All this time not a word about Black Sheep. He came later, and Harry the black-haired boy was mainly responsible for his coming.
Judywho could help loving little Judy? passed, by special permit, into the kitchen and thence straight to Aunty Rosas heart. Harry was Aunty Rosas one child, and Punch was the extra boy about the house. There was no special place for him or his little affairs, and he was forbidden to sprawl on sofas and explain his ideas about the manufacture of this world and his hopes for his future. Sprawling was lazy and wore out sofas, and little boys were not expected to talk. They were talked to, and the talking to was intended for the benefit of their morals. As the unquestioned despot of the house at Bombay, Punch could not quite understand how he came to be of no account in this his new life.
Harry might reach across the table and take what he wanted; Judy might point and get what she wanted. Punch was forbidden to do either. The gray man was his great hope and stand-by for many months after Mamma and Papa left, and he had forgotten to tell Judy to bemember Mamma.
This lapse was excusable, because in the interval he had been introduced by Aunty Rosa to two very impressive thingsan abstraction called God, the intimate friend and ally of Aunty Rosa, generally believed to live behind the kitchen-range because it was hot thereand a dirty brown book filled with unintelligible dots and marks. Punch was always anxious to oblige everybody. He therefore welded the story of the Creation on to what he could recollect of his Indian fairy tales, and scandalised Aunty Rosa by repeating the result to Judy. It was a sin, a grievous sin, and Punch was talked to for a quarter of an hour. He could not understand where the iniquity came in, but was careful not to repeat the offence, because Aunty Rosa told him that God had heard every word he had said and was very angry. If this were true why didnt God come and say so, thought Punch, and dismissed the matter from his mind. Afterwards he learned to know the Lord as the only thing in the world more awful than Aunty Rosaas a Creature that stood in the background and counted the strokes of the cane.
But the reading was, just then, a much more serious matter than any creed. Aunty Rosa sat him upon a table and told him that A B meant ab.
Why? said Punch. A is a and B is bee. Why does A B mean ab?
Because I tell you it does, said Aunty Rosa, and youve got to say it.
Punch said it accordingly, and for a month, hugely against his will, stumbled through the brown book, not in the least comprehending what it meant. But Uncle Harry, who walked much and generally alone, was wont to come into the nursery and suggest to Aunty Rosa that Punch should walk with him. He seldom spoke, but he showed Punch all Rocklington, from the mud-banks and the sand of the back-bay to the great harbours where ships lay at anchor, and the dockyards where the hammers were never still, and the marine-store shops, and the shiny brass counters in the Offices where Uncle Harry went once every three months with a slip of blue paper and received sovereigns in exchange; for he held a wound-pension. Punch heard, too, from his lips the story of the battle of Navarino, where the sailors of the Fleet, for three days afterwards, were deaf as posts and could only sign to each other. That was because of the noise of the guns, said Uncle Harry, and I have got the wadding of a bullet somewhere inside me now.
Punch regarded him with curiosity. He had not the least idea what wadding was, and his notion of a bullet was a dockyard cannon-ball bigger than his own head. How could Uncle Harry keep a cannon-ball inside him? He was ashamed to ask, for fear Uncle Harry might be angry.
Punch had never known what angerreal angermeant until one terrible day when Harry had taken his paint-box to paint a boat with, and Punch had protested. Then Uncle Harry had appeared on the scene and, muttering something about strangers children, had with a stick smitten the black-haired boy across the shoulders till he wept and yelled, and Aunty Rosa came in and abused Uncle Harry for cruelty to his own flesh and blood, and Punch shuddered to the tips of his shoes. It wasnt my fault, he explained to the boy, but both Harry and Aunty Rosa said that it was, and that Punch had told tales, and for a week there were no more walks with Uncle Harry.
But that week brought a great joy to Punch.
He had repeated till he was thrice weary the statement that the Cat lay on the Mat and the Rat came in.
Now I can truly read, said Punch, and now I will never read anything in the world.
He put the brown book in the cupboard where his school-books lived and accidentally tumbled out a venerable volume, without covers, labelled Sharpes Magazine. There was the most portentous picture of a griffin on the first page, with verses below. The griffin carried off one sheep a day from a German village, till a man came with a falchion and split the griffin open. Goodness only knew what a falchion was, but there was the Griffin, and his history was an improvement upon the eternal Cat.
