For the Children

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16905, 2 December 1922, Page 22

For the Children

PAGE TO AN IDLER. It was vacation time; the school i doors were closed ; Peter’s time was ! his own. His mother had tried to persuade him to employ some of his leisure usefully. She had proposed that i he take care of the strawberry beu». j promising him that he might sell all the berries the family could not use to I to tiie neighbours and Keep the money for inmseit. “No,” Peter said. “I don't want ; to wont ir> vacation. 1 want to play.” Ilis mother had suggested that lie inigne get tired of doing nothing but play lor three months, but Peter assured her that lie should not. So his nob insist. For a week, therefore, Peter played long and late; then ho began to grp.v weary of his games. One afternoon he dawdled on to the piazza where his mother was sewing- and, flinging himself into the hammock, he complained that it was too hot for hall, and that . he was tired of playing Indian. j His mother smiled but made no direct i reply, and Peter continued to swing { id:y in the hammock. He was wish- | ing that his father would come home | ami ieil him a story of the time when * Good Queen Bess was Queen of Eng- j land and hoys sailed the seas with i lier mariners! Peter’s father had told J him mar.v such tales. Peter liked to pretend that lie himself had sailed with ! Drake around the whole, wide world, j But there was no ho]x> of hearing J any of these stories in the middle of Hi-' afternoon. Peter’s father was busy at such an hour, making a living' for his family. So Peter continued to swing and drowsily recall tbc- various stories lie had enjoyed. BACK TN OLD-TIME LONDON. After his eyes had been closed for j a little while, he opened them again. | To his surprise, the hammock and the j piazza hud disappeared. Instead he found himself looking out upon a j river, where ships lay at anchor. A j very fine gentleman, in a blue velvet j doublet with a feather in his hat, was j just alighting from a. small boat, and paying the boatman. Peter stared at them and at himself. For he perceived suddenly that liis shirt-waist and tweed knickerbockers ' had disappeared and that, in their j place, he was wearing a leather j doublet, long woollen hose, and coarse ! shoes. Around bis neck he discovered ■ a ruff, and in his belt a knife.

•‘‘l know where I am,” Peter thought to himself, remembering all the stories his father had told him of the Long Ago. “ I am in London, and it’s the time of Good Queen Bess again.” At this moment the boatmßn, seeing an idle boy. called out to Peter and asked him if he wanted work. Peter shook his head. “ No,” Ke said, “It’s vacation now. I don’t want to work.” The fine gentleman, hearing this reply. turned and laughed outright-. “ Work is my enerav also,” lie said. “Come, my pretty lad. and bo my r>n<re. Thou shalt have nothing to do from morn to night but hold my cl-nk.” Peter was in-st in the mood for sueh a. t>roT>o«al. He made terms with the fine at once, promising to work for him for a year. THE DAY’S ACTIVITY BEGINS. Without further talk, off they stari-eu curougn the streets. Their first scop was at a second-mind clothier’s. Here the gallant gentleman purchased Peter a page's suit of biue and silver, in wmuii Peter thought himself elegant indeed. Then tney swung on tneir way again, this time going to what London called Paul’s Walk. The gallant gentleman told Peter that, every day at Ji, lie promenaded here with his friends. Upon their arrival at Paul’s Walk, Peter saw many other gentleman dressed in as fine clothes as his master’s. Peter’s master, whose name was Sir Andrew Pettigill. bowed and. smirked to the right and the left. Peter, his master’s i-ioaK on his arm, had nothing to do but trot behind him up and down tjie

promenade for an hour. He was surprised to find liow bored he became. He told himself he should not have minded if Sir Andrew had talked of interesting things- of voyages and far countries, and battles with

men and with waves, as the great Sir Francis Drake would have done. But, instead, Sir Andrew prattled on his new hobby-horse, and of a line doublet he was having made and embroidered in pearls. At last the promenade came to an end, and Peter hoped for a more interesting afternoon. From Paul's his master led the way to a restaurant or ordinary, where lie and Peter ate at a. long table, Peter’s seat being below the salt after the fashion of the day. Dinner over, Sir Andrew began a game

