Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

“But how’s this?” said Hal; “these tops have no strings; what shall we do for strings?”

  “I have a string that will do very well for mine,” said Ben; and he pulled out of his pocket the fine, long, smooth string, which had tied up the parcel. With this he soon set up his top, which spun admirably well.

  “Oh, how I wish I had but a string,” said Hal. “What shall I do for a string? I’ll tell you what, I can use the string that goes round my hat!”

  “But then,” said Ben, “what will you do for a hat-band?”

  “I’ll manage to do without one,” said Hal, and he took the string of his hat for his top. It soon was worn through, and he split his top by driving the pea too tightly into it. His cousin Ben let him set up his the next day; but Hal was not more fortunate or more careful when he meddled with other people’s things than when he managed his own. He had scarcely played half an hour before he split it, by driving the peg too violently.

  Ben bore this misfortune with good humour. “Come,” said he, “it can’t be helped; but give me the string because THAT may still be of use for something else.”

  It happened some time afterwards that a lady, who had been intimately acquainted with Hal’s mother at Bath — that is to say, who had frequently met her at the card-table during the winter — now arrived at Clifton. She was informed by his mother that Hal was at Mr. Gresham’s, and her sons, who were FRIENDS of his, came to see him, and invited him to spend the next day with them.

  Hal joyfully accepted the invitation. He was always glad to go out to dine, because it gave him something to do, something to think of, or at least something to say. Besides this, he had been educated to think it was a fine thing to visit fine people; and Lady Diana Sweepstakes (for that was the name of his mother’s acquaintance) was a very fine lady, and her two sons intended to be very great gentlemen. He was in a prodigious hurry when these young gentlemen knocked at his uncle’s door the next day; but just as he got to the hall door, little Patty called to him from the top of the stairs, and told him that he had dropped his pocket- handkerchief.

  “Pick it up, then, and bring it to me, quick, can’t you, child,” cried

  Hal, “for Lady Di’s sons are waiting for me?”

  Little Patty did not know anything about Lady Di’s sons; but as she was very good-natured, and saw that her cousin Hal was, for some reason or other, in a desperate hurry, she ran downstairs as fast as she possibly could towards the landing-place, where the handkerchief lay; but, alas! before she reached the handkerchief, she fell, rolling down a whole flight of stairs, and when her fall was at last stopped by the landing- place, she did not cry out, she writhed, as if she was in great pain.

  “Where are you hurt, my love?” said Mr. Gresham, who came instantly, on hearing the noise of someone falling downstairs. “Where are you hurt, my dear?”

  “Here, papa,” said the little girl, touching her ankle, which she had decently covered with her gown. “I believe I am hurt here, but not much,” added she, trying to rise; “only it hurts me when I move.”

  “I’ll carry you; don’t move then,” said her father, and he took her up in his arms.

  “My shoe! I’ve lost one of my shoes,” said she.

  Ben looked for it upon the stairs, and he found it sticking in a loop of whip cord, which was entangled round one of the bannisters. When this cord was drawn forth, it appeared that it was the very same jagged, entangled piece which Hal had pulled off his parcel. He had diverted himself with running up and downstairs, whipping the bannisters with it, as he thought he could convert it to no better use; and, with his usual carelessness, he at last left it hanging just where he happened to throw it when the dinner bell rang. Poor little Patty’s ankle was terribly strained, and Hal reproached himself for his folly, and would have reproached himself longer, perhaps, if Lady Di Sweepstakes’ sons had not hurried him away.

  In the evening, Patty could not run about as she used to do; but she sat upon the sofa, and she said, that she did not feel the pain of her ankle SO MUCH, whilst Ben was so good as to play at JACK STRAWS with her.

  “That’s right, Ben; never be ashamed of being good-natured to those who are younger and weaker than yourself,” said his uncle, smiling at seeing him produce his whip cord, to indulge his little cousin with a game at her favourite cat’s cradle. “I shall not think you one bit less manly, because I see you playing at cat’s cradle with a little child of six years old.”

