I'm going to tell you about a funny thing that
happened to my mother and me yesterday evening. I am twelve years old and I'm a
girl. My mother is thirty-four but I am nearly as tall as her already.
Yesterday afternoon, my mother took me up to London to see the
dentist. He found one hole. It was in a back tooth and he filled it without
hurting me too much. After that, we went to a cafe. I had a banana split and my mother had a cup of coffee.
By the time we got up to leave it was about six o'clock. When we came out of
the cafe it had started to rain.
"We must get a taxi," my mother said. We
were wearing ordinary hats and coats, and it was raining quite hard.
"Why don't we go back into the cafe and wait for it to stop?" I said.
I wanted another of those banana splits. They were gorgeous.
"It isn't going to stop," my mother said.
"We must get home." We stood on the pavement in the rain, looking for
a taxi. Lots of them came by but they all had passengers inside them.
"I wish we had a car with a chauffeur," my
mother said.
Just then a man came up to us. He was a small man and
he was pretty old,probably seventy or more. He raised his hat politely and said
to my mother, "Excuse me, I do hope you will excuse me... " He had a
fine white moustache and bushy white eyebrows and a wrinkly pink face. He was
sheltering under an umbrella which he held high over his head.
"Yes?" my mother said, very cool and distant.
"I wonder if I could ask a small favour of
you," he said. "It is only a very small favour."
I saw my mother looking at him suspiciously. She is a
suspicious person, my mother. She is especially suspicious of two things -
strange men and boiled eggs. When she cuts the top off a boiled egg, she
pokes around inside it with her spoon as though expecting to find a mouse or
something. With strange men, she has a golden rule which says, 'The nicer the
man seems to be, the more suspicious you must become.' This little old man was
particularly nice. He was polite. He was well-spoken. He was well-dressed. He
was a real gentleman. The reason I knew he was a gentleman was because of his
shoes. 'You can always spot a gentleman by the shoes he wears,' was another of
my mother's favourite sayings. This man had beautiful brown shoes.
"The truth of the matter is," the little man
was saying, "I've got myself into a bit of a situation. I need some help.
Not much I assure you. It's almost nothing, in fact, but I do need it. You see,
madam, old people like me often become terribly forgetful... My mother's chin
was up and she was staring down at him along the full length of her nose. It
was a fearsome thing, this frosty-nosed stare of my mother's. Most people go to
pieces completely when she gives it to them. I once saw my own headmistress
begin to stammer and simper like an idiot when my mother gave her a really foul
frosty-noser. But the little man on the pavement with the umbrella over his
head didn't bat an eyelid. He gave a gentle smile and said, "I beg you to
believe, madam, that I am not in the habit of stopping ladies in the street and
telling them my troubles."
"I should hope not," my mother said.
I felt quite embarrassed by my mother's sharpness. I
wanted to say to her, 'Oh, mummy, for heaven's sake, he's a very very old man,
and he's sweet and polite, and he's in some sort of trouble, so don't be so
beastly to him.' But I didn't say anything.
The little man shifted his umbrella from one hand to
the other. "I've never forgotten it before," he said.
"You've never forgotten what?" my mother
asked sternly.
"My wallet," he said. "I must have left
it in my other jacket. Isn't that the silliest thing to do?"
"Are you asking me to give you money?" my
mother said.
"Oh, good gracious me, no!" he cried.
"Heaven forbid I should ever do that!"
"Then what are you asking?" my mother said.
"Do hurry up. We're getting soaked to the skin here."
"I know you are," he said. "And that is
why I'm offering you this umbrella of mine to protect you, and to keep forever,
if... if only...
"If only what?" my mother said.
"If only you would give me in return a pound for
my taxi-fare just to get me home."
My mother was still suspicious. "If you had no
money in the first place," she said, "then how did you get here?"
"I
walked," he answered. "Every day I go for a lovely long walk and then
I summon a taxi to take me home. I do it every day of the year."
"Why
don't you walk home now?" my mother asked.
"Oh,
I wish I could," he said. "I do wish I could. But I don't think I
could manage it on these silly old legs of mine. I've gone too far already."
My
mother stood there chewing her lower lip. She was beginning to melt a bit, I
could see that. And the idea of getting an umbrella to shelter under must have
tempted her a good deal.
"It's
a lovely umbrella," the little man said.