This, said Punch, means things, and now I will know all about everything in all the world. He read till the light failed, not understanding a tithe of the meaning, but tantalised by glimpses of new worlds hereafter to be revealed.
What is a falchion? What is a e-wee lamb? What is a base ussurper? What is a verdant me-ad? he demanded with flushed cheeks, at bedtime, of the astonished Aunty Rosa.
Say your prayers and go to sleep, she replied, and that was all the help Punch then or afterwards found at her hands in the new and delightful exercise of reading.
Aunty Rosa only knows about God and things like that, argued Punch. Uncle Harry will tell me.
The next walk proved that Uncle Harry could not help either; but he allowed Punch to talk, and even sat down on a bench to hear about the Griffin. Other walks brought other stories as Punch ranged farther afield, for the house held large store of old books that no one ever openedfrom Frank Fairlegh in serial numbers, and the earlier poems of Tennyson, contributed anonymously to Sharpes Magazine, to 62 Exhibition Catalogues, gay with colours and delightfully incomprehensible, and odd leaves of Gullivers Travels.
As soon as Punch could string a few pot-hooks together he wrote to Bombay, demanding by return of post all the books in all the world. Papa could not comply with this modest indent, but sent Grimms Fairy Tales and a Hans Andersen. That was enough. If he were only left alone Punch could pass, at any hour he chose, into a land of his own, beyond reach of Aunty Rosa and her God, Harry and his teasements, and Judys claims to be played with.
Dont disturve me, Im reading. Go and play in the kitchen, grunted Punch. Aunty Rosa lets you go there. Judy was cutting her second teeth and was fretful. She appealed to Aunty Rosa, who descended on Punch.
I was reading, he explained, reading a book I want to read.
Youre only doing that to show off, said Aunty Rosa. But well see. Play with Judy now, and dont open a book for a week.
Judy did not pass a very enjoyable playtime with Punch, who was consumed with indignation. There was a pettiness at the bottom of the prohibition which puzzled him.
Its what I like to do, he said, and shes found out that and stopped me. Dont cry, Juit wasnt your faultplease dont cry, or shell say I made you.
Ju loyally mopped up her tears, and the two played in their nursery, a room in the basement and half underground, to which they were regularly sent after the mid-day dinner while Aunty Rosa slept. She drank winethat is to say, something from a bottle in the cellaretfor her stomachs sake, but if she did not fall asleep she would sometimes come into the nursery to see that the children were really playing. Now bricks, wooden hoops, ninepins, and chinaware cannot amuse for ever, especially when all Fairyland is to be won by the mere opening of a book, and, as often as not, Punch would be discovered reading to Judy or telling her interminable tales. That was an offence in the eyes of the law, and Judy would be whisked off by Aunty Rosa, while Punch was left to play alone, and be sure that I hear you doing it.
It was not a cheering employ, for he had to make a playful noise. At last, with infinite craft, he devised an arrangement whereby the table could be supported as to three legs on toy bricks, leaving the fourth clear to bring down on the floor. He could work the table with one hand and hold a book with the other. This he did till an evil day when Aunty Rosa pounced upon him unawares and told him that he was acting a lie.
If youre old enough to do that, she saidher temper was always worst after dinneryoure old enough to be beaten.
ButImIm not a animal! said Punch aghast. He remembered Uncle Harry and the stick, and turned white. Aunty Rosa had hidden a light cane behind her, and Punch was beaten then and there over the shoulders. It was a revelation to him. The room-door was shut, and he was left to weep himself into repentance and work out his own gospel of life.
Aunty Rosa, he argued, had the power to beat him with many stripes. It was unjust and cruel, and Mamma and Papa would never have allowed it. Unless perhaps, as Aunty Rosa seemed to imply, they had sent secret orders. In which case he was abandoned indeed. It would be discreet in the future to propitiate Aunty Rosa, but, then, again, even in matters in which he was innocent, he had been accused of wishing to show off. He had shown off before visitors when he had attacked a strange gentlemanHarrys uncle, not his ownwith requests for information about the Griffin and the falchion, and the precise nature of the Tilbury in which Frank Fairlegh rodeall points of paramount interest which he was bursting to understand. Clearly it would not do to pretend to care for Aunty Rosa.
At this point Harry entered and stood afar off, eyeing Punch, a dishevelled heap in the corner of the room, with disgust.
