Two Little Travellers Part 18

Darby flung himself on the ground beside the still, pathetic little figure, and Joan, with sobs and cries, implored her dear dwarf to open his eyes, to waken up and speak to his own little missy once more. But the dwarf did not move or speak. His ears were deaf to Darby's tender tones and Joan's insistent pleading.

At this moment Nurse Perry, with Eric in her arms, popped her head out at the front door--just to get a breath of fresh air, as she would have said. For a long minute she gazed at the group by the gate; then with a loud cry, and dumping baby down upon the door mat, she flew along the gravel path, and flinging her arms around the children, she laughed and cried over them by turns.

"My precious pets!" she sobbed. "And have they come back to their poor old Perry? And us thinkin' you was both dead and drownded in the ca.n.a.l.

Oh, did I ever!"

"There, nurse, that will do. You'd choke a fellow," declared Darby, wriggling himself out of her clinging embrace. "Of course we're not either dead or drowned. How can you be so silly?"

"Eh! and is it silly you call me for near frettin' myself into the grave about you?" cried nurse, stung by Master Darby's want of feeling.--"Miss Joan won't call nursie silly; sure you won't, lovey? And aren't you glad to get back to your own Perry, and baby, and everything?"

"Yes, werry glad," agreed Joan readily; "and I hope you've got lots and lots of jam and goodies for tea. Has you, nurse? 'cause I's as hung'y as hung'y as anythin'!" she whimpered.

"Yes, darlin', there's a seed-cake and toast, and a whole pot of beautiful strawberry jam that has never been touched. I couldn't eat hardly a mouthful these days for picterin' my pretty lyin' in the mud at the bottom of that slimy, smellin' ca.n.a.l," whined Perry, wiping her eyes on the corner of a much-betrimmed white ap.r.o.n.

"That'll do, Perry," called out Miss Turner, in her usual brisk tones.

"Come here; I want you."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Perry meekly. "But oh, ma'am, what's _that_?" she screamed, noticing for the first time the odd little object on the gra.s.s over which the ladies were so anxiously bending. "What ever is it, Miss Alice? Is it a _man_--_that_? and is he living?" the woman inquired in a shocked whisper, drawing back her skirts, and gaping with eyes and mouth at the quiet figure huddled in a little heap at Miss Turner's feet. Yet when Perry had been made to understand that it was even to this small creature they owed the safety and return of their darlings, she was as warm in her expressions of grat.i.tude and as eager to be kind to him as her mistresses themselves.

Bambo was carried to a pleasant top room overlooking the lawn and the cedar tree, and laid in a comfortable bed--the most comfortable in which his poor body had ever lain in all his weary life. But its softness did not soothe him; the down pillows were not restful; he paid no heed to the cool freshness of the linen: for when he recovered from the stupor into which he had sunk beside the gate, he was in the grip of an enemy which he would have a hard fight to shake off. The wet and cold to which he had been exposed without sufficient clothing, together with the fatigue he had undergone, working on a const.i.tution already in a critical condition, had brought on pneumonia; and when Dr. King saw him, late that night, he had little hope of being able to save his life.

The next morning, after a long, sound sleep and a good breakfast of porridge and milk, Joan was as bright as a b.u.t.ton, petted by Perry, playing with baby, and teasing the p.u.s.s.ies. Her troubles were behind, and she did not talk much about her adventures.

But Darby was weak, wandering, and feverish. Dr. King said, however, that his illness was merely the effect of excitement and the strain upon a not over strong system. He would be all right in a few days. He chattered incessantly of the Happy Land, Bruno, Joe, Moll, and the monkey, but in broken s.n.a.t.c.hes from which no reliable information could be gleaned.

Miss Turner would have liked to send the police after the Harrises without a single hour's delay. It was dreadful, she declared, to think of such a wicked pair being permitted to wander at large, working mischief without let or hindrance. But her friends advised her to wait until Darby was well enough to be questioned; or possibly the dwarf might yet be able to furnish such a clue to their haunts and habits as should enable the police to pounce upon them unawares.

