by Sophie May
CHAPTER XV
ON THE ROAD
Needless to say Betty did not "waste" any time that night overhome-lessons. How can the beginner of a great singer be expected to carewhether the pronoun "that" in "I dare do all 'that' may become a man,"is relative or possessive? or whether Smyrna is the capital of Turkey orJapan? or even whether the Red Sea has to do with Africa or China.
Betty did not even open her school satchel, or peep at the cover of herbooks. Instead, she copied out the words of her song and learnt themsitting there at the table with Cyril.
Neither was Cyril doing home-lessons. He certainly had his books spreadout before him, but the contents of his pockets were strewn upon hisopen books, and he was examining them and grumbling now and again atthe rapacity of certain school-mates who had caused him to lose certaintreasures, or accept less valuable ones, on the school system of "I'llgive you this for that."
He turned over three coloured marbles in disgust. For them he hadbartered away a catapult, and now his heart was heavy over the exchange.
"Artie Jones is a sneak," he grumbled. "He ought to have given me sixmarbles for that catapult. Eh? What do you say?"
The question was directed to Betty, whose lips were moving.
She shook her head, and sighed drearily, for she had entered into thevery being of the little beggar girl who sang for a penny.
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing you'd understand. Don't chatter."
"Don't be so silly," said Cyril. "I'm as old as you, any way."
"Mother says I'm an hour older than you," said Betty.
"That's nothing," said Cyril.
"You can learn a lot in an hour," quoth Betty, and bent her attentionto her strip of paper.
"I told mother about the dirty plates, so there," said the boy."And----"
"Bah!" said Betty, and pushed her fingers into her ears.
Betty had several plans for waking early, amongst which may benamed--putting marbles in her bed that in rolling unconsciously aboutfor comfort she might be awakened by the discomfort. That had answeredvery well once or twice. Another was to place her pillow half-way downthe bed, that she might be within reach of the foot of it--and then torest her own foot on a lower rail and tie it there. Another was to propherself into a sitting position and fold her hands across her chest,that by sleeping badly she might not sleep long.
Many a night had her father and mother laughed at the attitude chosen bytheir second daughter, and arranged her that her sleep might be easier.
"Betty wants to get up early," they would say and smile. But upon thisnight--the night before the battle--they did not go to her room at all.
Mrs. Bruce was reading a new magazine, and saying now and again, as sheturned a leaf or smiled at her husband, that she _had_ intended doing abit of mending; and Mr. Bruce was polishing up a chapter in his book,and saying now and again as he paused for a choicer word, or smiled athis wife, that he _had_ intended doing that blessed article on Cats, forFlavelle. So they both went on being uncomfortably comfortable.
Betty tried all her expedients for early rising, and yet peaceful washer sleep throughout the night. Her lashes lay still on her roundedcheeks, her rosy lips smiled and her brown curls strewed the pillow,just as effectively as though she were on a velvet couch, and a livingillustration of a small princess, sleeping to be awakened by a kiss.
She awoke just as the day was pinkly breaking and the night stealinggreyly away, awoke under the impression that John Brown was cutting offher foot. It was a great comfort to find it there and merely cold andcramped from lack of covering and an unnatural position.
She remembered everything immediately without even waiting to rub hereyes, and she sprang out of bed at once, even though her right footrefused to do its duty, and she had to stand for a valuable minute onher left.
The clock hands (she had carried the kitchen clock into her bedroom toMary's chagrin), pointed to a quarter to five, and Betty realized shehad only an hour in which to dress eat her breakfast, bid good-bye toany home objects she held dear, and travel down the road to the store.
She was vexed, for she had meant to get up at four.
She got into her tattered Saturday's frock (her Cinderella costume) andshe brushed and plaited her short curly hair, as well as it would allowitself to be plaited. Then she made a bundle of her boots and stockingsand school-day frock and hid them away under the skirt of her drapeddressing-table, and opened her money-box and extracted the contents(thirteen half-pennies). This was the fortune with which she purposed toface the world.
And so real had this thing become to her now, that she crept to the farside of the double bed to kiss the sleeping Nancy, and down the passageto Cyril's room, to look at his face upon the pillows; and the tearswere heavy in her eyes because she was quitting her "early" home.
When she had reached the pantry she remembered something, and went backto her bed room, to place by Nancy's side her only remaining doll, afaded hairless beauty, Belinda, by name.
And she pinned a note upon the pincushion (all her heroines who fledfrom their early homes, left notes upon the pincushion) addressed to"Father and Mother," and as she passed their door she stroked itlovingly. In the pantry she was guilty of several sobs, while she cutthe bread, it seemed so pitiful to her to be going away from her home inthe grey dawn to seek a livelihood for her family. In truth her smallheart ached creditably as she ate her solitary breakfast, and it mighthave gone on aching only that she suddenly bethought herself of time.Half-past five, John had said, and she remembered all that she had donesince half-past four.