Youre a liara young liar, said Harry, with great unction, and youre to have tea down here because youre not fit to speak to us. And youre not to speak to Judy again till Mother gives you leave. Youll corrupt her. Youre only fit to associate with the servant. Mother says so.
Having reduced Punch to a second agony of tears, Harry departed upstairs with the news that Punch was still rebellious.
Uncle Harry sat uneasily in the dining-room. Damn it all, Rosa, said he at last, cant you leave the child alone? Hes a good enough little chap when I meet him.
He puts on his best manners with you, Henry, said Aunty Rosa, but Im afraid, Im very much afraid, that he is the Black Sheep of the family.
Harry heard and stored up the name for future use. Judy cried till she was bidden to stop, her brother not being worth tears; and the evening concluded with the return of Punch to the upper regions and a private sitting at which all the blinding horrors of Hell were revealed to Punch with such store of imagery as Aunty Rosas narrow mind possessed.
Most grievous of all was Judys round-eyed reproach, and Punch went to bed in the depths of the Valley of Humiliation. He shared his room with Harry and knew the torture in store. For an hour and a half he had to answer that young gentlemans questions as to his motives for telling a lie, and a grievous lie, the precise quantity of punishment inflicted by Aunty Rosa, and had also to profess his deep gratitude for such religious instruction as Harry thought fit to impart.
From that day began the downfall of Punch, now Black Sheep.
Untrustworthy in one thing, untrustworthy in all, said Aunty Rosa, and Harry felt that Black Sheep was delivered into his hands. He would wake him up in the night to ask him why he was such a liar.
I dont know, Punch would reply.
Then dont you think you ought to get up and pray to God for a new heart?
Y-yess.
Get out and pray, then! And Punch would get out of bed with raging hate in his heart against all the world, seen and unseen. He was always tumbling into trouble. Harry had a knack of cross-examining him as to his days doings, which seldom failed to lead him, sleepy and savage, into half-a-dozen contradictionsall duly reported to Aunty Rosa next morning.
But it wasnt a lie, Punch would begin, charging into a laboured explanation that landed him more hopelessly in the mire. I said that I didnt say my prayers twice over in the day, and that was on Tuesday. Once I did. I know I did, but Harry said I didnt, and so forth, till the tension brought tears, and he was dismissed from the table in disgrace.
You usent to be as bad as this, said Judy, awe-stricken at the catalogue of Black Sheeps crimes. Why are you so bad now?
I dont know, Black Sheep would reply. Im not, if I only wasnt bothered upside down. I knew what I did, and I want to say so; but Harry always makes it out different somehow, and Aunty Rosa doesnt believe a word I say. Oh, Ju! dont you say Im bad too.
Aunty Rosa says you are, said Judy. She told the Vicar so when he came yesterday.
Why does she tell all the people outside the house about me? It isnt fair, said Black Sheep. When I was in Bombay, and was baddoing bad, not made-up bad like thisMamma told Papa, and Papa told me he knew, and that was all. Outside people didnt know tooeven Meeta didnt know.
I dont remember, said Judy wistfully. I was all little then. Mamma was just as fond of you as she was of me, wasnt she?
Course she was. So was Papa. So was everybody.
Aunty Rosa likes me more than she does you. She says that you are a Trial and a Black Sheep, and Im not to speak to you more than I can help.
Always? Not outside of the times when you mustnt speak to me at all?
Judy nodded her head mournfully. Black Sheep turned away in despair, but Judys arms were round his neck.
Never mind, Punch, she whispered. I will speak to you just the same as ever and ever. Youre my own own brother though you arethough Aunty Rosa says youre bad, and Harry says you are a little coward. He says that if I pulled your hair hard, youd cry.
Pull, then, said Punch.
Judy pulled gingerly.
Pull harderas hard as you can! There! I dont mind how much you pull it now. If youll speak to me same as ever Ill let you pull it as much as you likepull it out if you like. But I know if Harry came and stood by and made you do it Id cry.
So the two children sealed the compact with a kiss, and Black Sheeps heart was cheered within him, and by extreme caution and careful avoidance of Harry he acquired virtue, and was allowed to read undisturbed for a week. Uncle Harry took him for walks, and consoled him with rough tenderness, never calling him Black Sheep. Its good for you, I suppose, Punch, he used to say. Let us sit down. Im getting tired. His steps led him now not to the beach, but to the Cemetery of Rocklington, amid the potato-fields. For hours the gray man would sit on a tombstone, while Black Sheep would read epitaphs, and then with a sigh would stump home again.