"So
I've noticed," my mother said.
"It's
silk," he said.
"I
can see that."
"Then
why don't you take it, madam," he said. "It cost me over twenty
pounds, I promise you. But that's of no importance so long as I can get home
and rest these old legs of mine."
I saw
my mother's hand feeling for the clasp of her purse. She saw me watching her. I
was giving her one of my own frosty-nosed looks this time and she knew exactly
what I was telling her. Now listen, mummy, I was telling her, you simply
mustn't take advantage of a tired old man in this way. It's a rotten thing to
do. My mother paused and looked back at me. Then she said to the little man,
"I don't think it's quite right that I should take an umbrella from you
worth twenty pounds. I think I'd better just give you the taxi-fare and be done
with it."
"No, no
no!" he cried. "It's
out of the question! I wouldn't dream of it! Not in a million years! I would
never accept money from you like that! Take the umbrella, dear lady, and keep
the rain off your shoulders!"
My
mother gave me a triumphant sideways look. There you are, she was telling me.
You're wrong. He wants me to have it. She fished into her purse and took out a
pound note. She held it out to the little man. He took it and handed her the
umbrella. He pocketed the pound, raised his hat, gave a quick bow from the
waist, and said, "Thank you, madam, thank you." Then he was gone.
[Alternative version] "My mom and i saw
him took a taxi. Later, we were still waiting and looking a taxi to go homo,
but a little time later. We decided walk to home. We walked alng the street and
talked about the man. When we saw something familiar in the street. It was the
same little old man. He was talking with a young couple. My mon asked for being
closer of the situation. Inmediately, we knew what it was happening there. We
closed to the place and we listened something similar that he told us, but
without umbrella.
He was asking for money, because he was hunkgry and he
had forgot his wallet.
Finally, we saw that the young couple gave him money
and he disappeared. My mon looked at me in a stern way and we went to home at
least".
[Continue of the original version] "Come
under here and keep dry, darling," my mother said. "Aren't we lucky.
I've never had a silk umbrella before. I couldn't afford it."
"Why
were you so horrid to him in the beginning?" I asked.
"I
wanted to satisfy myself he wasn't a trickster," she said. "And I
did. He was a gentleman. I'm very pleased I was able to help him."
"Yes,
mummy," I said.
"A
real gentleman," she went on. "Wealthy, too, otherwise he wouldn't
have had a silk umbrella. I shouldn't be surprised if he isn't a titled person.
Sir Harry Goldsworthy or something like that."
"Yes,
mummy."
"This
will be a good lesson to you," she went on. "Never rush things.
Always take your time when you are summing someone up. Then you'll never make
mistakes."
"There
he goes," I said. "Look."
"Where?"
"Over
there. He's crossing the street. Goodness, mummy, what a hurry he's in."
We watched the little man as he dodged nimbly in and out of the traffic. When
he reached the other side of the street, he turned left, walking very fast.
"He
doesn't look very tired to me, does he to you, mummy?" My mother didn't
answer."He doesn't look as though he's trying to get a taxi, either,"
I said.
My
mother was standing very still and stiff, staring across the street at the
little man. We could see him clearly. He was in a terrific hurry. He was
bustling along the pavement, sidestepping the other pedestrians and swinging
his arms like a soldier on the march.
"He's
up to something," my mother said, stony-faced.
"But
what?"
"I
don't know," my mother snapped. "But I'm going to find out. Come with
me." She took my arm and we crossed the street together. Then we turned
left. "Can you see him?" my mother asked.
"Yes.
There he is. He's turning right down the next street." We came to the
corner and turned right. The little man was about twenty yards ahead of us. He
was scuttling along like a rabbit and we had to walk very fast to keep up with
him. The rain was pelting down harder than ever now and I could see it dripping
from the brim of his hat on to his shoulders. But we were snug and dry under
our lovely big silk umbrella.
"What
is he up to?" my mother said.
"What
if he turns round and sees us?" I asked.
"I
don't care if he does," my mother said. "He lied to us. He said he
was too tired to walk any further and he's practically running us off our feet!
He's a barefaced liar! He's a crook!"
"You
mean he's not a titled gentleman?" I asked.
"Be
quiet," she said.
At
the next crossing, the little man turned right again. Then he turned left. Then
right.
"I'm
not giving up now," my mother said.