  Hal, however, was not precisely of his uncle’s opinion: for when he returned in the evening, and saw Ben playing with his little cousin, he could not help smiling contemptuously, and asked if he had been playing at cat’s cradle all night. In a heedless manner he made some inquiries after Patty’s sprained ankle, and then he ran on to tell all the news he had heard at Lady Diana Sweepstakes’ — news which he thought would make him appear a person of vast importance.

  “Do you know, uncle — do you know, Ben,” said he—”there’s to be the most FAMOUS doings that ever were heard of upon the Downs here, the first day of next month, which will be in a fortnight, thank my stars! I wish the fortnight was over; I shall think of nothing else, I know, till that happy day comes!”

  Mr. Gresham inquired why the first of September was to be so much happier than any other day in the year.

  “Why,” replied Hal, “Lady Diana Sweepstakes, you know, is a famous rider, and archer, and ALL THAT—”

  “Very likely,” said Mr. Gresham, soberly; “but what then?”

  “Dear uncle!” cried Hal, “but you shall hear. There’s to be a race upon the Downs on the first of September, and after the race, there’s to be an archery meeting for the ladies, and Lady Diana Sweepstakes is to be one of THEM. And after the ladies have done shooting — now, Ben, comes the best part of it! we boys are to have our turn, and Lady Di is to give a prize to the best marksman amongst us, of a very handsome bow and arrow! Do you know, I’ve been practising already, and I’ll show you, to-morrow, as soon as it comes home, the FAMOUS bow and arrow that Lady Diana has given me; but, perhaps,” added he, with a scornful laugh, “you like a cat’s cradle better than a bow and arrow.”

  Ben made no reply to this taunt at the moment; but the next day, when Hal’s new bow and arrow came home, he convinced him that he knew how to use it very well.

  “Ben,” said his uncle, “you seem to be a good marksman, though you have not boasted of yourself. I’ll give you a bow and arrow, and, perhaps, if you practise, you may make yourself an archer before the first of September; and, in the meantime, you will not wish the fortnight to be over, for you will have something to do.”

  “Oh, sir,” interrupted Hal, “but if you mean that Ben should put in for the prize, he must have a uniform.”

  “Why MUST he?” said Mr. Gresham.

  “Why, sir, because everybody has — I mean everybody that’s anybody; and Lady Diana was talking about the uniform all dinner time, and it’s settled, all about it, except the buttons: the young Sweepstakes are to get theirs made first for patterns — they are to be white, faced with green, and they’ll look very handsome, I’m sure; and I shall write to mamma to-night, as Lady Diana bid me, about mine; and I shall tell her to be sure to answer my letter, without fail, by return of post; and then, if mamma makes no objection, which I know she won’t, because she never thinks much about expense, and ALL THAT — then I shall bespeak my uniform, and get it made by the same tailor that makes for Lady Diana and the young Sweepstakes.”

  “Mercy upon us!” said Mr. Gresham, who was almost stunned by the rapid vociferation with which this long speech about a uniform was pronounced. “I don’t pretend to understand these things,” added he, with an air of simplicity; “but we will inquire, Ben, into the necessity of the case; and if it is necessary — or, if you think it necessary, that you shall have a uniform — why, I’ll give you one.”

  “YOU, uncle? Will you, INDEED?” exclaimed Hal, with amazement painted in his countenance. “Well, that’s the last thing in the world I s
hould have expected! You are not at all the sort of person I should have thought would care about a uniform; and now I should have supposed you’d have thought it extravagant to have a coat on purpose only for one day; and I’m sure Lady Diana Sweepstakes thought as I do; for when I told her of that motto over your kitchen chimney, ‘WASTE NOT, WANT NOT,’ she laughed, and said that I had better not talk to you about uniforms, and that my mother was the proper person to write to about my uniform: but I’ll tell Lady Diana, uncle, how good you are, and how much she was mistaken.”

  “Take care how you do that,” said Mr. Gresham: “for perhaps the lady was not mistaken.”

  “Nay, did not you say, just now, you would give poor Ben a uniform?”

  “I said I would, if he thought it necessary to have one.”

  “Oh, I’ll answer for it, he’ll think it necessary, “ said Hal, laughing, “because it is necessary.”

  “Allow him, at least, to judge for himself,” said Mr. Gresham.

