Schoolgirls -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction
"What on earth is Nicky Nan Night?" asked Merle rather crossly, but
nobody troubled to answer, so she struggled into her coat and joined
Mavis, who was waiting at the door, and forgot all about the matter
directly.
Later on in the evening, however, she began to understand. Durracombe
was a little old-world place, and had preserved many quaint and curious
customs from ancient times. One of the most extraordinary of these was a
kind of carnival held by the boys of the town at the beginning of the
season of Lent. As soon as it was dusk they commenced to prowl about the
streets wearing black paper masks and carrying turnip lanterns. They
were supposed to represent imps of darkness, or perhaps will o' the
wisps, and their chief sport was to ring door bells, or rat-tap with
knockers, and then run away. Mavis and Merle, hearing repeated peals
from the surgery bell, were amazed that Jessop did not answer it, till
she explained it was merely a ruse of the Nicky Nans, and that nobody in
Durracombe who knew their tricks would respond to such a summons. She
offered however to take the girls out for ten minutes to look at the
fun; so they donned coats and scarves and issued into the dim High
Street. It was a moonless night, which made things all the better for
such a saturnalia. In the distance a cluster of lights began to dance
about, and presently up ran half a dozen little urchins, disguised in
masks and waving turnip lanterns pierced with holes for eyes and mouths,
so that the candles shining through them gave them the appearance of
gruesome goblins. The children had indeed vied with one another as to
which could produce the most horrible looking turnip head, and part of
the sport was to hide in dark alleys and suddenly to exhibit the
lanterns to unwary passers-by, to try to raise a scream. The small imps
careered round and round, prancing and giving an occasional yell of
"Nicky Nan". The girls laughed in much amusement, and Jessop, who had
witnessed the custom from her youth up, felt in her pocket for some
pennies, and threw them into the road to be scrambled for.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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