A Pair of Clogs by Amy Walton (best summer reads TXT) 📕

stout little clog on it, and the other nothing but a crumpled red sock. By degrees, however, after more than one tumble, she got down to the end of the alley, and stood facing the bustling street.

It was such a big, noisy world, with such a lot of people and horses and carts in it, that she was frightened now, put out her arms, and screwed up her face piteously, and cried, "Mammy, mammy!"

Just then a woman passed with a tambourine in her hand and a bright coloured handkerchief over her head. She shook the tambourine and smiled kindly at baby, showing very white teeth.

"Mammy, mammy!" said baby again, and began to sob.

"Don't cry, then, deary, and I'll take you to mammy," said the woman. She looked quickly up the alley, no one in sight. No one in the crowded street noticed her. She stooped, raised the child in her arms, wrapped a shawl round her, and walked swiftly away. And that evening, when Maggie came to fetch her little lass, she was not there; the only trace of her was one small clog, half full of sand, on the door-step!

The woman with the tambourine hurried along, keeping the child's head covered with her shawl, at her heels a dirty-white poodle followed closely. The street was bustling and crowded, for it was past twelve o'clock, and the workpeople were streaming out of the factories to go to their dinners. If Maggie had passed the woman, she would surely have felt that the bundle in her arms was her own little lass, even if she had not seen one small clogged foot escaping from under the shawl. Baby was quiet now, except for a short gasping sob now and then, for she thought she was being taken to mammy.

On and on went the woman through the town, past the railway-station, and at last reached a lonely country road; by that time, lulled by the rapid, even movement and the darkness, baby had forgotten her troubles, and was fast asleep. She slept almost without stirring for a whole hour, and then, feeling the light on her eyes, she blinked her long lashes, rubbed them with her fists, and stretched out her fat legs.

Next she looked up into mammy's face, as she thought, expecting the smile which always waited for her there; but it was not mammy's face, or anything like it. They were sharp black eyes which were looking down at her, and instead of the familiar checked shawl, there was a bright yellow handkerchief over the woman's head, and dangling ornaments in her ears. Baby turned up her lip in disgust, and looked round for someone she knew, but everything was strange to her. The woman, in whose lap she was lying, sat in a small donkey-cart, with two brown children and some bundles tightly packed in round her; a dark man walked by the side of it, and a dirty-white poodle ran at his heels. Discovering this state of things baby lost no time, but burst at once into loud wailing sobs and cries of "Mammy, mammy; me want mammy."

She cried so long and so bitterly that the woman, who had tried at first to soothe her by coaxing and petting, lost patience, and shook her roughly.

"Be still, little torment," she said, "or I'll throw you into the pond."

They were the first angry words baby had ever heard, and the experience was so new and surprising that she checked her sobs, staring up at the woman with frightened tear-filled eyes. She soon began to cry again, but it was with much less violence, only a little distressed whimper which no one noticed. This went on all day, and by the evening, having refused to touch food, she fell into an exhausted slumber, broken by plaintive moans. It was now dark, and being some miles from Keighley, the tramps thought it safe to stop for the night; they turned off the main road, therefore, tethered the donkey in a grassy lane, and crept into an old disused barn for shelter. The two children, boys of eight or nine years old, curled themselves up in a corner, with Mossoo, the poodle, tucked in between them, and all three covered with an old horse-cloth. The gypsy and his wife sat talking in the entrance over a small fire of dry wood they had lighted.

"You've bin a fool, Seraminta," said the man, looking down at the baby as she lay flushed with sleep on the woman's lap, her cheeks still wet with tears. "The child'll git us into trouble. That's no common child. Anyone 'ud know it agen, and then where are we? In quod, sure as my name's Perrin."

"You're the fool," replied the woman, looking at the man scornfully. "Think I'm goin' to take her about with a lily-white skin like that? A little walnut-juice'll make her as brown as Bennie yonder, so as her own mother wouldn't know her."

"Well, what good is she to us anyhow?" continued the man sulkily. "Only another mouth ter feed. 'Tain't wuth the risk."

"You hav'n't the sperrit of a chicken," replied the woman. "One 'ud think you was born yesterday, not to know that anyone'll give a copper to a pretty little kid like her. Once we git away down south, an' she gives over fretting, I mean her to go round with the tambourine after the dog dances in the towns. She'll more than earn her keep soon."

