Read Online To You, Mr Chips by James Hilton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hilton
Tags: Fiction, General, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, England, Large Type Books, Europe, School & Education, Teachers, Boys, Endowed Public Schools (Great Britain)
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beside his bed when he woke up. He smiled at them, because they were Good, and he was Good, and Uncle Richard's house was a Good House. They began to ask him what had happened, and when he was awake enough he launched into the full story of how he had been walking along the road when suddenly . . .
'What road?'
'The road to Mrs. Jones's Farm.'
'Jones's Farm!' shouted Aunt Flo, repeating the words in a loud voice so that Uncle Richard, who was deafer than usual some mornings, could hear. 'But what on earth were you doing along that road?'
Gerald dared not mention the letter to the Candidate, because it was a Secret Document, and Secret Documents were not to be divulged even to one's best friends. So he said, in a casual way which he hoped would sound convincing: 'I wanted to see Mrs. Jones and Nibby.'
'Nibby?'
'The cat. A very big cat.' He remembered with disfavour how Mrs. Jones had called it 'a big pussy.'
'Mrs. Jones and her cat!' shouted Aunt Flo. 'He says he was going to see Mrs. Jones and her cat! The Mrs. Jones at Jones's Farm! Did you ever hear such a story!'
'Wuff-wuff,' said Uncle Richard.
'Go on,' said Aunt Flo, warningly. 'And let's have the whole truth, mind. We know you bought some ice-cream off Ulio's cart when he came round in the afternoon, because Mrs. Silberthwaite saw you.'
Gerald did not know who Mrs. Silberthwaite was, but he felt that it had been none of her business, anyhow. He went on, reproachfully: 'You see, a motor-car came down the hill.'
'A motor-car!' shouted Aunt Flo, in great excitement. 'Richard, listen to that! He says a motor-car met him along the road! It would be Beale's motor-car, for certain--there's only the one! Beale in his motor-car knocked him down!'
Now this was not what Gerald had said at all, but he thought it an interesting variant of what had really happened, and he was just picturing it in his mind when Uncle Richard let out one of his biggest and most emphatic 'wuffs.'
'God bless my soul, that young carpet-bagger knocked him down! Knocked the boy down with his new-fangled stinking contraption! Knocked the boy down--God bless my soul! We'll have the law on him, that we will--it'll cost him something--wuff-wuff--knocked the boy down in the public highway! Goodness gracious, the Candidate must know immediately! Wuff--immediately! When Browdley hears of all this, young Beale won't stand a chance! It'll turn the election--mark my words--'
And Uncle Richard began capering out of the room and down the stairs with more agility than Gerald had ever seen him employ before. Gerald was excited. His mind was racing to catch the flying threads of a hundred possibilities; meanwhile Aunt Flo was rushing about to 'tidy up' the room; for the Candidate was like the doctor in this, that it would never do to let him catch sight of a crooked picture or a hole in the counterpane.
After a few moments, footsteps climbed the stairs, slowly and creakingly; Uncle Richard was talking loudly; another voice, rather tired and hoarse, was answering.
And so, after those many wonderful days of waiting and dreaming, Gerald at last met the Candidate face to face; and because he knew he was the Candidate he saw what a kind and beautiful face it was, the face of a real knight. Overwhelmed with many thoughts, transfigured with worship, Gerald smiled, and the Candidate smiled back and touched the boy's forehead. Gerald thrilled to that touch as he had never thrilled to anything before, not even when he had first seen the Bassett-Lowke shop in London.
'Better now?' asked the Candidate.
Gerald slowly nodded. He could not speak for a moment, he was so happy; it was so marvellously what he had longed for, to have the Candidate talking to him kindly like that.
'Tell the gentleman what happened,' said Aunt Flo, on guard at the foot of the bed.
'Yes, do, please,' said the Candidate, still with that gentle, comforting smile.
'I will,' answered Gerald, gulping hard or he would have begun to cry. And
'What road?'
'The road to Mrs. Jones's Farm.'
'Jones's Farm!' shouted Aunt Flo, repeating the words in a loud voice so that Uncle Richard, who was deafer than usual some mornings, could hear. 'But what on earth were you doing along that road?'
Gerald dared not mention the letter to the Candidate, because it was a Secret Document, and Secret Documents were not to be divulged even to one's best friends. So he said, in a casual way which he hoped would sound convincing: 'I wanted to see Mrs. Jones and Nibby.'
'Nibby?'
'The cat. A very big cat.' He remembered with disfavour how Mrs. Jones had called it 'a big pussy.'
'Mrs. Jones and her cat!' shouted Aunt Flo. 'He says he was going to see Mrs. Jones and her cat! The Mrs. Jones at Jones's Farm! Did you ever hear such a story!'
'Wuff-wuff,' said Uncle Richard.
'Go on,' said Aunt Flo, warningly. 'And let's have the whole truth, mind. We know you bought some ice-cream off Ulio's cart when he came round in the afternoon, because Mrs. Silberthwaite saw you.'
Gerald did not know who Mrs. Silberthwaite was, but he felt that it had been none of her business, anyhow. He went on, reproachfully: 'You see, a motor-car came down the hill.'
'A motor-car!' shouted Aunt Flo, in great excitement. 'Richard, listen to that! He says a motor-car met him along the road! It would be Beale's motor-car, for certain--there's only the one! Beale in his motor-car knocked him down!'
Now this was not what Gerald had said at all, but he thought it an interesting variant of what had really happened, and he was just picturing it in his mind when Uncle Richard let out one of his biggest and most emphatic 'wuffs.'
'God bless my soul, that young carpet-bagger knocked him down! Knocked the boy down with his new-fangled stinking contraption! Knocked the boy down--God bless my soul! We'll have the law on him, that we will--it'll cost him something--wuff-wuff--knocked the boy down in the public highway! Goodness gracious, the Candidate must know immediately! Wuff--immediately! When Browdley hears of all this, young Beale won't stand a chance! It'll turn the election--mark my words--'
And Uncle Richard began capering out of the room and down the stairs with more agility than Gerald had ever seen him employ before. Gerald was excited. His mind was racing to catch the flying threads of a hundred possibilities; meanwhile Aunt Flo was rushing about to 'tidy up' the room; for the Candidate was like the doctor in this, that it would never do to let him catch sight of a crooked picture or a hole in the counterpane.
After a few moments, footsteps climbed the stairs, slowly and creakingly; Uncle Richard was talking loudly; another voice, rather tired and hoarse, was answering.
And so, after those many wonderful days of waiting and dreaming, Gerald at last met the Candidate face to face; and because he knew he was the Candidate he saw what a kind and beautiful face it was, the face of a real knight. Overwhelmed with many thoughts, transfigured with worship, Gerald smiled, and the Candidate smiled back and touched the boy's forehead. Gerald thrilled to that touch as he had never thrilled to anything before, not even when he had first seen the Bassett-Lowke shop in London.
'Better now?' asked the Candidate.
Gerald slowly nodded. He could not speak for a moment, he was so happy; it was so marvellously what he had longed for, to have the Candidate talking to him kindly like that.
'Tell the gentleman what happened,' said Aunt Flo, on guard at the foot of the bed.
'Yes, do, please,' said the Candidate, still with that gentle, comforting smile.
'I will,' answered Gerald, gulping hard or he would have begun to cry. And
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