Between the Dark and the Daylight. Richard Marsh
miles. I have never walked it myself, you understand, so the estimate is a rough one."
I felt that this was not an occasion on which it was necessary to be over-particular as to a yard or so.
"So much as that? I had no idea it was so far. Of course, walking is out of the question. How would a van do?"
"A what?"
"A van. One of those vans in which, I understand, children go for treats. How much would they charge, now, for one which would hold the whole of us?"
"I haven't the faintest notion, aunt. Would you propose to go in a van to all these places?" I motioned towards the sheet of paper. She nodded. "I have never, you understand, done this sort of thing in a van, but I imagine that the kind of vehicle you suggest, with one pair of horses, to do the entire round would take about three weeks."
"Three weeks? Thomas!"
"I don't pretend to literal accuracy, but I don't believe that I'm far wrong. No means of locomotion with which I am acquainted will enable you to do it in a day, of that I'm certain. I've been in London since my childhood, but I've never yet had time to see one-half the things you've got down upon this sheet of paper."
"Is it possible?"
"It's not only possible, it's fact. You country folk have no notion of London's vastness."
"Stupendous!"
"It is stupendous. Now, when would you like to reach the Crystal Palace?"
"Well, not later than four. By then we shall be hungry."
I surveyed the nine.
"It strikes me that some of you look hungry now. Aren't you hungry?"
I spoke to Sammy. His face was eloquent.
"I be famished."
I do not attempt to reproduce the dialect: I am no dialectician. I merely reproduce the sense; that is enough for me. The lady whom my aunt had spoken of as "Mrs. Penna, sixty-seven, and a little lame," agreed with Sammy.
"So be I. I be fit to drop, I be."
On this subject there was a general consensus of opinion--they all seemed fit to drop. I was not surprised. My aunt was surprised instead.
"You each of you had a treacle pasty in the train!"
"What be a treacle pasty?"
I was disposed to echo Mrs. Penna's query, "What be a treacle pasty?" My aunt struck me as really cutting the thing a little too fine.
"You finish your pasties now--when we get to the Palace I'll see that you have something to take their place. That shall be my part of the treat."
My aunt's manner was distinctly severe, especially considering that it was a party of pleasure.
"Before we started it was arranged exactly what provisions would have to be sufficient. I do not wish to encroach upon your generosity, Thomas--nothing of the kind."
"Never mind, aunt, that'll be all right. You tuck into your pasties."
They tucked into their pasties with a will. Aunt had some breakfast with me--poor soul! she stood in need of it--and we discussed the arrangements for the day.
"Of course, my dear aunt, this programme of yours is out of the question, altogether. We'll just do a round on a 'bus, and then it'll be time to start for the Palace."
"But, Thomas, they will be so disappointed--and, considering how much it will cost me, we shall seem to be getting so little for the money."
"My dear aunt, you will have had enough by the time you get back, I promise you."
My promise was more than fulfilled--they had had good measure, pressed down and running over.
The first part of our programme took the form, as I had suggested, of a ride on a 'bus. Our advent in the Strand--my rooms are in the Adelphi--created a sensation. I fancy the general impression was that we were a party of lunatics, whom I was personally conducting. That my aunt was one of them I do not think that anyone doubted. The way in which she worried and scurried and fussed and flurried was sufficient to convey that idea.
It is not every 'bus which has room for eleven passengers. We could not line up on the curbstone, it would have been to impede the traffic. And as my aunt would not hear of a division of forces, as we sauntered along the pavement we enjoyed ourselves immensely. The "parish idiot" would insist on hanging on to the front of every shop-window, necessitating his being dragged away by the collar of his jacket. Jane and Ellen glued themselves together arm in arm, sniggering at anything and everything--especially when Daniel Dyer digged them in the ribs from behind. Mrs. Penna, proving herself to be a good deal more than a little lame, had to be hauled along by my aunt on one side, and by Mr. Holman, the "converted drunkard," on the other. That Mr. Holman did not enjoy his position I felt convinced from the way in which, every now and then, he jerked the poor old soul completely off her feet. With her other hand my aunt gripped Master Treen by the hand, he keeping his mouth as wide open as he possibly could; his little trick of continually looking behind him resulting in collisions with most of the persons, and lamp-posts, he chanced to encounter. The deaf Mr. Eva brought up the rear with Mr. Poltifen and his strapful of books that gentleman favouring him with totally erroneous scraps of information, which he was, fortunately, quite unable to hear.
We had reached Newcastle Street before we found a 'bus which contained the requisite amount of accommodation. Then, when I hailed one which was nearly empty, the party boarded it. Somewhat to my surprise, scarcely anyone wished to go outside. Mrs. Penna, of course, had to be lifted into the interior, where Jane and Ellen joined her--I fancy that they fought shy of the ladder-like staircase--followed by Daniel Dyer, in spite of my aunt's protestations. She herself went next, dragging with her Master Treen, who wanted to go outside, but was not allowed, and, in consequence, was moved to tears. Messrs. Eva, Poltifen, Holman and I were the only persons who made the ascent; and the conductor having indulged in some sarcastic comments on things in general and my aunt's protégés in particular, which nearly drove me to commit assault and battery, the 'bus was started.
We had not gone far before I had reason to doubt the genuineness of Mr. Holman's conversion. Drawing the back of his hand across his lips, he remarked to Mr. Eva--
"It do seem as if this were going to be a thirsty job. 'Tain't my notion of a holiday----"
I repeat that I make no attempt to imitate the dialect. Perceiving himself addressed, Mr. Eva put his hand up to his ear.
"Beg pardon--what were that you said?"
"I say that I be perishing for something to drink. I be faint for want of it. What's a day's pleasure if you don't never have a chance to moisten your lips?"
Although this was said in a tone of voice which caused the foot-passengers to stand and stare, the driver to start round in his seat, as if he had been struck, and the conductor to come up to inquire if anything were wrong, it failed to penetrate Mr. Eva's tympanum.
"What be that?" the old gentleman observed.
"It do seem as if I were more deaf than usual."
I touched Mr. Holman on the shoulder.
"All right--leave him alone. I'll see that you have what you want when we get down; only don't try to make him understand while we're on this 'bus."
"Thank you kindly, sir. There's no denying that a taste of rum would do me good. John Eva, he be terrible hard of hearing--terrible; and the old girl she ain't a notion of what's fit for a man."
How much the insides saw of London I cannot say. I doubt if any one on the roof saw much. In my anxiety to alight on one with room I had not troubled about the destination of the 'bus. As, however, it proved to be bound for London Bridge, I had an opportunity to point out St. Paul's Cathedral, the Bank of England, and similar places. I cannot say that my hearers seemed much struck by the privileges they were enjoying. When the vehicle drew up in the station-yard,