CHAPTER II
Cherry endeavours to remember if she were pretty.—A Water-party.
AND now my Memory flies on to the Time when, I suppose, I was as happy a Girl as any on the Bridge. I know not whether I were pretty or not,—I rather suppose I was, but my Father praised me too much, and my dear Mother never praised me at all, so that I have no Clue to what was really thought of me. There’s an old Saying, “Even a little Beetle is a Beauty in the Eyes of its Mother,”—I am bold to think that if I had been a little Black-beetle, I should still have been a Beauty in the Eyes of my Father. My Mother used to tell him “all his Geese were Swans,” which was as much as to say that hers were not: be that as it may, if she praised me less, I always felt she loved me as much as he did; and I loved her to the full as much as I loved him.
I remember coming down Stairs one Sunday Morning, dressed for Church,—(we had no Liturgy, nor Church of England Clergymen then, such was the Will of Parliament,)—dressed in a primrose Petticoat and grass-green Mantua neatly bundled up behind; black Mits without a Crease in them for Tightness, white Pinners starched and crimped, and a small steeple-crowned Hat,—when Mark, meeting me at the Stair-foot, stepped out of my Way with a sliding Bow, said, “Bless me, how pretty we are!” and looked attentively after me. I felt ashamed and yet elated; and thought somewhat more of myself and of him after that; yet I am not quite sure, now, that his Speech was not ironical, after all.
Of my Friend and Schoolfellow, Violet Armytage, there could not be two Opinions. She was excessively pretty, and knew it too well: which was partly the Fault of her Father, who was always calling her his “sweet Wi-let;” and yet, even if he had not, I think she would have found it out, for all that. My Father called me his rosy Cherry, but I knew it for his Manner of Speaking. But Violet always believed Everything that was said in her Praise. She was fond of me by Fits and Starts; and when the affectionate Fit was on, she would bring her Work and sit with me in the Arbour at the Top of our House, by the Hour together. Sometimes my Father and Mother would join us there in the long Summer Evenings, and we would sup in the open Air; no one objecting to it but Dolly, who had to carry the Things up so many Pair of Stairs.
At other Times, when my Father and Mother were otherwise engaged, Mark would come up to us; and sit upon the Roller or Watering-pot, and say ever so many funny Things to us both; which we thought very pleasant. Sometimes Violet would let her Ball of Thread roll through the Rails and drop down into the Street, and send him to fetch it; and when he had brought it she would do the same Thing again; which he said was too bad, but I don’t think he minded it. I never played him such Tricks myself; for, what was singular, though we lived in the same House together, I was shyer of him than she was.
Our first Floor was let to a very learned and excellent Man, though a very singular one, the Reverend Nathanael Blower, who had been Curate of St. Magnus till the Form of Religion changed. Then he was hard put to it, where to lay his Head without fleeing the Country or getting into Trouble; for the Independents were mighty intolerant; and he whom we used to think it a great Honour to get a passing Word and a Smile from, was now thankful to take up his Rest among us. Holy Writ tells us that some have entertained Angels unawares: if we entertained an Angel, it was not unawares, though he was a very eccentric and untidy one. He said he would have called my Mother the good Shunammite if it had not been a Shame to provoke Comparison between himself and the Prophet Elijah. Indeed his was somewhat like the “Chamber on the Wall,” for the Back-room in which he slept was a Lean-to that stuck against the main Wall like a Swallow’s Nest, and hung perilously over the foaming River, trembling at every half-ebb Tide; but Use inures us to Everything, and he said he slept as well in his Nest as a Sailor in his Hammock. As to his Sitting-chamber, it was soon a perfect Pig-sty (if Pigs ever had Books) of Papers, Parchments, Books, Pamphlets, old Shoes, Hats and Coats, Medicines, Cordials, Snuff-boxes, Pipes, Walking-sticks, and Everything that is untidy. After a Time he began to think whether he might not, by a conscientious Conformity, be a Working-bee rather than a Drone in the Hive; and, having some Acquaintance with Master John Howe, the Whitehall Preacher, who was known to be forward in assisting the Royalists and Episcopalians in Distress, if they were but Men of Merit, he went and took his Advice on the Subject before he presented himself before the Triers, that is to say, those who tried the ejected Ministers whether they might be allowed to officiate again in Public or not. Along with him went Doctor Fuller, so well known by his wise and witty Books; who was generally upon the merry Pin, for as pious a Man as he was. He, presenting himself before Master Howe, said,