The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes were very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, and he touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little as though he would rather not.
We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Tree pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows—the ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox.
To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in his thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire masks.
Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at each other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti (that’s real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among the village people—but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked it.
And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from Rome, which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their mouths and eyes.
So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in attacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in your equipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny defended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that was how Dicky and Oswald picked up.
The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only through the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the defending party weren’t looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and shoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that it had lost its gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged party, was of course soon overpowered, and had to surrender.
Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert’s uncle brought us a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery we tried to sell the Antiquities with.
The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on the big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the heat.
We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty blot on the fair scene.
When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have said, and remarked—
‘Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but if you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way to the nearest pub. It’s a dry day and no error.’
‘The “Rose and Crown” is the best pub,’ said Dicky, ‘and the landlady is a friend of ours. It’s about a mile if you go by the field path.’
‘Lor’ love a duck!’ said the tramp, ‘a mile’s a long way, and walking’s a dry job this ‘ere weather.’ We said we agreed with him.
‘Upon my sacred,’ said the tramp, ‘if there was a pump handy I believe I’d take a turn at it—I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn’t! Though water always upsets me and makes my ‘and shaky.’
We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainous sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wall with us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her long deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend. Besides the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it. And we considerably outnumbered the tramp, anyway.
Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and the tramp’s need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to the hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges and get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without when the others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty. Meanwhile Alice said—
‘We’ve got some ginger-beer; my brother’s getting it. I hope you won’t mind drinking out of our glass. We can’t wash it, you know—unless we rinse it out with a little ginger-beer.’
‘Don’t ye do it, miss,’ he said eagerly; ‘never waste good liquor on washing.’
The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beer and handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on his young stomach to do this.
The tramp was really quite polite—one of Nature’s gentlemen, and a man as well, we found out afterwards. He said—
‘Here’s to you!’ before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rim rested on his nose.
‘Swelp me, but I WAS dry,’ he said. ‘Don’t seem to matter much what it is, this weather, do it?—so long as it’s suthink wet. Well, here’s thanking you.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ said Dora; ‘I’m glad you liked it.’
‘Like it?’—said he. ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like to have a thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free baths and wash-houses and such! Why don’t someone start free DRINKS? He’d be a ‘ero, he would. I’d vote for him any day of the week and one over. Ef yer don’t objec I’ll set down a bit and put on a pipe.’
He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questions about himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows—especially about there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he dropped asleep in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for that hadn’t acted fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I don’t know if vestry is singular or plural), and we went home. But before we went we held a hurried council and collected what money we could from the little we had with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an old envelope Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowing middle of the poor tramp’s sleeping waistcoat, so that he would find it when he woke. None of the dogs said a single syllable while we were doing this, so we knew they believed him to be poor but honest, and we always find it safe to take their word for things like that.
As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwards that those words of the poor tramp’s about free drinks had sunk deep in all our hearts, and rankled there.
After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. People tell you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just after meals, but it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the stream that just seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can’t get their feet into the water properly because of the bushes, so we keep changing places. We had got some liquorice root to chew. This helps thought. Dora broke a peaceful silence with this speech—
‘Free drinks.’
The words awoke a response in every breast.
‘I wonder someone doesn’t,’ H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadly peril.
‘Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.,’ observed Alice. ‘It would be a glorious act! I wish WE could.’
‘What, sit still?’ asked H. O.
‘No, my child,’ replied Oswald, ‘most of us can do that when we try. Your angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poor and thirsty.’
‘Not for all of them,’ Alice said, ‘just a few. Change places now, Dicky. My feet aren’t properly wet at all.’
It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changers have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight and hold on for all they’re worth. But the hard task was accomplished and then Alice went on—
‘And we couldn’t do it for always, only a day or two—just while our money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade’s the best, and you get a jolly lot of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerely thirsty persons go along the Dover Road every day.’
‘It wouldn’t be bad. We’ve got a little chink between us,’ said Oswald.
‘And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell us about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. We could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like All the Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do let’s!’
Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to make her calm.
‘We might do it, just for one day,’ Oswald said, ‘but it wouldn’t be much—only a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of all the people in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaid said when she cried into the sea.’
‘I know a piece of poetry about that,’ Denny said.
‘Small things are best.
Care and unrest
To wealth and rank are given,
But little things
On little wings—
do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswald was saying about the mermaid.’
‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Noel, coming out of a dream.
‘Call what?’
‘The Free Drinks game.’
‘It’s a horrid shame
If the Free Drinks game
Doesn’t have a name.
You would be to blame
If anyone came
And—’
‘Oh, shut up!’ remarked Dicky. ‘You’ve been making that rot up all the time we’ve been talking instead of listening properly.’ Dicky hates poetry. I don’t mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay’s and Kipling’s and Noel’s.
‘There was a lot more—“lame” and “dame” and “name” and “game” and things—and now I’ve forgotten it,’ Noel said in gloom.
‘Never mind,’ Alice answered, ‘it’ll come back to you in the silent watches of the night; you see if it doesn’t. But really, Noel’s right, it OUGHT to have a name.’
‘Free Drinks Company.’ ‘Thirsty Travellers’ Rest.’ ‘The Travellers’ Joy.’
These names were suggested, but not cared for extra.
Then someone said—I think it was Oswald—‘Why not “The House Beautiful”?’
‘It can’t be a house, it must be in the road. It’ll only be a stall.’
‘The “Stall Beautiful” is simply silly,’ Oswald said.
‘The “Bar Beautiful” then,’ said Dicky, who knows what the ‘Rose and Crown’ bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls.
‘Oh, wait a minute,’ cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like he always does when he is trying to remember things. ‘I thought of something, only Daisy tickled me and it’s gone—I know—let’s call it the Benevolent Bar!’
It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. ‘Benevolent’ showed it was free and ‘Bar’ showed what was free; e.g. things to drink. The ‘Benevolent Bar’ it was.
We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meant to do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know what—and delays are dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to spend our money on something else.
The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hates tramps. Most people do who keep fowls. Albert’s uncle was in London till the next evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is always chock full of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy.
Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of the skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girls sewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so we added the girls’ striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turn up so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful, especially when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew’s sewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, which we did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before. They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the noise and ask bothering questions.
They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not easy. While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got willow poles and chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we could to put up the awning.
When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the village for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then we made a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothing else to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy’s to show we belonged to the Benevolent Bar.
The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from ou............