III
I
A new nursemaid came, a thin white girl with protruding eyes. Her name was Isabel, but she was called Susan as being More Suitable. This puzzled Vernon very much. He asked Nurse for an explanation.
тАЬThere are names that are suitable to the gentry, Master Vernon, and names that are suitable for servants. ThatтАЩs all there is to it.тАЭ
тАЬThen why is her real name Isabel?тАЭ
тАЬThere are people who when they christen their children set themselves up to ape their betters.тАЭ
The word тАЬapeтАЭ had a distracting influence on Vernon. Apes were monkeys. Did people christen their children at the zoo?
тАЬI thought people were christened in church.тАЭ
тАЬSo they are, Master Vernon.тАЭ
Very puzzling. Why was everything so puzzling? Why were things more puzzling than they used to be? Why did one person tell you one thing and another person something quite different?
тАЬNurse, how do babies come?тАЭ
тАЬYouтАЩve asked me that before, Master Vernon. The little angels bring them in the night through the window.тАЭ
тАЬThat Am-am-amтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬDonтАЩt stammer, Master Vernon.тАЭ
тАЬAmenkun lady who cameтБатАФshe said I was found under a gooseberry bush.тАЭ
тАЬThatтАЩs the way they do with American babies,тАЭ said Nurse serenely.
Vernon heaved a sigh of relief. Of course! He felt a throb of gratitude to Nurse. She always knew. She made the unsteady swaying universe stand still again. And she never laughed. His mother did. He had heard her say to other ladies, тАЬHe asks me the quaintest questions. Just listen to this.тБатАКтБатАж ArenтАЩt children funny and adorable?тАЭ
But Vernon couldnтАЩt see that he was funny or adorable at all. He just wanted to know. YouтАЩd got to know. That was part of growing up. When you were grown up you knew everything and had gold sovereigns in your purse.
II
The world went on widening.
There were, for instance, uncles and aunts.
Uncle Sydney was MummyтАЩs brother. He was short and stout and had rather a red face. He had a habit of humming tunes and of rattling the money in his trouser pockets. He was fond of making jokes, but Vernon did not always think his jokes very funny.
тАЬSupposing,тАЭ Uncle Sydney would say, тАЬI were to put on your hat? Hey? What should I look like, do you think?тАЭ
Curious, the questions grown up people asked! CuriousтБатАФand also difficult, because if there was one thing that Nurse was always impressing upon Vernon, it was that little boys must never make personal remarks.
тАЬCome now,тАЭ said Uncle Sydney perseveringly. тАЬWhat should I look like? ThereтБатАФтАЭ he snatched up the linen affair in question and balanced it on top of his head. тАЬтБатАФwhat do I look like, eh?тАЭ
Well, if one must answer, one must. Vernon said politely and a little wearily:
тАЬI think you look rather silly.тАЭ
тАЬThat boy of yours has no sense of humour, Myra,тАЭ said Uncle Sydney to his mother. тАЬNo sense of humour at all. A pity.тАЭ
Aunt Nina, FatherтАЩs sister, was quite different.
She smelt nice, like the garden on a summerтАЩs day, and she had a soft voice that Vernon liked. She had other virtuesтБатАФshe didnтАЩt kiss you when you didnтАЩt want to be kissed, and she didnтАЩt insist on making jokes. But she didnтАЩt come very often to Abbots Puissants.
She must be, Vernon thought, very brave, because it was she who first made him realize that one could master the Beast.
The Beast lived in the big drawing-room. It had four legs and a shiny brown body. And it had a long row of what Vernon had thought when he was very small, to be teeth. Great yellow shining teeth. From his earliest memory, Vernon had been fascinated and terrified by the Beast. For if you irritated the Beast, it made strange noises, an angry growling or a shrill angry wailтБатАФand somehow those noises hurt you more than anything in the world could, they hurt you right down in your inside. They made you shiver and feel sick, and they made your eyes sting and burn, and yet by some strange enchantment, you couldnтАЩt go away.
When Vernon had stories read to him about dragons, he always thought of them as like the Beast. And some of the best games with Mr.┬аGreen were where they killed the BeastтБатАФVernon plunging a sword into his brown shining body whilst the hundred children whooped and sang behind.
Now that he was a big boy he knew better, of course. He knew that the BeastтАЩs name was Grand Piano, and that when you deliberately attacked its teeth, that was called тАЬplayingtherpianoтАЭ! and that ladies did it after dinner to gentlemen. But in his inmost heart he was still afraid and dreamt sometimes of the Beast pursuing him up the nursery stairsтБатАФand he would wake up screaming.
In his dreams the Beast lived in the Forest, and was wild and savage, and the noises it made were too terrible to be borne.
