CHAPTER XII.
THE MISHAP OF THE SKIPPING-ROPE
"Story," said the Skipping-rope, "to be sure you shall have it, and a very queer one it is, quite the oddest of the lot, I rather think. But I shall be very happy to begin it at once, if the Kite will be so good as to disentangle his tail."
"Pshaw," growled the Kite, "why, I was obliged to tell mine while you were tugging at me all the while. Two or three times, when I had something very particular to say, you pulled my tail, suddenly, and I lost the thread of my discourse. So tit for tat, my friend, do you unwind your yarn, and I won't serve you any worse than you did me."
The Skipping-rope, finding she could not gain her point, gave herself a spiteful wriggle, which nearly tore off the grand tassel at the end of the Kite's tail, and set off full gallop in her recital, leaving him no breathing time to complain: —
"I began life," said she, "as a mere length of rope, although I only form now a small portion of the coil to which I belonged. I was the property of a poor fisherman, who lived in a hut belonging to a cluster of storm-beaten cots, called by great courtesy, the 'village' of Rocksand, in Devonshire. All the people who lived there were very poor, and gained a precarious living by fishing, while their wives occupied the spare time left after "keeping house, and minding the childer," by cultivating the very small bits of garden ground that belonged to them, and which were situated on the top of a very lofty cliff, some height above the nestling cottages which were huddled under its shelter on the shore, not so very far above the high tide line. Indeed, in stormy weather, the rough seas which churned up the restless pebbles on the beach, sent their waves in very adverse weather, and during winds that set dead in shore, into somewhat disagreeable nearness to the doorsteps! And as for the spray, well! in storms it put out the fires, by falling down the low wide chimneys, but in ordinary weather people never minded it.
"As for the children, they were like little ducklings, and directly they were big they took to the water like young Newfoundland puppies; and while they were too small for that, they played in it, and made "sand pies," for there was no mud there, and became dirty and draggled, and therefore happy to their heart's content. And a rare hardy, ruddy set they were, living on the very scantiest and coarsest fare, and thriving on the salt fresh breezes, like young giants, as they were. My owner was a tall, strong young man, who supported his wife and two little ones by his own incessant hard work. He was a capital climber too, and was very fond of scrambling about the face of the cliff in almost inaccessible places for birds' nests and eggs, of which he had quite a large collection. He used to blow and preserve the eggs, replace them in their pretty and curious nests, and then offer them for sale in the neighbouring town. He also collected the samphire growing on the rocky masses that jutted out into the sea, and for which his wife found a ready sale in the town market. They were frugal, hard-working people, but they often found it very difficult to provide food and clothing for their little ones, and to keep the boat and nets in good repair. I am proud to say I was a very useful member of the family, and was wanted everywhere. During the intervals of time, when my services were not required in the boat, I did duty as a clothes line, which rather grated against my dignity, for I fancied it was not the sort of work I ought to be set to do. However, I consoled myself with the reflection that I had nothing to do with common clothes props or garden walls, for I was generally stretched out on the beach, in a sheltered nook behind the cottage. One end was tied fast to an old mast that now bore a weathercock, and the other was fastened to a ring in a piece of rock, near by. So I was patiently contented to hold up all the family wardrobe to dry, for it was not a very large one, and I knew every time exactly what I should have to carry. And the sea winds were very obliging, and dried all the clothes so fast, that my patience was not much tested.
