Chapter XLIV.
A third mother.
Who ever had a sovereign for the first time in his life, and did not
feel rich? Clare trudged along merrily, and Abdiel shared his
joy. They had to sleep out of doors nevertheless; for by this time
Clare knew that a boy, especially a boy in rags, must mind whom he
asks to change a sovereign. In the lee of a hay-mow, on a little loose
hay, they slept, Abdiel in Clare's bosom, and slept well.
There was not much temptation to lie long after waking, and the
companions were early on their way. It was yet morning when they came
to the public house where Clare had his first and last half-pint of
beer. The landlady stood at the newly opened door, with her fists in
her sides, looking out on the fresh world, lost in some such thought
as was possible to her. Clare pulled off his cap, and bade her good
morning as he passed. Perhaps she knew she did not deserve politeness;
anyhow she took Clare's for impudence, and came swooping upon him. He
stopped and waited her approach, perplexed as to the cause of it; and
was so unprepared for the box on the ear she dealt him, that it almost
threw him down. Her ankle was instantly in Abdiel's sharp teeth. She
gave a frightful screech, and Clare, coming to himself, though still
stupid from her blow and his own surprise, called off the dog. The
woman limped raging to the house, and Clare thought it prudent to go
his way. He talked severely to Abdiel as they went; but though the dog
could understand much, I doubt if he understood that lecture. For
Abdiel was one of the few, even among dogs, with whom the defence of
master or friend is an inborn, instinctive duty; and strong temptation
even has but a poor chance against the sense of duty in a dog.
It was night when they entered the town. They were already a weary
pair when the far sounds of the brass band of the menagerie, mostly
made up of attendants on the animals, first entered their ears. The
marketing was over; the band was issuing its last invitation to the
merry-makers to walk up and see strange sights; its notes were just
dying to their close, when the wayfarers arrived at the foot of the
steps leading to the platform where the musicians stood. Clare
ascended, and Abdiel crept after him.
At a table in a small curtained recess on the platform, sat the
mistress to receive the money of those that entered. Clare laid his
sovereign before her. She took it up without looking at him, but at it
she looked doubtfully. She threw it on her table. It would not ring.
She bit it with her white teeth, and looked at it again; then at
length gave a glance at the person who offered it. Her dull lamp
flickered in the puffs of the night-wind, and she did not recognize
Clare. She saw but a white-faced, ragged boy, and threw him back his
sovereign.
"Won't pass," she said with decision, not unmingled with contempt. She
sat at the receipt of money, where too many men and women cease to be
ladies and gentlemen.
Clare did not at first understand. He stood motionless and, for the
second time that day, bewildered. How could money be no money?
"'Ain't you got sixpence?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," answered Clare. "I haven't had sixpence for many a day."
The moment he spoke, the woman looked him sharply in the face, and
knew him.
"Drat my stupid eyes!" she said fervently. "That I shouldn't ha' known
you! Walk in, walk in. Go where you please, and do as you
please. You're right welcome.--Where did you get that sov.?"
"From Farmer Goodenough."
"Good enough, I hope, not to take advantage of an innocent prince! Was
it for taking home the bull?"
"No, ma'am. I didn't take the bull home. The bull took me to the old
home where we used to be together. He didn't want a new one!"
"Well, never mind now. Give me the sovereign. I'll talk to you by and
by. Go in, or the show 'ill be over. Look after your dog, though. We
don't like dogs. He mustn't go in."
"I'll send him right outside, if you wish it, ma'am."
"I do.--But will he stay out?"
"He will, ma'am."
Clare took up Abdiel, and setting him at the top of the steps, told
him to go down and wait. Abdiel went hopping down, like a dirty little
white cataract out on its own hook, turned in under the steps, and
deposited himself there until his master should call him.
