Obeying orders, I gave no hint in school of the great fortune that had come to me; but hurrying home, I exploded in the pa.s.sage before the front door could be closed behind me.
"I am to be a hare because I run so fast. Anybody can be a hound, but there"s only two hares, and they all want me. And can I have a jersey?
We begin next Sat.u.r.day. He saw me run. I ran twice round the playground.
He said I was splendid! Of course, it"s a great honour to be a hare. We start from Hampstead Heath. And may I have a pair of shoes?"
The jersey and the shoes my mother and I purchased that very day, for the fear was upon me that unless we hastened, the last blue and white striped jersey in London might be sold, and the market be empty of running shoes. That evening, before getting into bed, I dressed myself in full costume to admire myself before the gla.s.s; and from then till the end of the week, to the terror of my mother, I practised leaping over chairs, and my method of descending stairs was perilous and roundabout. But, as I explained to them, the credit of the Lower Fourth was at stake, and banisters and legs equally of small account as compared with fame and honour; and my father, nodding his head, supported me with manly argument; but my mother added to her prayers another line.
Sat.u.r.day came. The members of the hunt were mostly boys who lived in the neighbourhood; so the arrangement was that at half-past two we should meet at the turnpike gate outside the Spaniards. I brought my lunch with me and ate it in Regent"s Park, and then took the "bus to the Heath. One by one the others came up. Beyond mere glances, none of them took any notice of me. I was wearing my ordinary clothes over my jersey. I knew they thought I had come merely to see them start, and I hugged to myself the dream of the surprise that was in store for them, and of which I should be the hero. He came, one of the last, our leader and chief, and I sidled up behind him and waited, while he busied himself organising and constructing.
"But we"ve only got one hare," cried one of them. "We ought to have two, you know, in case one gets blown."
"We"ve got two," answered the Duke. "Think I don"t know what I"m about?
Young Kelver"s going to be the other one."
Silence fell upon the meet.
"Oh, I say, we don"t want him," at last broke in a voice. "He"s a m.u.f.f."
"He can run," explained the Duke.
"Let him run home," came another voice, which was greeted with laughter.
"You"ll run home in a minute yourself," threatened the Duke, "if I have any of your cheek. Who"s captain here--you or me? Now, young "un, are you ready?"
I had commenced unb.u.t.toning my jacket, but my hands fell to my side. "I don"t want to come," I answered, "if they don"t want me."
"He"ll get his feet wet," suggested the boy who had spoken first. "Don"t spoil him, he"s his mother"s pet."
"Are you coming or are you not?" shouted the Duke, seeing me still motionless. But the tears were coming into my eyes and would not go back. I turned my face away without speaking.
"All right, stop then," cried the Duke, who, like all authoritative people, was impatient above all things of hesitation. "Here, Keefe, you take the bag and be off. It"ll be dark before we start."
My subst.i.tute s.n.a.t.c.hed eagerly at the chance, and away went the hares, while I, still keeping my face hid, moved slowly off.
"Cry-baby!" shouted a sharp-eyed youngster.
"Let him alone," growled the Duke; and I went on to where the cedars grew.
I heard them start off a few minutes later with a whoop. How could I go home, confess my disappointment, my shame? My father would be expecting me with many questions, my mother waiting for me with hot water and blankets. What explanation could I give that would not betray my miserable secret?
It was a chill, dismal afternoon, the Heath deserted, a thin rain commencing. I slipped off my shirt and jacket, and rolling them under my arm, trotted off alone, hare and hounds combined in one small carca.s.s, to chase myself sadly by myself.
I see it still, that pathetically ridiculous little figure, jogging doggedly over the dank fields. Mile after mile it runs, the little idiot; jumping--sometimes falling into the muddy ditches: it seems anxious rather than otherwise to get itself into a mess; scrambling through the dripping hedges; swarming over tarry fence and slimy paling.