I shall lie there soon, said he to Black Sheep, one winter evening, when his face showed white as a worn silver coin under the light of the lych-gate. You neednt tell Aunty Rosa.
A month later he turned sharp round, ere half a morning walk was completed, and stumped back to the house. Put me to bed, Rosa, he muttered. Ive walked my last. The wadding has found me out.
They put him to bed, and for a fortnight the shadow of his sickness lay upon the house, and Black Sheep went to and fro unobserved. Papa had sent him some new books, and he was told to keep quiet. He retired into his own world, and was perfectly happy. Even at night his felicity was unbroken. He could lie in bed and string himself tales of travel and adventure while Harry was downstairs.
Uncle Harrys going to die, said Judy, who now lived almost entirely with Aunty Rosa.
Im very sorry, said Black Sheep soberly. He told me that a long time ago.
Aunty Rosa heard the conversation. Will nothing check your wicked tongue? she said angrily. There were blue circles round her eyes.
Black Sheep retreated to the nursery and read Cometh up as a Flower with deep and uncomprehending interest. He had been forbidden to open it on account of its sinfulness, but the bonds of the Universe were crumbling, and Aunty Rosa was in great grief.
Im glad, said Black Sheep. Shes unhappy now. It wasnt a lie, though. I knew. He told me not to tell.
That night Black Sheep woke with a start. Harry was not in the room, and there was a sound of sobbing on the next floor. Then the voice of Uncle Harry, singing the song of the Battle of Navarino, came through the darkness:
Hes getting well, thought Black Sheep, who knew the song through all its seventeen verses. But the blood froze at his little heart as he thought. The voice leapt an octave, and rang shrill as a boatswains pipe:
That day at Navarino, Uncle Harry! shouted Black Sheep, half wild with excitement and fear of he knew not what.
A door opened, and Aunty Rosa screamed up the staircase: Hush! For Gods sake hush, you little devil. Uncle Harry is dead!
I wonder what will happen to me now, thought Black Sheep, when semi-pagan rites peculiar to the burial of the Dead in middle-class houses had been accomplished, and Aunty Rosa, awful in black crape, had returned to this life. I dont think Ive done anything bad that she knows of. I suppose I will soon. She will be very cross after Uncle Harrys dying, and Harry will be cross too. Ill keep in the nursery.
Unfortunately for Punchs plans, it was decided that he should be sent to a day-school which Harry attended. This meant a morning walk with Harry, and perhaps an evening one; but the prospect of freedom in the interval was refreshing. Harryll tell everything I do, but I wont do anything, said Black Sheep. Fortified with this virtuous resolution, he went to school only to find that Harrys version of his character had preceded him, and that life was a burden in consequence. He took stock of his associates. Some of them were unclean, some of them talked in dialect, many dropped their hs, and there were two Jews and a negro, or some one quite as dark, in the assembly. Thats a hubshi, said Black Sheep to himself. Even Meeta used to laugh at a hubshi. I dont think this is a proper place. He was indignant for at least an hour, till he reflected that any expostulation on his part would be by Aunty Rosa construed into showing off, and that Harry would tell the boys.
How do you like school? said Aunty Rosa at the end of the day.
I think it is a very nice place, said Punch quietly.
I suppose you warned the boys of Black Sheeps character? said Aunty Rosa to Harry.
Oh yes, said the censor of Black Sheeps morals. They know all about him.
If I was with my father, said Black Sheep, stung to the quick, I shouldnt speak to those boys. He wouldnt let me. They live in shops. I saw them go into shopswhere their fathers live and sell things.
Youre too good for that school, are you? said Aunty Rosa, with a bitter smile. You ought to be grateful, Black Sheep, that those boys speak to you at all. It isnt every school that takes little liars.
Harry did not fail to make much capital out of Black Sheeps ill-considered remark; with the result that several boys, including the hubshi, demonstrated to Black Sheep the eternal equality of the human race by smacking his head, and his consolation from Aunty Rosa was that it served him right for being vain. He learned, however, to keep his opinions to himself, and by propitiating Harry in carrying books and the like to get a little peace. His existence was not too joyful. From nine till twelve he was at school, and from two to four, except on Saturdays. In the evenings he was sent down into the nursery to prepare his lessons for the next day, and every night came the dreaded cross-questionings at Harrys hand. Of Judy he saw but little. She was deeply religiousat six years of age Religion is easy to come byand sorely divided between her natural love for Black Sheep and her love for Aunty Rosa, who could do no wrong.