For a few days Darby continued in a low and feeble condition; then he took a turn for the better, and soon he was strong enough to listen to Joan's merry prattle, and to be amused by baby's funny attempts at speaking. The weather was still mild and bright; so as soon as he was able to be about he was allowed out into the garden, where the kittens loved to sun themselves in the sheltered corner down by the boxwood border.

Still Bambo's life hung trembling in the balance. The actual disease had abated, but his weakness and want of vitality made his recovery seem almost impossible. One hour he would revive somewhat, and the next sink so low that Miss Turner and Miss Alice felt that at any moment the end might come. Between them they kept constant watch beside the faithful creature, feeling as if nothing that they might do could repay him for the devotion which he had displayed towards the children. Bit by bit they had gathered from Darby and Joan the story of their quest of the Happy Land, what befell them by the way, and all that the dwarf had done to deliver them from the clutches of Thieving Joe, and the captivity of life dragged out within the narrow compa.s.s of the Satellite Circus Company's old yellow caravan.

At last a day came when the poor dwarf smiled up into Miss Turner's anxious face with a world of intelligence and grat.i.tude in the eyes whose sweet expression made the wan, pinched features look almost beautiful to the aunt of Darby and Joan. She did not regard him as an object utterly unlike other people, a bit of lumber for which the world could have no real use or fitting place. She remembered only that by this man's prompt.i.tude and courage two innocent, helpless children had been rescued from a fate infinitely worse than a peaceful death, with a green grave under the daisies, and those who loved them delivered from a lifelong sorrow. So there were real gladness and true thankfulness in Aunt Catharine's look and voice as she laid a cool hand upon the invalid's brow, saying kindly,--

"You are better, are you not, Bambo?--that is, if it is Bambo I am to call you."

"Yes, ma'am, I do feel better," answered the dwarf, in a low, quavering voice. "And, please, call me Bambo; it is the name little master and missy knows me by."

"You have been very ill, but you will soon be stronger and able to see the children. They come to the door very often to ask for you."

A flush of pleasure crept into the dwarf's hollow cheeks. He was not used to having anybody asking after his health, or interested in him in any way. Then Miss Turner held a cup of nice strong soup to his lips, and soon after he fell into a sweet, refres.h.i.+ng sleep, which lasted many hours.

Dr. King was standing by the bedside when he awoke.

"You've had a close shave, my lad!" he said, in his quick, direct way.

"You'll pull through now though.--Plenty of nourishment and perfect rest, that's all he wants in the meantime," added the doctor to Miss Turner, as he hurried off to visit another patient, or perhaps to have a little chat with Miss Alice, who was amusing Darby in the garden, where the bees buzzed and worked about their hives along the sunny south wall.

After seeing the doctor down the stairs Miss Turner came back to the dwarf, and as she entered the room she saw him turn his face away from the window to the wall with a sigh, which filled her heart with pity for the forlorn little being.

"Now, Bambo," she began, "you have done so much for me and mine that I want you to let me be as kind to you as I know how. You have been more than a friend to my dear nephew's children. I desire above all things to be a friend to you."

"O ma'am, that is impossible," answered the dwarf in a choked voice.

"You are a lady, while I am n.o.body--an insignificant, despised object!

And don't you know who I really am? Green, your gardener's grandson--Jimmy Green the dwarf, the boy who ran away from Firgrove long ago, when you and Miss Alice were in foreign parts for your eddication!"

"I believe my sister and I were in Paris at that time," answered Miss Turner lightly. "But what difference does the fact of your being Green's grandson make, except to give you an additional claim upon our friendliness? And, Bambo, your grandfather is truly sorry he treated you harshly and unjustly in the past. He has asked me to tell you so, and to say that instead of feeling ashamed of you now, he's really proud to think what you have done for Master Darby and Miss Joan."

"'Twas nothing, nothing," murmured the dwarf in confusion, although his beaming face plainly showed the gratification he felt at his grandfather's message.

"And now," resumed Miss Turner, "if I am to be your friend, you must tell me why you sighed so sadly just now. Come; you won't refuse, I am sure," she added in a persuasive tone.

For a while there was silence in the room. Miss Turner waited for the dwarf to speak. He kept his face towards the wall, and from time to time put up a long, thin hand to wipe away the big tears that forced their way beneath his closed eyelids to trickle slowly on to the snowy pillow in which his head was half hidden.

