
