Another bright day awoke her. The old man woke up and dressed. They all sat down to eat together.
“And where are you going today?” said the little man
“Indeed I hardly know, we have not determined yet,” replied the child.
“We’re going on to the races,” said the little man. “If that’s your way and you like to have us for company, let us travel together.”
“We’ll go with you,” said the old man. “Nell, with them, with them.”
The real name of the little man was Harris[45], but everybody called him Trotters[46], which, with the prefatory adjective, Short, showed the small size of his legs. So Short Trotters[47] was used in formal conversations and on occasions of ceremony[48].
The breakfast was over, and Mr. Codlin called the bill. They took farewell of the landlord and landlady and resumed their journey.
Mr. Codlin trudged heavily on[49], exchanging a word or two at intervals with Short, and stopping to rest and growl occasionally. Short led the way; with the box, the private luggage tied up in a bundle, and a brazen trumpet. Nell and her grandfather walked next him, and Thomas Codlin brought up the rear.
When they came to any town or village, or even to a house of good appearance, Short blew a blast upon the brazen trumpet. If people hurried to the windows, Mr. Codlin hastily unfurled the drapery and concealed Short therewith. Then the entertainment began as soon as might be. After that they resumed their load and on they went again. They were generally well received, and seldom left a town without a troop of children shouting at their heels[50].
The Jolly Sandboys[51] was a small roadside inn[52] of pretty ancient date. The travellers arrived, drenched with the rain and presenting a most miserable appearance. The landlord rushed into the kitchen and took the cover off[53]. The effect was magical. They all came in with smiling faces though the wet was dripping from their clothes upon the floor, and Short’s first remark was, “What a delicious smell!”
It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a cheerful fire, and in a bright room. They were given slippers and dry garments. Nelly and the old man sat by the fire and fell asleep.
“Who are they?” whispered the landlord.
Short shook his head.
“Don’t you know?” asked the host, turning to Mr. Codlin.
“Not I,” he replied. “They’re no good, I suppose.”
“They’re no harm,” said Short. “And I tell you: the old man isn’t in his right mind[54]. They’re not used to this way of life. Don’t tell me that that handsome child has been in the habit of prowling about[55].”
“Well, who does tell you she has?” growled Mr. Codlin.
“Hear me out, the old man ran away from his relatives and took this delicate young creature to be his guide and companion. Now I’m not a going to stand that[56].”
“You’re not a going to stand that!” cried Mr. Codlin, pulling his hair with both hands.
“I,” repeated Short emphatically and slowly, “am not a going to stand it. I am not a going to see this fair young child in an inappropriate company. Therefore I shall take measures for detaining of them, and restoring them to their relatives.”
“Short,” said Mr. Codlin, “it’s possible that there may be good sense in what you’ve said. If there is, and there can be a reward, Short, remember that we’re partners in everything!”
His companion nodded, and the child awoke at the instant.
The next day, after bidding the old man goodnight, Nell retired to her poor garret, but had scarcely closed the door, when it gently opened. She was a little startled by the sight of Mr. Thomas Codlin, whom she had left down-stairs.
“What is the matter?” said the child.
“Nothing’s the matter, my dear,” returned her visitor. “I’m your friend. Perhaps you haven’t thought so, but it’s me that’s your friend not him.”
“Not who?” the child inquired.
“Short, my dear. I tell you what,” said Codlin, “You see, I’m the real, open-hearted man. I don’t look it, but I am indeed. Short’s very well, and seems kind, but he overdoes it[57]. Now I don’t.”
The child was puzzled, and did not know not tell what to say.
“Take my advice,” said Codlin: “don’t ask me why, but take it. As long as you travel with us, keep as near me as you can. Don’t offer to leave us but always stick to me and say that I’m your friend. Will you bear that in mind, my dear, and always say that it was me that was your friend?”
“Say so where, and when?” inquired the child innocently.
“O, nowhere in particular,” replied Codlin; “I’m only worried about you. Why didn’t you tell me your little history that about you and the poor old gentleman? I’m the best adviser that ever was, and so interested in you so much more interested than Short. And you needn’t tell Short, you know, that we’ve had this little talk together. God bless you. Recollect the friend. Codlin’s the friend, not Short. Your real friend is Codlin, not Short.”
Thomas Codlin stole away on tip-toe[58], leaving the child in a state of extreme surprise. And suddenly somebody knocked at hers.
“Yes,” said the child.
“It’s me, Short” a voice called through the key-hole. “I only wanted to say that we must be off early tomorrow morning, my dear. Will you go with us? I’ll call you.”
The child answered “Yes”. She felt some uneasiness at the anxiety of these men.