At length he raised himself in the bed and looked straight at Miss Turner. And as he met the kindly glance of her keen, true eyes, a quick smile parted his lips and shone like a flicker of pale sunlight all over his worn features.

"You are very good, ma'am, so good that because you ask me I will tell you. Well, I was only wis.h.i.+ng that I had not got better. I have been ailing for a while back--since last spring--and I was kind of looking forward to getting away home soon," said Bambo, as calmly as if he were talking of a journey to Barchester. "You see, ma'am, it's this way," he explained, in an apologetic tone. "When a body's made like me--just an object for folks to pity, laugh, jeer, and peep at, without a real friend--the world is a poor place in comparison to that one the Lord has prepared and waiting for all who love Him and want to go there."

"Don't, Bambo, don't!" implored Miss Turner, looking at the dwarf through a mist of tears. "You make me feel that I, who have always been strong and well, am one of those who have done so little to make life a less burdensome possession, a pleasanter thing for such as you. Do not be so anxious to depart, dear friend. The little ones love you; your old grandfather needs you. Here you shall always find a home. At Firgrove we will make a place for you as soon as you shall be able to fill it.

Meantime you have nothing to do but try to get well. Perfect rest and plenty of nourishment--these are the doctor's orders, and there's nothing for it but obedience."

The dwarf drank in Miss Turner's words, hardly daring to believe he was in his sober senses, for they sounded almost too good to be true. He to stay on at Firgrove with the dear boy and sweet little missy! What had he done that he should be so kindly treated, so generously dealt with?

Nothing, Bambo said to himself, less than nothing, for there had been scarcely anything to do.

Nothing? Ah! was it nothing to be willing to lay down his life for those friends of his? nothing to give the cup of cold water in the name of Jesus to two of His children? "Verily, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

From that day the dwarf grew rapidly better, and before the flowers were all gone out of the borders, or the last red and yellow leaves had fluttered from the lime tree on the lawn, he was able to saunter up and down the gravel paths, his hand on Darby's shoulder, the baby holding fast by one of his fingers, with Joan and the kittens frolicking among their feet, and racing here, there, and everywhere, all over the place.

He quite agreed with Miss Turner that from no mistaken feelings of mercy or pity should Joe Harris be s.h.i.+elded from the reach of the law, so he gave all the information that he could supply concerning the rascal's favourite resorts and usual a.s.sociates. He and the little ones pleaded hard on Moll's behalf; but Dr. King declared that in her case the receiver was as bad as the thief, and she would just have to take her chance along with her husband.

Soon the Barchester police were on their track. They came across Tonio wandering disconsolately about the streets, with only Puck for company.

He, however, knew nothing of the movements of his late master, except that the caravan had been returned to its lawful owner, and that the Satellite Circus Company, as a company, had ceased to exist.

But neither Joe, Moll, nor Bruno was anywhere to be found. They had a long start of their pursuers; consequently they had disappeared as completely as last year's snow, leaving not a trace behind.

CHAPTER XVI.

COMING AND GOING.

"For me, my heart that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose Who giveth His beloved--sleep."

E. B. BROWNING.

The winter, which proved a mild and open one, pa.s.sed very pleasantly at Firgrove. By Dr. King's orders Darby and Joan were granted a long holiday, for Darby was still fragile and delicate looking. He had never quite got over the effects of the excitement and fatigue of his travels in search of the Happy Land. They now lived almost out of doors, with the dwarf as their faithful attendant and constant companion. The little ones never wearied of his company, he could entertain them in so many different ways. He showed Darby how to make whistles of the hollow bore-tree stem, and a huge kite, with a lion painted on its surface, the Union Jack flying at its head, and an old map of Africa cut into strips to form the tail. Darby considered this a masterpiece, and laid it carefully by until he could display it to his father in its full significance. He caught a squirrel in the wood for Joan, and tamed the little animal so that it would nibble a nut from her hand, or hold it in its own paws, looking at her the while with fearless, s.h.i.+ning eyes, as much as to say,--

"Thank you, little lady. If all children were as good and kind to us wild creatures as you at Firgrove are, we should have a better time of it than many of us often have."