The Greatest Works of E. Nesbit (220+ Titles in One Illustrated Edition). Эдит Несбит

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СКАЧАТЬ you call her – her with the white bokay on her ’ed – she’s my sort. Wonder if she’d keep company!’

      ‘I should ask her.’

      ‘I was always a quick hitter,’ the man went on; ‘it’s a word and a blow with me. I will.’

      In shirt and trousers, and crowned with a scented flowery wreath which Cyril hastily wove as they returned to the court of the queen, the burglar stood before the cook and spoke.

      ‘Look ’ere, miss,’ he said. ‘You an’ me bein’ all forlorn-like, both on us, in this ’ere dream, or whatever you calls it, I’d like to tell you straight as I likes yer looks.’

      The cook smiled and looked down bashfully.

      ‘I’m a single man – what you might call a batcheldore. I’m mild in my ’abits, which these kids’ll tell you the same, and I’d like to ’ave the pleasure of walkin’ out with you next Sunday.’

      ‘Lor!’ said the queen cook, ‘’ow sudden you are, mister.’

      ‘Walking out means you’re going to be married,’ said Anthea. ‘Why not get married and have done with it? I would—’

      ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ said the burglar. But the cook said:

      ‘No, miss. Not me, not even in a dream, I don’t say anythink ag’in the young chap’s looks, but I always swore I’d be married in church, if at all – and, anyway, I don’t believe these here savages would know how to keep a registering office, even if I was to show them. No, mister, thanking you kindly, if you can’t bring a clergyman into the dream I’ll live and die like what I am.’

      ‘Will you marry her if we get a clergyman?’ asked the match-making Anthea.

      ‘I’m agreeable, miss, I’m sure,’ said he, pulling his wreath straight. ‘’Ow this ’ere bokay do tiddle a chap’s ears to be sure!’

      So, very hurriedly, the carpet was spread out, and instructed to fetch a clergyman. The instructions were written on the inside of Cyril’s cap with a piece of billiard chalk Robert had got from the marker at the hotel at Lyndhurst. The carpet disappeared, and more quickly than you would have thought possible it came back, bearing on its bosom the Reverend Septimus Blenkinsop.

      The Reverend Septimus was rather a nice young man, but very much mazed and muddled, because when he saw a strange carpet laid out at his feet, in his own study, he naturally walked on it to examine it more closely. And he happened to stand on one of the thin places that Jane and Anthea had darned, so that he was half on wishing carpet and half on plain Scotch heather-mixture fingering, which has no magic properties at all.

      The effect of this was that he was only half there – so that the children could just see through him, as though he had been a ghost. And as for him, he saw the sunny southern shore, the cook and the burglar and the children quite plainly; but through them all he saw, quite plainly also, his study at home, with the books and the pictures and the marble clock that had been presented to him when he left his last situation.

      He seemed to himself to be in a sort of insane fit, so that it did not matter what he did – and he married the burglar to the cook. The cook said that she would rather have had a solider kind of a clergyman, one that you couldn’t see through so plain, but perhaps this was real enough for a dream.

      And of course the clergyman, though misty, was really real, and able to marry people, and he did. When the ceremony was over the clergyman wandered about the island collecting botanical specimens, for he was a great botanist, and the ruling passion was strong even in an insane fit.

      There was a splendid wedding feast. Can you fancy Jane and Anthea, and Robert and Cyril, dancing merrily in a ring, hand-in-hand with copper-coloured savages, round the happy couple, the queen cook and the burglar consort? There were more flowers gathered and thrown than you have ever even dreamed of, and before the children took carpet for home the now married-and-settled burglar made a speech.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and savages of both kinds, only I know you can’t understand what I’m a saying of, but we’ll let that pass. If this is a dream, I’m on. If it ain’t, I’m onner than ever. If it’s betwixt and between – well, I’m honest, and I can’t say more. I don’t want no more ’igh London society – I’ve got someone to put my arm around of; and I’ve got the whole lot of this ’ere island for my allotment, and if I don’t grow some broccoli as’ll open the judge’s eye at the cottage flower shows, well, strike me pink! All I ask is, as these young gents and ladies’ll bring some parsley seed into the dream, and a penn’orth o’ radish seed, and threepenn’orth of onion, and I wouldn’t mind goin’ to fourpence or fippence for mixed kale, only I ain’t got a brown, so I don’t deceive you. And there’s one thing more, you might take away the parson. I don’t like things what I can see ’alf through, so here’s how!’ He drained a coconut-shell of palm wine.

      It was now past midnight – though it was tea-time on the island.

      With all good wishes the children took their leave. They also collected the clergyman and took him back to his study and his presentation clock.

      The Phoenix kindly carried the seeds next day to the burglar and his bride, and returned with the most satisfactory news of the happy pair.

      ‘He’s made a wooden spade and started on his allotment,’ it said, ‘and she is weaving him a shirt and trousers of the most radiant whiteness.’

      The police never knew how the burglar got away. In Kentish Town Police Station his escape is still spoken of with bated breath as the Persian mystery.

      As for the Reverend Septimus Blenkinsop, he felt that he had had a very insane fit indeed, and he was sure it was due to over-study. So he planned a little dissipation, and took his two maiden aunts to Paris, where they enjoyed a dazzling round of museums and picture galleries, and came back feeling that they had indeed seen life. He never told his aunts or any one else about the marriage on the island – because no one likes it to be generally known if he has had insane fits, however interesting and unusual.

      Chapter X.

       The Hole in the Carpet

       Table of Contents

      Hooray! hooray! hooray!

       Mother comes home today;

       Mother comes home today,

       Hooray! hooray! hooray!

      Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast, and the Phoenix shed crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.

      ‘How beautiful,’ it said, ‘is filial devotion!’

      ‘She won’t be home till past bedtime, though,’ said Robert. ‘We might have one more carpet-day.’

      He was glad that Mother was coming home – quite glad, very glad; but at the same time that gladness was rudely contradicted by a quite strong feeling of sorrow, because now they could not go out all day on the carpet.

      ‘I do wish we could go and get something nice for Mother, only she’d want to know where we got it,’ said СКАЧАТЬ