though she knew that none of this crashing and bashing and zinging and tootling had anything immediate to do with her desire. The Queen – her Queen – was still far off. She was waiting.
It was shortly before four o’clock in the afternoon when the miserable rain which had been pelting down all the day stopped. Rents appeared in the heretofore solid, gloomy, grey canopy of cloud, and the sun showed itself intermittently. The skies lightened and so did the spirits of all. The momentary appearance of the sun, the instant of pallid warmth upon the cheek, was accepted almost as an omen. Surely this was a harbinger of better things and times to come? Yet the barrier remained firmly closed.
A new sound intruded; made itself felt as well as heard. It began like that distant compact roaring that one hears when one puts one’s ear to a sea-shell, but rising in pitch and intensity, swelling in volume and coming ever nearer. The Queen was approaching at last. It was the time her schedule called for her golden carriage to pass Hyde Park Corner. And the greater the crescendo of the nearing torrent of cheers the more quiet fell upon those still remaining behind the wooden barrier, as every ear strained to hear what could not be seen.
The great tidal wave of sound poured up Piccadilly, its crest leaped Wellington Place and echoed from the buildings of Hyde Park Corner and Knightsbridge. And against the background of this awesome flood another sound could now be distinguished, the steel-shod tread of heavy horses and the rumble of a great lumbering springless coach.
At that point Gwenny began to scream, ‘Daddy, Daddy, she’s coming! I can’t see! I can’t see anything!’
Flesh, blood and a human soul could bear no more. Will Clagg shouldered his way to the foot of the barrier and the young constable standing there. ‘God’s truth, man, ain’t you got no ’eart? This baby’s travelled nearly two hundred miles sitting up all night to see the Queen. Stand aside before I knock you there!’
Roaring cataracts of sound overwhelmed the clatter of the approaching golden coach, engulfing them all. Pierced by the anguished crying of the child, confused and worried, the constable braced himself for trouble. Now under duress and threat of violence it was impossible for him to give in and let them through. The wave of cheering that was shaking the earth unnerved and rattled him further; he stood erect, throwing his arms across the door, barring it.
Will Clagg made a fist like a knotted club and drew it back, when he felt his elbow caught and a voice at his ear said, ‘ ’Ere now, mate, take it easy. Knocking P.C.s about will get you nothing. We’ll fix up the kiddy. Give us a leg up on to your shoulder.’
Clagg hardly saw the fellow. He was someone in a fawn mackintosh with a cloth cap pulled down over his face to keep out the rain. There was a pair of eyes and a bit of scrubbly moustache, and then he found that he had cupped his hands and the man had put a foot in and with the ease of a gymnast had swung himself up on to his shoulders, whence he leaned down and called, ‘Now then, boost up the girly! Give us your hand there, luv. That’s it! Up she goes. Just like a front seat at the Palladium!’
They were three high now, like acrobats in a circus, except that Gwenny was able to steady herself by gripping his head while the stranger held her legs firmly on his shoulders. Gwenny was now two heads higher than the wall and able to look over it at the bewildering kaleidoscope of colour and movement on the other side.
From beneath, applause and a cheer went up with cries of ‘Well done! Good work! That’s more like it! What about that, constable?’
The policeman merely stood there looking sheepish; he could recall nothing in the regulations about this and, besides, he didn’t wish to; he was relieved to be clear of the situation for the moment.
Over the vast sea of heads now frothed with waving handkerchiefs, flags and
It was shortly before four o’clock in the afternoon when the miserable rain which had been pelting down all the day stopped. Rents appeared in the heretofore solid, gloomy, grey canopy of cloud, and the sun showed itself intermittently. The skies lightened and so did the spirits of all. The momentary appearance of the sun, the instant of pallid warmth upon the cheek, was accepted almost as an omen. Surely this was a harbinger of better things and times to come? Yet the barrier remained firmly closed.
A new sound intruded; made itself felt as well as heard. It began like that distant compact roaring that one hears when one puts one’s ear to a sea-shell, but rising in pitch and intensity, swelling in volume and coming ever nearer. The Queen was approaching at last. It was the time her schedule called for her golden carriage to pass Hyde Park Corner. And the greater the crescendo of the nearing torrent of cheers the more quiet fell upon those still remaining behind the wooden barrier, as every ear strained to hear what could not be seen.
The great tidal wave of sound poured up Piccadilly, its crest leaped Wellington Place and echoed from the buildings of Hyde Park Corner and Knightsbridge. And against the background of this awesome flood another sound could now be distinguished, the steel-shod tread of heavy horses and the rumble of a great lumbering springless coach.
At that point Gwenny began to scream, ‘Daddy, Daddy, she’s coming! I can’t see! I can’t see anything!’
Flesh, blood and a human soul could bear no more. Will Clagg shouldered his way to the foot of the barrier and the young constable standing there. ‘God’s truth, man, ain’t you got no ’eart? This baby’s travelled nearly two hundred miles sitting up all night to see the Queen. Stand aside before I knock you there!’
Roaring cataracts of sound overwhelmed the clatter of the approaching golden coach, engulfing them all. Pierced by the anguished crying of the child, confused and worried, the constable braced himself for trouble. Now under duress and threat of violence it was impossible for him to give in and let them through. The wave of cheering that was shaking the earth unnerved and rattled him further; he stood erect, throwing his arms across the door, barring it.
Will Clagg made a fist like a knotted club and drew it back, when he felt his elbow caught and a voice at his ear said, ‘ ’Ere now, mate, take it easy. Knocking P.C.s about will get you nothing. We’ll fix up the kiddy. Give us a leg up on to your shoulder.’
Clagg hardly saw the fellow. He was someone in a fawn mackintosh with a cloth cap pulled down over his face to keep out the rain. There was a pair of eyes and a bit of scrubbly moustache, and then he found that he had cupped his hands and the man had put a foot in and with the ease of a gymnast had swung himself up on to his shoulders, whence he leaned down and called, ‘Now then, boost up the girly! Give us your hand there, luv. That’s it! Up she goes. Just like a front seat at the Palladium!’
They were three high now, like acrobats in a circus, except that Gwenny was able to steady herself by gripping his head while the stranger held her legs firmly on his shoulders. Gwenny was now two heads higher than the wall and able to look over it at the bewildering kaleidoscope of colour and movement on the other side.
From beneath, applause and a cheer went up with cries of ‘Well done! Good work! That’s more like it! What about that, constable?’
The policeman merely stood there looking sheepish; he could recall nothing in the regulations about this and, besides, he didn’t wish to; he was relieved to be clear of the situation for the moment.
Over the vast sea of heads now frothed with waving handkerchiefs, flags and
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