London's Heart: A Novel. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
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The coffin lay upon the earth by its side, and the women of the party were sitting on convenient tombstones. Of the men, only Alfred remained; Gribble junior and the old man were absent.
Gribble junior's baby was sleeping peacefully beneath the umbrella tent, the gay outside of which had caused the two old men to go for two other old men, and the girls in dirty pinafores to go for other girls in dirty pinafores. These new-comers were as interested in the unusual sight as their friends, and expressed their admiration by staring persistently in the dullest possible manner.
Pollypod, wandering about, was in a state of delight and wonderment. Truly the old churchyard was a world of wonders to the child. To her young mind there was nothing suggestive of corruption in it. The "Here lies" and "Here lieths" brought no melancholy thoughts to her, although she was curious about them. But, when she asked, wanting to know, her mother bade her "Hush!" as she had done in the coach, and Pollypod was fain to hold her peace. It was not difficult for her to let the matter rest for a time, as there were plenty of other things to occupy her mind. Now and then a butterfly flew by, and she watched it with delighted eyes till it was out of sight. She found ladybirds on leaves, and wished that she had a little bottle to take them home for father. But she could take him some buttercups and daisies, and she was plucking the prettiest and the most golden when her eyes lighted on Felix.
Pollypod was not by any means a bashful child. She had her likes and dislikes, as all children have, but she had more of the former than of the latter. And she was fond of society. She had tried to make friends with the dirty girls who stood staring at the umbrella and the coffin, and the strange folk, but had not been successful. All her advances had been received with stupid stares, and not a word could the little maid extract from the juvenile bumpkins. Then she had tried the old men; but when she plucked their trousers, they moved away without a word. She had therefore given up the attempt as hopeless. Now, all at once, here was a handsome young man, handsomely dressed, and he immediately became an object of interest to Pollypod. Felix, seeing the child gaze at him, smiled at her, and Pollypod smiled in return; and to show that she was prepared to give good interest for amiability, came and stood by his side, and looked into his face with frank interest and curiosity. The healthy exercise had brought bright sparkles into Pollypod's eyes, and a bright colour to her cheeks. Felix was fond of children, and invariably found favour in their eyes. At parties where grown-up people and children were, the youngsters always claimed him as one of themselves, and played and romped with him without restraint. Children have an instinct for the discovery of amiable matures in their elders, which is very seldom wrong.
"Well, little girl," said Felix, by way of commencement. The sight of the child's artless face did him good, and tended to dispel the vapours which clouded his mind.
Pollypod nodded a reply, and arranged the buttercups and daisies in her hand, without looking at them. Her attention was fixed upon his smart clothes and bright face, and the flowers in his coat. These latter had an especial attraction for her. She thought how pleased father would be if she could take them home to him in the middle of a bunch of buttercups and daisies. But suddenly, as she looked, her face became clouded, and she retreated a step or two.
"What's the matter, little one?" he asked, seating himself upon a tombstone. "You are not frightened of me, are you?"
"I don't know," replied Pollypod; and then, with her finger to her lips, and her head inclined forward, she said solemnly, "Are you the naughty man?"
"What naughty man?" he inquired, amused at the child's attitude and manner.
"The naughty man who won't bury Lily's mother."
The cloud on the child's face was reflected on his as he replied, "No, I am not."
Pollypod came close to him immediately.
"I am glad of that; I'm very, very glad of that!"
"Why, little one?"
"Because I like you."
The artlessness of the child pleased and soothed him. It was nature speaking.
"If the naughty man was here," continued Pollypod, clenching her little fist, and stamping her little foot, "I'd beat him for making Lily cry."
"Is that Lily?" pointing to the girl.
"Yes, that's Lily, and that's Lily's brother Alfred, and that's Mrs. Gribble, and that's my mother, and that's the baby. And that's Lily's mother in the coffin. Who are you?"
"My name is Felix."
Pollypod pondered upon the name, and presently nodded her head two or three times, to express approval, In proof that she was disposed to treat him fairly in the matter of information, she said,
"My name's Pollypod."
"Polly – "
"Pod. Father's name is Jim Podmore, and I'm his little Pollypod."
Thereupon-confidential and affectionate relations being completely established-she sat down on the tombstone beside him. She put him at once upon on equality with her by asking, in the most serious manner,
"Do you like butter?"
And gravely held a buttercup beneath his chin, he laughingly submitting to the test. The golden reflection of the flower being seen on his chin, she declared that he did like butter, and the triumphant tone in which she announced the discovery evidently enhanced his value in her eyes. Then she asked, Did she? and held up her face for the test, which Felix applied with becoming seriousness. The answer being satisfactory, they became more confidentially familiar.
"This is a churchyard," said the little maid.
"Yes."
"Where people are buried."
"Yes."
"Lily's mother is going to be buried here."
"Yes."
"I want to know if Lily's mother is shut up in a box, how can she be up there?"
Felix, seeing that he was in danger of being entangled in a theological disputation with an opponent who thirsted for facts, answered simply,
"God lives there, and when we die we go to Him."
"Mother has told me so often and often, but I want to understand."
"Inquisitive little maid!" exclaimed Felix. "Is not that a beautiful place?" pointing upwards.
"It is pretty-and bright; that cloud looks like blue-and-white feathers. Mother says we'll go to heaven if we're good. And that's heaven. I'm going to be very good. But I want to know! How can we be here and there at the same time?"
Felix felt that it was a hard question to answer, and he despaired of making it clear to so young an understanding.
"See now," he said, with an attempt at simplicity; "you are a little girl. By-and-by you will become a woman; then you will grow older and older, and your hair will turn white, and you will be an old woman. When we are old, we die."
"Must we die-all of us?"
"All of us, little one. But God gives us a soul which is always young; it never grows old, and when our bodies are worn out, our souls go back to God and heaven."
"I give my soul to God to keep," murmured Pollypod, repeating a line which she said in her prayers every night. She did not understand, but she had faith in Felix. She murmured the words so softly that Felix did not hear them.
"So that our body is here, and our soul is there, little maid. Earth takes care of one, and heaven takes care of the other."
"I suppose it is right," said Pollypod, with her hands clasped in her lap, where the flowers had fallen loose. She looked into his face as she spoke.
"Yes, little one, it is right."
"And Lily's mother is there, although I can't see her."
She gazed earnestly, at the clouds for a few moments before she spoke again. "I want to know!" she then said. "Everybody who dies is not old."
"Some die young. God wants them."
"I hope God won't want me till I'm old, for I want to grow up to be a woman – "
"And