The Story of the Treasure Seekers - Эдит Несбит 4 стр.

H. O. agreed: he is not at all a mean kid, but I found out afterwards that Alice paid his share out of her own money.

Then we wanted some new paints, and Noel wanted a pencil and a halfpenny account-book to write poetry with, and it does seem hard never to have any apples. So, somehow or other nearly all the money got spent, and we agreed that we must let the advertisement run loose a little longer.

I only hope, Alice said, that they wont have got all the ladies and gentlemen they want before we have got the money to write for the sample and instructions.

And I was a little afraid myself, because it seemed such a splendid chance; but we looked in the paper every day, and the advertisement was always there, so we thought it was all right.

Then we had the detective try-onand it proved no go; and then, when all the money was gone, except a halfpenny of mine and twopence of Noels and three-pence of Dickys and a few pennies that the girls had left, we held another council.

Dora was sewing the buttons on H. O.s Sunday things. He got himself a knife with his money, and he cut every single one of his best buttons off. Youve no idea how many buttons there are on a suit. Dora counted them. There are twenty-four, counting the little ones on the sleeves that dont undo.

Alice was trying to teach Pincher to beg; but he has too much sense when he knows youve got nothing in your hands, and the rest of us were roasting potatoes under the fire. We had made a fire on purpose, though it was rather warm. They are very good if you cut away the burnt partsbut you ought to wash them first, or you are a dirty boy.

Well, what can we do? said Dicky. You are so fond of saying Lets do something! and never saying what.

We cant try the advertisement yet. Shall we try rescuing some one? said Oswald. It was his own idea, but he didnt insist on doing it, though he is next to the eldest, for he knows it is bad manners to make people do what you want, when they would rather not.

What was Noels plan? Alice asked.

A Princess or a poetry book, said Noel sleepily. He was lying on his back on the sofa, kicking his legs. Only I shall look for the Princess all by myself. But Ill let you see her when were married.

Have you got enough poetry to make a book? Dicky asked that, and it was rather sensible of him, because when Noel came to look there were only seven of his poems that any of us could understand. There was the Wreck of the Malabar, and the poem he wrote when Eliza took us to hear the Reviving Preacher, and everybody cried, and Father said it must have been the Preachers Eloquence. So Noel wrote:

But Noel told Alice he got the first line and a half from a book a boy at school was going to write when he had time. Besides this there were the Lines on a Dead Black Beetle that was poisoned

It was very good beetle poison, and there were hundreds of them lying deadbut Noel only wrote a piece of poetry for one of them. He said he hadnt time to do them all, and the worst of it was he didnt know which one hed written it toso Alice couldnt bury the beetle and put the lines on its grave, though she wanted to very much.

Well, it was quite plain that there wasnt enough poetry for a book.

We might wait a year or two, said Noel. I shall be sure to make some more some time. I thought of a piece about a fly this morning that knew condensed milk was sticky.

But we want the money now, said Dicky, and you can go on writing just the same. It will come in some time or other.

Theres poetry in newspapers, said Alice. Down, Pincher! youll never be a clever dog, so its no good trying.

Do they pay for it? Dicky thought of that; he often thinks of things that are really important, even if they are a little dull.

I dont know. But I shouldnt think any one would let them print their poetry without. I wouldnt I know. That was Dora; but Noel said he wouldnt mind if he didnt get paid, so long as he saw his poetry printed and his name at the end.

We might try, anyway, said Oswald. He is always willing to give other peoples ideas a fair trial.

So we copied out The Wreck of the Malabar and the other six poems on drawing-paperDora did it, she writes bestand Oswald drew a picture of the Malabar going down with all hands. It was a full-rigged schooner, and all the ropes and sails were correct; because my cousin is in the Navy, and he showed me.

We thought a long time whether wed write a letter and send it by post with the poetryand Dora thought it would be best. But Noel said he couldnt bear not to know at once if the paper would print the poetry, So we decided to take it.