  “My dear uncle, but I assure you,” said Hal, earnestly, “there’s no judging about the matter, because really, upon my word, Lady Diana said distinctly, that her sons were to have uniforms, white faced with green, and a green and white cockade in their hats.”

  “May be so,” said Mr. Gresham, still with the same look of calm simplicity; “put on your hats, boys, and come with me. I know a gentleman whose sons are to be at this archery meeting, and we will inquire into all the particulars from him. Then, after we have seen him (it is not eleven o’clock yet) we shall have time enough to walk on to Bristol, and choose the cloth for Ben’s uniform, if it is necessary.”

  “I cannot tell what to make of all he says,” whispered Hal, as he reached down his hat; “do you think, Ben, he means to give you this uniform, or not?”

  “I think,” said Ben, “that he means to give me one, if it is necessary; or, as he said, if I think it is necessary.”

  “And that to be sure you will; won’t you? or else you’ll be a great fool, I know, after all I’ve told you. How can anyone in the world know so much about the matter as I, who have dined with Lady Diana Sweepstakes but yesterday, and heard all about it from beginning to end? And as for this gentleman that we are going to, I’m sure, if he knows anything about the matter, he’ll say exactly the same as I do.”

  “We shall hear,” said Ben, with a degree of composure which Hal could by no means comprehend when a uniform was in question.

  The gentleman upon whom Mr. Gresham called had three sons, who were all to be at this archery meeting; and they unanimously assured him, in the presence of Hal and Ben, that they had never thought of buying uniforms for this grand occasion, and that, amongst the number of their acquaintance, they knew of but three boys whose friends intended to be at such an UNNECESSARY expense. Hal stood amazed.

  “Such are the varieties of opinion upon all the grand affairs of life,” said Mr. Gresham, looking at his nephews. “What amongst one set of people you hear asserted to be absolutely necessary, you will hear from another set of people is quite unnecessary. All that can be done, my dear boys, in these difficult cases, is to judge for yourselves, which opinions, and which people, are the most reasonable.”

  Hal, who had been more accustomed to think of what was fashionable, than of what was reasonable, without at all considering the good sense of what his uncle said to him, replied, with childish petulance, “Indeed, sir, I don’t know what other people think; but I only know what Lady Diana Sweepstakes said.” The name of Lady Diana Sweepstakes, Hal thought, must impress all present with respect; he was highly astonished, when, as he looked round, he saw a smile of contempt upon everyone’s countenance: and he was yet further bewildered, when he heard her spoken of as a very silly, extravagant, ridiculous woman, whose opinion no prudent person would ask upon any subject, and whose example was to be shunned, instead of being imitated.

  “Ay, my dear Hal,” said his uncle, smiling at his look of amazement, “these are some of the things that young people must learn from experience. All the world do not agree in opinion about characters: you will hear the same person admired in one company, and blamed in another; so that we must still come round to the same point, ‘Judge for yourself.’”

  Hal’s thoughts were, however, at present too full of the uniform to allow his judgment to act with perfect impartiality. As soon as their visit was over, and all the time they walked down the hill from Prince’s Building’s towards Bristol, he continued to repeat nearly the same arguments, which he had formerly used, respecting necessity, the uniform, and Lady Diana Sweepstakes. To all this Mr. Gresham made no reply, and longer had the young gentleman expatiated upon the subject, which had so strongly seized upon his imagination, had not his senses been forcibly assailed at this instant by the delicious odours and tempting sight of certain cakes and jellies in a pastrycook’s shop. “Oh, uncle,” said he, as his uncle was going to turn the corner to pursue the road to Bristol, “look at those jellies!” pointing to a confectioner’s shop. “I must buy some of those good things, for I have got some halfpence in my pocket.”

  “Your having halfpence in your pocket is an excellent reason for eating,” said Mr. Gresham, smiling.

  “But I really am hungry,” said Hal; “you know, uncle, it is a good while since breakfast.”

  His uncle, who was desirous to see his nephews act without restraint, that he might judge their characters, bid them do as they pleased.

  “Come, then, Ben, if you’ve any halfpence in your pocket.”

  “I’m not hungry,” said Ben.

