'Me and Nobbles', Page 3

  Chapter II.

  'HE MAY COME TO-MORROW!'

  That very same day in the afternoon Bobby was up in his apple-tree,when, to his consternation, he saw his uncle saunter into the orchard,shake hands with Tom, who was cutting the grass there, and begin ananimated conversation with him. Bobby curled himself up well out ofsight, and presumed upon his position, for when Mr. Mortimer came downto his corner and stopped for a moment under the tree, the little scampagain said, in as gruff a voice as he could assume:

  'Have you seen mine father?'

  In one second Mr. Mortimer's great long arm had shot up through thebranches, and seized hold of one of Bobby's fat legs.

  'Now, my little man, we'll meet each other face to face!'

  Terror succeeded Bobby's audacity. He found himself on the ground,but, alas! in his rough descent Nobbles had been dashed from his graspover the wall upon the high-road, and his anxiety over his darling'sfate overcame his terror.

  'Oh, save him! Oh, save mine Nobbles! Oh, he'll be hurt, he'll be runaway with! Oh, please get Nobbles, and I'll never run away from younevermore!'

  Tears were crowding into his eyes as he spoke.

  'Who's Nobbles?' asked the bewildered uncle.

  'He's always lived with me for years--everlasting years!' repeated thetroubled child. 'I couldn't live without him! Why, a big dog may eathim up, or a motor run over him! Oh, save him quick!'

  It was Tom who understood and dashed through the gate at the far end ofthe orchard. In five minutes Nobbles was given into his hand, and aseraphic smile lit up his face as he hugged his treasure. His uncledid not smile. He sat down on one of the lowest limbs of theapple-tree and lit up his pipe.

  'Is Nobbles fond of going off upon expeditions on his own account?' heasked gravely.

  'Well, I _hope_ he doesn't,' rejoined Bobby mysteriously. 'But I havemy suspecs of him, acause I always make him sleep with his head on mypillow close to me, and two mornings I've found him on the floor, andonce under the bed.'

  'Ah,' said his uncle, shaking his head at Nobbles, 'I would quitebelieve it of him. You'll promise not to give him too hard a thrashingif I tell you where he was last night. He came into my room and had afight with my old cricket bat. He got the worst of it, and went backto your nursery to get some help. He brought along a ninepin, and theyfought two against one; the poor ninepin was nearly done for, and herolled away under the bed and fainted. Then Nobbles slunk off and lefthim in the lurch. And this morning the young villain thinks he willplay me a trick, so he put two marbles in my boots. He must have donethat in the early hours before you were awake!'

  Bobby's face was a study. Delight, horror, and confusion was depictedon it. He looked at Nobbles thoughtfully, then he announced:

  'I didn't reely fight the cricket bat, I only felt him!'

  'But I am talking of Nobbles.'

  'He is wicked sometimes,' said Bobby, eyeing him wistfully, 'but Ididded it all mine self to you.'

  Then his uncle gave a hearty laugh.

  'You and I are going to chum up,' he said, lifting him on the bough byhis side. 'Now tell me more. I want to know you and Nobbles.'

  Bobby's tongue was unloosed. For the first time in his short life hehad found a grown-up person who did not consider him a nuisance. Hepoured out a strange medley into his astonished and amused uncle'sears. Imagination was much mixed up with fact, but the one theme thatwas the centre of the child's life was his absent father.

  'I know he will come for me one day and take me away with himself! Ifinks every night when I'm in bed about it. He'll knock at my doorsudden, and I'll say, "Come in." And then I'll see him!'

  He gave a little wriggle of ecstasy as he spoke.

  'He'll take me straight away. P'raps a cab will be at the door, or amotor, and we'll go off to the countries over the sea. Me and Nobbleslie very quiet and listen for the knock when we're in bed. I finks Ihears it often, but it's been a mistake.'

  'But I think I should be frightened to go off with a strange man in themiddle of the night,' said his uncle, making a grimace. 'I wouldrather have him arrive in the middle of the day.'

  'Well, sometimes I'd like him to. Just let me climb a little bithigher. Would I knock you down if I took hold of your solder verygently to help me? I want to show you the straight long road he'llcome along. There!'

  He had swung himself upon the bough above, his uncle having been equalto bear his weight.

  And now, with eager face, he pointed out the white dusty high-road thatwent like a streak of light between rows of flat green meadows, anddisappeared at the top of a hill on the horizon.

  'He'll come!' he whispered into his uncle's ear; 'and I shall saygood-bye to the House and go. I'm only waiting. He'll come along thatroad. I come here to expec' him every day.'