"I tethered the little boat to her landing-place close by, and many a time has Mary been only too glad to lay hold of me, when her husband threw me ashore, after a long night's buffeting with the winds and waves. Even little Robin came behind her and gave fierce tugs at me, to "draw daddie home again!" Once I saved his father's life, so precious to all that little family, for he would have been sorely missed, while there were so many young mouths to feed. It so happened on the day I mean, that he had taken me out with him, not a usual thing unless it threatened stormy weather. But that morning, when he set out early, the sky was as blue and cloudless as on a bright summer's day, and there was hardly a puff of wind going. He put up his little sail, but it flapped almost lazily against the mast, and he and his "mate," as he called the old boatman (who was a sort of second partner in the boat and fishing gear), had to take to their oars and row to the fishing stakes and nets. They had taken a good stock of fish, and were thinking of getting back with the tide, when a sudden squall arose, beginning with "the little black cloud, as big as a man's hand," and ending in a fierce wind, that soon lashed the sea up into big mountains of waves. The fisherman, while prudently watching and carefully managing his sail, had stood on the seat of the boat, but a sudden gust coming as the wind chopped round to another point, he stepped hastily on the side, his foot slipped on the wet edge, and he overbalanced and fell into the raging waves. The old boatman, who was used to mishaps at sea, dropped the tiller, and rushed to his mate's assistance, and when he came to the surface threw an end of my rope to him. By the help of this and the oar, he managed with some difficulty, and after he had swam some time alongside, by my help to drag him on board again, though with no small danger of upsetting the frail skiff. They were some time in getting back, for the poor fellow was rather exhausted by his ducking and long swim in the water, and could not pull the oar with his usual skill. After that feat, I was still more valued, and invariably taken out in the boat in case of future accidents.
"And now the summer came on, and with it the busiest time of the women of Rocksand, for most of them were hard at work early and late in their little patches of garden ground. The fishermen generally left all these matters to their wives, but my master was an industrious young man, and was not particular what he turned his hand to, so that he might often have been seen in the potato ground, hoeing and weeding, while his mates were lying on the shore watching the weather or smoking their pipes at the cottage doors. Just now, the crop of potatoes was being dug, and so John Pike and his wife were hard at work on their ridges. It was a long trudge from the village, and the weather was hot, so Mary had brought both her children with her. The youngest, about two years old, she had laid on an old shawl under the hedge, and there he sat propped up, and mighty busy over a basket of shells she had brought up for him to play with. The elder boy, about five, was trotting about very soberly, so that they did not watch him perhaps as keenly as they ought, and so he scrambled through a hole in the fence to the next field, and somehow managed to tumble into the old well there. The fright of his parents on hearing his shrieks may be imagined but not described, and they both rushed to the direction the sound came from. John soon saw what was the matter, and running back, snatched me hastily up, and ran to the side of the well. It was luckily an old one, long unused, and in consequence of the dry weather had but little water. It took John very few seconds to throw one end of me hastily but tightly round a tree close by, and let himself down. He got hold of the little fellow, and climbed out again with my help, laying him on the grass, when he got him out. For a long time they thought the child was dead; but they carried him home, and very luckily met the village doctor on their way, by whose skill, after long, long persevering efforts he was brought slowly to life. But for many a month after that he was ill from the combined effects of the shock, the bad air, the fright, and the water. Indeed, as the doctor said, he must have spent a cat's nine lives in getting through it at all.
"It was a sad trial for poor John and his wife, although they bore it patiently enough, only thankful that their Robin was spared to them. But his mother had no time to give to her crops now, and John had more than he could manage with his fishing besides, and was not able to make it as profitable as usual. But all their poor neighbours were very kind to them, and would always bring in any bit of more tempting food than they usually had, for poor little Robin. He lay patient enough on his hard bed, and was very cheerful and bright when his illness would allow it. His father had delighted him beyond measure by tying me to the top of his bed, so that he could drag himself up into a sitting posture by my help, and he fancied himself quite a sailor, and used to lie there smiling, and talking in a low voice to himself about the ropes and rigging of a ship. Old Bill, the boatman, his father's mate, had made him a little boat, and while he was finishing it, he used to sit by poor Robin's bedside, and tell him all about the different parts of a ship, so that the child (who was naturally quick, and was now no doubt made more so by his illness, and long rest), soon became quite knowing about the different sails and ropes.
"'This is a sloop, Bill, aint it,' he used to say, ''cause she's only got one mast. I should like to have a brig with two masts, and lots of sails!'