Mummy sometimes did тАЬplayingtherpiano,тАЭ and that Vernon could just bear with difficulty. The Beast, he felt, would not really be waked up by what she was doing to it. But the day Aunt Nina played was different.
Vernon had been conducting one of his imaginary games in a corner. He and Squirrel and Poodle were having a picnic and eating lobsters and chocolate ├йclairs.
His Aunt Nina had not even noticed that he was in the room. She had sat down on the music stool and was playing idly.
Fascinated, Vernon crept nearer and nearer. Nina looked at last to see him staring at her, the tears running down his face and great sobs shaking his small body. She stopped.
тАЬWhatтАЩs the matter, Vernon?тАЭ
тАЬI тАЩate it,тАЭ sobbed Vernon. тАЬI тАЩate it. I тАЩate it. It hurts me here.тАЭ His hands clasped his stomach.
Myra came into the room at that minute. She laughed.
тАЬIsnтАЩt it odd? That child simply hates music. So very queer.тАЭ
тАЬWhy doesnтАЩt he go away if he hates it?тАЭ said Nina.
тАЬI canтАЩt,тАЭ sobbed Vernon.
тАЬIsnтАЩt it ridiculous?тАЭ said Myra.
тАЬI think itтАЩs rather interesting.тАЭ
тАЬMost children are always wanting to strum on the piano. I tried to show Vernon тАШChopsticksтАЩ the other day, but he wasnтАЩt a bit amused.тАЭ
Nina remained staring at her small nephew thoughtfully.
тАЬI can hardly believe a child of mine can be unmusical,тАЭ said Myra in an aggrieved voice. тАЬI played quite difficult pieces when I was eight years old.тАЭ
тАЬOh! well,тАЭ said Nina vaguely. тАЬThere are different ways of being musical.тАЭ
Which, Myra thought, was so like the silly sort of thing the Deyre family would say. Either one was musical and played pieces, or one was not. Vernon clearly was not.
III
NurseтАЩs mother was ill. Strange unparalleled nursery catastrophe. Nurse, very red-faced and grim, was packing with the assistance of Susan Isabel. Vernon, troubled, sympathetic, but above all interested, stood nearby, and out of his interest, asked questions.
тАЬIs your mother very old, Nurse? Is she a hundred?тАЭ
тАЬOf course not, Master Vernon. A hundred indeed!тАЭ
тАЬDo you think she is going to die?тАЭ continued Vernon, longing to be kind and understand.
CookтАЩs mother had been ill and died. Nurse did not answer. Instead she said sharply:
тАЬThe boot-bags out of the bottom drawer, Susan. Step lively now, my girl.тАЭ
тАЬNurse, will your motherтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬI havenтАЩt time to be answering questions, Master Vernon.тАЭ
Vernon sat down on the corner of a chintz-covered ottoman and gave himself up to reflection. Nurse had said that her mother wasnтАЩt a hundred, but she must, for all that, be very old. Nurse herself he had always regarded as terribly old. To think that there was a being of superior age and wisdom to Nurse was positively staggering. In a strange way it reduced Nurse herself to the proportions of a mere human being. She was no longer a figure secondary only to God himself.
The Universe shiftedтБатАФvalues were readjusted. Nurse, God, and Mr.┬аGreenтБатАФall three receded, becoming vaguer and more blurred. Mummy, his father, even Aunt NinaтБатАФseemed to matter more. Especially Mummy. Mummy was like the princesses with long beautiful golden hair. He would like to fight a dragon for MummyтБатАФa brown shiny dragon like the Beast.
What was the wordтБатАФthe magic word? BrumagemтБатАФthat was itтБатАФBrumagem. An enchanting word! The Princess Brumagem! A word to be repeated over to himself softly and secretly at night at the same time as Damn and Corsets.
But never, never, never must Mummy hear itтБатАФbecause he knew only too well that she would laughтБатАФshe always laughed, the kind of laugh that made you shrivel up inside and want to wriggle. And she would say thingsтБатАФshe always said things, just the kind of things you hated. тАЬArenтАЩt children too funny?тАЭ
And Vernon knew that he wasnтАЩt funny. He didnтАЩt like funny thingsтБатАФUncle Sydney had said so. If only Mummy wouldnтАЩtтБатАКтБатАж
Sitting on the slippery chintz he frowned perplexedly. He had a sudden imperfect glimpse of two Mummies. One, the princess, the beautiful Mummy that he dreamt about, who was mixed up for him with sunsets and magic and killing dragonsтБатАФand the otherтБатАФthe one who laughed and who said, тАЬArenтАЩt children too funny?тАЭ Only, of course, they were the same.тБатАКтБатАж
He fidgeted and sighed. Nurse, flushed from the effort of snapping to her trunk, turned to him kindly.