  Not a vestige of doubt in the eager happy voice. His uncle looked athim in wonder.

  'How do you know he hasn't forgotten you? You have never got a letterfrom him, have you? And he mightn't want to be bothered with a smallboy.'

  But no shadow came across Bobby's earnest, trustful eyes.

  'He's my father. He likes me acause I belongs to him. He's the personthat likes me in the earth, and God is the other Person. He's up inheaven, but I belongs to Him too. And God likes me very much!'

  There was supreme self-satisfaction in his tone.

  His uncle smiled.

  'Your theology doesn't sound right to me. I was always told that itwas only very good boys that were liked by God.'

  'Yes, that's what Nurse says; but God says diff'unt to Nobbles and me.He talks to me sometimes when I'm in bed. He says He'll always like mefor ever and ever, amen!'

  There was no irreverence in his tone--only triumphant assurance; andhis uncle was silenced.

  'And so I'm just expecking,' went on the small boy; 'and he may cometo-morrow while you're here.'

  'That would be first-rate. Now, where shall I find you when I want agame of hide and seek? Where's your nursery?'

  Bobby pointed to the window, which was plainly in sight from theorchard.

  'But how do I get to it?'

  'Through the green door.'

  'Of course I do. Now I come to think of it, that is our old nursery.We were shut away from the rest of the house by the baize door. Here'syour nurse looking for you. Good-bye for the present. I'm going outwith your grandmother.'

  He left Bobby looking after him with wistful eyes.

  'He's just my sort,' he announced to his nurse in his old-fashionedway. 'Me and Nobbles and him will like each other very much.'

  'Who are you talking about?' asked Nurse. And Bobby answered, 'MasterMortimer.'

  It was two or three days before he saw his uncle again, for he went upto London on business. Then he entranced the child by taking him downto the river to fish. That was a red-letter day to Bobby; his tonguenever stopped until he was told he would frighten the fish away, andthen he sat on a fence and gazed at his uncle with adoring eyes. As hetrotted home very tired, but very happy, insisting upon carrying twogood-sized trout, he said, 'I shall do this every day with father, andwe'll cook our brekfus ourselves.'

  'May he never disappoint you!'

  Mr. Mortimer murmured the words, and happily Bobby did not hear them.That evening he and Nobbles were too excited to sleep. In rehearsinghis day to himself, Bobby began to think of many such blissful times inthe future; he pictured them to Nobbles, his father being thecentre-piece. And then he stopped talking and began to listen for theknock that was to come. There was great silence in the nursery. Nursehad gone downstairs to her supper, leaving the night-light as usualupon the washing-stand in the corner of the room. Suddenly Bobbysprang up, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his little heartgalloping wildly, There was no possible mistake this time. A sharprat-tat on his door.

  'Come in!'

  How often he had rehearsed his answer to the knock! Why was it thathis voice was so husky? Why were his knees trembling so? H
e was outof his bed now, standing in the middle of the room, a pathetic littlefigure with his pink bare feet and tumbled curls, and Nobbles claspedin his arms.

  The door opened. Bobby drew a long, shivering sigh. A huge,black-bearded man in a striped blanket came in. He carried a gun, andan axe was fastened to his belt. He was very tall, and his voice wasvery gruff.

  'Are you Robert Stuart Allonby? I have come to take him away.'

  In an instant, with outstretched arms, Bobby sprang forward, 'Father!I'm ready!'

  That was all he said; but as the big man lifted him up Bobby buried hisface in the bushy black beard and clasped him round his neck, and aquiver ran through his little body as he whispered in a fervour of joy,'I'll come with you. Why have you been so long? Oh, father, darling,take me quick, and never let me come back to this old house again.'

  'Are you ready to camp out amongst fierce Indians in the wild woods?'

  'I'll love to.'

  'Where the wolves prowl round at night?'

  'I'll be with you.'

  'You'll have to ride a wild pony; you will be out in the rain and cold.You'll have to cut down trees and earn your bread. Sometimes you'll behungry and cold and tired; there'll be no one to look after you.You'll have to rough it. So you want to come? Now? Right away?'

  'Right away!' repeated Bobby, squeezing tighter round the stranger'sneck. 'I'll be with you, father. You'll never leave me again!'

  There was such infinite trust and tenderness in the child's voice thatthe big man wavered, put Bobby down on the floor, tore off his beardand blanket, and revealed himself as Master Mortimer. 'Upon my wordyou're a plucky little 'un!'

