THE SECOND BAG
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h, well-a-day, for we are souls bereaved!Of all the creatures under Heaven's wide scopeWe are most hopeless, who had once most hope,And most beliefless, who had most believed. --_The City of Dreadful Night._ All this time not a word about Black Sheep. He came later, and Harry,the black-haired boy, was mainly responsible for his coming.Judy--who could help loving little Judy?--passed, by special permit,into the kitchen and thence straight to Aunty Rosa's heart. Harry wasAunty Rosa's one child, and Punch was the extra boy about the house.There was no special place for him or his little affairs, and he wasforbidden to sprawl on sofas and explain his ideas about themanufacture of this world and his hopes for his future. Sprawling waslazy and wore out sofas, and little boys were not expected to talk.They were talked to, and the talking to was intended for the benefitof their morals. As the unquestioned despot of the house at Bombay,Punch could not quite understand how he came to be of no account inthis new life. Harry might reach across the table and take what he wanted; Judy mightpoint and get what she wanted. Punch was forbidden to do either. Thegray man was his great hope and stand-by for many months after Mammaand Papa left, and he had forgotten to tell Judy to "bemember Mamma." This lapse was excusable, because in the interval he had beenintroduced by Aunty Rosa to two very impressive things--an abstractioncalled God, the intimate friend and ally of Aunty Rosa, generallybelieved to live behind the kitchen-range because it was hotthere--and a dirty brown book filled with unintelligible dots andmarks. Punch was always anxious to oblige everybody. He, therefore,welded the story of the Creation on to what he could recollect of hisIndian fairy tales, and scandalized Aunty Rosa by repeating the resultto Judy. It was a sin, a grievous sin, and Punch was talked to for aquarter of an hour. He could not understand where the iniquity camein, but was careful not to repeat the offence, because Aunty Rosa toldhim that God had heard every word he had said and was very angry. Ifthis were true why did n't God come and say so, thought Punch, anddismissed the matter from his mind. Afterward he learned to know theLord as the only thing in the world more awful than Aunty Rosa--as aCreature that stood in the background and counted the strokes of thecane. But the reading was, just then, a much more serious matter than anycreed. Aunty Rosa sat him upon a table and told him that A B meant ab. "Why?" said Punch. "A is a and B is bee. Why does A B mean ab?" "Because I tell you it does," said Aunty Rosa "and you've got to sayit." Punch said it accordingly, and for a month, hugely against his will,stumbled through the brown book, not in the least comprehending whatit meant. But Uncle Harry, who walked much and generally alone, waswont to come into the nursery and suggest to Aunty Rosa that Punchshould walk with him. He seldom spoke, but he showed Punch allRocklington, from the mud-banks and the sand of the back-bay to thegreat harbours where ships lay at anchor, and the dockyards where thehammers were never still, and the marine-store shops, and the shinybrass counters in the Offices where Uncle Harry went once every threemonths with a slip of blue paper and received sovereigns in exchange;for he held a wound-pension. Punch heard, too, from his lips the storyof the battle of Navarino, where the sailors of the Fleet, for threedays afterward, were deaf as posts and could only sign to each other."That was because of the noise of the guns," said Uncle Harry, "and Ihave got the wadding of a bullet somewhere inside me now." Punch regarded him with curiosity. He had not the least idea whatwadding was, and his notion of a bullet was a dockyard cannon-ballbigger than his own head. How could Uncle Harry keep a cannon-ballinside him? He was ashamed to ask, for fear Uncle Harry might beangry. Punch had never known what anger--real anger--meant until one terribleday when Harry had taken his paint-box to paint a boat with, and Punchhad protested with a loud and lamentable voice. Then Uncle Harry hadappeared on the scene and, muttering something about "strangers'children," had with a stick smitten the black-haired boy across theshoulders till he wept and yelled, and Aunty Rosa came in and abusedUncle Harry for cruelty to his own flesh and blood, and Punchshuddered to the tips of his shoes. "It was n't my fault," heexplained to the boy, but both Harry and Aunty Rosa said that it was,and that Punch had told tales, and for a week there were no more walkswith Uncle Harry.
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