Kit, and wasn't Barbara herself quite fascinated with little Jacob,
and did ever a child show off when he was wanted, as that child
did, or make such friends as he made!
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'And we are both widows too!' said Barbara's mother. 'We must have
been made to know each other.'
'I haven't a doubt about it,' returned Mrs Nubbles. 'And what a
pity it is we didn't know each other sooner.'
'But then, you know, it's such a pleasure,' said Barbara's mother,
'to have it brought about by one's son and daughter, that it's
fully made up for. Now, an't it?'
To this, Kit's mother yielded her full assent, and tracing things
back from effects to causes, they naturally reverted to their
deceased husbands, respecting whose lives, deaths, and burials,
they compared notes, and discovered sundry circumstances that
tallied with wonderful exactness; such as Barbara's father having
been exactly four years and ten months older than Kit's father, and
one of them having died on a Wednesday and the other on a Thursday,
and both of them having been of a very fine make and remarkably
good-looking, with other extraordinary coincidences. These
recollections being of a kind calculated to cast a shadow on the
brightness of the holiday, Kit diverted the conversation to general
topics, and they were soon in great force again, and as merry as
before. Among other things, Kit told them about his old place, and
the extraordinary beauty of Nell (of whom he had talked to Barbara
a thousand times already); but the last-named circumstance failed
to interest his hearers to anything like the extent he had
supposed, and even his mother said (looking accidentally at Barbara
at the same time) that there was no doubt Miss Nell was very
pretty, but she was but a child after all, and there were many
young women quite as pretty as she; and Barbara mildly observed
that she should think so, and that she never could help believing
Mr Christopher must be under a mistake--which Kit wondered at very
much, not being able to conceive what reason she had for doubting
him. Barbara's mother too, observed that it was very common for
young folks to change at about fourteen or fifteen, and whereas
they had been very pretty before, to grow up quite plain; which
truth she illustrated by many forcible examples, especially one of
a young man, who, being a builder with great prospects, had been
particular in his attentions to Barbara, but whom Barbara would
have nothing to say to; which (though everything happened for the
best) she almost thought was a pity. Kit said he thought so too,
and so he did honestly, and he wondered what made Barbara so silent
all at once, and why his mother looked at him as if he shouldn't
have said it.
However, it was high time now to be thinking of the play; for which
great preparation was required, in the way of shawls and bonnets,
not to mention one handkerchief full of oranges and another of
apples, which took some time tying up, in consequence of
the fruit having a tendency to roll out at the corners. At length,
everything was ready, and they went off very fast; Kit's mother
carrying the baby, who was dreadfully wide awake, and Kit holding
little Jacob in one hand, and escorting Barbara with the other--a
state of things which occasioned the two mothers, who walked
behind, to declare that they looked quite family folks, and caused
Barbara to blush and say, 'Now don't, mother!' But Kit said she had
no call to mind what they said; and indeed she need not have had,
if she had known how very far from Kit's thoughts any love-making
was. Poor Barbara!
At last they got to the theatre, which was Astley's: and in some
two minutes after they had reached the yet unopened door, little
Jacob was squeezed flat, and the baby had received divers
concussions, and Barbara's mother's umbrella had been carried
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several yards off and passed back to her over the shoulders of the
people, and Kit had hit a man on the head with the handkerchief of
apples for 'scrowdging' his parent with unnecessary violence, and
there was a great uproar. But, when they were once past the
pay-place and tearing away for very life with their checks in their
hands, and, above all, when they were fairly in the theatre, and
seated in such places that they couldn't have had better if they
had picked them out, and taken them beforehand, all this was looked
upon as quite a capital joke, and an essential part of the
entertainment.
Dear, dear, what a place it looked, that Astley's; with all the
paint, gilding, and looking-glass; the vague smell of horses
suggestive of coming wonders; the curtain that hid such gorgeous
mysteries; the clean white sawdust down in the circus; the company
coming in and taking their places; the fiddlers looking carelessly
up at them while they tuned their instruments, as if they didn't
want the play to begin, and knew it all beforehand! What a glow
was that, which burst upon them all, when that long, clear,
brilliant row of lights came slowly up; and what the feverish
excitement when the little bell rang and the music began in good
earnest, with strong parts for the drums, and sweet effects for the
triangles! Well might Barbara's mother say to Kit's mother that
the gallery was the place to see from, and wonder it wasn't much
dearer than the boxes; well might Barbara feel doubtful whether to
laugh or cry, in her flutter of delight.