"He's
disappeared!" I cried. "Where's he gone?" "He
went in that door!" my mother said. "I saw him! Into that house!
Great heavens, it's a pub!" It was a pub. In big letters right across the
front it said THE RED LION.
[Continue of the Alternative Version] "We decided to go and faced
him. My mon was very upset. I swear that she really wanted to hit him. Then we
went and crossed the door.
I think that the place is very nice, but we were there looking a man. I
saw to the right and ...there was my dad.
I knew if my mom would see see him. He would be in a very dangerous
riss, so i tried to convice my mom to go out and forget the situation. However
my mom didn't want and she saw him. He was with a pretty young girl grinking
and laughing. My mom saw that and she fainted"
[Continue
of the original version] "You're not going in are you, mummy?"
"No,"
she said. "We'll watch from outside." There was a big plate-glass
window along the front of the pub, and although it was a bit steamy on the
inside, we could see through it very well if we went close. We stood huddled
together outside the pub window. I was clutching my mother's arm. The big
raindrops were making a loud noise on our umbrella.
"There
he is," I said. "Over there." The room we were looking into was
full of people and cigarette smoke, and our little man was in the middle of it
all. He was now without his hat and coat, and he was edging his way through the
crowd towards the bar. When he reached it, he placed both hands on the bar
itself and spoke to the barman. I saw his lips moving as he gave his order. The
barman turned away from him for a few seconds and came back with a smallish
tumbler filled to the brim with light brown liquid. The little man placed a
pound note on the counter.
"That's
my pound!" my mother hissed. "By golly, he's got a nerve!"
"What's
in the glass?" I asked.
"Whisky,"
my mother said. "Neat whisky." The barman didn't give him any change
from the pound.
"That
must be a treble whisky," my mummy said.
"What's
a treble?" I asked.
"Three
times the normal measure," she answered. The little man picked up the
glass and put it to his lips. He tilted it gently. Then he tilted it higher...
and higher... and higher... and very soon all the whisky had disappeared down
his throat in one long pour. "That's a jolly expensive drink," I
said. "It's ridiculous!" my mummy said. "Fancy paying a pound
for something to swallow in one go!"
"It
cost him more than a pound," I said. "It cost him a twenty-pound silk
umbrella." "So
it did," my mother said. "He must be mad."
[Continue of the Alternative Version] " Soon he was drunk and
started to dance in the center of the hall. He danced
like a Salsa Teacher.
Everybody were laughing of him. Until the barman asked to the guards to
take out of the pub.
He was very drunk. He couldn't stand by himself and i helped him. At
that moment, he saw us and he was very surprised. My mom looked at him in a bad
and stern way. He started to scream and fell on his knees. He said that he was
alone in the world and nobody cared of him.
My mom felt sorrow of him and forgot everything. Finally, we
went home."
[Continue
of the Original Version] "The little man was standing by the bar with the
empty glass in his hand. He was smiling now, and a sort of golden glow of
pleasure was spreading over his round pink face. I saw his tongue come out to
lick the white moustache, as though searching for one last drop of that
precious whisky. Slowly, he turned away from the bar and edged his way back
through the crowd to where his hat and coat were hanging. He put on his hat. He
put on his coat. Then, in a manner so superbly cool and casual that you hardly
noticed anything at all, he lifted from the coat-rack one of the many wet
umbrellas hanging there, and off he went.
"Did
you see that!" my mother shrieked. "Did you see what he did!"
"Ssshh!"
I whispered. "He's coming out!"
We
lowered our umbrella to hide our faces, and peered out from under it. Out he
came. But he never looked in our direction. He opened his new umbrella over his
head and scurried off down the road the way he had come.
"So
that's his little game!" my mother said.
"Neat,"
I said. "Super." We followed him back to the main street where we had
first met him, and we watched him as he proceeded, with no trouble at all, to
exchange his new umbrella for another pound note. This time it was with a tall
thin fellow who didn't even have a coat or hat. And as soon as the transaction
was completed, our little man trotted off down the street and was lost in the
crowd. But this time he went in the opposite direction.
"You
see how clever he is!" my mother said. "He never goes to the same pub
twice!"
"He
could go on doing this all night," I said.
"Yes,"
my mother said. "Of course. But I'll bet he prays like mad for rainy
days."
