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The Children's Pilgrimage, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Part 3. The Great Journey - Chapter 3. Blue Eyes And Golden Hair |
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_ THIRD PART. THE GREAT JOURNEY CHAPTER III. BLUE EYES AND GOLDEN HAIR
"What's the campaign?" asked Maurice, gazing with great awe and admiration at his new friend. "Why, young un, we're going south. You has got to find some un south, and I has got to find two people south. They may all be dead, and we may never find them; but for all that we has got to look, and look real hard too, I take it. Now, you see as this ere France is a werry big place; I remember when I wor brought away seven years ago that it took my master and me many days and many nights to travel even as far as Paris, and sometimes we went by train, and sometimes we had lifts in carts and wagons. Now, as we has got to walk all the way, and can't on no account go by no train, though we _may_ get a lift sometimes ef we're lucky, we has got to know our road. Look you yere, young uns, 'tis like this," Here Jography caught up a little stick and made a rapid sketch in the sand. "See!" he exclaimed, "this yere's France. Now we ere up yere, and we want to get down yere. We won't go round, we'll go straight across, and the first thing is to make for Paris. We'll go first to Paris, say I." "And are there night's lodgings in Paris?" asked Maurice, "and food to eat? and is it warm, not bitter, bitter cold like here?" "And is Paris a little town, Jography?" asked Cecile. "For my stepmother, she said as I was to look for Lovedy in all the little towns and in all the tiny inns." Jography laughed. "You two ere a rum pair," he said. "Yes, Maurice, you shall have plenty to eat in Paris, and as to being cold, why, that 'ull depend on where we goes, and what money we spends. You needn't be cold unless you likes; and Cecile, little Missie, we shall go through hall the smallest towns and villages, as you like, and we'll ax for Lovedy heverywhere. But Paris itself is a big, big place. I wor only seven years old, but I remember Paris. I wor werry misribble in Paris. Yes, I don't want to stay there. But we must go there. It seems to me 'tis near as big as Lunnon. Why shouldn't your Lovedy be in Paris, Missie?" "Only my stepmother did say the small villages, Jography. Oh! I don't know what for to do." "Well, you leave it to me. What's the use of a guide ef he can't guide you? You leave it to me, little un." "Yes, Cecile, come on, for I'm most bitter cold," said Maurice. "Stay one moment, young uns; you two ha' money, but this yere Joe ha'n't any, I want to test that dog there. Ef I can teach the dog to dance a little, why, I'll play my fiddle, and we'll get along fine." In the intense excitement of seeing Toby going through his first lesson, Maurice forgot all his cold and discomfort; he jumped to his feet, and capered about with delight; nay, at the poor dog's awkward efforts to steady himself on his hind legs, Maurice rolled on the ground with laughter. "You mustn't laugh at him," said Joe; "no dog 'ud do anythink ef he wor laughed at. There now, that's better. I'll soon teach him a trick or two." It is to be doubted whether Toby would have put up with the indignity of being forced to balance himself on the extreme point of his body were it not for Cecile. Hitherto he had held rather the position of director of the movements of the little party. He felt jealous of this big boy, who had come suddenly and taken the management of everything. When Joe caught him rather roughly by the front paws, and tried to force him to walk about after a fashion which certainly nature never intended, he was strongly inclined to lay angry teeth on his arm. But Cecile's eyes said no, and poor Toby, like many another before him, submitted tamely because of his love. He loved Cecile, and for his love he would submit to this indignity. The small performance over, Joe Barnes, flinging his fiddle over his shoulder, started to his feet, and the little party of pilgrims, now augmented to four, commenced their march. They walked for two hours; Joe, when Maurice was very tired, carrying him part of the way. At the end of two hours they reached another small village. Here Joe, taking his fiddle, played dexterously, and soon the village boys and girls, with their foreign dresses and foreign faces, came flocking out. "Ef Toby could only dance I'd make a fortune 'ere," whispered Joe to Cecile. But even without this valuable addition he did secure enough sous to pay for his own supper and leave something over for breakfast the next morning. Then, in French, which was certainly a trifle rusty for want of use, he demanded refreshments, of which the tired and hungry wanderers partook eagerly. Afterward they had another and shorter march into a still smaller and poorer village, where Joe secured them a very cheap but not very uncomfortable night's lodging. After they had eaten their supper, and little Maurice was already fast asleep, Cecile came up to the tall boy who had so opportunely and wonderfully acted their friend. "Jography," she said earnestly, "do you know the French of blue eyes and golden hair--the French of a red, red mouth, and little teeth like pearls. Do you know the French of all that much, dear Jography?" "Why, Missie," answered Joe, "I s'pose as I could manage it. But what do I want with blue eyes and gold hair? That ain't my mother, nor Jean neither." "Yes, Jography. But 'tis Lovedy. My stepmother said as I was to ask for that sort of girl in all the small villages and all the tiny inns, dear Jography," "Well, well, and so we will, darlin'; we'll ax yere first thing to-morrow morning; and now lie down and go to sleep, for we must be early on the march, Missie." Cecile raised her lips to kiss Joe, and then she lay down by Maurice's side. But she did not at once go to sleep. She was thanking Jesus for sending to such a destitute, lonely little pair of children so good and so kind a guide. While Joe, for his part, wondered could it be possible that this unknown Lovedy could have bluer eyes than Cecile's own. _ |
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