"Hingratitude, that's wot it is," he said
fiercely. "Speak up, young 'un. Don't you
'ave a-plenty to eat of good 'olesome porridge?
Don't you 'ave a good kind master wot never
canes yer?"
"Oh, yes, sir," I said, in a panic of fear.
...
"Then don't you go a-being ungrateful, and
a-dying on my 'ands, like young Jim done,"
he roared at me furiously. "You 'ear? Stub-
bornness, that's wot it is. I won't 'ave it!"
CHAPTER IV
In which I feel very small and desolate;
encounter once more the terrible wrath of
Mr. Hawkins ; and flee from it into the
unknown perils of a great and fearful world.
...
"IT'S stubbornness, that's wot it is! I won't
'ave it!" Mr. Hawkins said fiercely, and
reached for his cane.
I struggled in the grip of his great knees,
and cried in terror that I did not mean it, I
was sorry, I would be good. I begged him not
to beat me. Even when he let me go I could
not stop screaming.
It must have been some time next day that
I woke in a hot tumbled bed. I thought my
mother had been there, with her hair falling
over the pillow and her face all sparkling with
fun. I put up my arms with a cry, and she
was gone. A strange ugly girl, with a broom
in her hand, was leaning over me.
"Coom, coom," she said crossly, shaking my
shoulder. "Wark's to be done. No time to be
lyin' a-bed."
I struggled to get away from her heavy
hand, and sobbed that I wanted my mother,
I wanted to go home. I was so little and so
miserable and weary- that the grief of missing
my mother seemed almost to break my heart.
...
"She's gone," the girl said, still pulling at
me. "She willna be vexed wi' a girt boy, weep-
ing like a baaby."
"No ! No !" I screamed at her. "My mother
hasn't gone away. "My mother hasn't left me."
"Yus, she has," the girl told me. "She's
gone."
I let her lift me from the bed then, and sat
limp on the floor where she put me, leaning
my aching head against the bedpost. All my
childish courage and hope was gone, and I was
left very little and alone in a terrible black
world where my mother did not care for me
any more. I sat there desolate, with great
tears running down my cheeks, and did not
wish to stir or move or ever see any one again.
...
Long hours later, after it had been dark a
long time, Mr. Hawkins came in with the boys,
and I had no strength even to fear him. When
he roared at me I still sat there and only trem-
bled and turned my head away. I remember
his walking up and down and looking at me
a long time, and I remember his holding a mug
of ale to my lips and making me swallow some,
but everything was confused and vague, and
I did not care for anything, only wanting to be
left alone.
It may have been the next day, or several
days later, that we were all walking over rough
cobbled streets, very early in the morning, in
a cold thick fog. I walked unsteadily, because
my legs felt limp, and Mr. Hawkins held my
hand tight, so that my arm ached. We were
all going to a fair in the country. I was in-
terested in that, because my mother had once
taken Sidney and me to a meadow, where we
all played in the grass and found cowslips and
ate cakes from a basket under a tree.
After we had walked a long time Mr. Hawkins
took us into an eating-house, where we had a
breakfast of sausages and I drank a big mug
of hot coffee. When we came out the sun was
shining and we walked down a wide white road,
past many great houses with grass and trees
about them. I had never imagined such places,
and with the delight of seeing them, and the
sunlight and the good breakfast,
36
I felt better, and thought I could walk by my-
self if Mr. Hawkins would let go my hand,
though I dared not speak of it.
As we walked on, the road grew busy with
carriages coming and going and farmers' wag-
ons coming in to market, and after a time a
coster's cart overtook us, and Mr. Hawkins
bargained with the driver to carry us.
Then I began to be almost happy again, as I
sat in the back of the cart with my legs dan-
gling and saw the road unrolling backward be-
tween the wheels. It was a warm morning;
the road was thick with white dust, and the
smell of it and of the green fields, to which
we came presently, and all the country sights
and sounds, were pleasant. We drove for miles
between the hedgerows, and I grew quite ex-
cited looking for the five-barred gates in them,
through which we caught glimpses of the farms
on either side. So at last we came to Barnett,
where the fair was to be.
The village looked bright and clean, with red
brick buildings standing close to the narrow
street, and shining white cobblestones.
We all climbed down before the inn, and I
looked eagerly for meadows, but there were
none. Mr. Hawkins hurried us to the field
where the fair had already begun. It was
crowded with tents and people, and there was
a great noise of music and shouting and cries
of hokey-pokey men and venders.
37
"Step lively now, young 'uns," ordered Mr.
