The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
Now this is not all the thing which I wanted to put before you clearly;
because I grow like a tombstone often, only fit to make you laugh, when
I stand on my right to be serious. My great desire is to tell you what I
did, and how I did it, as to the managing of these children, even for a
day or two, so as to keep them from crying, or scorching, or spoiling
their clothes, or getting wet, or having too much victuals or too
little. Of course I consulted that good mother Jones five or six times
every day; and she never was weary of giving advice, though she said
every time that it must be the last. And a lucky thing it was for me in
all this responsibility to have turned enough of money, through skilful
catch and sale of fish, to allow of my staying at home a little, and not
only washing and mending of clothes, but treating the whole of the
household to the delicacies of the season. However, it is not my habit
to think myself anything wonderful; that I leave to the rest of the
world: and no doubt any good and clever man might have done a great part
of what I did. Only if anything should befall us, out of the reach of a
sailor's skill and the depth of Bunny's experience, mother Jones
promised to come straight in, the very moment I knocked at the wall; and
her husband slept with such musical sound that none could be lonely in
any house near, and so did all of her ten children who could crack a
lollipop.
Upon the whole, we passed so smoothly over the first evening, with the
two children as hard at play as if they were paid fifty pounds for it,
that having some twenty-five shillings in hand after payment of all
creditors, and only ten weeks to my pension-day, with my boat unknown to
anybody, and a very good prospect of fish running up from the Mumbles at
the next full moon, I set the little one on my lap, after a good bout of
laughing at her very queer ins and outs--for all things seem to be all
alive with, as well as to, her.
"Will you stay with me, my dear?" I said, as bold as King George and the
Dragon; "would you like to live with old Davy and Bunny, and have ever
so many frocks washed, soon as ever he can buy them?" For nothing
satisfied her better than to see her one gown washed. She laid her head
on one side a little, so that I felt it hot to my bosom, being excused
of my waistcoat; and I knew that she had overworked herself.
"Ness," she said, after thinking a bit. "Ness, I live with 'a, old Davy,
till my dear mama come for me. Does 'e know, old Davy, 'hot I thinks?"
"No, my pretty; I only know that you are always thinking." And so she
was; no doubt of it.
"I tell 'a, old Davy, 'hot I thinks. No--I can't tell 'a; only sompfin.
'Et me go for more pay with Bunny."
"No, my dear, just stop a minute. Bunny has got no breath left in her;
she is such a great fat Bunny. What you mean to say is, that you don't
know how papa and mama could ever think of leaving you such a long, long
time away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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