England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Of course, thought the musician, if he had said that to her instead of
stuttering over a few commonplaces she would have found him irresistible
at once.
"Daddy, _dear_," implored Sonny, tugging at his coat suggestively.
"Oh, the devil take the story!" shouted the musician; "didn't I tell you
she never had a daddy? Don't ask so many questions, Sonny."
The big blue eyes became tearful at the unusual tone of anger and at the
untimely end of the story, and Digby's conscience smote him a little.
"I aren't crying, only little girls cry," gasped the child between his
hardly suppressed sobs. "I was only just thinking, daddy, what a welly
funny booful lady she were, daddy."
"Yes, my son," said the musician, very much in the tone of respect he
would have used to a man of his own age who was battling with some
terrible grief, "yes, my son, she was a very funny beautiful lady, so
funny that daddy could not understand her at all, although he loved her
so much. And she laughed at daddy, and wouldn't be kind to him, though
she was kind to the whole world besides."
The musician almost choked with his own emotion this time; but Sonny
jumped up and down with glee at having at last discovered a human chord
in the mythical beautiful lady.
"Oh, so she were a _naughty_ booful lady, daddy? Then she won't have jam
for tea next Sunday, will she, daddy dear?"
The wooden door that led into the yard creaked open again, and again the
red light from the setting sun flooded the little room.
"Yes, Sonny, of course, she was a naughty beautiful lady, that's just
what she was! But do you know I've come back to say that I won't be
naughty any more just yet, at least if daddy lets me, and I'm going to
be kind to him--at least, if daddy wants me. Daddy, do say something.
May I be good for a change, and will you let me be kind to you? I've
come to say I am sorry, like a good little girl; and--I may have jam for
tea next Sunday, mayn't I? Oh, daddy, do say something, and don't look
so doleful! Don't you understand? I was wrong, and you were right,
and--oh, how stupid it all is! Why--daddy--I--I don't believe you want
me now!"
And Lady Joan flung herself into the old high-backed wooden settle, and
crossed her feet, and broke into her maddening, mocking laugh as if to
hide something she was ashamed of showing. But the musician, who knew
her better than she thought he did, in spite of his almost childish
ignorance of woman's nature, went up to her and put the child on her
lap, and smiled down into her upturned, laughing face.
"We both want our beautiful lady, don't we, Sonny? And may I make my
confession too, Lady Joan? I was not sure that I did want you so
desperately after you sent me away just now. But I found that I did
directly you opened the door and the sunshine came in, and I can never
do without you again. But it is better to understand one another at
starting, isn't it?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account