The man muttered and growled to himself for a short time, and said some very ugly words, but presently, stretched on the ground near the fire, he settled himself to sleep. The short summer night passed quickly away, and nothing disturbed the sleepers; the owls and bats flitted in and out of the barn, as was their custom, and, surprised to find it no longer empty, flapped suddenly up among the rafters, and looked down at the strangers by the dim light of the moon; at the two children huddled in the corner, with Mossoo's tangled head between them; at the dark form of Perrin, near the ashes of the fire; and at the fair child in Seraminta's arms, sleeping quietly at last. Before the cock in the farmyard near had answered a shrill friend in the distance more than twice, the whole party, except the baby, was awake, the donkey harnessed, and the journey continued.

Day after day passed in the same manner, and baby still cried for "Mammy," but every day less and less, for the tramps were kind to her in their rough way, and fortunately her memory was short, and soon ceased to recall Maggie's loving care and caresses. So before she had led her new life a week, she had found things to smile at again; sometimes flowers which the freckled Bennie picked for her in the hedges, sometimes the gay rattle of the tambourine, sometimes a ride on the donkey's back; the poodle also, from having been an object of fear, had now become a friend.

Mossoo was a dog who had known trouble. He well remembered the days when he had had to learn to dance, and what it was to shrink from blows, and to howl with pain and fear under punishment. Times were not so bad for him now, because his education was over, but still he had to work hard for his living. In every town they passed he must stiffen his long thin back, raise himself on his small feet, and dance gravely to the sound of the tambourine; if this happened at the end of a long day's tramp, it was both difficult and painful, but he seldom failed, for he knew the consequences--no supper and a beating.

Accordingly, until a certain sign was given, he kept one pink-rimmed eye on his mistress's face, and revolved slowly round and round, with drooping paws and an elegant curtsying movement, the centre of an admiring ring. Sometimes, when the performance was over, and he carried round a small tin plate for coppers, the spectators would drop off one by one, and give him nothing; sometimes he got a good deal, and took it to his mistress with joyful wags of his ragged tasselled tail. Now, Mossoo had noticed the addition of baby to the accustomed party, and also her passionate sobs and cries. She was in trouble, as he had often been, and one day this trouble was even deeper than usual. They had stopped to rest in a little wayside copse, and after the donkey was unharnessed the man and the two boys had started off on a foraging expedition, or, in other words, to see what they could beg or steal from the farmyards and houses near. Mossoo was left behind. Crouched on the ground, with his nose between his paws, he kept a watchful eye on Seraminta, who was busying herself with the child. She was going to make her "so as her own mother wouldn't know her." And first with a piece of rag she smeared over her pretty white skin with some dark juice out of a bottle; next she took off the little frock and underclothes which Maggie had always kept so neatly, and put on her a frock and petticoat of stiff striped stuff. Then she proceeded to remove the one little clog, but this baby resented. She had been quiet till now, and allowed her things to be changed without resistance, but this last indignity was too much. She fought, and kicked, and cried, and pushed at the woman with her tiny hands. Poor baby! They were far too small and weak to be of any use. In no time the friendly little clog, with its glistening clasp and bright toe, was gone, and in its place there was an ugly broken-out boot which had once belonged to Bennie. Her work done, Seraminta put the child on the ground and gave her a hard crust to play with. Baby immediately threw it from her with all her strength, cast herself flat on her face, and shrieked with anger and distress. She was heartbroken to have the clog taken from her, and cried as violently for it as she had done for mammy.

"You've got a fine temper of yer own, my young queen," said Seraminta, looking down at the small sobbing form. She did not attempt to quiet her, but turning away proceeded to arrange some bundles in the cart which stood at a short distance.

Mossoo was not so indifferent; he had watched the whole affair, and if he did not understand why the baby cried, at least he knew she was in trouble. True he had not seen a stick used, but here was the same result. He went and sat down near her, and wagged his tail to show he sympathised, but as she was lying on her face she did not even know he was there, and the sobs continued. Finding this, Mossoo sat for some time with his tongue hanging out, uncertain how to proceed, but presently noticing a little bit of bare fat neck he gave it a gentle lick. Baby turned her head; there were two bright eyes with pink rims close to her, and a ragged fringe of dirty-white hair, and a red tongue lolling out; she was so startled at this that she screamed louder than ever, and hid her face again.