Then the play itself! the horses which little Jacob believed from
the first to be alive, and the ladies and gentlemen of whose
reality he could be by no means persuaded, having never seen or
heard anything at all like them--the firing, which made Barbara
wink--the forlorn lady, who made her cry--the tyrant, who made
her tremble--the man who sang the song with the lady's-maid and
danced the chorus, who made her laugh--the pony who reared up on
his hind legs when he saw the murderer, and wouldn't hear of
walking on all fours again until he was taken into custody--the
clown who ventured on such familiarities with the military man in
boots--the lady who jumped over the nine-and-twenty ribbons and
came down safe upon the horse's back--everything was delightful,
splendid, and surprising! Little Jacob applauded till his hands
were sore; Kit cried 'an-kor' at the end of everything, the
three-act piece included; and Barbara's mother beat her umbrella on
the floor, in her ecstasies, until it was nearly worn down to the
gingham.
In the midst of all these fascinations, Barbara's thoughts seemed
to have been still running on what Kit had said at tea-time; for,
when they were coming out of the play, she asked him, with an
hysterical simper, if Miss Nell was as handsome as the lady who
jumped over the ribbons.
'As handsome as her?' said Kit. 'Double as handsome.'
'Oh Christopher! I'm sure she was the beautifullest creature ever
was,' said Barbara.
'Nonsense!' returned Kit. 'She was well enough, I don't deny that;
but think how she was dressed and painted, and what a difference
that made. Why YOU are a good deal better looking than her,
Barbara.'
'Oh Christopher!' said Barbara, looking down.
'You are, any day,' said Kit, '--and so's your mother.'
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Poor Barbara!
What was all this though--even all this--to the extraordinary
dissipation that ensued, when Kit, walking into an oyster-shop as
bold as if he lived there, and not so much as looking at the
counter or the man behind it, led his party into a box--a private
box, fitted up with red curtains, white table-cloth, and cruetstand
complete--and ordered a fierce gentleman with whiskers, who
acted as waiter and called him, him Christopher Nubbles, 'sir,' to
bring three dozen of his largest-sized oysters, and to look sharp
about it! Yes, Kit told this gentleman to look sharp, and he not
only said he would look sharp, but he actually did, and presently
came running back with the newest loaves, and the freshest butter,
and the largest oysters, ever seen. Then said Kit to this
gentleman, 'a pot of beer'--just so--and the gentleman, instead
of replying, 'Sir, did you address that language to me?' only said,
'Pot o' beer, sir? Yes, sir,' and went off and fetched it, and put
it on the table in a small decanter-stand, like those which
blind-men's dogs carry about the streets in their mouths, to catch
the half-pence in; and both Kit's mother and Barbara's mother
declared as he turned away that he was one of the slimmest and
gracefullest young men she had ever looked upon.
Then they fell to work upon the supper in earnest; and there was
Barbara, that foolish Barbara, declaring that she could not eat
more than two, and wanting more pressing than you would believe
before she would eat four: though her mother and Kit's mother made
up for it pretty well, and ate and laughed and enjoyed themselves
so thoroughly that it did Kit good to see them, and made him laugh
and eat likewise from strong sympathy. But the greatest miracle of
the night was little Jacob, who ate oysters as if he had been born
and bred to the business--sprinkled the pepper and the vinegar
with a discretion beyond his years--and afterwards built a grotto
on the table with the shells. There was the baby too, who had
never closed an eye all night, but had sat as good as gold, trying
to force a large orange into his mouth, and gazing intently at the
lights in the chandelier--there he was, sitting up in his mother's
lap, staring at the gas without winking, and making indentations in
his soft visage with an oyster-shell, to that degree that a heart
of iron must have loved him! In short, there never was a more
successful supper; and when Kit ordered in a glass of something hot
to finish with, and proposed Mr and Mrs Garland before sending it
round, there were not six happier people in all the world.
But all happiness has an end--hence the chief pleasure of its next
beginning--and as it was now growing late, they agreed it was time
to turn their faces homewards. So, after going a little out of
their way to see Barbara and Barbara's mother safe to a friend's
house where they were to pass the night, Kit and his mother left
them at the door, with an early appointment for returning to
Finchley next morning, and a great many plans for next quarter's
enjoyment. Then, Kit took little Jacob on his back, and giving his
arm to his mother, and a kiss to the baby, they all trudged merrily
home together.