Hawkins in an awful voice. " Ustle into them
velveteen smalls, and get your jackets on in a
'urry, or I'll show you wot's wot!"
We dressed in mad haste in a little tent,
and he had us into a larger one and hard at
work dancing in no time. We heard his voice
outside, shouting loud over the uproar of the
crowd, " 'Ere! 'Ere! This way for the Lunnon
clog dancers! Only a penny! See the grite
Lunnon clog dancers!" A few people came in,
then more, and more, till the tent was full
of them, coming and going.
It was hard work dancing; my feet felt heavy
to lift and my stomach ached with hunger, but
I did not dare stop a minute. I danced on and
on, in that hot and stuffy place, with a fearful
eye on the tent-flap, where now and again
Mr. Hawkins' red face appeared and glared at
us, and we saw his hand with the cane gripped
in it.
38
Over and over we did the steps, while the
tent grew hotter, and laughing people came
and stared and went away, until my breath
came in gasps and my head swam and grew
large, and larger, and then very tiny again,
in a most confusing manner. Then everything
went black and I must have fallen, for Mr.
Hawkins was shaking me where I lay on the
ground, and saying to some one, " 'E's all
ing, 'e does.'"
After that I was dancing again, but I did
not see the crowd any more. I only danced,
and longed for the time when I might stop.
...
It came after a long, long while. The tent
was cooler and empty when Mr. Hawkins came
in and took me by the shoulder, and my head
cleared so that I saw I need dance no more.
My weary muscles gave way and I sat on the
floor, looking at him fearfully while he
wiped his face with his handkerchief.
"You, with yer woite faces!" he roared
hoarsely. " 'Ow many times 'ave I told yer
to look cheery while you dance? I've a mind
to cane the lot of yer!" We trembled. "But
I won't," he said, after a dreadful pause.
"We're all a-goin' hover to the inn and 'ave
bread and cheese."
39
He took my hand again and we dragged
wearily over to the inn, a bright clean place,
with sawdust on the floor. It was crowded
with men, and they greeted us with loud voices
as we came in,
" 'Ere's the Lunnon clog dancers, come to
dance for bread and cheese," Mr. Hawkins said
cheerfully. He looked at the barmaid, who
nodded, and a place was cleared for us to begin
our weary dancing again.
My tired little legs would hardly hold me
up, and I stumbled in the steps. Under the
terrible eye of Mr. Hawkins I did my best,
panting with fear, but I could not dance. I
stopped at last, and leaned against the bar.
Mr. Hawkins reached for me, but as I shrank
back with a cry I felt warm arms around me.
It was the barmaid who held me, and after
one look at her red cheeks, so close, I began
to cry on her shoulder.
"Pore little dear, 'e's tired," she said, hold-
ing me tight from Mr. Hawkins. " 'E shall
'ave his bread and cheese without 'is dancing."
40
" 'E's a wilful, perverse hungrateful
creetur!" Mr. Hawkins said, but she did not
seem to mind. She took me behind the bar
and gave me a scorching drink of something
and a great piece of bread which I was
too weary to eat. Afterward Mr. Hawkins
took me back to the fair, jerking me furiously
along by the arm. He took me to the little
tent where we had dressed and put me inside.
...
"I'll tike the 'ide off you when I come back,"
he said hoarsely, bending to bring his red face
close to mine. "I'll give you a caning wot is
a caning, I will. I've been too gentle with you,
I 'ave. You stay 'ere, and wait."
With these dreadful words and a horrible
oath he went away, and I could hear him shout-
ing before the other tent above the sounds of
the evening's merrymaking. "'Ere! 'Ere!
This way to the Lunnon clog dancers! Only
a penny!"
I was left in such a state of misery and
wretchedness, shaking with such fear, that
not even my great weariness would let me
sleep. I sat there in the dark for a long
time, trembling, and then, driven by terror
of Mr. Hawkins' return, I crawled beneath
the edge of the tent and set out blindly to
get beyond the reach of his voice.
41
When I came to the edge of the crowd I ran
as fast as I could.
CHAPTER V
In which I have an adventure with a cow; become
a lawless filcher of brandy-snaps ; and confound
an honest farmer.
I RAN for a long time in the darkness, blindly,
not caring where I went, only that I escaped
from Mr. Hawkins. The pounding of my heart
shook me as I plunged across fields and
scrambled under gates in my way, until at last
I came to a corner of two hedges, and had no
strength to go farther. I curled myself into
as small a space as possible, close to the
hedges, and lay there. It seemed to me that
I was hidden and safe, and I was quite content
as I went to sleep.