Very early next morning, Short fulfilled his promise, and knocked softly at her door. Nell started from her bed without delay, and roused the old man.
It was dark before they reached the town. Here all was tumult and confusion; the streets were filled with throngs of people. At length they passed through the town and made for the race-course[59], which was upon an open heath. They saw a big tent.
After a scanty supper, Nell and the old man lay down to rest in a corner of a tent, and slept, despite the busy preparations that were going on around them all night long.
And now they had come to the time when they must beg their bread. Soon after sunrise in the morning the child, while the two men lay dozing in another corner, plucked grandfather by the sleeve, and slightly glancing towards them, said, in a low voice
“Grandfather, these men suspect that we have secretly left our relatives, and I think, they want to sent us back. We must get away from them.”
“How?” muttered the old man. “Dear Nelly, how? They will easily catch me, and never let me see you anymore!”
“You’re trembling,” said the child. “Keep close to me all day. Never mind them, don’t look at them, but me. I shall find a time when we can go away. When I do, come with me, and do not stop or speak a word. Hush! That’s all.”
“Halloa! what are you doing, my dear?” said Mr. Codlin, raising his head, and yawning. Then observing that his companion was asleep, he added in an earnest whisper, “Codlin’s the friend, remember not Short.”
Late in the day, Mr. Codlin pitched the show in a convenient spot, and the spectators were soon in the very triumph of the scene. That was the very moment. They seized it, and fled.
They made a path through booths and carriages and throngs of people, and never once stopped to look behind. They made for the open fields.
Kit raised his eyes to the window of Nell’s little room, and hoped to see some indication of her presence. His own earnest wish, coupled with the assurance he had received from Quilp, filled him with the belief that she would arrive.
“I think they must certainly come tomorrow, eh mother?” said Kit, laying aside his hat and sighing as he spoke. “They have been gone a week. They surely couldn’t stop away more than a week, could they now?”
The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often he had been disappointed already.
“I consider,” said Kit, “that a week is quite long enough for them to be rambling about; don’t you say so?”
“Quite long enough, Kit, longer than enough, but they may not come back for all that.”
Kit thought she was right.
“Then what do you think, mother, has become of them? You don’t think they’ve gone to sea, anyhow?”
“Not gone for sailors, certainly,” returned the mother with a smile. “But I think that they have gone to some foreign country.”
“I say,” cried Kit with a rueful face, “don’t talk like that, mother.”
“I am afraid they have, and that’s the truth,” she said. “It’s the talk of all the neighbours.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Kit. “Not a word of it. How should they know!”
“They may be wrong of course,” returned the mother, “but the people say that the old gentleman and Miss Nell have gone to live abroad where they will never be disturbed.”
Kit scratched his head mournfully. Suddenly a knock at the door was heard. Kit opened the door and saw a little old gentleman and a little old lady.
“Why, bless me,” cried the old gentleman, “the lad is here! My dear, do you see? This is a very good lad, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure he is,” rejoined the old lady. “A very good lad, and I am sure he is a good son.”
The old gentleman then handed the old lady out, and after looking at him with an approving smile, they went into the house.
“Well, boy,” said the old gentleman, smiling; “We are here before you, you see, Christopher[60].”
“Yes, sir,” said Kit; and as he said it, he looked towards his mother for an explanation of the visit.
“This gentleman, Mr. Garland[61], was kind enough, my dear,” said she, in reply to this mute interrogation, “to ask me yesterday whether you were in a good place, or in any place at all, and when I told him no, you were not in any, he was so good as to say that…”
“That we wanted a good lad in our house,” said the old gentleman and the old lady both together.
“You see, my good woman,” said Mrs. Garland to Kit’s mother, “that it’s necessary to be very careful and particular in such a matter as this, for we’re only three in family, and are very quiet people, and it would be a sad thing if we made any kind of mistake, and found things different from what we hoped and expected.”
To this, Kit’s mother replied, that certainly it was quite true, and quite right, and quite proper and her son was a very good son though she was his mother, in which respect, she was bold to say, he took after his father, who was not only a good son to his mother, but the best of husbands and the best of fathers besides. After this long story she wiped her eyes with her apron, and patted her little son’s head, who was staring at the strange lady and gentleman.
Mr. Garland put some questions to Kit respecting his qualifications and general acquirements. It was settled that Kit would start to work on the next day, and the money is six pound a year. Finally, the little old couple took their leaves; being escorted by their new attendant.
“Well, mother,” said Kit, hurrying back into the house, “I think my fortune’s about made now.”
“I should think it was indeed, Kit,” rejoined his mother. “Six pound a year! Only think!”
“Ah!” said Kit. “There’s a property!”
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