"Poor little Robin! he was never well again, for, as it seemed afterwards, his spine had received some injury from the fall, which it never recovered. He only lived to be twelve years old, and during that time could never get about like other boys, and was continually laid up, especially in the cold winter season, for months together. But as his body became so weak, his mind seemed to grow instead, and he was more like a man than a child in his thoughts and ways, though always patient. He improved on his old tutor's lessons too, and became quite a skilful boat maker, and turned out some very pretty little wooden models of ships and boats, all properly rigged, which his mother sold for him in the market at the town hard by. He was able by these means to add a little to the family fund, and though his gains were, of course, but small, it was better than being a helpless burthen upon his poor parents, and the light work whiled away many a weary hour of suffering and pain for him. Through all the years that had passed since his accident, I had been left still tied to the tester of his bed, and I still served to help him to drag up his feeble limbs, and to turn in bed, for he was very feeble, poor fellow.
"But I was destined to play an important part once more, and for the last time in the family history. When Robin was about twelve years old, there came a very severe winter, which was sorely felt all through the little fishing village, and by none more heavily than the poor fisherman's family. The fishing turned out badly, and the previous potato crop having been a scanty one, they barely found enough to live upon. Poor Robin had been more than usually delicate and ailing during that winter, and suffered more than the rest from all the privations. The spring drew on drearily enough, cold, dull, and cheerless, so that there scarcely seemed a glimpse of hope of better days. One day when John was almost out of heart and hope, he set off on a long ramble, hoping by diligent climbing and search to find at any rate a few rare birds' nests in the crevices of the cliffs. Everything had gone worse even than usual, there had been no fish caught worth mentioning for many days, and John's poor old patched and mended nets were rapidly falling to pieces in spite of all his care, while he was not able to buy enough bread for the little household, not to mention material for new nets. So he climbed wearily on, and rounded rock after rock, meeting with but little success, till at last he had reached a long distance from home, and had climbed a good way up one of the tallest cliffs in the neighbourhood. He was rewarded by finding a couple of rare nests full of eggs, and with renewed hope he climbed eagerly on. He saw one just a little above him, but in a very awkward place to get at, for there was a cleft in the rock he must leap over to get at it. He had a steady head and a light foot, and took the leap without hesitation, when, to his horror, as he alighted on the other side a piece of the mouldering stone broke off, and fell rolling down with a loud noise, crumbling to pieces as it bounded down the sharp rocky face of the cliff. There was now too wide a space between for him to risk the return, and there he stood on a narrow ledge of rock, with the sharp peaks and the roaring sea beneath him, and a steep wall of cliff stretching up above his head. John Pike was a brave man, and had been used to face many a danger, but the blood seemed to leave his heart, and his breath almost stopped, as he understood the full peril of his position. It was indeed a serious one, and as he thought over the scant chance there was of any help or rescue, he covered his face with his hands and groaned in agony for those at home, more than for himself. And while he stood there, despairing of all human aid, many a prayer went up from his heart's core to God for help for the sake of his wife and poor Robin. And then he set to work with all his best energy to make his terrible position known. He had fortunately a handkerchief in his pocket, and this he tied to the walking-stick he always took with him on his climbing expeditions. He shouted at frequent intervals in the hope of making some one hear, and at last, to his great joy, he espied a little figure below on the distant beach! It was a poor shrimper, with her nets on her back, returning home, and she saw at a glance how the case stood, and hastened at once to the village to give an alarm. In a shorter space of time than could have been hoped even, John saw a number of his fellow fishermen hastening down the beach to him. He could not catch their words, but he understood from their signs that they found it would be impossible to get him down again, and so they were going to mount the cliff, and try and get at him that way. As they passed the village on their way to the top of the cliff, poor Mary rushed out wildly to them, for she had by accident heard the truth, anxiously as her kind neighbours had tried to prevent it. They hastily told her their plans, and asked her for the longest ropes she had, as they would want all they could get. She hurriedly dragged me down, and rushed after them, for, as she said, she could not stay at home, while her husband was in such peril, and she must see the worst with her own eyes. When they reached the top of the cliff, the fishermen hastily rigged up a sort of rude windlass, and knotting the lengths of rope firmly together, they succeeded in making a line long enough to reach him, and firm enough to bear him. It was an anxious time, while they gradually drew him up the steep face of the cliff. They did not dare to pull quickly, for fear he should be dashed against the rock and lose his hold, and they were also afraid of grazing the rope against the jagged rocks. But at last, with great care, and by his own prudent management and skill in guiding the rope, he was landed safely on the top of the cliff. Poor Mary was so overjoyed at his escape, that when they all turned to go home, and were tying up the rope again, she caught me up, and declared she should value me to her dying day. Strangely enough, I was the only rope that was damaged of all, for I had been chafed a good deal against the rock, and in one place was nearly cut through. For a long while after Mary shuddered so at the sight of that piece of me, that at last Robin, who had regained possession of me, cut me through. The longer piece was kept for the boat, and the shorter length you now behold was tied up again for poor Robin's use as before.