The lean woman returned that love with interest, and Judy, when she dared, took advantage of this for the remission of Black Sheeps penalties. Failures in lessons at school were punished at home by a week without reading other than school-books, and Harry brought the news of such a failure with glee. Further, Black Sheep was then bound to repeat his lessons at bedtime to Harry, who generally succeeded in making him break down, and consoled him by gloomiest forebodings for the morrow. Harry was at once spy, practical joker, inquisitor, and Aunty Rosas deputy executioner. He filled his many posts to admiration. From his actions, now that Uncle Harry was dead, there was no appeal. Black Sheep had not been permitted to keep any selfrespect at school: at home he was, of course, utterly discredited, and grateful for any pity that the servant girlsthey changed frequently at Downe Lodge because they, too, were liarsmight show. Youre just fit to row in the same boat with Black Sheep, was a sentiment that each new Jane or Eliza might expect to hear, before a month was over, from Aunty Rosas lips; and Black Sheep was used to ask new girls whether they had yet been compared to him. Harry was Master Harry in their mouths; Judy was officially Miss Judy; but Black Sheep was never anything more than Black Sheep tout court.
As time went on and the memory of Papa and Mamma became wholly overlaid by the unpleasant task of writing them letters, under Aunty Rosas eye, each Sunday, Black Sheep forgot what manner of life he had led in the beginning of things. Even Judys appeals to try and remember about Bombay failed to quicken him.
I cant remember, he said. I know I used to give orders and Mamma kissed me.
Aunty Rosa will kiss you if you are good, pleaded Judy.
Ugh! I dont want to be kissed by Aunty Rosa. Shed say I was doing it to get something more to eat.
The weeks lengthened into months, and the holidays came; but just before the holidays Black Sheep fell into deadly sin.
Among the many boys whom Harry had incited to punch Black Sheeps head because he darent hit back, was one more aggravating than the rest, who, in an unlucky moment, fell upon Black Sheep when Harry was not near. The blows stung, and Black Sheep struck back at random with all the power at his command. The boy dropped and whimpered. Black Sheep was astounded at his own act, but, feeling the unresisting body under him, shook it with both his hands in blind fury and then began to throttle his enemy; meaning honestly to slay him. There was a scuffle, and Black Sheep was torn off the body by Harry and some colleagues, and cuffed home tingling but exultant. Aunty Rosa was out: pending her arrival, Harry set himself to lecture Black Sheep on the sin of murderwhich he described as the offence of Cain.
Why didnt you fight him fair? What did you hit him when he was down for, you little cur?
Black Sheep looked up at Harrys throat and then at a knife on the dinner-table.
I dont understand, he said wearily. You always set him on me and told me I was a coward when I blubbed. Will you leave me alone until Aunty Rosa comes in? Shell beat me if you tell her I ought to be beaten; so its all right.
Its all wrong, said Harry magisterially. You nearly killed him, and I shouldnt wonder if he dies.
Will he die? said Black Sheep.
I daresay, said Harry, and then youll be hanged, and go to Hell.
All right, said Black Sheep, picking up the table-knife. Then Ill kill you now. You say things and do things andand I dont know how things happen, and you never leave me aloneand I dont care what happens!
He ran at the boy with the knife, and Harry fled upstairs to his room, promising Black Sheep the finest thrashing in the world when Aunty Rosa returned. Black Sheep sat at the bottom of the stairs, the table-knife in his hand, and wept for that he had not killed Harry. The servant-girl came up from the kitchen, took the knife away, and consoled him. But Black Sheep was beyond consolation. He would be badly beaten by Aunty Rosa; then there would be another beating at Harrys hands; then Judy would not be allowed to speak to him; then the tale would be told at school, and then
There was no one to help and no one to care, and the best way out of the business was by death. A knife would hurt, but Aunty Rosa had told him, a year ago, that if he sucked paint he would die. He went into the nursery, unearthed the now disused Noahs Ark, and sucked the paint off as many animals as remained. It tasted abominable, but he had licked Noahs Dove clean by the time Aunty Rosa and Judy returned. He went upstairs and greeted them with: Please, Aunty Rosa, I believe Ive nearly killed a boy at school, and Ive tried to kill Harry, and when youve done all about God and Hell, will you beat me and get it over?
