Fantasy literature; London (England) -- Fiction; Witches -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
'oo lived among flowers in the sunlight, an', so to say, rented the
parlour floor, but not me. I 'ad the upper floor, an' breaved the light
o' the moon. As for flowers--bless you, I'd never 'ardly seen a flower
stuck proper to the ground until a year ago. Well, dearie, I use to make
believe as 'ow we'd all get a charnce, all to ourselves, to pay what we
owed. Some people, I thought, runs away from the debt, an' some pays it
in bad money, but, I ses to meself, if ever my charnce come, I'll pay it
the very best I can. Lawd, 'ow I 'ated everybody in those days. It
seemed like people was all rotten, an' as if all the churches an' all
the cherities was the rottenest of all the lot. Well, then, dearie,
Elbert blew in. You know what kids is mostly like in the Brown Borough,
but Elbert--'e never was. Straight legs 'e 'ad, an' never a chilblain
nor a sore, an' a small up-lookin' face, an' yallery 'air--what you
could see of it, for of course I always made 'im keep it nicely cropped
to the pink. You never see sich a clean boy, you never see 'im but what
'e seemed to 'ave sponged 'is collar that minute, an' the little seat to
'is breeks always patched in the right colour, an' all. Yet 'e wasn't
one of them choir-boy kinds, 'e could 'ave 'is little game with the best
of 'em, an' often kicked up no end of a row when we was playin'
pretendin' games of a wet Sunday. 'E 'ad one little game 'e loved best
of all--not marbles, it wasn't, nor peg-tops--but there, I won't tell
you what it was, for you'd laugh like the gal at the shop did when I
spoke of it. I don't often get talkin', but I'd 'ad a nip of brandy at
the time. Laugh fit to bust, she did--'avin' 'ad a nip of the same
'erself--an' as't if Elbert wasn't blind as well, an' if 'e wore any
clothes besides wings.... The funny thing was thet Elbert did 'ave bad
sight, it always seemed odd to me thet with 'is weak eyes 'e should
choose to play the little game 'e did. I use to take 'im to the 'Eath of
a summer Sunday, an' 'e use to stand on them little ridges below the
Spaniards Road, with 'is eyes shut against the sun, never botherin' to
take no aim. I can see 'im now, a-pulling of the string of 'is bow--it
'ad an 'igh note, like the beginnin' of a bit o' music--an' then awf
'e'd go like a rebbit, to see where the arrer fell. It was always a
marvel to me 'e didn't put somebody's eye out, but I didn't mind--I
'ated everybody. 'E didn't live with me, 'e just came in an' out. 'E
never tol' me 'is name was Elbert--I just called 'im thet, the prettiest
name I knew. 'E never tol' me 'oo 'is people were; I shouldn't think
they could 'ave bin Brown Borough people, for Elbert seemed to 'ave bin
about a lot, seen mountains an' oceans an' sichlike, an' come acrost a
lot of furriners--even Germans. 'E talked a lot about people--as good as
a novelette 'is stories was, but bloody 'igh-flavoured. Children knows a
lot in the Brown Borough. 'Ow 'e'd noticed the things 'e 'ad with them
blindish eyes of 'is, I don't know.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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