English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
'All right,' said the clown, and took his share of the soldiers and
calmly put them all in the middle of the red-hot coals. 'I want to be
quite sure they can stand fire first,' he explained; and then, as they
melted, he said, 'There, you see, they're all running away. I never see
such cowards.'
Tommy was in a great rage, and could almost have cried, if it had not
been babyish, for they were his best regiments which he could see
dropping down in great glittering stars on the ashes below. 'That's a
caddish thing to do,' he said, with difficulty; 'I didn't give them to
you to put in the fire!'
'Oh, I thought you did,' said the clown, 'I beg your pardon;' and he
threw the rest after them as he spoke.
'You're a beast!' cried Tommy, indignantly; 'I've done with you, after
this.'
'Oh, no, yer ain't,' he returned.
'I have, though,' said Tommy; 'we're not friends any longer.'
'All right,' said the clown; 'when I'm not friends with any one, I take
and use the red-'ot poker to 'em,' and he put it in the fire to heat as
he spoke.
This terrified the boy. It was no use trying to argue with the clown,
and he had seen how he used a red-hot poker. 'Well, I'll forgive you
this time,' he said hastily; 'let's come away from here.'
'I tell you what,' said the clown, 'you and me'll go down in the kitchen
and make a pie.'
Tommy forgot his injuries at this delightful idea; he knew what the
clown's notion of pie-making would be. 'Yes,' he said eagerly, 'that
will be jolly; only I don't know,' he added doubtfully, 'if cook will
let us.'
However, the clown soon managed to secure the kitchen to himself; he had
merely to attempt to kiss the cook once or twice and throw the best
dinner service at the other servants, and they were left quite alone to
do as they pleased.
What fun it was, to begin with! The clown brought out a large deep dish,
and began by putting a whole turkey and an unskinned hare in it out of
the larder; after that he put in sausages, jam, pickled walnuts, and
lemons, and, in short, the first thing that came to hand.
'It ain't 'arf full yet,' he said at last, as he looked gravely into the
pie.
'No,' said Tommy, sympathetically, 'can't we get anything else to put
in?'
'The very thing,' cried the clown, 'you're just about the right size to
fill up--my! what a pie it's going to be, eh?' And he caught up his
young friend, just as he was, rammed him into the pie, and poured sauce
on him.
But he kicked and howled until the clown grew seriously displeased. 'Why
carn't you lay quiet,' he said angrily, 'like the turkey does? you don't
deserve to be put into such a nice pie!'
'If you make a pie of me,' said Tommy, artfully, 'there'll be nobody to
look on and laugh at you, you know!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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