The tale of the assault as told by Harry could only be explained on the ground of possession by the Devil. Wherefore Black Sheep was not only most excellently beaten, once by Aunty Rosa and once, when thoroughly cowed down, by Harry, but he was further prayed for at family prayers, together with Jane who had stolen a cold rissole from the pantry, and snuffled audibly as her sin was brought before the Throne of Grace. Black Sheep was sore and stiff but triumphant. He would die that very night and be rid of them all. No, he would ask for no forgiveness from Harry, and at bed-time would stand no questioning at Harrys hands, even though addressed as Young Cain.
Ive been beaten, said he, and Ive done other things. I dont care what I do. If you speak to me to-night, Harry, Ill get out and try to kill you. Now you can kill me if you like.
Harry took his bed into the spare room, and Black Sheep lay down to die.
It may be that the makers of Noahs Arks know that their animals are likely to find their way into young mouths, and paint them accordingly. Certain it is that the common, weary next morning broke through the windows and found Black Sheep quite well and a good deal ashamed of himself, but richer by the knowledge that he could, in extremity, secure himself against Harry for the future.
When he descended to breakfast on the first day of the holidays, he was greeted with the news that Harry, Aunty Rosa, and Judy were going away to Brighton, while Black Sheep was to stay in the house with the servant. His latest outbreak suited Aunty Rosas plans admirably. It gave her good excuse for leaving the extra boy behind. Papa in Bombay, who really seemed to know a young sinners wants to the hour, sent, that week, a package of new books. And with these, and the society of Jane on board-wages, Black Sheep was left alone for a month.
The books lasted for ten days. They were eaten too quickly in long gulps of twelve hours at a time. Then came days of doing absolutely nothing, of dreaming dreams and marching imaginary armies up and downstairs, of counting the number of banisters, and of measuring the length and breadth of every room in handspansfifty down the side, thirty across, and fifty back again. Jane made many friends, and, after receiving Black Sheeps assurance that he would not tell of her absences, went out daily for long hours. Black Sheep would follow the rays of the sinking sun from the kitchen to the dining-room and thence upward to his own bedroom until all was gray dark, and he ran down to the kitchen fire and read by its light. He was happy in that he was left alone and could read as much as he pleased. But, later, he grew afraid of the shadows of window-curtains and the flapping of doors and the creaking of shutters. He went out into the garden, and the rustling of the laurel-bushes frightened him.
He was glad when they all returnedAunty Rosa, Harry, and Judyfull of news, and Judy laden with gifts. Who could help loving loyal little Judy? In return for all her merry babblement, Black Sheep confided to her that the distance from the hall-door to the top of the first landing was exactly one hundred and eighty-four hand-spans. He had found it out himself.
Then the old life recommenced; but with a difference, and a new sin. To his other iniquities Black Sheep had now added a phenomenal clumsinesswas as unfit to trust in action as he was in word. He himself could not account for spilling everything he touched, upsetting glasses as he put his hand out, and bumping his head against doors that were manifestly shut. There was a gray haze upon all his world, and it narrowed month by month, until at last it left Black Sheep almost alone with the flapping curtains that were so like ghosts, and the nameless terrors of broad daylight that were only coats on pegs after all.
Holidays came and holidays went, and Black Sheep was taken to see many people whose faces were all exactly alike; was beaten when occasion demanded, and tortured by Harry on all possible occasions; but defended by Judy through good and evil report, though she hereby drew upon herself the wrath of Aunty Rosa.
The weeks were interminable, and Papa and Mamma were clean forgotten. Harry had left school and was a clerk in a Banking-Office. Freed from his presence, Black Sheep resolved that he should no longer be deprived of his allowance of pleasure-reading. Consequently when he failed at school he reported that all was well, and conceived a large contempt for Aunty Rosa as he saw how easy it was to deceive her. She says Im a little liar when I dont tell lies, and now I do, she doesnt know, thought Black Sheep. Aunty Rosa had credited him in the past with petty cunning and stratagem that had never entered into his head. By the light of the sordid knowledge that she had revealed to him he paid her back full tale. In a household where the most innocent of his motives, his natural yearning for a little affection, had been interpreted into a desire for more bread and jam, or to ingratiate himself with strangers and so put Harry into the background, his work was easy. Aunty Rosa could penetrate certain kinds of hypocrisy, but not all. He set his childs wits against hers and was no more beaten. It grew monthly more and more of a trouble to read the schoolbooks, and even the pages of the open-print storybooks danced and were dim. So Black Sheep brooded in the shadows that fell about him and cut him off from the world, inventing horrible punishments for dear Harry, or plotting another line of the tangled web of deception that he wrapped round Aunty Rosa.