CHAPTER 40
Full of that vague kind of penitence which holidays awaken next
morning, Kit turned out at sunrise, and, with his faith in last
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night's enjoyments a little shaken by cool daylight and the return
to every-day duties and occupations, went to meet Barbara and her
mother at the appointed place. And being careful not to awaken any
of the little household, who were yet resting from their unusual
fatigues, Kit left his money on the chimney-piece, with an
inscription in chalk calling his mother's attention to the
circumstance, and informing her that it came from her dutiful son;
and went his way, with a heart something heavier than his pockets,
but free from any very great oppression notwithstanding.
Oh these holidays! why will they leave us some regret? why cannot
we push them back, only a week or two in our memories, so as to put
them at once at that convenient distance whence they may be
regarded either with a calm indifference or a pleasant effort of
recollection! why will they hang about us, like the flavour of
yesterday's wine, suggestive of headaches and lassitude, and those
good intentions for the future, which, under the earth, form the
everlasting pavement of a large estate, and, upon it, usually
endure until dinner-time or thereabouts!
Who will wonder that Barbara had a headache, or that Barbara's
mother was disposed to be cross, or that she slightly underrated
Astley's, and thought the clown was older than they had taken him
to be last night? Kit was not surprised to hear her say so--not
he. He had already had a misgiving that the inconstant actors in
that dazzling vision had been doing the same thing the night before
last, and would do it again that night, and the next, and for weeks
and months to come, though he would not be there. Such is the
difference between yesterday and today. We are all going to the
play, or coming home from it.
However, the Sun himself is weak when he first rises, and gathers
strength and courage as the day gets on. By degrees, they began to
recall circumstances more and more pleasant in their nature, until,
what between talking, walking, and laughing, they reached Finchley
in such good heart, that Barbara's mother declared she never felt
less tired or in better spirits. And so said Kit. Barbara had
been silent all the way, but she said so too. Poor little Barbara!
She was very quiet.
They were at home in such good time that Kit had rubbed down the
pony and made him as spruce as a race-horse, before Mr Garland came
down to breakfast; which punctual and industrious conduct the old
lady, and the old gentleman, and Mr Abel, highly extolled. At his
usual hour (or rather at his usual minute and second, for he was
the soul of punctuality) Mr Abel walked out, to be overtaken by the
London coach, and Kit and the old gentleman went to work in the
garden.
This was not the least pleasant of Kit's employments. On a fine
day they were quite a family party; the old lady sitting hard by
with her work-basket on a little table; the old gentleman digging,
or pruning, or clipping about with a large pair of shears, or
helping Kit in some way or other
with great assiduity; and Whisker
looking on from his paddock in placid contemplation of them all.
To-day they were to trim the grape-vine, so Kit mounted half-way up
a short ladder, and began to snip and hammer away, while the old
gentleman, with a great interest in his proceedings, handed up the
nails and shreds of cloth as he wanted them. The old lady and
Whisker looked on as usual.
'Well, Christopher,' said Mr Garland, 'and so you have made a new
friend, eh?'
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'I beg your pardon, Sir?' returned Kit, looking down from the
ladder.
'You have made a new friend, I hear from Mr Abel,' said the old
gentleman, 'at the office!'
'Oh! Yes Sir, yes. He behaved very handsome, Sir.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' returned the old gentlemen with a smile.
'He is disposed to behave more handsomely still, though,
Christopher.'
'Indeed, Sir! It's very kind in him, but I don't want him to, I'm
sure,' said Kit, hammering stoutly at an obdurate nail.
'He is rather anxious,' pursued the old gentleman, 'to have you in
his own service--take care what you're doing, or you will fall
down and hurt yourself.'
'To have me in his service, Sir?' cried Kit, who had stopped short
in his work and faced about on the ladder like some dexterous
tumbler. 'Why, Sir, I don't think he can be in earnest when he
says that.'
'Oh! But he is indeed,' said Mr Garland. 'And he has told Mr Abel
so.'
'I never heard of such a thing!' muttered Kit, looking ruefully at
his master and mistress. 'I wonder at him; that I do.'
'You see, Christopher,' said Mr Garland, 'this is a point of much
importance to you, and you should understand and consider it in
that light. This gentleman is able to give you more money than I--
not, I hope, to carry through the various relations of master and
servant, more kindness and confidence, but certainly, Christopher,
to give you more money.'
'Well,' said Kit, 'after that, Sir--'
'Wait a moment,' interposed Mr Garland. 'That is not all. You
were a very faithful servant to your old employers, as I
understand, and should this gentleman recover them, as it is his
purpose to attempt doing by every means in his power, I have no
doubt that you, being in his service, would meet with your reward.
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