“But you see—”
“‘Old ‘ard, Guv, let a pore old cove get a word in for a change. Now there’s you an’ ‘er, your fair young spouse, both up to each other’s weight, sound in wind an’ limb an’ meant for j’y—what I want is t’ see you come to a clinch! This ain’t no time for sparrin’ an’ out-fightin’—yet ‘ere you are a-feintin’ at each other from opposite corners—”
“But—”
“‘Arf a mo’, Guv, ‘arf a mo’—gimme a chance for a occasional word! An’ don’t frown, Guv, don’t frown at a pore old cove; y’ see, there’s jest three blokes in this ‘ard world as my old ‘eart warms to, an’ one on ‘em ‘s Joe, an’ t’ other un ‘s you, an’ t’ other un ‘s ‘er—which ain’t a bloke. Lord, Guv, what a soft armful o’ beauty! ‘Ow warm an’ cuddlesome! Oh, Guv, what a waist! What lips! What—”
“Old Un, for heaven’s sake, shut up! D’ you think I’m blind? D’ you think—”
“Guv, I dunno wot t’ think! ‘Ere ‘s you with your ‘ead in your ‘ands, an’ there’s ‘er sighin’ an’ sighin’—”
“Sighing? Where? When? Why—”
“Sighin’ an’ sighin’, Guv, so soft an’ pretty—I ‘eard ‘er! Also she wep’—I seen ‘er.”
“Where?”
“An’ ‘er tears, Guv, them pearly tears went t’ my ‘eart—an’ nobody t’ put a arm round that waist, nor kiss them sweet lips, nor soothe them tears away—
“‘Oh, alone she sat sighin’ by a green willer tree, With ‘er ‘and on ‘er bosom, ‘er ‘ead on ‘er knee, Weepin’ willer” willer, willer my garlan’ shall be.’
“So, Guv, I ax you, man to man, why, oh, why are ye neglectin’ your fair young spouse? An’, Guv, I only ax because your ‘appiness an’ ‘ers is mine—s’ ‘elp me!”
“How if it’s the other way about, Old Un? Suppose she avoids me?”
“Why lumme, Guv! ‘T is a sure sign she needs persoot. Remember this:
“‘Im as would lovely woman woo ‘E lovely woman must persoo, For if ‘e don’t, ‘t is plain as plain That feller ‘e will woo in vain.’
“An’, Guv, I’ve only took th’ liberty o’ sayin’ this because my pore old bowels yearns to ye—both on ye. Persoot’s the word, Guv, persoot!”
The Old Un nodded, rose, and creaked away, and Ravenslee, looking after him, scowled no longer, but rising, sauntered across the trim garden to where there was a lily pool and, leaning over the marble rim, stared down into the placid water.
Now as the Old Un went his way, there met him a little girl, very neat and tidy, who sang to herself in a small happy voice and tapped along on a crutch; but beholding the Old Un, his dazzling shoes, his rakish hat, she stood silent all at once, glancing up wistfully into that fierce, battered old face.
“Lumme—crutches!” he exclaimed.
“No, please—only one, sir!” she answered, dropping him a little, old-fashioned curtsey.
“Crikey!” said he, staring, “so young, so tender, an’—a game leg! A little angel wi’ a broke wing—lumme!”
So Age and Youth stared at each other and she, being a child, was quick to heed that the eyes so bright beneath their hoary brows were kindly eyes, and the smile upon the grim old mouth was very reassuring, wherefore she smiled also.
“Only one crutch, sir,” she repeated. “An’ the doctor says as I won’t want it much longer, sir.” Here, dropping another curtsey, she held up for his acceptance a bunch of wild flowers.
“What—f’ me, little maid?” he enquired.
“Yes, please, sir.”
“Why bless—bless your lovin’ little ‘eart!” quavered the old man, and stooped to touch her rosy cheek with a hand gnarled and scarred with much hard punching, yet a very gentle hand indeed. “God bless that little game leg, but pretty flowers ‘ud be wasted on a old bloke like me. You take ‘em to th’ Guv, see—over there—that tall chap leanin’ over th’ pool. But first gimme a—a kiss instead, will ye, little lass?”
“I’d like to, sir.”
And when the Old Un had kissed and been kissed right heartily, he pointed to Ravenslee’s distant, lounging figure, winked, nodded, and squeaked away.
Thus it was that Ravenslee, absorbed in thought, was presently roused by the quick light tapping of the little crutch and glanced up.
“Oh!” she cried softly; the flowers fell and lay neglected as, clasping her hands, she stared up at him in radiant-eyed wonder.
“Welcome, Highness!” said he and bowed.
“Oh, it’s the Prince—my dear Prince! Oh, Goody!” and she hastened toward him, then stopped all at once, puzzled and abashed because of his elegant attire. Perceiving which he reached out and drew her down by him on the marble seat beside the pool.
“Why this sudden change of demeanour, Princess?” he enquired. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re—you’re so different, sir—so different an’ grand in all them cute clo’es, sir.”
“Am I, dear? But I’m just the same inside, you know. And, for heaven’s sake, Princess, do not call me ‘sir.’”
“But the big gentleman that belongs here an’ has all these lovely flowers an’ everything—he says as I must always say ‘sir.’”
“Big gentleman?”
“Yes, the big, soft gentleman with the cute little curls on his cheeks.”
“Oh—him!” said Ravenslee, laughing suddenly. “Indeed a very just description, Princess. But you don’t have to worry about him any more; he’s gone.”
“Gone? For good?”
“For very good indeed!”
“Doesn’t all this beautiful, beautiful place belong t’ him any more?”
“Never any more.”
“Have you come here ‘stead of him? Come t’ stay?”
“Yes.”
“An’ can I pick a rose t’ kiss sometimes?”
“As many as you like.”
“Oh!” sighed the child rapturously, nestling within his arm, “isn’t that just—fine! I guess this sure is the Beautiful City of Perhaps, after all!”
“I wonder?”
“Oh, but I’m sure it is—now th’ gentleman’s gone I just know it is!”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Everything! ‘Cause you see, Prince, my daddy don’t have t’ be away all day any more. An’ mumsey don’t have t’ sew late, nights, any more. An’ when we came into the cute little house where we live—there was the doll that says ‘mamma’ jest waitin’ f’ me. An’ there was a big box o’ candies, an’ a doll carriage with real rubber on th’ wheels—jest like we used to talk about. So you see this must be Perhaps at last, an’ I’m so—so happy—only—” Hazel sighed.
“Only what?”
“I do wish Hermy could find her way here too; she used t’ be so tired sometimes.”
“You mean that you would like to find Princess Nobody, I guess.”
“Oh, but I can’t! I used to look an’ look for her every day ‘til th’ gentleman said she wasn’t here, an’ told me never t’ come near th’ big house any more.”
“But he’s gone, and you never had me to help you.”
“Oh, will you—will you help me right now?” she pleaded.
“Surest thing you know!” he nodded, “your hand, Princess.”
So hand in hand he led her, suiting his long legs to hers, along shady walks, up terrace steps, across smooth lawns, and so to the great house. Hazel paused to question him further concerning “the gentleman”, but Ravenslee laughed and, seating her upon his shoulder, bore her into the house.
In her housekeeper’s room, surrounded by many dusty bill files and stacks of account books, they presently found Mrs. Trapes, whose hawk’s-eye viewed bills and tradesmen’s books while she frowned and muttered such comments as “Rogues!” “Thieves!” “Scand’lous!” “Wicked!” Until glancing up, her sharp features softened, and she smiled up into the child’s happy face.