Early in the morning I was awakened by a
curious swishing noise, and saw close to my
face the great staring eyes of a strange animal.
It was a cow, but I had never seen one, and I
thought it was one of the giants my mother
had told about. I saw its tongue, lapping up
about its nose, and as I stared it licked my
face. The moist sandpapery feeling of it
startled me and I howled.
43
At the sound it backed away with a snort,
and so we remained, staring at each other for
a long time. It was a bright morning, with
birds singing in the hedgerows, and if it had
not been for my hunger and an uneasiness lest
the cow meant to lick me again I would have
been quite happy, so far from Mr. Hawkins.
...
Then between me and the cow came a woman
with a big bucket on her arm, carrying a three-
legged stool. Quite fearlessly she slapped the
great animal, and it turned meekly and stood,
while she sat on the stool and began to milk.
It was the strangest thing I had ever seen,
and I went over to her side and stood watching
the thin white stream pattering on the bottom
of the bucket. She gave a great start and cried
out in surprise when she saw me.
"Lawk a mussy!" she said, and sat with her
mouth open. I must have been a strange sight
in that farmyard, a thin little child — for I
was only ten and very small for that age —
in velveteen smalls and a round jacket with
tinsel braid on it.
44
"Where did you coom from?" she asked.
"I come from London. I am an actor," I
said importantly. "What are you doing?" and
pointed to the bucket.
She laughed at that and seeing, I suppose,
that I looked hungry, she held the bucket to
my lips, and I tasted the fresh warm milk. I
drank every drop, in great delight. I had
never tasted anything so delicious before.
...
"Are you hungry?" she asked me, and I told
her solemnly, believing it, that I had had
nothing to eat for a week. Her consternation
at that was so great she dropped the bucket,
but hastily picking it up, she sat down and
milked again until she had another huge draught
for me. Then she finished the milking in a
hurry and took me into the farmhouse kitchen,
a bright place, with shining pans on the wall
and a pleasant smell of cooking.
The tale I told the farmer's wife I do not
remember, but she took me up in her arms, say-
ing, "Poor little lad! Poor little lad!" over
and over, while she felt my thin arms, and I
squirmed, for I did not like to be pitied, and
besides, I saw the breakfast on the table and
wished she would let me have some. When she
set me dow
n before it at last I could hardly
wait to begin, while, to my surprise, she tied
a napkin around my neck.
45
It was a mighty breakfast — porridge and
eggs, with a rasher of bacon and marmalade,
and the maid who had milked the cow was cut-
ting great slices of crusty bread and butter.
But before I had taken up a spoon the farmer
came in. He was a big bluff man, and at sight
of me he began to ask questions in a loud voice.
...
"Well, my lad, where did you come from?"
he said.
"From the fair, sir," I answered, eager to
be at the food, and not thinking what I said.
"Oh, 'e's the little lad wi' the clog dancers
I told you of, Mary," he said. "Gi' him break-
fuss, if you like, and I'll be takin' him back
to his master as I go to the village."
At the terrible thought of Mr. Hawkins,
whom I had almost forgotten, panic took me.
I sat there trembling for a second, and then,
before a hand could be reached to stay me, I
leaped from my chair and fled from the kitchen,
through the farmyard and out the gate, the
napkin fluttering at my neck. A long way
down the lane I stopped, panting, and looked
to see if any one was following me. No one
was.
46
I wandered on for some time, growing hungrier
with every step and regretting passionately
the loss of that great breakfast before I
saw the girl with the brandy-snaps. She was
a fat round-cheeked little girl, with her
hair in braids, and she was swinging on a gate,
humming to herself and nibbling a cookie.
Others were piled on the gatepost beside her.
I stopped and looked eagerly at them and at
her. Badly as I wanted some I would not ask
for them, and she looked at me round-eyed and
said nothing.
So we eyed each other, until finally she made
a face and stuck out her tongue at me. Then
she opened her mouth wide and popped in a
brandy-snap. It was too much. With a yell
I sprang at her and seized the cookies. She
tumbled from the gate, and as she fell she
howled appallingly. At the sound a great
shaggy dog came bounding, and I fled in
panic, clutching the brandy-snaps.
The dog pursued me as I ran, in great leaps,
my ears filled with the fearful sound of his
barks. I sped around a turn in the lane and
saw before me a farmer's wagon going slowly
along. The dog was hard on my heels. I
caught a glimpse of his great red mouth and
tongue. With a last panting effort I clam-
Charlie Chaplins Own Story Page 3