I went with Noel, because I am the eldest, and he is not old enough to go to London by himself. Dicky said poetry was rotand he was glad he hadnt got to make a fool of himself. That was because there was not enough money for him to go with us. H. O. couldnt come either, but he came to the station to see us off, and waved his cap and called out Good hunting! as the train started.

There was a lady in spectacles in the corner. She was writing with a pencil on the edges of long strips of paper that had print all down them. When the train started she asked

What was that he said?

So Oswald answered

It was Good huntingits out of the Jungle Book! Thats very pleasant to hear, the lady said; I am very pleased to meet people who know their Jungle Book. And where are you off tothe Zoological Gardens to look for Bagheera?

We were pleased, too, to meet some one who knew the Jungle Book.

So Oswald said

We are going to restore the fallen fortunes of the House of Bastableand we have all thought of different waysand were going to try them all. Noels way is poetry. I suppose great poets get paid?

The lady laughedshe was awfully jollyand said she was a sort of poet, too, and the long strips of paper were the proofs of her new book of stories. Because before a book is made into a real book with pages and a cover, they sometimes print it all on strips of paper, and the writer make marks on it with a pencil to show the printers what idiots they are not to understand what a writer means to have printed.

We told her all about digging for treasure, and what we meant to do. Then she asked to see Noels poetryand he said he didnt likeso she said, Look hereif youll show me yours Ill show you some of mine. So he agreed.

The jolly lady read Noels poetry, and she said she liked it very much. And she thought a great deal of the picture of the Malabar. And then she said, I write serious poetry like yours myself; too, but I have a piece here that I think you will like because its about a boy. She gave it to usand so I can copy it down, and I will, for it shows that some grown-up ladies are not so silly as others. I like it better than Noels poetry, though I told him I did not, because he looked as if he was going to cry. This was very wrong, for you should always speak the truth, however unhappy it makes people. And I generally do. But I did not want him crying in the railway carriage. The ladys piece of poetry:

She told us a lot of other pieces but I cannot remember them, and she talked to us all the way up, and when we got nearly to Cannon Street she said

Ive got two new shillings here! Do you think they would help to smooth the path to Fame?

Noel said, Thank you, and was going to take the shilling. But Oswald, who always remembers what he is told, said

Thank you very much, but Father told us we ought never to take anything from strangers.

Thats a nasty one, said the ladyshe didnt talk a bit like a real lady, but more like a jolly sort of grown-up boy in a dress and hata very nasty one! But dont you think as Noel and I are both poets I might be considered a sort of relation? Youve heard of brother poets, havent you? Dont you think Noel and I are aunt and nephew poets, or some relationship of that kind?

I didnt know what to say, and she went on

Its awfully straight of you to stick to what your Father tells you, but look here, you take the shillings, and heres my card. When you get home tell your Father all about it, and if he says No, you can just bring the shillings back to me.

So we took the shillings, and she shook hands with us and said, Good-bye, and good hunting!

We did tell Father about it, and he said it was all right, and when he looked at the card he told us we were highly honoured, for the lady wrote better poetry than any other lady alive now. We had never heard of her, and she seemed much too jolly for a poet. Good old Kipling! We owe him those two shillings, as well as the Jungle books!

CHAPTER 5. THE POET AND THE EDITOR

It was not bad sportbeing in London entirely on our own hook. We asked the way to Fleet Street, where Father says all the newspaper offices are. They said straight on down Ludgate Hillbut it turned out to be quite another way. At least we didnt go straight on.

We got to St Pauls. Noel would go in, and we saw where Gordon was buriedat least the monument. It is very flat, considering what a man he was.

When we came out we walked a long way, and when we asked a policeman he said wed better go back through Smithfield. So we did. They dont burn people any more there now, so it was rather dull, besides being a long way, and Noel got very tired. Hes a peaky little chap; it comes of being a poet, I think. We had a bun or two at different shopsout of the shillingsand it was quite late in the afternoon when we got to Fleet Street. The gas was lighted and the electric lights. There is a jolly Bovril sign that comes off and on in different coloured lamps. We went to the Daily Recorder office, and asked to see the Editor. It is a big office, very bright, with brass and mahogany and electric lights.