"There was not one in the village who did not heartily rejoice at John's rescue; and it almost seemed as if after that things had come to the worst, for they began to mend. There were more fish taken than had been known on that coast for many years, and the weather proved most fortunate for getting in the humble crops, so that John had some new nets at last; and the poor family had enough to eat. But better food and brighter days could not save poor Robin; the long winter had told too heavily upon him to enable him to rally again. By the time the blackberries were in flower on the top of the cliff, Robin had faded away, like their leaves, but very patient, very happy to the last. His mother had fancied him asleep, as he lay so quietly with one of my ends still held fast in his wasted fingers. His mother fretted so for him, and took his loss so sadly to heart, that it was pitiable to see her. The sight of his vacant bed, and the cord still hanging there, seemed to go like a knife to her heart; and therefore John took me away one day without her knowledge, and put me out of sight.
"I was forgotten for many years, so many indeed, that when I next came to daylight I found everything strange and altered in the cottage. John and his wife, grown old and past work, had gone to live in another house, better sheltered from the wind, and one of their children, now married, had settled there instead. I was tossed about for a long while, for no one now living knew my real history, and had therefore little value for me, and indeed I was more especially held in dislike by the young ones, as affording them just that taste of "the rope's end" that they did not covet.
"The end of my career was that of being tied round a box, when one of the daughters went to service, and left Rocksand, and thus I came to town. My life here had nothing remarkable in it; I was put to my present use one day when one of the young Spensers was taken with a passion for skipping. They declared I was heavier and better than all the smart skipping-ropes to be bought at the toy shop, and made such continual use of me, that I am really almost threadbare. But I was poked away in this cupboard on the occasion of some great nursery clearing, and here I have lived ever since."
"How you must have regretted your freedom," said the Kite, in a sympathising tone; "I feel myself sometimes quite what I may call sky-sick! I would give all my tassels and fringes for one more good flight through the clear air. When I think of the bright sun, and the nice fleecy clouds, I am almost inclined to tumble to pieces for grief, to think I can't get out of this horrid, dusty stuffy hole of a toy cupboard, as they call it! A prison I consider it, and a cruel one too!"
"I would give anything I could," sighed the old Skipping-rope, "for even one breath of the fresh salt sea breeze. I think of the dancing waves glittering in the sun, till I feel quite giddy. But it is no use repining, and after all, really this little break on the monotony of our existence is very pleasant."
"It is very pleasant," assented the Ball, "but I am afraid our time to-night at any rate grows very short, for it is almost dark, and that terrible old woman will be coming back. So with your leave, my friends, I will call upon the Humming Top for his story."
CHAPTER XIII.