  Bobby stared up at him with horror-struck eyes. For the space of amoment his uncle felt thoroughly ashamed of himself, much as if he weremeeting the gaze of a faithful dog he was ill-treating, for the look onthe child's face was a broken-hearted one. He stood there with aquivering lip in perfect silence; then turned, crept into his bedagain, and lay down with his face to the wall.

  Nobbles was left upon the floor.

  His uncle took a quick step up to the bed.

  'Sorry, old fellow; it was a piece of fun. I didn't think you wouldtake it so hard. Did you really think it was your father? I hoped Imight put you off him.'

  Bobby did not raise his head; he was terribly ashamed of tears, but hislittle chest was heaving with the bitterness of his disappointment, andhe had stuffed a corner of his pillow into his mouth to stifle his sobs.

  His self-restraint made his uncle feel more uncomfortable. He sat downby his bed and lifted him out bodily upon his knees, and he tried tosoothe him as a woman might.

  'I declare, if you were a little older you and I would go off on a tourround the world and search for this runaway father of yours.'

  This idea was a risky one to propose, but he felt desperate at thesight of the child's grief.

  Bobby raised his eyes for the first time. The tears did not hide thedawn of hope springing up in them.

  'I'm old enough,' he said, choking down a sob; 'please take me.'

  'It wouldn't do, and we might miss him; he might arrive after you hadgone.'

  'Me and Nobbles could go and look for him our own selves,' Bobby saidvery thoughtfully. 'We would just ask and ask till they told us wherehe was.'

  His uncle began to feel uneasy. 'No, that's quite the wrong way about.He must come to you, not you go to him.'

  'But,' said Bobby pitifully, 'he never comes, and I'm tireder andtireder of waiting.'

  'You go to sleep, and perhaps you'll dream where your father is.Dreams are rummy things, and Nobbles is wanting his sleep, I know.'

  Bobby was deposited in bed with his beloved stick, and his eyelidsbegan to droop at once. In a minute or two, worn out with hisexcitement and consequent depression, he was fast asleep.

  His uncle picked up his masquerading attire and left the roommuttering, 'I never will play the fool again; it doesn't pay.'

  A day or two after this his Uncle Mortimer departed. Bobby was veryunhappy at losing him, for uncle and nephew were close friends, and nota day passed without their spending some of it together. The unclepromised to look for Bobby's father and send him to him as quickly aspossible, and the child's hopes rose high, and he firmly believed thathis father's return home would be hastened.

  Upon the morning that his uncle left, Bobby's grandmother called him toher when she came into the nursery for her usual visit.

  'I want to speak to you,' she said, putting on her gold spectacles andsitting down in Nurse's easy chair.

  Bobby stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back.

  'Are you not happy with us?' was the question put to him next, a littlesharply.

  'Yes, gran'ma.'

  'Who has been talking to you about your father?'

  Bobby was silent.

  'Answer me, child.'

  'I dunno--Master Mortimer.'

  'Do you mean your Uncle Mortimer? He has only just come here. Youhave some absurd fancy in your head about your father fetching you awayfrom us.'

  'Yes, gran'ma.'

  'It is quite ridiculous. Your father would not think of doing such athing. You have been given over to me entirely, and he doesn't troubleabout you in the least. I expect he forgets that he has a son. Do youunderstand me?'

  'Yes, gran'ma.'

  'I am only telling you this for your good. The sooner you stopthinking about such a foolish thing the better.'

  'Yes, gran'ma.'

  'You ought to be a very happy grateful little boy. You have a kindnurse and a comfortable home, and everything to satisfy you. Soon youwill be going to school, and I hope you will try to grow up a credit tous.'

  'Yes, gran'ma.'

  'Can't you say anything but "yes"?'

  Mrs. Egerton's tone was a little impatient.

  'I don't know nothing but "yes" to speak,' faltered Bobby, hanging hishead.

  'You seem to have talked fast enough to your uncle.'

  Mrs. Egerton regarded him closely for a minute. Bobby began to feelmore and more uncomfortable. Then his grandmother got up with a littlesigh.

  'You are not a bit like your mother; you are an Allonby all over. Nowdon't let me hear any more of this nonsense! Your home is with me; wenever talk to you about your father, because we do not even know if heis alive. He has never written or taken the slightest interest in youafter your poor mother sent you to us.'

  She got up and rustled out of the room. Bobby looked after herperplexedly.

  Why didn't his grandmother want him to have a father, he wondered? Andwhat else could he say but 'yes' to her? If he had said 'no,' shewould have been angry. Grown-up people were very difficult tounderstand. He turned to Nobbles to console him. He always smiled athim, and loved him.