Windyridge Part 14

Little Lucy came and laid her head upon my shoulder and asked if it was all true. I tried to show her the truth that was hidden in the make-believe, but I fear with small success. Her eyelids were held open with difficulty as she continued to question me.

"Is comets true?"

"Comets?" I inquired; "what do you know of comets?" (One is about due now, and the children are on the tip-toe of excitement.)

"Dada says they has long tails, an' runs up an' down the sky when I'se asleep, like little mouseys."

"You are not afraid of them, are you?" I asked.

"Dunno. I think I is afraid of them, but I always asks G.o.d."

"What do you say?" I ventured.

The little head was growing heavier, and it was a very sleepy voice that murmured:

"G.o.d bless ev'ybody ... an' don't let them be 'ungry, so they won't die ... until You makes 'em ... 'cept it be comets an' things."

Now what could anybody make of that? I carried the child home, and she did not wake when I undressed her and put her to bed.

CHAPTER XIV

BARJONA FALLS INTO THE TRAP

"Arternoon, miss!"

It certainly was afternoon, for only a few minutes earlier the little clock in my studio had chimed three, and I was not in the least expecting visitors, particularly of the paying kind, and was hard at work upon the acc.u.mulated negatives of Whitweek, when the blunt e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n caused me to turn with a start. My astonished eyes fell upon a transformed Barjona!

Barjona in a frock coat of modern cut, with a white waistcoat, and slate-coloured trousers, correctly creased! Barjona, with a starched s.h.i.+rt and a satin tie, vividly blue! Above all, Barjona in a silk hat, which he was at that moment carefully removing from his head, as though anxious to prevent the escape of some bird imprisoned within!

It was not a bird, however, that he captured and produced, but an elaborate "b.u.t.ton-hole," properly wired, as one could see at a glance, and with its stems wrapped in silvered paper; and Barjona chuckled as he stepped to the mirror and adjusted it in the lapel of his coat.

"Took that out quick, I can tell you.... Gives the show away, that does ... thought once over I'd throw it in t' gutter ... but I says, 'Nay, it cost fourpence' ... sixpence she asked for it ... sixpence ...

mustn't waste it ... smarten up my photygraph, too.... No, no, mustn't waste fourpence!"

"Why, Mr. Higgins," I exclaimed, "you must surely have been to a wedding! But none of our friends in Windyridge have been getting married to-day, have they?"

"No, no ... Marsland Gap ... widow-woman ... name o' Robertsha' ... now Mrs. Higgins ... Mrs. S. B. Higgins ... she's in the trap now," jerking his head towards the roadway.

This was too much for my gravity. I had just enough presence of mind to shake hands with him and offer my congratulations, and then gave way to uncontrollable laughter.

"It's your own fault, Mr. Higgins," I blurted out at length. "Last October you told me that you were too old a fox to be caught again; there were to be no traps for you, and when you said Mrs. Higgins was in the trap it amused me vastly."

"Meanin' the cart, of course," he interrupted, looking somewhat sheepish, but still sufficiently pleased with himself.

"I know," I replied, "but I was just wondering how you come to be caught in the other trap, the trap of wedlock--you, a man of years and experience, and pre-eminently a man of caution."

He hung his hat on the support of my reflecting-screen, and pa.s.sed his hand thoughtfully over his smooth crown--I had always felt sure that his head was bald--and I imagined I saw an uneasy look creep into his eyes.

"It be very cur'ous, Miss Holden," he said, in a confidential tone, "very cur'ous.... Said to myself many a time ... hunderds of times....

'Don't 'ee be a fool, Simon ... women be kittle cattle,' I says ...

some weepin' sort ... some bl.u.s.terin' ... but all masterful ... an'

costs a lot o' money ... awful lot o' money to keep up.... Went into 't wi' my eyes open ... oh yes; very cur'ous.... Come to think on 't ... dunno why I done it."

"Don't worry, Mr. Higgins," I said soothingly; "many animals flourish splendidly in captivity, and if they miss their freedom they never say anything about it, but look quite sleek and contented. And I am sure you have secured a very capable and good-natured wife, and are to be heartily congratulated. Now fetch her in and I will be getting the camera ready."

"Fetch her in?" he inquired.

"Yes, I shall be ready by the time you return, and it will be the work of only a moment or two to arrange you suitably."

"But she isn't goin' to have 'er photygraph taken," he said, with an emphatic shake of the head; "only me."

"Do you mean to tell me," I remarked severely, "that you will not be photographed together on your wedding day? Mr. Higgins, it is quite the customary thing, and I certainly never heard of such a procedure as you are suggesting. Besides, it costs no more."

"Costs the same? ... for two as for one?"

"Certainly," I replied.

"Taken separate, like?" he continued.

"No, if taken separately the cost would be doubled, but on wedding occasions the bride and bridegroom are almost invariably photographed together, and that involves no extra cost."

He thought this over for half a minute and then made up his mind definitely.

"I'll be taken by myself," he said, "... to match this 'ere."--He drew from his breast-pocket a rather faded photograph, cabinet size, which displayed a younger Mrs. Robertshaw in the fas.h.i.+on of a dozen years before.--"Maria got these ... just afore Robertsha' died ... has best part of a dozen on 'em .... gave Robertsha' 's away ... pity to waste these ... 'll do nicely."

"But Mr. Higgins," I protested, "these photographs are faded, and they are not the Mrs. Higgins of to-day. n.o.body wears that style of dress now, and she has actually a fringe! Throw them away, and do as I propose."

"I see nowt wrong wi' 't," he replied, examining it critically. "She's fatter now, an' isn't as good lookin' ... more wrinkles, like....

Makes a nicer pictur, this does ... plenty good enough for 'er."

"Mr. Higgins!" I exclaimed indignantly.

"If--you--please--miss," he said emphatically, "it's me as gives the order ... one dozen, miss ... to match this 'ere."

There was nothing more to be said, and I took two negatives of the wretched little man, in the first of which he is shown standing as erect as nature permits, with the silk hat fixed firmly upon his head, and one hand in his trousers' pocket, so that the white waistcoat might not be concealed; and in the second, sitting with one leg thrown over the other, and the silk hat upon his knee. It was in vain that I pointed out that neither pose would correspond with that of his wife, which was a mere vignetted head and shoulders; Barjona had made up his mind, and was not to be moved, and I felt thankful, with Mother Hubbard, that I was not Mrs. Higgins.

I went out to speak to her when the operation had been completed, and at our approach the neighbours who had been keeping her company smiled and drew back a little.

"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Higgins," I said. "I have already congratulated your husband; let me now wish you much happiness."

"Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden," she replied, and accompanying the words with a most decided wink, "that remains to be seen. But if he doesn't give me much, he'll 'ave less, I can tell you. I think we shall get on when we've settled down a bit; an' anyway, time won't hang as 'eavy on my 'ands, so to speak."

"Come, la.s.s, we must be going," interrupted Barjona, who had climbed up beside her.

"As soon as ever I've finished," replied Mrs. Higgins, smiling upon him sweetly. Nevertheless, she tightened the reins and prepared to move.