The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [337]
no use lookin' at 'em any longer; the likes of us can't expect to have such good things as them.'
This remark served to recall Frankie and Charley to the stern realities of life, and turning reluctantly away from the window they prepared to follow Elsie, but Freddie had not yet learnt the lesson - he had not lived long enough to understand that the good things of the world were not for the likes of him; so when Elsie attempted to draw him away he pursed up his underlip and began to cry, repeating that he wanted a gee-gee. The other children dustered round trying to coax and comfort him by telling him that no one was allowed to have anything out of the windows yet - until Christmas - and that Santa Claus would be sure to bring him a gee-gee then; but these arguments failed to make any impression on Freddie, who tearfully insisted upon being supplied at once.
Whilst they were thus occupied they caught sight of Barrington, whom they hailed with evident pleasure born of the recollection of certain gifts of pennies and cakes they had at different times received from him.
`Hello, Mr Barrington,' said the two boys in a breath.
`Hello,' replied Barrington, as he patted the baby's cheek. `What's the matter here? What's Freddie crying for?'
`He wants that there 'orse, mister, the one with the real 'air on,' said Charley, smiling indulgently like a grown-up person who realized the absurdity of the demand.
`Fweddie want gee-gee,' repeated the child, taking hold of Barrington's hand and returning to the window. `Nice gee-gee.'
`Tell him that Santa Claus'll bring it to him on Christmas,' whispered Elsie. `P'raps he'll believe you and that'll satisfy him, and he's sure to forget all about it in a little while.'
`Are you still out of work, Mr Barrington?' inquired Frankie.
`No,' replied Barrington slowly. `I've got something to do at last.'
`Well, that's a good job, ain't it?' remarked Charley.
`Yes,' said Barrington. `And whom do you think I'm working for?'
`Who?'
`Santa Claus.'
`Santa Claus!' echoed the children, opening their eyes to the fullest extent.
`Yes,' continued Barrington, solemnly. `You know, he is a very old man now, so old that he can't do all his work himself. Last year he was so tired that he wasn't able to get round to all the children he wanted to give things to, and consequently a great many of them never got anything at all. So this year he's given me a job to help him. He's given me some money and a list of children's names, and against their names are written the toys they are to have. My work is to buy the things and give them to the boys and girls whose names are on the list.'
The children listened to this narrative with bated breath. Incredible as the story seemed, Barrington's manner was so earnest as to almost compel belief.
`Really and truly, or are you only having a game?' said Frankie at length, speaking almost in a whisper. Elsie and Charley maintained an awestruck silence, while Freddie beat upon the glass with the palms of his hands.
`Really and truly,' replied Barrington unblushingly as he took out his pocket-book and turned over the leaves. `I've got the list here; perhaps your names are down for something.'
The three children turned pale and their hearts beat violently as they listened wide-eyed for what was to follow.
`Let me see,' continued Barrington, scanning the pages of the book, `Why, yes, here they are! Elsie Linden, one doll with clothes that can be taken off, one tea-set, one needlecase. Freddie Easton, one horse with real hair. Charley Linden, one four-wheeled waggon full of groceries. Frankie Owen, one railway with tunnel, station, train with real coal for engine, signals, red lamp and place to turn the engines round.'
Barrington closed the book: `So you may as well have your things now,' he continued, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. `We'll buy them here; it will save me a lot of work. I shall not have the trouble of taking them round to where you live. It's lucky I happened to meet you, isn't it?'
The
This remark served to recall Frankie and Charley to the stern realities of life, and turning reluctantly away from the window they prepared to follow Elsie, but Freddie had not yet learnt the lesson - he had not lived long enough to understand that the good things of the world were not for the likes of him; so when Elsie attempted to draw him away he pursed up his underlip and began to cry, repeating that he wanted a gee-gee. The other children dustered round trying to coax and comfort him by telling him that no one was allowed to have anything out of the windows yet - until Christmas - and that Santa Claus would be sure to bring him a gee-gee then; but these arguments failed to make any impression on Freddie, who tearfully insisted upon being supplied at once.
Whilst they were thus occupied they caught sight of Barrington, whom they hailed with evident pleasure born of the recollection of certain gifts of pennies and cakes they had at different times received from him.
`Hello, Mr Barrington,' said the two boys in a breath.
`Hello,' replied Barrington, as he patted the baby's cheek. `What's the matter here? What's Freddie crying for?'
`He wants that there 'orse, mister, the one with the real 'air on,' said Charley, smiling indulgently like a grown-up person who realized the absurdity of the demand.
`Fweddie want gee-gee,' repeated the child, taking hold of Barrington's hand and returning to the window. `Nice gee-gee.'
`Tell him that Santa Claus'll bring it to him on Christmas,' whispered Elsie. `P'raps he'll believe you and that'll satisfy him, and he's sure to forget all about it in a little while.'
`Are you still out of work, Mr Barrington?' inquired Frankie.
`No,' replied Barrington slowly. `I've got something to do at last.'
`Well, that's a good job, ain't it?' remarked Charley.
`Yes,' said Barrington. `And whom do you think I'm working for?'
`Who?'
`Santa Claus.'
`Santa Claus!' echoed the children, opening their eyes to the fullest extent.
`Yes,' continued Barrington, solemnly. `You know, he is a very old man now, so old that he can't do all his work himself. Last year he was so tired that he wasn't able to get round to all the children he wanted to give things to, and consequently a great many of them never got anything at all. So this year he's given me a job to help him. He's given me some money and a list of children's names, and against their names are written the toys they are to have. My work is to buy the things and give them to the boys and girls whose names are on the list.'
The children listened to this narrative with bated breath. Incredible as the story seemed, Barrington's manner was so earnest as to almost compel belief.
`Really and truly, or are you only having a game?' said Frankie at length, speaking almost in a whisper. Elsie and Charley maintained an awestruck silence, while Freddie beat upon the glass with the palms of his hands.
`Really and truly,' replied Barrington unblushingly as he took out his pocket-book and turned over the leaves. `I've got the list here; perhaps your names are down for something.'
The three children turned pale and their hearts beat violently as they listened wide-eyed for what was to follow.
`Let me see,' continued Barrington, scanning the pages of the book, `Why, yes, here they are! Elsie Linden, one doll with clothes that can be taken off, one tea-set, one needlecase. Freddie Easton, one horse with real hair. Charley Linden, one four-wheeled waggon full of groceries. Frankie Owen, one railway with tunnel, station, train with real coal for engine, signals, red lamp and place to turn the engines round.'
Barrington closed the book: `So you may as well have your things now,' he continued, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. `We'll buy them here; it will save me a lot of work. I shall not have the trouble of taking them round to where you live. It's lucky I happened to meet you, isn't it?'
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