тАЬWhatтАЩs the matter, Master Vernon?тАЭ
тАЬNothing,тАЭ said Vernon.
You must always say тАЬNothing.тАЭ You could never tell. Because, if you did, no one ever knew what you meantтБатАКтБатАж
IV
Under the reign of Susan Isabel, the nursery was quite different. You could be, and quite frequently were, naughty. Susan told you not to do things and you did them just the same! Susan would say: тАЬIтАЩll tell your mother.тАЭ But she never did.
Susan had at first enjoyed the position and authority she had in NurseтАЩs absence. Indeed, but for Vernon, she would have continued to enjoy it. She used to exchange confidences with Katie, the under-housemaid.
тАЬDonтАЩt know whatтАЩs come over him, IтАЩm sure. HeтАЩs like a little demon sometimes. And him so good and well behaved with Mrs.┬аPascal.тАЭ
To which Kate replied:
тАЬAh! sheтАЩs a one, she is! Takes you up sharp, doesnтАЩt she?тАЭ
And then they would whisper and giggle.
тАЬWhoтАЩs Mrs.┬аPascal?тАЭ Vernon asked one day.
тАЬWell, I never, Master Vernon! DonтАЩt you know your own NurseтАЩs name?тАЭ
So Nurse was Mrs.┬аPascal. Another shock. She had always been just Nurse. It was rather as though you had been told that GodтАЩs name was Mr.┬аRobinson.
Mrs.┬аPascal! Nurse! The more you thought of it, the more extraordinary it seemed. Mrs.┬аPascalтБатАФjust like Mummy was Mrs.┬аDeyre and Father was Mr.┬аDeyre. Strangely enough Vernon never cogitated on the possibility of a Mr.┬аPascal. (Not that there was any such person. The Mrs.┬аwas a tacit recognition of NurseтАЩs position and authority.) Nurse stood alone in the same magnificence as Mr.┬аGreen, who, in spite of the hundred children (and Poodle, Squirrel and Tree), was never thought of by Vernon as having a Mrs.┬аGreen attached to him!
VernonтАЩs inquiring mind wandered in another direction.
тАЬSusan, do you like being called Susan? WouldnтАЩt you like being called Isabel better?тАЭ
Susan (or Isabel) gave her customary giggle.
тАЬIt doesnтАЩt matter what I like, Master Vernon.тАЭ
тАЬWhy not?тАЭ
тАЬPeople have got to do what theyтАЩre told in this world.тАЭ
Vernon was silent. He had thought the same until a few days ago. But he was beginning to perceive that it was not true. You neednтАЩt do as you were told. It all depended on who told you.
It was not a question of punishment. He was continually being sat on chairs, stood in the corner, and deprived of sweets by Susan. Nurse, on the other hand, had only had to look at him severely through her spectacles with a certain expression on her face, and anything but immediate capitulation was out of the question.
Susan had no authority in her nature, and Vernon knew it. He had discovered the thrill of successful disobedience. Also, he liked tormenting Susan. The more worried and flustered and unhappy Susan got, the more Vernon liked it. He was, as was proper to his years, still in the Stone Age. He savoured the full pleasure of cruelty.
Susan formed the habit of letting Vernon go out to play in the garden alone. Being an unattractive girl, she had not WinnieтАЩs reasons for liking the garden. And besides, what harm could possibly come to him?
тАЬYou wonтАЩt go near the ponds, will you, Master Vernon?тАЭ
тАЬNo,тАЭ said Vernon, instantly forming the intention to do so.
тАЬYouтАЩll play with your hoop like a good boy?тАЭ
тАЬYes.тАЭ
The nursery was left in peace. Susan heaved a sigh of relief. She took from a drawer a paper-covered book entitled The Duke and the Dairymaid.
Beating his hoop, Vernon made the tour of the walled fruit garden. Escaping from his control, the hoop leapt upon a small patch of earth which was at the moment receiving the meticulous attentions of Hopkins, the head gardener. Hopkins firmly and authoritatively ordered Vernon from the spot, and Vernon went. He respected Hopkins.
Abandoning the hoop, Vernon climbed a tree or two. That is to say, he reached a height of perhaps six feet from the ground, employing all due precautions. Tiring of this perilous sport, he sat astride a branch and cogitated as to what to do next.
On the whole, he thought of the ponds. Susan having forbidden them, they had a distinct fascination. Yes, he would go to the ponds. He rose, and as he did so, another idea came into his head, suggested by an unusual sight.
The door into the Forest was open!
V
Such a thing had never happened before in VernonтАЩs experience. Again and again he had secretly tried that door. Always it was locked.
He crept up to it cautiously. The Forest! It stood a few steps away outside the door. You could plunge straightway into its cool green depths. VernonтАЩs heart beat faster.