They told us the Editor wasnt there, but at another office. So we went down a dirty street, to a very dull-looking place. There was a man there inside, in a glass case, as if he was a museum, and he told us to write down our names and our business. So Oswald wrote

Then we waited on the stone stairs; it was very draughty. And the man in the glass case looked at us as if we were the museum instead of him. We waited a long time, and then a boy came down and said

The Editor cant see you. Will you please write your business? And he laughed. I wanted to punch his head.

But Noel said, Yes, Ill write it if youll give me a pen and ink, and a sheet of paper and an envelope.

The boy said hed better write by post. But Noel is a bit pig-headed; its his worst fault. So he saidNo, Ill write it now. So I backed him up by saying

Look at the price penny stamps are since the coal strike!

So the boy grinned, and the man in the glass case gave us pen and paper, and Noel wrote. Oswald writes better than he does; but Noel would do it; and it took a very long time, and then it was inky.

    DEAR MR EDITOR, I want you to print my poetry and pay for it, and I am a friend of Mrs Leslies; she is a poet too.

He licked the envelope a good deal, so that that boy shouldnt read it going upstairs; and he wrote Very private outside, and gave the letter to the boy. I thought it wasnt any good; but in a minute the grinning boy came back, and he was quite respectful, and saidThe Editor says, please will you step up?

We stepped up. There were a lot of stairs and passages, and a queer sort of humming, hammering sound and a very funny smell. The boy was now very polite, and said it was the ink we smelt, and the noise was the printing machines.

After going through a lot of cold passages we came to a door; the boy opened it, and let us go in. There was a large room, with a big, soft, blue-and-red carpet, and a roaring fire, though it was only October; and a large table with drawers, and littered with papers, just like the one in Fathers study. A gentleman was sitting at one side of the table; he had a light moustache and light eyes, and he looked very young to be an editornot nearly so old as Father. He looked very tired and sleepy, as if he had got up very early in the morning; but he was kind, and we liked him. Oswald thought he looked clever. Oswald is considered a judge of faces.

Well, said he, so you are Mrs Leslies friends?

I think so, said Noel; at least she gave us each a shilling, and she wished us good hunting!

Good hunting, eh? Well, what about this poetry of yours? Which is the poet?

I cant think how he could have asked! Oswald is said to be a very manly-looking boy for his age. However, I thought it would look duffing to be offended, so I said

This is my brother Noel. He is the poet. Noel had turned quite pale. He is disgustingly like a girl in some ways. The Editor told us to sit down, and he took the poems from Noel, and began to read them. Noel got paler and paler; I really thought he was going to faint, like he did when I held his hand under the cold-water tap, after I had accidentally cut him with my chisel. When the Editor had read the first poemit was the one about the beetlehe got up and stood with his back to us. It was not manners; but Noel thinks he did it to conceal his emotion, as they do in books. He read all the poems, and then he said

I like your poetry very much, young man. Ill give youlet me see; how much shall I give you for it?

As much as ever you can, said Noel. You see I want a good deal of money to restore the fallen fortunes of the house of Bastable.

The gentleman put on some eye-glasses and looked hard at us. Then he sat down.

Thats a good idea, said he. Tell me how you came to think of it. And, I say, have you had any tea? Theyve just sent out for mine.

He rang a tingly bell, and the boy brought in a tray with a teapot and a thick cup and saucer and things, and he had to fetch another tray for us, when he was told to; and we had tea with the Editor of the Daily Recorder. I suppose it was a very proud moment for Noel, though I did not think of that till afterwards. The Editor asked us a lot of questions, and we told him a good deal, though of course I did not tell a stranger all our reasons for thinking that the family fortunes wanted restoring. We stayed about half an hour, and when we were going away he said again

I shall print all your poems, my poet; and now what do you think theyre worth?