Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕

faces. Some of them were alone; others were accompanied by little

children who trotted along trustfully clinging to their mothers’

hands. The sight of these poor little ones, their utter helplessness

and dependence, their patched unsightly clothing and broken boots, and

the wistful looks on their pitiful faces as they gazed into the

windows of the toy-shops, sent a pang of actual physical pain to his

heart and filled his eyes with tears. He knew that these children -

naked of joy and all that makes life dear - were being tortured by the

sight of the things that were placed so cruelly before their eyes, but

which they were not permitted to touch or to share; and, like Joseph

of old, his heart yearned over to his younger brethren.

He felt like a criminal because he was warmly clad and well fed in the

midst of all this want and unhappiness, and he flushed with shame

because he had momentarily faltered in his devotion to the noblest

cause that any man could be privileged to fight for - the uplifting of

the disconsolate and the oppressed.

He presently came to a large toy shop outside which several children

were standing admiring the contents of the window. He recognized some

of these children and paused to watch them and to listen to their

talk. They did not notice him standing behind them as they ranged to

and fro before the window, and as he looked at them, he was reminded

of the way in which captive animals walk up and down behind the bars

of their cages. These children wandered repeatedly, backwards and

forwards from one end of the window to the other, with their little

hands pressed against the impenetrable plate glass, choosing and

pointing out to each other the particular toys that took their

fancies.

`That’s mine!’ cried Charley Linden, enthusiastically indicating a

large strongly built waggon. `If I had that I’d give Freddie rides in

it and bring home lots of firewood, and we could play at fire engines

as well.’

`I’d rather have this railway,’ said Frankie Owen. `There’s a real

tunnel and real coal in the tenders; then there’s the station and the

signals and a place to turn the engine round, and a red lantern to

light when there’s danger on the line.’

`Mine’s this doll - not the biggest one, the one in pink with clothes

that you can take off,’ said Elsie; `and this tea set; and this

needlecase for Mother.’

Little Freddie had let go his hold of Elsie, to whom he usually clung

tightly and was clapping his hands and chuckling with delight and

desire. `Gee-gee?’ he cried eagerly. `Gee-gee. Pwetty Gee-gee!

Fweddy want gee-gee!’

`But it’s no use lookin’ at them any longer,’ continued Elsie, with a

sigh, as she took hold of Freddie’s hand to lead him away. `It’s no

use lookin’ at ‘em any longer; the likes of us can’t expect to have

such good things as them.’

This remark served to recall Frankie and Charley to the stern

realities of life, and turning reluctantly away from the window they

prepared to follow Elsie, but Freddie had not yet learnt the lesson -

he had not lived long enough to understand that the good things of the

world were not for the likes of him; so when Elsie attempted to draw

him away he pursed up his underlip and began to cry, repeating that he

wanted a gee-gee. The other children dustered round trying to coax

and comfort him by telling him that no one was allowed to have

anything out of the windows yet - until Christmas - and that Santa

Claus would be sure to bring him a gee-gee then; but these arguments

failed to make any impression on Freddie, who tearfully insisted upon

being supplied at once.

Whilst they were thus occupied they caught sight of Barrington, whom

they hailed with evident pleasure born of the recollection of certain

gifts of pennies and cakes they had at different times received from

him.

`Hello, Mr Barrington,’ said the two boys in a breath.

`Hello,’ replied Barrington, as he patted the baby’s cheek. `What’s

the matter here? What’s Freddie crying for?’

`He wants that there ‘orse, mister, the one with the real ‘air on,’

said Charley, smiling indulgently like a grown-up person who realized

the absurdity of the demand.

`Fweddie want gee-gee,’ repeated the child, taking hold of

Barrington’s hand and returning to the window. `Nice gee-gee.’

`Tell him that Santa Claus’ll bring it to him on Christmas,’ whispered

Elsie. `P’raps he’ll believe you and that’ll satisfy him, and he’s

sure to forget all about it in a little while.’

`Are you still out of work, Mr Barrington?’ inquired Frankie.

`No,’ replied Barrington slowly. `I’ve got something to do at last.’

`Well, that’s a good job, ain’t it?’ remarked Charley.

`Yes,’ said Barrington. `And whom do you think I’m working for?’

`Who?’

`Santa Claus.’

`Santa Claus!’ echoed the children, opening their eyes to the fullest

extent.

`Yes,’ continued Barrington, solemnly. `You know, he is a very old

man now, so old that he can’t do all his work himself. Last year he

was so tired that he wasn’t able to get round to all the children he

wanted to give things to, and consequently a great many of them never

got anything at all. So this year he’s given me a job to help him.

He’s given me some money and a list of children’s names, and against

their names are written the toys they are to have. My work is to buy

the things and give them to the boys and girls whose names are on the

list.’

The children listened to this narrative with bated breath. Incredible

as the story seemed, Barrington’s manner was so earnest as to almost

compel belief.

`Really and truly, or are you only having a game?’ said Frankie at

length, speaking almost in a whisper. Elsie and Charley maintained an

awestruck silence, while Freddie beat upon the glass with the palms of

his hands.

`Really and truly,’ replied Barrington unblushingly as he took out his

pocketbook and turned over the leaves. `I’ve got the list here;

perhaps your names are down for something.’

The three children turned pale and their hearts beat violently as they

listened wide-eyed for what was to follow.

`Let me see,’ continued Barrington, scanning the pages of the book,

`Why, yes, here they are! Elsie Linden, one doll with clothes that

can be taken off, one tea-set, one needlecase. Freddie Easton, one

horse with real hair. Charley Linden, one four-wheeled waggon full of

groceries. Frankie Owen, one railway with tunnel, station, train with

real coal for engine, signals, red lamp and place to turn the engines

round.’

Barrington closed the book: `So you may as well have your things now,’

he continued, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. `We’ll buy them

here; it will save me a lot of work. I shall not have the trouble of

taking them round to where you live. It’s lucky I happened to meet

you, isn’t it?’

The children were breathless with emotion, but they just managed to

gasp out that it was - very lucky.

As they followed him into the shop, Freddie was the only one of the

four whose condition was anything like normal. All the others were in

a half-dazed state. Frankie was afraid that he was not really awake

at all. It couldn’t be true; it must be a dream.

In addition to the hair, the horse was furnished with four wheels.

They did not have it made into a parcel, but tied some string to it

and handed it over to its new owner. The elder children were scarcely

conscious of what took place inside the shop; they knew that

Barrington was talking to the shopman, but they did not hear what was

said - the sound seemed far away and unreal.

The shopman made the doll, the tea-set and the needlecase into one

parcel and gave it to Elsie. The railway, in a stout cardboard box,

was also wrapped up in brown paper, and Frankie’s heart nearly burst

when the man put the package into his arms.

When they came out of the toy shop they said `Good night’ to Frankie,

who went off carrying his parcel very carefully and feeling as if he

were walking on air. The others went into a provision merchant’s near

by, where the groceries were purchased and packed into the waggon.

Then Barrington, upon referring to the list to make quite certain that

he had not forgotten anything, found that Santa Claus had put down a

pair of boots each for Elsie and Charley, and when they went to buy

these, it was seen that their stockings were all ragged and full of

holes, so they went to a draper’s and bought some stocking also.

Barrington said that although they were not on the list, he was sure

Santa Claus would not object - he had probably meant them to have

them, but had forgotten to put them down.