Then the crash came and the cobwebs were broken. It was impossible to foresee everything. Aunty Rosa made personal inquiries as to Black Sheeps progress and received information that startled her. Step by step, with a delight as keen as when she convicted an underfed housemaid of the theft of cold meats, she followed the trail of Black Sheeps delinquencies. For weeks and weeks, in order to escape banishment from the bookshelves, he had made a fool of Aunty Rosa, of Harry, of God, of all the world! Horrible, most horrible, and evidence of an utterly depraved mind.
Black Sheep counted the cost. It will only be one big beating and then shell put a card with Liar on my back, same as she did before. Harry will whack me and pray for me, and she will pray for me at prayers and tell me Im a Child of the Devil and give me hymns to learn. But Ive done all my reading and she never knew. Shell say she knew all along. Shes an old liar too, said he.
For three days Black Sheep was shut in his own bedroomto prepare his heart. That means two beatings. One at school and one here. That one will hurt most. And it fell even as he thought. He was thrashed at school before the Jews and the hubshi for the heinous crime of carrying home false reports of progress. He was thrashed at home by Aunty Rosa on the same count, and then the placard was produced. Aunty Rosa stitched it between his shoulders and bade him go for a walk with it upon him.
If you make me do that, said Black Sheep very quietly, I shall burn this house down, and perhaps Ill kill you. I dont know whether I can kill youyoure so bonybut Ill try.
No punishment followed this blasphemy, though Black Sheep held himself ready to work his way to Aunty Rosas withered throat, and grip there till he was beaten off. Perhaps Aunty Rosa was afraid, for Black Sheep, having reached the Nadir of Sin, bore himself with a new recklessness.
In the midst of all the trouble there came a visitor from over the seas to Downe Lodge, who knew Papa and Mamma, and was commissioned to see Punch and Judy. Black Sheep was sent to the drawing-room and charged into a solid tea-table laden with china.
Gently, gently, little man, said the visitor, turning Black Sheeps face to the light slowly. Whats that big bird on the palings?
What bird? asked Black Sheep.
The visitor looked deep down into Black Sheeps eyes for half a minute, and then said suddenly: Good God, the little chaps nearly blind!
It was a most business-like visitor. He gave orders, on his own responsibility, that Black Sheep was not to go to school or open a book until Mamma came home. Shell be here in three weeks, as you know of course, said he, and Im Inverarity Sahib. I ushered you into this wicked world, young man, and a nice use you seem to have made of your time. You must do nothing whatever. Can you do that?
Yes, said Punch in a dazed way. He had known that Mamma was coming. There was a chance, then, of another beating. Thank Heaven, Papa wasnt coming too. Aunty Rosa had said of late that he ought to be beaten by a man.
For the next three weeks Black Sheep was strictly allowed to do nothing. He spent his time in the old nursery looking at the broken toys, for all of which account must be rendered to Mamma. Aunty Rosa hit him over the hands if even a wooden boat were broken. But that sin was of small importance compared to the other revelations, so darkly hinted at by Aunty Rosa. When your Mother comes, and hears what I have to tell her, she may appreciate you properly, she said grimly, and mounted guard over Judy lest that small maiden should attempt to comfort her brother, to the peril of her soul.
And Mamma camein a four-wheelerfluttered with tender excitement. Such a Mamma! She was young, frivolously young, and beautiful, with delicately-flushed cheeks, eyes that shone like stars, and a voice that needed no appeal of outstretched arms to draw little ones to her heart. Judy ran straight to her, but Black Sheep hesitated. Could this wonder be showing off? She would not put out her arms when she knew of his crimes. Meantime was it possible that by fondling she wanted to get anything out of Black Sheep? Only all his love and all his confidence; but that Black Sheep did not know. Aunty Rosa withdrew and left Mamma, kneeling between her children, half laughing, half crying, in the very hall where Punch and Judy had wept five years before.
