the way babies he christened gazed at him – if they were not yelling, that is.
“What sort of wood have ’ee got there, then?” asked the old woman.
“A bit o’beech, Granny,” said Tom. His voice was pleasantly pitched and he talked like his grandmother and not as they had tried to teach him at school.
The old woman looked pleased. “Good boy, I thought you’d have more sense than to bring any of they dead elm branches from yonder. Burning elm’s no better than burning churchyard mould for the warmth.”
The boy put down the bundle he was carrying without haste and held out his hand, which the vicar took and solemnly shook. He was, by now, used to Tom’s ways.
“Well, Tom,” he said, “I think I’ve found a good place for you and your Granny’s willing for you to try it. You’re to go and see about it this very evening.”
“Where be it then?” asked Tom.
“It’s at the Darnley Ladies’ Home.”
The boy looked puzzled. “There’s many a lady’s home at Darnley,” he said, “there’s Jenny’s mother’s, and Mary’s, and Tim’s and old Mrs Martin’s and –”
“No, no,” said the vicar, “not that kind of home, Tom, but a big house called ‘The Haven’, you must know it well – it stands by itself a little way out of town. A number of old ladies live there together – it’s rather like one of my beehives, Tom,” he went on, warming to his exposition. “They each have a room to themselves like a cell and there’s one lady who looks after them all. Her name is Miss Blackett and you must ask for her when you go there.”
“Be she like the queen bee, then?” asked Tom.
“Well, yes, something like that,” said the vicar. “You are to go and see her at six o’clock and I’ve told her you are a very good boy and will do your best to help her.”
“Aye, that he will,” said the old woman. Tom nodded and held out his hand again as there seemed to him there was nothing more to be said on the subject.
Mrs Hobb got up stiffly to bid the vicar goodbye. She thanked him for coming but it was clear from her manner that she felt she was conferring a benefit and not receiving one. The vicar thought: “I hope she will be able to manage without the boy, but it’s clear she’s made up her mind to part with him and nothing will budge her. Well, anyway, his keep will be a saving for her. I hope, too, he’ll make good at The Haven.”
“You’ll let me know how things go,” he said to them both. “It’ll be easier to start now summer’s really come. We’ve waited long enough for it this year and it was a hard winter, too.”
“Oh, well,” said the old woman, “we’ve never died of a winter yet.”
Tom presented himself at the correct hour that evening. He wore a clean darned pullover with sleeves that were tooshort for his long arms and his trousers were patched. His hair looked very bristly and he was smaller and more childish looking than Miss Blackett had expected, so altogether he did not make a favourable first impression when Gisela had pushed him disdainfully through the office door. The warden did not think it necessary to get up to receive him but Tom came forward at once and held out his hand in his usual way saying:
“Be you Queen Miss Blackett, lady?”
Miss Blackett mechanically shook his hand but was struck dumb by this unlooked-for greeting. She had expected some stupidity perhaps, certainly shyness and even becoming awe. Tom waited for her to speak and looked round him with his wide detached stare. He saw Lord Jim, asleep on his special cushion and immediately went up to him.
“Don’t touch him,” said Miss Blackett, “he doesn’t like to be disturbed, especially by strangers.” But neither Tom nor Lord Jim took any notice of her words. Tom stooped and stroked him and the big cat opened his eyes, rolled over on his back and began to purr loudly.
“What be his name?” asked Tom.
“Lord Jim,” said Miss Blackett, once more taken aback.
“What sort of wood have ’ee got there, then?” asked the old woman.
“A bit o’beech, Granny,” said Tom. His voice was pleasantly pitched and he talked like his grandmother and not as they had tried to teach him at school.
The old woman looked pleased. “Good boy, I thought you’d have more sense than to bring any of they dead elm branches from yonder. Burning elm’s no better than burning churchyard mould for the warmth.”
The boy put down the bundle he was carrying without haste and held out his hand, which the vicar took and solemnly shook. He was, by now, used to Tom’s ways.
“Well, Tom,” he said, “I think I’ve found a good place for you and your Granny’s willing for you to try it. You’re to go and see about it this very evening.”
“Where be it then?” asked Tom.
“It’s at the Darnley Ladies’ Home.”
The boy looked puzzled. “There’s many a lady’s home at Darnley,” he said, “there’s Jenny’s mother’s, and Mary’s, and Tim’s and old Mrs Martin’s and –”
“No, no,” said the vicar, “not that kind of home, Tom, but a big house called ‘The Haven’, you must know it well – it stands by itself a little way out of town. A number of old ladies live there together – it’s rather like one of my beehives, Tom,” he went on, warming to his exposition. “They each have a room to themselves like a cell and there’s one lady who looks after them all. Her name is Miss Blackett and you must ask for her when you go there.”
“Be she like the queen bee, then?” asked Tom.
“Well, yes, something like that,” said the vicar. “You are to go and see her at six o’clock and I’ve told her you are a very good boy and will do your best to help her.”
“Aye, that he will,” said the old woman. Tom nodded and held out his hand again as there seemed to him there was nothing more to be said on the subject.
Mrs Hobb got up stiffly to bid the vicar goodbye. She thanked him for coming but it was clear from her manner that she felt she was conferring a benefit and not receiving one. The vicar thought: “I hope she will be able to manage without the boy, but it’s clear she’s made up her mind to part with him and nothing will budge her. Well, anyway, his keep will be a saving for her. I hope, too, he’ll make good at The Haven.”
“You’ll let me know how things go,” he said to them both. “It’ll be easier to start now summer’s really come. We’ve waited long enough for it this year and it was a hard winter, too.”
“Oh, well,” said the old woman, “we’ve never died of a winter yet.”
Tom presented himself at the correct hour that evening. He wore a clean darned pullover with sleeves that were tooshort for his long arms and his trousers were patched. His hair looked very bristly and he was smaller and more childish looking than Miss Blackett had expected, so altogether he did not make a favourable first impression when Gisela had pushed him disdainfully through the office door. The warden did not think it necessary to get up to receive him but Tom came forward at once and held out his hand in his usual way saying:
“Be you Queen Miss Blackett, lady?”
Miss Blackett mechanically shook his hand but was struck dumb by this unlooked-for greeting. She had expected some stupidity perhaps, certainly shyness and even becoming awe. Tom waited for her to speak and looked round him with his wide detached stare. He saw Lord Jim, asleep on his special cushion and immediately went up to him.
“Don’t touch him,” said Miss Blackett, “he doesn’t like to be disturbed, especially by strangers.” But neither Tom nor Lord Jim took any notice of her words. Tom stooped and stroked him and the big cat opened his eyes, rolled over on his back and began to purr loudly.
“What be his name?” asked Tom.
“Lord Jim,” said Miss Blackett, once more taken aback.
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