He had always wanted to go into the Forest. Here was his chance. Once Nurse came back, any such thing would be out of the question.
And still he hesitated. It was not any feeling of disobedience that held him back. Strictly speaking, he had never been forbidden to go in the Forest. His childish cunning was all ready with that excuse.
No, it was something else. Fear of the unknownтБатАФof those dark leafy depths. Ancestral memories held him back.
He wanted to goтБатАФbut he didnтАЩt want to go. There might be Things thereтБатАФThings like the Beast. Things that came up behind youтБатАФthat chased you screamingтБатАКтБатАж
He moved uneasily from one foot to the other.
But Things didnтАЩt chase you in the daytime. And Mr.┬аGreen lived in the Forest. Not that Mr.┬аGreen was as real as he used to be. Still, it would be rather jolly to explore and find a place where you would pretend Mr.┬аGreen did live. Poodle, Squirrel, and Tree would each have a house of his ownтБатАФsmall leafy houses.
тАЬCome on, Poodle,тАЭ said Vernon to an invisible companion. тАЬHave you got your bow and arrow? ThatтАЩs right. WeтАЩll meet Squirrel inside.тАЭ
He stepped out jauntily. Beside him, plain to VernonтАЩs inner eye, went Poodle, dressed like the picture of Robinson Crusoe in his picture book.
It was wonderful in the ForestтБатАФdim and dark and green. Birds sang and flew from branch to branch. Vernon continued to talk to his friendтБатАФa luxury he did not dare to permit himself often, since someone might overhear and say, тАЬIsnтАЩt he too funny? HeтАЩs pretending heтАЩs got another little boy with him.тАЭ You had to be so very careful at home.
тАЬWeтАЩll get to the Castle by lunch time, Poodle. There are going to be roasted leopards. Oh! Hullo, hereтАЩs Squirrel. How are you, Squirrel? WhereтАЩs Tree?тАЭ
тАЬI tell you what. I think itтАЩs rather tiring walking. I think weтАЩll ride.тАЭ
Steeds were tethered to an adjacent tree. VernonтАЩs was milk white, PoodleтАЩs was coal blackтБатАФthe colour of SquirrelтАЩs he couldnтАЩt quite decide.
They galloped forward through the trees. There were deadly dangerous places, morasses. Snakes hissed at them and lions charged them. But the faithful steeds did all their riders required of them.
How silly it was playing in the gardenтБатАФor playing anywhere but here! HeтАЩd forgotten what it was like, playing with Mr.┬аGreen and Poodle, Squirrel and Tree. How could you help forgetting things when people were always reminding you that you were a funny little boy playing make believe.
On strutted Vernon, now capering, now marching with solemn dignity. He was great, he was wonderful! What he needed, though he did not know it himself, was a tom-tom to beat whilst he sang his own praises.
The Forest! He had always known it would be like this, and it was! In front of him suddenly appeared a crumbling moss-covered wall. The wall of the Castle! Could anything be more perfect? He began to climb it.
The ascent was easy enough really, though fraught with the most agreeable and thrilling possibilities of danger. Whether this was Mr.┬аGreenтАЩs Castle, or whether it was inhabited by an Ogre who ate human flesh, Vernon had not yet made up his mind. Either was an entrancing proposition. On the whole he inclined to the latter, being at the moment in a warlike frame of mind. With a flushed face he reached the summit of the wall and looked over the other side.
And here there enters into the story, for one brief paragraph, Mrs.┬аSomers West who was fond of romantic solitude (for short periods) and had bought Woods Cottage as being тАЬdelightfully remote from anywhere and really, if you know what I mean, in the very heart of the ForestтБатАФat one with Nature!тАЭ And since Mrs.┬аSomers West, as well as being artistic, was musical, she had pulled down a wall, making two rooms into one and had thus provided herself with sufficient space to house a grand piano.
And at the identical moment that Vernon reached the top of the wall, several perspiring and staggering men were slowly propelling the aforesaid grand piano towards the window since it wouldnтАЩt go in by the door. The garden of Woods Cottage was a mere tangle of undergrowthтБатАФwild Nature, as Mrs.┬аSomers West called it. So that all Vernon saw was the Beast! The Beast, alive and purposeful, slowly crawling towards him, malign and vengefulтБатАКтБатАж
For a moment he stayed rooted to the spot. Then, with a wild cry, he fled. Fled along the top of the narrow crumbling wall. The Beast was behind him, pursuing himтБатАКтБатАж It was coming, he knew it. He ranтБатАФran faster than everтБатАФHis foot caught in a tangle of ivy. He crashed downwardsтБатАФfallingтБатАФfallingтБатАКтБатАж