That Little Beggar Part 15

"We'll see what we'll see,--and _you'll_ see. That's all I say," she answered with some loftiness. "I have no mind to have things put out of their proper place, and me have all this trouble given me."

After which oracular speech, and because she was approaching the last flight of stairs leading into the hall, she reserved all further expressions of indignation till she and Chris were once more on the familiar ground of the nursery.

As for the little beggar, it was with many a furtive glance at Uncle G.o.dfrey, who was still writing, that he crossed the hall. He hoped to escape without notice, and, looking mysteriously at Granny and myself, walked by Briggs' side on tiptoe. But his pains were wasted.

"Yes, I know you're there," Uncle G.o.dfrey said, without turning his head, and relaxing into a smile. "What mischief have you been up to this time?"

"I put my hats with your hats, 'cause I liked them to be with yours, and I didn't want to be a baby and have my hats in the nursery,"

explained Chris, encouraged by something in his uncle's voice to run to his side and lay his cheek affectionately on his coat-sleeve.

"Then, in future, just you keep your hats where you are told to," Uncle G.o.dfrey said, laughing. "Don't you be such an independent little beggar."

"No," replied Chris obediently, relieved at receiving no severer reprimand.

"And come and kiss your Granny," Granny said gently and caressingly, as he pa.s.sed her. "Do you love her very much?"

"Oh, yes, my Granny!" he answered somewhat thoughtlessly, as he obeyed her directions. Then continued without pause: "I wanted to ask you--why does Cook always make rice-puddings, and tapioca-puddings, and sago-puddings for my dinner?"

"Because, my pet, I tell her to," she replied. "They are so wholesome, so good for little boys; they make them grow big."

"But I don't mind about growing big," he answered. "I would rather have roly-poly puddings for my dinner; roly-poly puddings what have lots of jam inside."

"Now, how do you think I am to get on with my writing whilst you chatter like this?" interrupted Uncle G.o.dfrey. "Go upstairs, and don't keep Briggs waiting like this."

By the little beggar's expression, it was evident that he did not consider the merits of roly-poly pudding, as compared with those of its less enticing rivals, had been by any means sufficiently discussed, and that much yet remained to be said upon the subject. Nevertheless, his uncle's order had the effect of restoring, for a time at least, peace and quiet to the hall; for, as I have before intimated, the one person whose word Chris never thought of disputing was Uncle G.o.dfrey's.

I said that peace and quiet was restored _for a time only_, and I said it advisedly. With the little beggar in the neighbourhood it was useless to count on such a state of affairs continuing for more than a short period. So it proved upon the present occasion.

Before a quarter of an hour had pa.s.sed, his voice--unmistakably defiant, not to say impertinent--fell upon our ears, as he and Briggs walked along the gallery, that ran above, round the hall. It was Briggs whom we heard first.

"Master Chris," she remarked severely, "I will not stand it."

Then the little beggar repeated in an irritating and rebellious-sounding treble:

"I have a little nursie, She is a little dear, She runs about all day Without a thought of fear.

I love my little nursie, An' she loves me.

So my little nursie an' me Both a-gree."

A pause followed, evidently intended by Briggs to convey her sense of deep displeasure, and to overawe the offender. Without effect. In a moment Chris's voice began again, from time to time choked with laughter, and giving a little variety to his poetical effort by varying the accent on different words:

"I _have_ a little nursie, She _is_ a little dear, She runs about all day Without a _thought_ of fear.

I _love_ my little nursie, An' she loves _me_.

_So_ my little nursie an' me Both a-gree."

At this repet.i.tion of the offence Briggs could contain her wrath no longer.

"If I'm to be ridiculed like this," she exclaimed angrily, yet without altogether losing her habitual impressiveness of manner; "If I'm to be ridiculed like this, I shall give warning and go. I cannot, and I will not stand it."

A second pause, by which time they had reached the top of the stairs leading into the hall, when Chris, forgetful that Uncle G.o.dfrey was within hearing, and unaware of the judgment about to descend on him, started once more:

"I have a _little_ nur--"

"Wait a moment, young man," called out his uncle from the writing-table.

"What do you mean by being so disobedient? Come here."

"He has been going on like that for the last ten minutes," said Briggs complainingly, when she and Chris reached the hall. "He's been that aggravating."

"What nonsense are you talking?" Uncle G.o.dfrey asked him severely, beckoning Chris to come to him.

The little beggar looked at his uncle half-frightened, and did not at once answer.

"What was it, my pet?" Granny said, gently and encouragingly.

"It was a piece of poetry I made up all by myself, all about Briggs," he faltered out.

"A piece of impertinence, it strikes me," remarked Uncle G.o.dfrey.

"Well, as you are so fond of poetry, as you call it, I'll make up a piece about you," he said, whilst Granny glanced at the judge pleadingly, as if to ask mercy for the offender.

"Wait a moment ... yes, I have it," Uncle G.o.dfrey said presently. And holding Chris at arm's-length, he repeated, imitating as he did so, his childish voice and accents:

"I know a little beggar, He is a little goose, He runs about all day Rampaging on the loose.

I think that little beggar, Would be better for a slap; If he isn't pretty sharp, He'll get a nasty rap.

"How do you like that?" he asked, when he had finished.

He was smiling all the while in spite of his severe tone,--very often the way with Uncle G.o.dfrey. But Chris did not see that, and with his little face scarlet, he stood still, struggling with his tears, unable to reply.

His uncle looked at him and relented.

"There, go along with you," he said, laughing and rumpling the boy's golden curls; "and don't you make yourself such a little nuisance."

The little beggar brightened up as he noted the altered tone, and Granny appeared perceptibly relieved.

"Uncle G.o.dfrey, do you know what?" he asked with a loud sniff and half a sob. "What do you think?"

"What?" asked his uncle with some amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I'm going to be a soldier like you very soon," he said, nodding his head.

"Well, you'll have to learn to be a little more obedient," his uncle remarked with a laugh. "I'd soon find myself in a pretty position if I disobeyed orders as you do. Be off, you young rascal, and look smart.

There is Briggs waiting for you by the door.

"What made him think of that jingle?" he continued, still laughing, to Granny when Chris had gone. "It was a funny thing for a little chap of his age."

"The darling has quite a turn for poetry; he has indeed," explained Granny with pride. "He takes the greatest delight in repeating his little poems, such as: 'I love little p.u.s.s.y, her coat is so warm,' and 'Mary had a little lamb'. And the child says them so sweetly, so prettily too!"