Stories told by the miller — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Stories told by the miller
John Stuart Mill · en
“Oh yes—and perhaps I could mind the baby,” exclaimed Maggie.
“You’d have to,” said the woman. “We don’t keep people for nothing.”
“But there’s him too,” said Maggie, pointing to the Cochin-Chinaman. “I
can’t leave him either. He always goes with Alfonso and me.”
The man laughed. “You’re the queerest lot _I_ ever saw,” said he. “But I
suppose we must have you all.”
And so it was settled.
Maggie was very much relieved to find that the party was to move away
early next morning, and she took care to keep as much out of sight as
possible. But the rest of the evening passed without their hearing or
seeing anything of the people at the farm, and she hoped that no one had
discovered their absence. As soon as it was light next day the horses
were harnessed, and the three truants set out with their new friends.
There was another member of the party who came back to the camp just as
they were starting, and who drove the green van. His name was Dan, and
he was the brother of the man with the gold earrings, a clean-shaved
brown young fellow, with dark smooth hair which came forward in a flat
lock over either ear. He wore a cap made of rabbit-skin, and he looked
after the two horses. Though he took little notice of Maggie she was not
afraid of him, for he had a self-contained, serious face, and was so
good to the beasts that she knew he must be kind.
Besides this work he did nothing in the camp. His brother was a tinman,
but Dan left the pots and pans alone; and it was only when the party was
at village fairs that his talents came into play. The horse which drew
the smaller van and did the lighter work was a bright chestnut with a
fine coat, which Dan groomed ceaselessly. Both animals followed him like
dogs, and he could do whatever he pleased with the chestnut, which could
jump almost anything. When he rode him, barebacked, at the big fairs,
the crowd would look on open-mouthed, shouting as he cleared the hurdles
and dropping their pence into the rabbit-skin cap when it was carried
round. Once an ill-natured fellow had stuck a thorn into the horse’s
flank as he was led by, and Dan had blacked both his eyes before leaving
the fair. When the vans were settled in one place, he would often be
absent for days together, and nobody knew where he went.
Maggie soon found out that they were making for some woods a few days’
journey off. She was very happy, for she had seen so little of the world
outside the farmyard that every new place amused her. The woman was
friendly to her in her silent way when she found how careful she was of
the baby. Maggie soon learnt to dress and tend it; and she swept out the
vans, lit the fires, and in the evening sat on the top step, talking to
Alfonso and the Cochin-China cock. They were quite contented too, though
they did not live so well as they had done at the farm.