THE HUMMING TOP'S HISTORY
The Humming Top, who had begun to fear he should not be allowed a chance of speaking at all, and who felt just a little put out at coming so late in the list, gave himself a majestic twirl, and spun for a minute or two before he condescended to speak. At last, when he had reached a commanding position, he leaned gracefully back, and commenced his story in a very grand manner and air: —
"As I perceive, my friends, that your curiosity is more directed to our adventures in the world, than to our origin and construction, and as few of you have discoursed upon your native places and earliest histories, I will not trouble you with mine. Sufficient to the purpose is it that I made my first appearance in the world on a large stall in the Soho Bazaar, which was then in all its early glory. I was then, I may say, splendid in appearance, for I was painted in many brilliant hues, and there was no lack of gilding about me, so that when I was properly spun, I appeared like a gorgeous flower, all one mass of dazzling hues. Indeed, when the lady who superintended the stall took me out of the folds of silver paper in which I was carefully wrapped, she laughed, and said to her assistant, 'why surely this must be the King of the Humming Tops!' I was placed in a very prominent position among all the gay toys which adorned the counter, and I must say they were all exceedingly nice in their behaviour, and paid a great deal of respect to me. Many pleasant days I passed there with my companions, for I was of a rather high price, and those were dear times for articles of luxury and pleasure. We had no cheap twopenny and penny toys then, for it was long before Christmas trees became generally known in England. I have always regretted the inroads of those new comers, because they have introduced so many cheap toys – penny toys, indeed; fancy a whole stall devoted to penny toys!"
"I must beg entirely to disagree with you," interrupted the Ball; "I for one most distinctly say, that I don't see why all these simple pleasures should be kept for rich children only. I am sure our friend, the Teapot, in the course of her story, gave us a very truthful description of the value of toys to the poor children."
"If I may be allowed to speak again," said the Teapot, eagerly, "I would say with all my strength that I am glad of the cheapness of common toys. I am sure the Humming Top has never seen what I have; how should he, mixing up, as he has done, with only the better class of playthings? But if I were asked," continued the little motherly Teapot, getting quite warm on the subject – "if I were asked 'What was the good of toys?' I should reply, 'To please poor children.'"
"I quite agree with you," remarked the Toy Kitchen; "and though, as I said before, I am not very clever at explaining my meaning, I should like to say a few words too. I have spent most of my life among the poor, as I have told you before, and I have often thought that whoever invented toys must have meant them first of all for the poor, more particularly the poor little children who live in great cities. Now, there is an old proverb, I often heard my old master repeat, that 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' and he said it was the truest word ever spoken. And if the better-off children want a little play to liven up their days, when they are fed with plenty of good food, and live in pure air, their hardest work being book lessons, what must poor children do, who very often earn their very scanty living from the cradle almost? Our good friend, the Teapot, has told us how the sight of a halfpenny toy will bring such delight to little dim eyes, and skinny faces, as must be pleasant to see; so I for one say with all my might, 'Prosperity, and plenty of it, to the cheap toys!'"
The Humming Top was quite disgusted with this long discussion, and pooh-poohed it all as very low; but the number of votes was against him, so with an offended roll round, he took up the thread of his story.
"Well, there is no accounting for tastes, and so I will say no more, only that I have been brought up so entirely among people of the better classes, that I cannot say much on any other subject. I told you before that I lay for some time unsold, on account of the highness of my price, and during that time made acquaintance with many sets of companions, – dolls, boxes of soldiers, and various others. At last, to my great joy, I was selected by a lady for her little daughter, and taken home to a very nice large house in Russell Square.
"Little Mary was an only child, and was therefore the idol of her parents; but, although she was much indulged, she was not by any means a spoiled child. Used as she had been from her cradle to the companionship of much older persons, she was a quiet, well-behaved little damsel enough. Her father and mother were not at all young, and having neither brothers nor sisters to play with, Mary naturally knew and felt little of the riotous gaiety of a child. The nursery was as tidy and as neatly arranged as any room in that handsome but formal house, and the litter of playthings was not much known there in those days. Mary had one or two dolls, very smartly dressed, but the prim little damsel played with them in a sort of grave, old-fashioned, motherly way that had no childishness in it. Her books were kept on a small bookshelf hung up on purpose, and her toys were put away in orderly fashion in a drawer.
