CHAPTER I.
BERT IS INTRODUCED.
If Cuthbert Lloyd had been born in the time of our great grandfathers,instead of a little later than the first half of the present century,the gossips would assuredly have declared that the good fairies had hadit all their own way at his birth.
To begin with, he was a particularly fine handsome baby; for did not allthe friends of the family say so? In the second place, he was an onlyson, which meant that he had no big brothers to bully him. Next, hisbirthplace was the stirring seaport of Halifax, where a sturdy,energetic boy, such as Cuthbert certainly gave good promise of being,need never lack for fun or adventure. Finally, he had plenty ofrelations in the country to whom he might go in the summer time to learnthe secrets and delights of country life.
Now, when to all these advantages are added two fond but sensibleparents in comfortable circumstances, an elder sister who loved littleCuthbert with the whole strength of her warm unselfish heart, and apleasant home in the best part of the city, they surely make us as finea list of blessings as the most benevolent fairy godmother couldreasonably have been expected to bestow.
And yet there was nothing about Master Cuthbert's early conduct toindicate that he properly appreciated his good fortune. He was not halfas well-behaved a baby, for instance, as red-headed little Patsey Shea,who, a few days after his first appearance, brought another hungry mouthto the already over-populated cottage of the milkwoman down inHardhand's lane. As he grew older, it needed more whippings than the sumtotal of his own chubby fingers and toes to instil into him a properunderstanding of parental authority. Sometimes his mother, who was aslight small woman, stronger of mind than of body, would feel downrightdiscouraged about her vigorous, wilful boy, and wonder,half-despairingly, if she were really equal to the task of bringing himup in the way he should go.
Cuthbert was in many respects an odd mixture. His mother often said thathe seemed more like two boys of opposite natures rolled into one, thanjust one ordinary boy. When quite a little chap, he would at one time beas full of noise, action, and enterprise as the captain of an oceansteamer in a gale, and at another time be as sedate, thoughtful, andabsentminded as the ancient philosopher who made himself famous bywalking into a well in broad daylight.
Cuthbert, in fact, at the age of three, attracted attention to himselfin a somewhat similar way. His mother had taken him with her in makingsome calls, and at Mrs. Allen's, in one of his thoughtful moods, withhis hands clasped behind him, he went wandering off unobserved.Presently he startled the whole household by tumbling from the top tothe bottom of the kitchen stairs, having calmly walked over the edge inan absorbed study of his surroundings.
The other side of his nature was brilliantly illustrated a year later.Being invited to spend the day with a playmate of his own age, he builta big fire with newspapers in the bath room, turned on all the taps,pretending that they were the hydrants, and then ran through the hall,banging a dustpan and shouting "fire" at the top of his voice.
"He is such a perfect 'pickle,' I hardly know what to do with him,Robert," said Mrs. Lloyd to her husband, with a big sigh, one evening atdinner.
"Don't worry, my dear, don't worry. He has more than the usual amount ofanimal spirits, that is all. Keep a firm hand on him and he'll come outall right," answered Mr. Lloyd, cheeringly.
"It's easy enough to say, 'Keep a firm hand on him,' Robert, but my handgets pretty tired sometimes, I can assure you. I just wish you'd stay athome for a week and look after Bert, while I go to the office in yourplace. You'd get a better idea of what your son is like than you can byseeing him for a little while in the morning and evening."
"Thank you, Kate, I've no doubt you might manage to do my work at theoffice, and that my clients would think your advice very good; but I'mno less sure that I would be a dismal failure in doing your work athome," responded Mr. Lloyd, with a smile, adding, more seriously:"Anyway, I have too much faith in your ability to make the best of Bertto think of spoiling your good work by clumsy interference."
"It's a great comfort to have you put so much faith in me," said Mrs.Lloyd, with a grateful look, "for it's more than Bert does sometimes.Why, he told me only this morning that he thought I wasn't half as goodto him as Frankie Clayton's mother is to him, just because I wouldn'tlet him have the garden hose to play fireman with."
"Just wait until he's fifteen, my dear," returned Mr. Lloyd, "and if hedoesn't think then that he has one of the best mothers in the world,why--I'll never again venture to prophesy, that's all. And here comes mylittle man to answer for himself," as the door opened suddenly and Bertburst in, making straight for his father. "Ha! ha! my boy, so yourmother says you're a perfect pickle. Well, if you're only pickled in away that will save you from spoiling, I shall be satisfied, and I thinkyour mother may be, too."
Mrs. Lloyd laughed heartily at the unexpected turn thus given to hercomplaint; and Bert, seeing both his parents in such good humour, addeda beaming face on his own account, although, of course, without havingthe slightest idea as to the cause of their merriment.
Climbing up on his father's knee, Bert pressed a plump cheek lovinglyagainst the lawyer's brown whiskers and looked, what indeed he was, thepicture of happy content.
"What sort of a man are you going to make, Bert?" asked Mr. Lloyd,quizzingly, the previous conversation being still in his mind.
"I'm going to be a fireman," replied Bert, promptly; "and Frankie'sgoing to be one too."
"And why do you want to be a fireman, Bert?"
"Oh, because they wear such grand clothes and can make such a noisewithout anybody telling them to shut up," answered Bert, whose knowledgeof firemen was based upon a torchlight procession of them he had seenone night, and their management of a fire that had not long before takenplace in the near neighbourhood, and of which he was a breathlessspectator.
Mr. Lloyd could not resist laughing at his son's naive reply, but therewas no ridicule in his laugh, as Bert saw clearly enough, and he wasencouraged to add:
"Oh, father, please let me be a fireman, won't you?"
"We'll see about it, Bert. If we can't find anything better for you todo than being a fireman, why we'll try to make a good fireman of you,that's all. But never mind about that now; tell me what was the best funyou had to-day." Thus invited, Bert proceeded to tell after his ownfashion the doings of the day, with his father and mother an attentiveaudience.
It was their policy to always manifest a deep interest in everythingBert had to tell, and in this way they made him understand betterperhaps than they could otherwise have done how thoroughly theysympathised with him in both the joys and sorrows of his little life.They were determined that the most complete confidence should beestablished between them and their only boy at the start, and Bert neverappeared to such advantage as when, with eyes flashing and graphicgestures, he would tell about something wonderful in his eyes that hadhappened to him that afternoon.
By the time Bert had exhausted his budget and been rewarded with a lumpof white sugar, the nurse appeared with the summons to bed, and aftersome slight demur he went off in good humour, his father saying, as thedoor closed upon him:
"There's not a better youngster of his age in Halifax, Kate, even if hehasn't at present any higher ambition than to be a fireman."
Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia Page 2