The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
In a hollow place of sand, spread with dry white bones, skates' pouches,
blades of cuttle-fish, sea-snail shells, and all the other things that
storm and sea drive into and out of the sands, a very tiny maid was
sitting, holding audience all alone. She seemed to have no sense at all
of loneliness or of earthly trouble in the importance of the moment and
the gravity of play. Before her sat three little dolls, arranged
according to their rank, cleverly posted in chairs of sand. The one in
the middle was "Patty Green," the other two strange imitations
fashioned by young Watkin's knife. Each was urging her claim to shells,
which the mistress was dispensing fairly, and with good advice to each,
then laughing at herself and them, and trying to teach them a
nursery-song, which broke down from forgetfulness. And all the while her
quick bright face, and the crisp grain of her attitudes, and the jerk of
her thick short curls, were enough to make any one say, "What a queer
little soul!" Therefore it is not to be surprised at that Colonel
Lougher could not make her out, or that while he was feeling about for
his eye-glass of best crystal, his sister was (as behoves a female)
rasher to express opinion. For she had lost a little girl, and sometimes
grieved about it still.
"What a queer little, dear little thing, Henry! I never saw such a
child. Where can she have dropped from? Did you see any carriage come
after us? It is useless to tell me that she can belong to any of the
people about here. Look at her forehead, and look at her manners, and
how she touches everything! Now did you see that? What a wonderful
child! Every movement is grace and delicacy. Oh, you pretty darling!"
Her ladyship could wait no longer for the Colonel's opinion (which he
was inclined to think of ere he should come out with it), and she ran
down the sandhill almost faster than became her dignity. But if she had
been surprised before, how was she astonished now at Bardie's reception
of her?
"Don'e tush. Knee tushy paw, see voo pay. All 'e dollies is yae good;
just going to dinny, and 'e mustn't 'poil their appeties."
And the little atom arose and moved Lady Bluett's skirt out of her magic
circle. And then, having saved her children, she stood scarcely up to
the lady's knee, and looked at her as much as to ask, "Are you of the
quality?" And being well satisfied on that point, she made what the lady
declared to be the most elegant curtsy she ever had seen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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