L. Meade - The Little School-Mothers

“Am I to choose who I like?” said Ralph.

“Of course, you are. We are all trying our hands on you; but you are to make your own choice. Didn’t the other girls tell you?”

“No.”

“Do you like being with the others?”

“They were very kind,” said Ralph.

“Did you have a picnic breakfast with them?”

“Oh, no.”

“If I were your school-mother,” said Harriet, after a pause, “we would have one every day, and – and – no lessons; and you might play with matches, and you might have a pop-gun, and there’s something else we would do.”

“Oh, what is it?”

“We’d go and see the gipsies.”

“But I am frightened of gipsies,” said Ralph. As he spoke he pressed a little nearer to Harriet. “Are there gipsies about?”

“There are some gipsies living two fields off – you look almost like a gipsy boy yourself, you are so dark. There are a lot of little brown babies rolling about on the grass, and big brown men, and big brown women, and there are dogs, and a donkey, and an old horse; but the most wonderful thing of all is the house on wheels.”

“The house on wheels?” said Ralph.

“Yes, the old horse draws it, and the gipsies live inside; oh, it is wonderful!”

“Aren’t gipsies very wicked people?”

“Wicked?” said Harriet. “They’re the most lovely people in all the world. I can’t take you to see them to-day, but if I were your school-mother, we would manage to slip off and have a good time with them. They love little brown boys like you, and you would love them. Oh, you don’t know what a gipsy is! Frightened of them, are you? Well, I’ll tell you a story of what they did for me when I ran away once and stayed with them for a whole night. I never had such a good time in all my life.”

Harriet made up a story out of her head. It is true she had once been for a very frightened half-hour with some gipsies on the common nearest to her father’s house; but that time now was changed into something quite fairy-like.

Ralph listened with his eyes shining, his lips apart, and his breath coming fast.

“Oh, I didn’t know they were like that,” he said. “Let us go now, now; don’t put it off, please; let’s come this very instant-minute.”

“No,” said Harriet firmly. “I could not possibly take you to-day. But I will manage it if you choose me for your school-mother. Of course, you won’t choose me. I know who you’ll choose.”

“Who?” asked Ralph.

“That Robina girl.”

“Who?” asked Ralph.

“Oh, that creature who came for you and Curly Pate when you were sent for, to say good-bye to your father.”

“Is she Robina?” asked Ralph. “Oh, I like her so much!”

“That is because you don’t know her. Shall I tell you some things about her?”

“Would it be right?” asked Ralph.

“You needn’t listen if you don’t like,” replied Harriet. “You can go to the other side of the paddock. I am going to say them aloud, whether you listen or not.”

Harriet instantly crossed her hands on her lap, and began saying in a chanting tone: —

“Robina was so naughty at home, and made such a dreadful noise in the room with her poor sick mother that she had to be sent away. She was sent here to this school, and since she came all the rest of us are dreadfully unhappy, for, although she looks kind, she is not a bit kind; she is the sort of girl who doesn’t obey. She was sent away from home because she was so disobedient – ”

“Oh, don’t!” said Ralph suddenly.

“Why – what is the matter?” said Harriet. “Were you listening?”

“I couldn’t help myself; you spoke so loud. I didn’t want to, but you did speak very loud. Why do you say those horrid things about her?”

“They are true,” said Harriet. “I don’t mean to be unkind to her. I wouldn’t be unkind to anybody, but, at the same time, I want to warn you in case you are taken in by her ways and choose her as your school-mother.”

Ralph was quite silent. After a minute he said in an altered voice:

“Let’s do something now – what shall we?”

Harriet suggested that they should visit the farmyard at the back of the house and coax Jim, the groom, to let them ride on some of the horses. This, of course, was most fascinating, and no sooner had it been thought of than it was done. The ride was followed by something still more exciting. Jim was going to drive to the nearest town with the spring cart, and he offered to take the two children with him.

Harriet no sooner heard this proposal than she accepted it, and she and Ralph had a glorious drive to town. There she spent sixpence – all the money she possessed – on different sweetmeats.

“I wish I had some more,” she said. “I’d give you all my money – I would, indeed!”

“There are quite enough sweeties there,” said Ralph; “but if you really want to buy other things, Harriet, I have got money.”

“Have you? Let’s see what you’ve got,” said Harriet.

Ralph put his hand into his breeches pocket, and took out a handful of coppers, a shilling, and two sixpences.

“Here’s lots,” he said. “Isn’t it lots, Harriet?”

“Yes,” said Harriet, looking at it greedily. “We might buy a picnic tea for ourselves out of that.”

“Oh! might we?” said Ralph. “How per-fect-ly bee-tttiful!”

The picnic tea was purchased; it was not wholesome. The children went back. Ralph and Harriet had their dinner all alone, for during the trial day the arrangement was that the rest of the school children were not to interfere. Afterwards, they had their picnic tea out of doors, and after that was over, Harriet again spoke of the gipsies, and the delight of knowing them, and the certain fact that they would give them tea, or, perhaps, dinner, in the wonderful house on wheels, and the still more certain fact that Ralph would not be a true boy until he had visited the gipsies with Harriet.

On the whole, Harriet considered that her trial day was a success. It was an untidy, flushed, and not a healthy little boy who crept rather late into bed that night, and whom Harriet undressed without troubling herself whether he was washed too carefully or his hair brushed or not. Even to his cry that he had just a weeny, teeny pain, and that he did not feel quite quite well, she made no response. But when she was bidding him good-night, she said: —

“Remember the gipsies, and I am the sort of girl who always keeps her word.”

“Good-night, dear, dear Harriet!” said the little fellow. “I have had quite a lovely day!”

After Harriet went away, it was some time before Ralph fell asleep. Of course, he was a manly boy, and he did not mind a bit being alone, and it was nice, very nice, to have a little room all to himself. But, notwithstanding his bravery, and his fixed determination not to be lonely without Father, and never to cry even the smallest tear, there was an ache in his heart. He kept on thinking so much of his school-mother that he could not sleep. The girls in the school were very nice. Rose had been sweet to him, so had Frederica, so had Patience, and his school-mother of the past day – oh, she had been the most exciting of all. She was not a bit a pretty girl – in his heart of hearts he thought her rather ugly; but she had done things none of the others had done. She had given him adventures – that breakfast out of doors, a box of matches to keep in his own pocket; that ride on Firefly’s back – Firefly was a very spirited pony – and the girl had looked on admiringly while Ralph kept his seat; and then the drive to town, and the spending of all Harriet’s money on sweetmeats and of all Ralph’s money on a picnic tea. Oh, yes; he had had a good day, very good, and there had been no lessons.