Well, chicks, do you remember me?
No, said Judy frankly, but I said, God bless Papa and Mamma evvy night.
A little, said Black Sheep. Remember I wrote to you every week, anyhow. That isnt to show off, but cause of what comes afterwards.
What comes after? What should come after, my darling boy? And she drew him to her again. He came awkwardly, with many angles. Not used to petting, said the quick Mother-soul. The girl is.
Shes too little to hurt any one, thought Black Sheep, and if I said Id kill her, shed be afraid. I wonder what Aunty Rosa will tell.
There was a constrained late dinner, at the end of which Mamma picked up Judy and put her to bed with endearments manifold. Faithless little Judy had shown her defection from Aunty Rosa already. And that lady resented it bitterly. Black Sheep rose to leave the room.
Come and say good-night, said Aunty Rosa, offering a withered cheek.
Huh! said Black Sheep. I never kiss you, and Im not going to show off. Tell that woman what Ive done, and see what she says.
Black Sheep climbed into bed feeling that he had lost Heaven after a glimpse through the gates. In half an hour that woman was bending over him. Black Sheep flung up his right arm. It wasnt fair to come and hit him in the dark. Even Aunty Rosa never tried that. But no blow followed.
Are you showing off? I wont tell you anything more than Aunty Rosa has, and she doesnt know everything, said Black Sheep as clearly as he could for the arms round his neck.
Oh, my sonmy little, little son! It was my faultmy fault, darlingand yet how could we help it? Forgive me, Punch. The voice died out in a broken whisper, and two hot tears fell on Black Sheeps forehead.
Has she been making you cry too? he asked. You should see Jane cry. But youre nice, and Jane is a Born LiarAunty Rosa says so.
Hush, Punch, hush! My boy, dont talk like that. Try to love me a little bita little bit. You dont know how I want it. Punch-baba, come back to me! I am your Motheryour own Motherand never mind the rest. I knowyes, I know, dear. It doesnt matter now. Punch, wont you care for me a little?
It is astonishing how much petting a big boy of ten can endure when he is quite sure that there is no one to laugh at him. Black Sheep had never been made much of before, and here was this beautiful woman treating himBlack Sheep, the Child of the Devil and the inheritor of undying flameas though he were a small God.
I care for you a great deal, Mother dear, he whispered at last, and Im glad youve come back; but are you sure Aunty Rosa told you everything?
Everything. What does it matter? Butthe voice broke with a sob that was also laughterPunch, my poor, dear, half-blind darling, dont you think it was a little foolish of you?
No. It saved a lickin.
Mamma shuddered and slipped away in the darkness to write a long letter to Papa. Here is an extract:
Judy is a dear, plump little prig who adores the woman, and wears with as much gravity as her religious opinionsonly eight, Jack!a venerable horse-hair atrocity which she calls her Bustle! I have just burnt it, and the child is asleep in my bed as I write. She will come to me at once. Punch I cannot quite understand. He is well nourished, but seems to have been worried into a system of small deceptions which the woman magnifies into deadly sins. Dont you recollect our own upbringing, dear, when the Fear of the Lord was so often the beginning of falsehood? I shall win Punch to me before long. I am taking the children away into the country to get them to know me, and, on the whole, I am content, or shall be when you come home, dear boy, and then, thank God, we shall be all under one roof again at last!
Three months later, Punch, no longer Black Sheep, has discovered that he is the veritable owner of a real, live, lovely Mamma, who is also a sister, comforter, and friend, and that he must protect her till the Father comes home. Deception does not suit the part of a protector, and, when one can do anything without question, where is the use of deception?
Mother would be awfully cross if you walked through that ditch, says Judy, continuing a conversation.
Mothers never angry, says Punch. Shed just say, Youre a little pagal; and thats not nice, but Ill show.
Punch walks through the ditch and mires himself to the knees. Mother, dear, he shouts, Im just as dirty as I can pos-sib-ly be!
Then change your clothes as quickly as you pos-sib-ly can! Mothers clear voice rings out from the house. And dont be a little pagal!
There! Told you so, says Punch. Its all different now, and we are just as much Mothers as if she had never gone.
Not altogether, O Punch, for when young lips have drunk deep of the bitter waters of Hate, Suspicion, and Despair, all the Love in the world will not wholly take away that knowledge; though it may turn darkened eyes for a while to the light, and teach Faith where no Faith was.