Twelve Days
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 3
Sunday 15th December
The following day was very chilly indeed. Rose had laid and lit a bright fire in the Morning Room. We walked briskly to Church where the Rector gave us a stirring sermon on Generosity. God, he told us, had given us His only Son; the least we could do was to be generous to one another, and especially the poor and needy at this time when they were least able to help themselves and were liable to be cold and hungry. I couldn't help thinking of the poor boy I had given a shilling to. I hoped I wasn't feeling a sense of pride in having done so; after all, it had been by mistake. But I also hoped it had been a little help to him.
On the way out of Church, I was greeted by my friend Arthur, the Rector's son. We'd been at school together until Papa sent me to join David at Embleton; Arthur was now at Uppingham. He was a mischievous soul, but with a heart of gold.
"I say," said he, "Did you know that that the river is freezing over? I expect we will be able to skate on it by this evening. I heard about it from one of our maids; her young man is a telegraph boy and he had to deliver a wire to Papa this morning."
"Oh," I replied excitedly, "that would be the tops! Shall you be there?"
"Oh, yes. If Papa will let me, that is. Sunday Observance, you know. But we are allowed to walk in the Gardens on a Sunday afternoon, so I think it will be all right to skate in the evening."
Just then, David came over, saying that Papa and Mamma wanted to get home as it was too cold to stand around, so I had to take leave of Arthur and go with them.
After Sunday luncheon, Mamma and Papa went to sleep in their armchairs in the Drawing Room, as usual. David, the girls and I spent the afternoon in the Morning Room playing Snakes and Ladders and building fantastic structures with our collection of 'Richter's Anchor Blocks'. Fortunately Sunday observance in our house is not too strict; as long as we don't make an unreasonable amount of noise we can occupy ourselves as we please.
That evening was even colder than the afternoon had been. The sky was clear and the stars above shone brightly. I remember thinking how good it would be if we could turn out the gas lamps outside the house, so as to be able to see the stars more clearly. We sat in the Drawing Room window and looked out onto the street. The horses' breath made clouds in the frosty air; the few people still about hurried along, no doubt looking forward to warm rooms and hot meals.
I suddenly thought of the boy we'd seen on the way home from Drury Lane. I hoped he had somewhere to go, and food to eat. I remembered his sad, pinched face and his sudden smile when he saw my shilling and I was glad I'd given it to him, even though it was by mistake and had left me a little short of funds. Whatever his situation, he was a boy like me, perhaps even about my age. And there had been a kind of refinement about his features in which he differed from other lads of his class that I had seen – and to whom I had given occasional halfpence.
After we had eaten our Sunday tea in the Drawing Room Mamma said David and I might go out, provided that we wrapped up warmly and were careful. So we put on our coats and hats, and gloves and mufflers and I don't know what else, and set out with our skates to Chelsea Reach.
When we arrived we found to our delight that Arthur was there already, and we had no end of enjoyment, skating figures of eight around one another, whirling around and I don't know what other nonsense. After an hour or so of this we were thoroughly out of breath and ready to be less energetic. There was a man selling hot roasted chestnuts from a little stall; David bought six penn'orth to share between us. Suddenly in the shadows Arthur caught sight of a beggar boy. "Come on," he said, "after Papa's sermon this morning we must give him something."
I felt in my pocket for a coin, to give him, but I'd come out so hurriedly in my excitement that I had put nothing in my pockets and David had had only the sixpence which he'd spent on chestnuts. Arthur had some odd coppers which he gave to the boy.
I still had plenty of hot chestnuts. In those days, sixpence would buy a good many. I went over to where the boy was standing, with his little tray on a cord around his neck, and gave him the remaining nuts. He thanked me and looked briefly into my eyes with a faint, inscrutable smile. I suddenly recognized him as the same boy we'd seen on the way home from the theatre. I wondered what his story was; why he was begging. Perhaps his parents had died; perhaps he had a little crippled brother that he needed to support. Whatever the reason for it, he didn't seem to make much of a living from his ostensible trade. But it didn't stop me from speculating about him.
Those chestnuts disappeared rapidly. He was clearly very hungry. He wore a tattered shirt covered by an even more tattered jacket; trousers whose hems were ragged and which were held up by a length of tarred twine. His hands were bare, chapped and blue with cold. Speaking at a venture, I asked him, "Will you be here tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir," he replied, "this is generally the best pitch, in the cold weather." I noticed that he spoke quite clearly, without the rough London accent I had expected. I privately resolved to return on the next night and bring him another shilling. There was something about him that appealed very much to me.
When David and I arrived at home, of course Papa wanted to know all about our evening. We told him that we'd met Arthur – that was approved of, since he was the Rector's son and therefore a Respectable Friend for me – and had bought some chestnuts. That got a mild reprimand from Mamma; people of our class did not buy from street sellers. But Papa winked at us when Mamma wasn't looking and gave David sixpence. For some reason, we didn't tell them about the beggar boy. But I lay awake for a little while after going to bed, wondering about him.
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