"It _must_ be half-past five now," she said. "I'll eat this as I go,"and she folded two pieces of bread and butter together.
Then she found her bonnet and the strip of paper with the song upon it,and grasping her half-pennies set forth.
She ran most of the way to the store, which, it may be remembered,occupied the corner, just before you come to Wygate School.
As Betty came in sight of it she saw John standing still there, and shethought gratefully how good it was of him to wait for her.
He wore a very old and very baggy suit, a dirty torn straw hat (of whichit must be owned he had plenty), and neither boots nor stockings.
The children eyed each other carefully, noting every detail, and both intheir own heart admiring the other exceedingly.
Betty's face had lost its traces of tears, but had not got back itshappy look. Her mouth drooped sadly.
"What's up?" asked John as they turned their faces towards the silentsouth.
"It hurts me, leaving the little ones," said Betty, who was now inimagination Madam S----. "You have no brothers and sisters to providefor."
John sighed. "No," he said, "I've no one but an old grandfather, and hegrudges me every crust I eat. He's cut me off with a shilling."
For a space Betty was envious. For a space she liked John's imaginationbetter than her own. That "cutting off with a shilling" seemed to hervery fine.
He showed her his shilling. "I've _that_," he said, "to begin life on.Many a fellow would starve on it. _I'm_ going to make my fortune withit."
They were the words one of his heroes had spoken, and sounded splendidto both.
"I've sixpence-halfpenny," said Betty, and unclosed her little brownhand for a second. "That's all!"
They walked on. In front of them and behind ran the dusty road, like ared line dividing a still bush world. Overhead was a tender sky, greystealing shyly away to give place to a soft still blue. Already thedaylight was wakening others than these foolish barefooted waifs. Hereand there a frog uttered its protest against, mayhap, the water it haddiscovered, or been born to; the locusts lustily prophesied a hot day.Occasionally an industrious rabbit travelled at express speed from theworld on one side of the red road to the world on the other. And aboveall this bustle and business and frivolity rang the brazen laugh of acompany of kookaburras, who were answering each other from every cornerof the bush.
After some little travelling the fortun
e seekers came upon a cottagestanding alone in a small bush-clearing on their right. Three cows stoodchewing their cud, and waiting to be milked, a scattering of fowls wasshaking off dull sleep, and making no little ado about it, and near thedoor a shock-headed youth was rubbing both eyes with both hands.
Betty and John walked on. These signs of awakening life roused them to alivelier sense of being alive.
Yet a little further and they came to what Betty always called a"calico" cottage, which is to say, a cottage made of scrim, andwhite-washed. Windows belonged to it, and a door, and a garden enclosedby a brushwood fence.
"Let's peep in the gate," said Betty, "it's such a _sweet_ littlehouse."
"Wait till you see the house _I_ mean to have," quoth John.
But Betty preferred to peep in then. She went close to the half-opengate and popped in her head.
Inside the gate was a garden, and all its beds were defined by upendedstout bottles--weedless, sweet-scented beds wherein grew such blooms asdaisies, and violets, stocks, sweetpeas, sweet williams, lad's love andmignonette.
"Oh!" said Betty. "Oh--just smell! just put your head in for a minute,John."
But John was for "pushing on," and getting to Sydney to make hisshilling two.
While they were parleying, a man came round the corner of the "sweetlittle house," and his eyes fell on the bonneted maiden.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "and who's this? Polly?"
"No," said Betty.
"Na-o. Then p'raps it's Lucy. Eh?"
John tugged at Betty's dress and said "Come on," urgingly; but the manwas already letting down two slip-rails a little way from the crazygate, and his eyes rested on the second barefooted imp.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "An' how's this any'ow?"
John, who had a greater dread of capture than Betty, inquired innocentlyif there were any wild flowers up this way.
The man drew his hand across his eyes to banish sleep inclinations. "Notmany now, I reckon," he said. "There might be a few sprigs of 'eath an'the flannel flowers ain't all done yet. Goin' to town?"
Betty nodded, and John said,--
"Yes--we'll be gettin' back 'ome" in a fair imitation of hisquestioner's voice.
"I'll be goin' as far as the markets," said the man "an' I don't mindgivin' you a lift ef you like."
John's eyes brightened, for he was longing for the centre of the city,and he had felt they were covering ground very slowly. And Betty'sbrightened because she thought she would soon coax the man into lettingher drive.
So the fortune seekers made their entry into town in a fruit cart.