of cards, while Peter dawdled in the wide window seat. When the game of cards came to an end, Peter’s master arose and, taking , his cloak from Peter, threw it over one shoulder and sauntered out into the streets again. A short walk brought them to the barber’s. In they went. Oil, what a silly master Peter had chosen ! For two hours Sir Andrew sat at the barber’s while he was clipped and curled and scented. “ Now,” he said at last, “we will go to the play.” So off he and Peter started for one of the old playhouses of London As thev entered. Peter saw that the people who were dressed in coarse clothes sat on the floor of the theatre, but, of course, Sir Andrew w.is ioo grand a person for that. He throw a coin to the doorkeeper and he and Peter went upon the stage, where other flue gentlemen were seated about To Peter’s delight, the play was one he had once read at school, “ The- Merchant of Venice.” He wanted very much to see it acted, but Sir Andrew, paying no attention whatever to the acting, had begun a game of cards with of “ I’ll vie the ruff.” and “ I’ll See it end revie it.” that Peter could scarcely hear a word of the pday. DRESSING FOR THE EVENING. .Before the play was over, Sir Andrew yawned and left the theatre, and, o course. Peter had to go with him. Home they went at last, to the rooms where Sir Andrew lodged when he was i-i London. Here lie stayed long enough to change his clothes, donning a doublet of cherry .satin for the evening, and shoes with ribbon bows. Peter helped him dress. When Sir Andrew bad© him adjust a pair of earrings, Peter was so disgusted he could scarcely refrain, from giving Sir Andrew’s small white ears a. sharp pinch! He had some difficulty in getting Sir Andrew into his doublet, for the trunkhose were stuffed out with sawdust to give them a fashionable flare, which made them hard to handle. But, at last, Peter got the knight dressed and off they went to dine in a fashionable tavern. The dinner wn-s lieartv and good, but by this time poor Peter was so weary of Sir Andrew, his silly stories and his idle laughter that it seemed to him that he could not bear to spend another day in the same fashion. He thought mournfully, as the evening passed, of the great days he had known on board the Golden Hind with General Drake, when every inch of his manhood was called upon. What would his follow sailors think of him now, dawdling here in the tavern ! At last, when the hour was late, Sir Andrew, who had been playing the gittern (an instrument something like our guitar) and singing a ballad, called to Peter to get a torch and light him home to bed.

PETER TAKES HTS COTTRAGE IN HIS HANDS. Gathering all his courage, Peter went to his side and said : “ I am sorry, master, but I think I will not serve you longer. This day has tired me more than any I ever spent in all my life. .1 would rather work my fingers to the bone than spend another like it.” At this Sir Andrew flung down his gittern, and all his friends stared hard at the rebellious page. “ Leave mv service, that thou shalt not. thou saucy page, until thy year is out !” cried Sir Andrew and with that he made a iuuge at Peter as if to grab him. As he did so the point of the knife which Peter wore in his belt caught in Sir Andrew’s fine doublet and made a bad rent. Out of the rent, in a steadv stream poured the sawdust with which it was stuffed ! 11l a moment Sir Andrew was transformed from a fashionable gallant of the day to a lean and sorry figure of a man. Ho resembled a scarecrow more nearly than a knight. To make it worse, the other gallants laughed uproariously at his droll appearance, whereupon Sir Andrew drew his sword and rushed at the innocent Peter In and out among the heavy tavern chairs and settles Peter dodged, calling out : I won’t work for a fop. not if you run me through the body, master. I’m going -to work. I'm going to work. I’m tired of idleness.”

Then suddenly, without any apparent reason. Peter saw that Sir Andrew was getting dimmer, and smaller and ; smaller. At last he disappeared entirely. Peter, still panting from his | run, sat up. He found himself back lin the hammock, and his mother still J sitting beside him. busv with her sewing. Peter wondered if she had heard what he had shouted out to Sir AnI drew. 1 He did not care if she had. He I looked about him. smiling sheepishly J Then he said: “ Where’s the hoe? t think I’ll weed the strawberry bed.” OCTAVIA ROBERTS.