Читать книгу Son of a Hundred Kings - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 9

As the train began to slow down Ludar heard the conductor in the aisle saying to someone, “Yes, ma’am, this is the boy.”

The train official had returned with a whalebone frigate of a woman in tow and, teetering along behind, a small man with white whiskers as fluffy as tumbleweed. The trio stared down at him, and the lady, who had a deep voice, said, “It’s an extraordinary thing for people to send such a small child out into the world with no one to take care of him.”

“Don’t worry about that, ma’am,” said the conductor. “He’s been well looked after, this boy has. We’ve done everything we could to make him comfortable.”

“You haven’t provided him with berths,” declared the lady. “I understand he has had to sleep in his clothes. Becoming, no doubt, thoroughly—er—unsanitary in the process.”

“Well——” The official seemed at a loss. “I suppose there’s never been any berths available. You couldn’t expect people who had booked in advance and paid their money down to step aside and sleep in the day coaches, now could you? If I had asked you last night to give up your reservations, ma’am——”

The little man burst into a high-pitched laugh. “He has you there, my dear.”

His wife turned on him angrily. “You will please not drag me into this.” Then she transferred her attention back to the conductor and went into a lengthy tirade on the sins of railroads. The little man pawed his whiskers into place and winked at Ludar, as though saying, “You and me, sonny, we should be seen and not heard.”

Ludar was prepared for her questions when they came. All these curious adults who had stopped by his seat in such a continuous succession had wanted to know the same things.

“How old are you, little boy?”

“I’m going on seven, ma’am.”

“And what is your name?”

“My name is Ludar Prentice, ma’am,” he answered.

The conductor nodded down at him and smiled encouragingly. “Stand up, Ludar,” he said, “and let the lady see the sign on your back.”

He had been compelled to do this so often that obedience had become automatic. For perhaps the hundredth time he rose to his feet and turned around.

A square of oilcloth had been sewed to the back of his coat. On it, in crude red letters, had been printed:

THIS IS LUDAR PRENTICE.

He has no money. He is

going to his father

Vivien Prentice at Balfour,

Ontario, Canada.

BE KIND TO HIM.

“He stepped off the boat at Halifax just as you see him,” explained the conductor. “His railroad tickets had been turned over by the purser, so that part of it was all clear. The passengers on the boat had chipped in to make a fund to buy him meals. He had no changes of clothing except one shirt and one pair of stockings. No overcoat or mittens. They say he nearly froze coming off the boat. Just the same, ma’am, he’s been brought through and he’s been looked after like he was the Prince of Wales his-self.”

Other people had been gathering in the aisles and making the same remarks he had heard so often, such as “Well, if this doesn’t beat the Dutch!”, “What were his people thinking of?”, and “He’s a sickly-looking boy.”

The conductor, feeling the responsibility which rested on him, began to make explanations. “The officers of the ship said he was no trouble, except he had as bad a dose of seasickness as they ever remembered. He’s been a little ill ever since, in fact. How are you feeling now, Ludar?”

“Not very well, sir,” answered the boy.

“I know what’s wrong with him,” declared the lady. “He needs his breakfast. A good, hot, solid breakfast.”

“He isn’t much of an eater, ma’am,” said the conductor.

The lady snorted. “He’s a boy, isn’t he? Put the right food in front of him and his appetite will come back.” She took her husband by the arm. “Edwin, why don’t you do something? Surely you must see what our duty is. We must not think of ourselves. We must look after this unfortunate little boy.”

The husband pulled at his ineffectual whiskers and nodded. “Yes, I agree with you, my dear.”

“Then,” declared the lady, “we’ll take him right over to the Walker House, or even the Queen’s, and put him down in front of a good meal. There will be just time enough for it before the morning train leaves for Balfour.”

Having thus made up her mind as to what her duty was, the lady could not be dissuaded. As soon as the train pulled into the station she saw to it that Ludar collected his belongings, including his small collection of gifts. “Come along, little boy,” she commanded. “I’m going to do my full duty today. I’m going to treat you as though you were my own grandson.”

Ludar looked about him helplessly, trying to find a friend to whom he could appeal. The conductor had disappeared and the faces left about him were strange and, he realized, not really friendly.

Her manner became brusque when he held back. “Give me your hand,” she demanded. “What’s the matter? Do you think I’m going to harm it?” The thought had entered Ludar’s mind that she had some such idea in insisting that he turn it over to her, that perhaps she would have it cut off and pickled and put in a bottle in a museum for other little boys to look at. “Boy, where are your manners? And where’s your tongue? Has the cat got it? I’m going to take you to have a good breakfast and I want you to seem more willing and even a little grateful.”

Ludar did not dare say anything but a meek “Yes, ma’am.”