  How tired they were when they came out from the world of pictures into the world of thronging people! How their limbs ached and they were brought back to the realization that they were creatures with human bodies, which somehow they seemed to have forgotten! When they stood in the sunshine again Robin drew a long breath. “It is like coming out of one dream into another,” he said. “We must have been there a long time. I didn’t know I was tired and I didn’t know I was hungry, but I am both. Are you?” She was as tired and hungry as he was. “Dare we buy a sandwich to eat with our eggs?” she said. “Yes, I think we dare,” Robin answered. “Where shall we go and eat them?” There was no difficulty in deciding. She had planned it all out, and they so knew the place by heart that they did not need to ask their way. It was over one of the fairy bridges which led to a fairy island. It was softly wooded, and among the trees were winding paths and flowers and rustic seats, and quaint roofs peering above the greenness of branches. And it was full of the warm scent of roses, growing together in sumptuous thousands, their heavy, sweet heads uplifted to the sun, or nodding and leaning towards their neighbors’ clusters. The fairy bridge linked it to the wonderful world beyond, but by comparison its bowers were almost quiet. The crowd did not jostle there. “And we shall be eating our lunch near thousands and thousands of roses. It will be like the ‘Arabian Nights.’ Let us pretend that the rose who is queen of them all invited us, because we belong to nobody,” Meg said. They bought the modest addition to their meal, and carried the necessary, ever-present satchel to their bower. They were tired of dragging the satchel about, but they were afraid to lose sight of it. “It’s very well that it is such a small one, and that we have so little in it,” Robin said. They chose the most secluded corner they could find, as near to the rose garden as possible, and sat down and fell upon their scant lunch as they had fallen upon their breakfast. It was very scant for two ravenously hungry children, and they tried to make it last as long as possible. But scant as it was, and tired as they were, their spirits did not fail them. “Perhaps, if we eat it slowly, it will seem more,” said Meg, peeling an egg with deliberation, but with a very undeliberate feeling in her small stomach. “Robin, did you notice our man?” “I saw him, of course,” answered Robin; “he’s too big not to see.” “I noticed him,” continued Meg. “Robin, there’s something the matter with that man. He’s a gloomy man.” “Well, you noticed him quickly,” Robin responded, with a shade of fraternal incredulity. “What’s happened to him?” Meg’s eyes fixed themselves on a glimpse of blue water she saw through the trees. She looked as if she were thinking the matter over. “How do I know?” she said; “I couldn’t. But, somehow, he has a dreary face, as if he had been thinking of dreary things. I don’t know why I thought that all in a minute, but I did, and I believe it’s true.” “Well, if we should see him again,” Robin said, “I’ll look and see.” “I believe we shall see him again,” said Meg. “How many eggs have we left, Robin?” “We only brought three dozen,” he answered, looking into the satchel; “and we ate seven this morning.” “When you have nothing but eggs, you eat a good many,” said Meg, reflectively. “They won’t last very long. But we couldn’t have carried a thousand eggs, even if we had had them”—which was a sage remark. “We shall have to buy some cheap things,” was Robin’s calculation. “They’ll have to be very cheap, though. We have to pay a dollar, you know, every day, to come in; and if we have no money we can’t go into the places that are not free; and we want to go into everything.” “I’d rather go in hungry than stay outside and have real dinners, wouldn’t you?” Meg put it to him. “Yes, I would,” he answered, “though it’s pretty hard to be hungry.” They had chosen a secluded corner to sit in, but it was not so secluded that they had it entirely to themselves. At a short distance from them, in the nearest bowery nook, a young man and woman were eating something out of a basket. They looked like a young country pair, plain and awkward, and enjoying themselves immensely. Their clothes were common and their faces were tanned, as if from working out of doors. But their basket evidently contained good, home-made things to eat. Meg caught glimpses of ham and chicken, and something that looked like cake. Just at that moment they looked so desperately good that she turned away her eyes, because she did not want to stare at them rudely. And as she averted them, she saw that Robin had seen, too. “Those people have plenty to eat,” he said, with a short, awkward laugh. “Yes,” she answered. “Don’t let us look. We are here, Robin, anyway, and we knew we couldn’t come as other people do.” “Yes,” he said, “we are here.” The man and his wife finished their lunch, and began putting things in order in their basket. As they did it, they talked together in a low voice, and seemed to be discussing something. Somehow, in spite of her averted eyes, Meg suddenly felt as if they were discussing Robin and herself, and she wondered if they had caught her involuntary look. “I think, Robin,” said Meg—“I think that woman is going to speak to us.” It was evident that she was. She got up and came towards them, her husband following her rather awkwardly. She stopped before them, and the two pairs of dark eyes lifted themselves to her face. “I’ve just been talking to my man about you two,” she said. “We couldn’t help looking at you. Have you lost your friends?” “No, ma’am,” said Robin, “we haven’t got any; I mean, we’re not with any one.” The woman turned and looked at her husband. “Well, Jem!” she exclaimed. The man drew near and looked them over. He was a raw-boned, big young man, with a countrified, good-natured face. “You haven’t come here alone?” he said. “Yes,” said Robin. “We couldn’t have come, if we hadn’t come alone. We’re not afraid, thank you. We’re getting along very well.” “Well, Jem!” said the woman again. She seemed quite stirred. There was something in her ordinary, good-natured face that was quite like a sort of rough emotion. “Have you plenty of money?” she asked. “No,” said Robin, “not plenty, but we have a little.” She put her basket down and opened it. She took out some pieces of brown fried chicken; then she took out some big slices of cake, with raisins in it. She even added some biscuits and slices of ham. Then she put them in a coarse, clean napkin. “Now, look here,” she said, “don’t you go filling up with candy and peanuts, just because you are by yourselves. You put this in your bag, and eat it when you’re ready. ’T any rate, it’s good, home-made victuals, and won’t harm you.” And in the midst of their shy thanks, she shut the basket again and went off with her husband, and they heard her say again, before she disappeared, “Well, Jem!” “WELL, JEM!” SHE EXCLAIMED. |
|
