My Young Days Read online

  III.

  _THE LITTLE STOWAWAY._

  One of my earliest friends at the Park was a little French boy, a kindof page of my uncle's. Shall I tell you about him? You will think itvery funny that a servant-boy should be allowed to be my friend, so Imust explain.

  Little Gus, as my uncle called him--though his real name wasGustave--was altogether a little foreigner. He couldn't talk English atall properly; in fact, the greater part of our conversation was carriedon by signs. He was very much afraid of everybody in the house, exceptUncle Hugh. He thought there was nobody in all the world like theCaptain, as he called him. His bright eyes used to twinkle and his whiteteeth shine whenever he could find a chance of running an errand, ordoing any little job for the Captain; and I think it was, perhaps,because he took me for the Captain's little pet that he grew so fond ofme.

  He would follow me all about the garden, and watch me as I talked awayto Jane, and be ready to find my ball or fetch my hoop the minute Iwanted them.

  Now, after we had been a little while at the Park, I found that Jane hadgot very fond of flowers, and was always anxious to go to theglass-houses directly we came out into the garden.

  "Why, Miss Sissy," she would say, "there never was anything like theferns, and the orange-trees, and the cactuses in them houses; and Mr.Owen so civil-like in showing them to us, too."

  So off we went to the hot-houses, and there Mr. Owen and Jane talkedand talked till I got tired of the hot air, and went to play outside;and there just outside was Gus, always waiting to pick me the prettiestflowers, and find me the first sweet violets. But I was shy, and hiswords were so foreign that they frightened me; nor did I like at allbeing called "Petite mademoiselle," which was not my name, and couldn'tmean anything that I could think of. At last I grew braver, and one dayI ventured to ask--

  "Who is your papa?"

  "Me hab no papa, no mamma!" he said, looking very full at me.

  "Where do you live then?" I asked. "You're not a bit like Bobbie!"

  "Me live wid de Capitaine; me never will leaf de Capitaine--never,never, never!" he answered eagerly.

  This made me feel very queer, and I think I looked half-frightened, forhis look changed quickly, and he said, smiling his own sunny smile--

  "Me fetch petite mademoiselle somet'ing nice; me fetch de puss dat deCapitaine just bring home!"

  A pussy! That sounded pleasant, and I waited eagerly for his return. Iwaited a long time, as it seemed, and I had grown tired, and was lookingfor daisies on the grass, when I heard his step and the tap of hisfavourite holly-stick on the gravel. What a funny boy he was to callthat "something nice"!

  There he stood, his eyes and mouth all one smile, and held out at arm'slength by the ears a dead rabbit. My look and exclamation of horror madehim grave at once.

  POOR DEAD PUSSY!]

  "Oh, the poor little rabbit!" I cried. "Has Uncle Hugh killed himquite dead?"

  "Yes, yes, he quite dead! De Capitaine's gun kill him quite, de smalldog pick him up. Petite mademoiselle not frighten, he quite dead!"

  Ah, that was just the reason of my fright! Away I ran to Jane, and hidmy face in her gown; and a very vigorous scolding did she give theFrench boy when she found what he had done.

  Poor fellow! he was very much disconcerted, and did not know what tosay. Two hours after he came back, and finding me alone just going fora drive, he said softly--

  "Little puss all alive now, run away in de voods. Petite mademoiselle,come see?"

  What did he mean? The rabbit could not be "quite dead" at one time, and"all alive" afterwards. But grandmamma was coming downstairs, and I hadno time to answer him. By and by, when I was lying back on the softcushions stroking grandmamma's pretty white fur, I told her all mypuzzle.

  "Ah, my pet," she said, "poor Gus had a very cruel French father, anddoesn't know any better. He ran away from home when your uncle's shipwas touching at Marseilles, and hid himself in the hold. They found himwhen they got out to sea--a little stowaway the sailors called him--andyour uncle liked his dark, pitiful eyes, and was very kind to him; buthe has not learnt much yet that's good. Don't have too much to say tohim, my darling!"

  Well, it wasn't very likely I should, for he and I found it not veryeasy to understand each other; yet he liked to do anything he could forme, and was always watching to see what I wanted.

  Nearly a year after that, I remember, it was very cold, and the littlesouthern boy felt it especially. He had grown ever so tall and thin, butnot strong, and he went about looking blue and shivery. How I came to bestill at the Park I will tell you in another place, but there I was, andmy friend Gus won my pity by his wretched looks. I used to look at hisblue hands, and wonder what could be done. At last I remembered a pairof warm knitted gloves, that had been given me, which I never wore.They had no fingers, only a thumb, and I doubted whether Gus would wearthem; but I made up my mind that he would be glad anyhow to keep hischilblains from the wind.

  I don't think I shall ever forget his look when I presented them to him,holding them by the pretty blue wool which fastened them together. Thathis "petite mademoiselle" should think of him, and make him a present,too! and then that that present should be one that he could not anyhowuse! It was fairly too much for him; he looked at them, he looked at me,turned furiously red, stammered, stuttered, turned round, and literallyran away!

  I never tried to make him a second present.