"How happy I was! for I was used carefully and well, never flung violently about or used roughly, and my little mistress had a dainty way of spinning me that would have won the affection of the hardest and sternest of Humming Tops. During all the years I lived with her, I never saw her look untidy, or with a spot or soil on frock or pinafore, nor did I ever know her to be anything but placid and gentle, very happy but very grave. So it was no wonder her father and mother loved her so dearly, and lavished on her every comfort and pleasure that money could purchase. And she grew up to be a very sweet, quiet girl, the comfort of her old parents, and beloved more in her own home than anywhere else. She did not care for gaiety much, nor wish to go to many parties or plays, and even when she did, she was so modest and retiring in her manner that she was often passed over without much notice, and very few would have known her for the rich heiress that she was. And this of course, you know, was long after we had parted company. For, strange to say, she seemed to grow younger in some things, as she grew older in years, and when she was fifteen or sixteen, she looked more of a child than she did when she was really little. She had a simple, earnest way with her that was very pleasant, and she was fond of her old toys till she grew up. I don't mean to say she played with us then, but she valued us as the treasures of her childhood, her happy childhood, and put us carefully away as old friends. Indeed, as far as I am concerned, I may even date our intimate fellowship far later than this, for when she was a woman grown, she would often take me out in a sort of musing way, and say, 'Come, old Busy Bee, and give me a little of your humming?' She called me 'old Busy Bee,' you must know, as a sort of pet nickname. And you may be sure I put on my best waltzing powers, and hummed like twenty Dumbledores in a churn! And as she grew up she had plenty of suitors, and her parents wished her to go out sometimes to grand balls and parties, so that she was much admired and followed. I have often known her come home from one of these, and come into her room, and, throwing off her rich dress and ornaments, she would sit down by a little table and take me out and spin me in a sort of absent way.
"'Busy Bee, there are plenty come wooing to little plain, quiet Mary; what shall she say, Busy Bee? Come, hum me an answer!'
"And then I hummed away loudly, and told her that she was so good and sweet, that she was fit for any lord in the land. But she would always wilfully misunderstand me, and she would reply: —
"'You are right, Busy Bee! I must never leave the dear father and mother; if the king himself came a wooing, I would make him a low curtsey, Busy Bee, like this, and say, 'No, I thank your Majesty!''
"But at last a day came when the kind, loving old father was taken ill, and carried to his long home, and his faithful old wife did not very long survive him, and so poor Mary was left all alone. I say poor Mary, for though she had plenty of money, and houses, and dresses, and fine jewels, not to speak of hosts of busybody relations who were always looking her up, she had lost the tender love that had been her joy from infancy. And hers was one of those loving natures that are shaken to the very core of their hearts by these heavy sorrows, which break up all the firm foundations of a young life, and that however bravely they may be borne, as they were indeed in her case, poor dear, are long felt, and suffered. Our merry evening gossips had ceased for a long time, and indeed I had almost begun to fancy I was intended to be the inhabitant of the drawer for the rest of my life. An old Fan who had slipped in with us by accident, told me that Mary had been abroad for many months with an aunt of hers, and that she might not return for some time. One night, however, I heard an unusual bustle in the neighbourhood, and presently our drawer was pulled open by a hand whose touch thrilled me in a moment, for I knew it was that of my dear mistress.
"'Poor old Busy Bee,' said she, softly, 'you and I have not hummed together for a long while, so come out of your hiding place, old friend, and hum away as pleasantly as you used to do!'
"As you may suppose, I was not slow to obey the summons, and I was soon spinning and humming on the table before her, and telling her in my way how very glad I was to see her once more. But she did not listen to me this night, and even let me roll off the table more than once, holding me in one hand after she picked me up, and absently threading me without the key.
"'Well, Busy Bee,' she said at last, softly, 'we are going a long, long journey, and I daresay shall not see the old house again for many, many years! I wonder if you will hum as well in India, Busy Bee, or whether the hot, sultry air there will cause you to be drowsy. But it does not matter whether it is hot or cold, so long as you are happy! Go back to night to your place in the drawer, and to-morrow you shall be packed carefully away in one of those grand new trunks Morris is so proud of and so busy over. You will have a trip on the deep, deep sea, and when you next come out you will perhaps see palm trees and black people! You will have to learn Hindostanee, Busy Bee, and forget all your English ways of humming.'