On, on it pants--through Bishop"s Wood, by tangled Churchyard Bottom, where now the railway shrieks; down sloppy lanes, bordering Muswell Hill, where now stand rows of jerry-built, prim villas. At intervals it stops an instant to dab its eyes with its dingy little rag of a handkerchief, to rearrange the bundle under its arm, its chief anxiety to keep well out of sight of chance wanderers, to dodge farmhouses, to dart across highroads when n.o.body is looking. And so tear-smeared and mud-bespattered up the long rise of darkening Crouch End Lane, where to-night the electric light blazes from a hundred shops, and dead beat into the Seven Sisters Road station, there to tear off its soaked jersey; and then home to Poplar, with shameless account of the jolly afternoon that it has spent, of the admiration and the praise that it has won.
You poor, pitiful little brat! Popularity? it is a shadow. Turn your eyes towards it, and it shall ever run before you, escaping you. Turn your back upon it, walk joyously towards the living sun, and it shall follow you. Am I not right? Why, then, do you look at me, your little face twisted into that quizzical grin?
When one takes service with Deceit, one signs a contract that one may not break but under penalty. Maybe it was good for my health, those lonely runs; but oh, they were dreary! By a process of argument not uncommon I persuaded myself that truth was a matter of mere words, that so long as I had actually gone over the ground I described I was not lying. To further satisfy my conscience, I bought a big satchel and scattered from it torn-up paper as I ran.
"And they never catch you?" asked my mother.
"Oh, no, never; they never even get within sight of me."
"Be careful, dear," would advise my mother; "don"t overstrain yourself."
But I could see that she was proud of me.
And after awhile imagination came to my help, so that often I could hear behind me the sound of pursuing feet, catch through gaps in the trees a sight of a merry, host upon my trail, and would redouble my speed.
Thus, but for Dan, my loneliness would have been unbearable. His friendship was always there for me to creep to, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. To this day one may always know Dan"s politics: they are those of the Party out of power. Always without question one may know the cause that he will champion, the unpopular cause; the man he will defend, the man who is down.
"You are such an un-understandable chap," complained a fellow Clubman to him once in my hearing. "I sometimes ask myself if you have any opinions at all."
"I hate a crowd," was Dan"s only confession of faith.
He never claimed anything from me in return for his affection; he was there for me to hold to when I wanted him. When, baffled in all my attempts to win the affections of others, I returned to him for comfort, he gave it me, without even relieving himself of friendly advice. When at length childish success came to me and I needed him less, he was neither hurt nor surprised. Other people--their thoughts, their actions, even when these concerned himself--never troubled him. He loved to bestow, but as to response was strangely indifferent; indeed, if anything, it bored him. His nature appeared to be that of the fountain, which fulfils itself by giving, but is unable to receive.
My popularity came to me unexpectedly after I had given up hoping for it; surprising me, annoying me. Gradually it dawned upon me that my company was being sought.
"Come along, Kelver," would say the spokesman of one group; "we"re going part of your way home. You can walk with us."
Maybe I would go with them, but more often, before we reached the gate, the delight of my society would be claimed by a rival troop.
"He"s coming with us this afternoon. He promised."
"No, he didn"t."
"Yes, he did."
"Well, he ain"t, anyhow. See?"
"Oh, isn"t he? Who says he isn"t?"
"I do."
"Punch his head, d.i.c.k!"
"Yes, you do, Jimmy Blake, and I"ll punch yours. Come, Kelver."
I might have been some Queen of Beauty offered as prize for knightly contest. Indeed, more than once the argument concluded thus primitively, I being carried off in triumph by the victorious party.
For a period it remained a mystery to me, until I asked explanation of Norval--we called him "Norval," he being one George Grampian: it was our wit. From taking joy in teasing me, Norval had suddenly become one of my greatest admirers. This by itself was difficult enough to understand.
He was in the second eleven, and after Dan the best fighter in the lower school. If I could understand Norval"s change of att.i.tude all would be plain to me; so when next time, bounding upon me in the cloakroom and slipping his arm into mine, he clamoured for my company to Camden Town, I put the question to him bluntly.
"Why should I walk home with you? Why do you want me?"
"Because we like you."
"But why do you like me?"