  “I suppose THAT means that you’ve no halfpence,” said Hal, laughing, with the look of superiority which he had been taught to think the RICH might assume towards those who were convicted either of poverty or economy.

  “Waste not, want not,” said Ben to himself. Contrary to his cousin’s surmise, he happened to have two pennyworth of halfpence actually in his pocket.

  At the very moment Hal stepped into the pastrycook’s shop, a poor, industrious man, with a wooden leg, who usually sweeps the dirty corner of the walk which turns at this spot to the Wells, held his hat to Ben, who, after glancing his eye at the petitioner’s well worn broom, instantly produced his twopence. “I wish I had more halfpence for you, my good man,” said he; “but I’ve only twopence.”

  Hal came out of Mr. Millar’s, the confectioner’s shop, with a hatful of cakes in his hand. Mr. Millar’s dog was sitting on the flags before the door, and he looked up with a wistful, begging eye at Hal, who was eating a queen cake. Hal, who was wasteful even in his good-nature, threw a whole queen cake to the dog, who swallowed it for a single mouthful.

  “There goes twopence in the form of a queen cake,” said Mr. Gresham.

  Hal next offered some of his cakes to his uncle and cousin; but they thanked him, and refused to eat any, because, they said, they were not hungry; so he ate and ate as he walked along, till at last he stopped, and said, “This bun tastes so bad after the queen cakes, I can’t bear it!” and he was going to fling it from him into the river.

  “Oh, it is a pity to waste that good bun; we may be glad of it yet,” said

  Ben; “give it me rather than throw it away.”

  “Why, I thought you said you were not hungry,” said Hal.

  “True, I am not hungry now; but that is no reason why I should never be hungry again.”

  “Well, there is the cake for you. Take it; for it has made me sick, and

  I don’t care what becomes of it.”

  Ben folded the refuse bit of his cousin’s bun in a piece of paper, and put it into his pocket.

  “I’m beginning to be exceeding tired or sick or something,” said Hal; “and as there is a stand of coaches somewhere hereabouts, had not we better take a coach, instead of walking all the way to Bristol?”

  “For a stout archer,” said Mr. Gresham, “you are more easily tired than one might have expected. However, with all my heart, let us take a coach, for Ben asked me to show him the cathedral yester
day; and I believe I should find it rather too much for me to walk so far, though I am not sick with eating good things.”

  “THE CATHEDRAL!” said Hal, after he had been seated in the coach about a quarter of an hour, and had somewhat recovered from his sickness—”the cathedral! Why, are we only going to Bristol to see the cathedral? I thought we came out to see about a uniform.”

  There was a dulness and melancholy kind of stupidity in Hal’s countenance as he pronounced these words, like one wakening from a dream, which made both his uncle and his cousin burst out a-laughing.

  “Why,” said Hal, who was now piqued, “I’m sure you did say, uncle, you would go to Mr. Hall’s to choose the cloth for the uniform.”

  “Very true, and so I will,” said Mr. Gresham; “but we need not make a whole morning’s work, need we, of looking at a piece of cloth? Cannot we see a uniform and a cathedral both in one morning?”

  They went first to the cathedral. Hal’s head was too full of the uniform to take any notice of the painted window, which immediately caught Ben’s embarrassed attention. He looked at the large stained figures on the Gothic window, and he observed their coloured shadows on the floor and walls.

  Mr. Gresham, who perceived that he was eager on all subjects to gain information, took this opportunity of telling him several things about the lost art of painting on glass, Gothic arches, etc., which Hal thought extremely tiresome.

  “Come! come! we shall be late indeed,” said Hal; “surely you’ve looked long enough, Ben, at this blue and red window.”

  “I’m only thinking about these coloured shadows,” said Ben.

  “I can show you when we go home, Ben,” said his uncle, “an entertaining paper upon such shadows.”*

  *Vide “Priestley’s History of Vision,” chapter on coloured shadows.

  “Hark!” cried Ben, “did you hear that noise?” They all listened; and they heard a bird singing in the cathedral.

  “It’s our old robin, sir,” said the lad who had opened the cathedral door for them.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Gresham, “there he is, boys — look — perched upon the organ; he often sits there, and sings, whilst the organ is playing.”