Sara (Pain)

BARRY PAIN.

HE defendant was Miss Sara Frederica Constantia Hallowes, hereinafter called Sara for short, aged seven, resident at present at 114, Marine Parade, Salton-on-Sea.

The judge was Mrs. Amy Hallowes, aged thirty-two, of the same address, mother of the above.

Jane Shotover, nurse, aged twenty-four, gave evidence as follows—

"It 'appened like thissum. I was setting under the breakwaterum, and I give Misserrer her spide, and I said, 'Now, if you was to build a nice, pretty castle out of sand, then I'd come and look at it, and that would be a s'prise.' She'd give some trouble over me not letting of 'er ride 'er donkey into the sea, and what I wanted was to keep 'er mind off."

Sara: I want the red ink.

The Judge: Hush. Go on, nurse.

"Wellum, she took 'er spide and started off, wanderin' about among the people, which was not what she'd been told. She'd got 'er shoes and stockin's off, and 'er skirts tucked into them mackintosh drors; so I didn't see 'ow she could come to no 'arm. But I kept my hi on 'er, and every now and again I'd sing out to 'er to get on with that castle. There was a old gennelman settin' on the beach, readin' of a piper. Looked to me like something in the insurance line."

The Judge: What made you think that, nurse?

"Wellum, 'e'd got a pile grey felt 'at and was sixty if 'e was a dye, but that may have been just my idea. Any'ow, Misserrer started walkin' round an' round 'im, like a teetotum, and people on the beach larfin' at 'er as might have known better, and I could see he was gettin' annoyed."

The Judge: You ought to have stopped her, nurse.

"So I diddum. At least, so I was goin' to do. But just as I got up with 'er"

Sara: Can I have the red ink now, mummie?" The Judge: Hush! I want to hear what you've been doing. Well, nurse?" "As I was saying, just as I got up with 'er, she worked round to the back of the insurance gennelman, upped with 'er spide, and brought it down with all 'er force on 'is 'at. Of course I erpolergised, but I could see he was put out about it, though that was no reason for using the word he did."

Sara: I want to do a pickshur of a insurance wiv his head bleeding. So, can I have the red

The Judge: Hush! and don't interrupt again.

"Wellum. Them as was larfin' before larfed worse than ever, and I'm shaw the wye some of them lyedies offer 'er chocklits and let 'er plye with their dogs, which mye be sife or mye not, is nothin' short of a—well, you 'ardly know what to sye to 'em. So I just took and brought 'er strite 'ome."

{{c|{{x-smaller|[Illustration: "'Can't do do poppies wivout red ink,' said Sara."]}}

Sara: And now can I have the red ink?"

The Judge: Leave her to me, nurse. I'll send her up to you directly.

"Very gooddum."

The judge, left alone with Sara, pointed out that she was not to go chattering to strangers, who did not really want her; and much less was she to walk round and round them; and much, much less was she to beat the pale grey hat of a gentleman with her spade. She had been a naughty child, and was to go up to the nursery for the rest of the morning.

Sara: And can I take the red ink up too?

That reminded the judge. She did not want Sara to think or talk about terrible or ugly things. A nice-minded little girl would not even wish to make a picture of a poor gentleman with a nasty wound in his head. She would rather think about beautiful things. There were plenty of beautiful things all around us. (The Young Mother's Handbook. By Charles Baldley Rushington, B.A.)

"What's beautiful?" asked Sara.

The judge sternly repressed an absolutely senseless impulse to say that Sara herself was the most perfectly beautiful thing on earth. She pointed out of the window and asked what could be more beautiful than that field of corn with the poppies dotted all about it?

"Can't do poppies wivout red ink," said Sara.

{{***|5|3em|char={{smaller|•}}}}

After Sara had gone to bed that evening, her nurse obtained permission to go out for a breath of fresh air. She met the breath of fresh air on the beach by appointment, and its name was George. He was an honest man, but looked as if his clothes were too much for him.

Jane began to narrate her sorrows to George, and was a little annoyed to find in him no sympathetic depression.

"Ah!" said George, "kids will be kids. Nice little thing she always looks, too."

"And that's what always 'appens," said Jane with bitter conviction. "She goes a-dancin' about that beach like some wild Injun, and then lyedies says, 'Isn't she sweetly quaint?' and words like them. I've no patience with it. Well, as I was syin', 'er mother give 'er a talkin' to over what she'd done to the insurance gennelman's 'at, and then she come up to the nursery lookin' as meek as Moses, and both 'er little 'ands under 'er pinafore. 'You come 'ere, Misserrer, and 'ave yer 'air done,' I says, and caught 'old of 'er. I wasn't rough, because that ain't my way, and no gel that was rough could keep my plice for ten minutes. But there—all of a sudden there was that pore child's life-blood gushin' out of 'er and streamin' across the floor. Lor', it did give me a turn. I come over quite faint, went as white as a sheet, and might 'ave fallen if it 'adn't bin for the sewing-machine. And there she stood in a reg'lar pool of it, larfin' like anythink."

George seemed mildly puzzled. "Look 'ere," he said, "what are you tellin' us?"

"Well, to make a long story short, it wasn't 'er life-blood. She'd bin botherin' 'er mother to let 'er 'ave the red ink, and 'er mother didn't say 'Yes' and didn't say 'No.' So afore she come up to the nursery, that child slipped into the library and 'id the red ink under 'er pinafore so as I shouldn't tike it awye. And so, as a matter of {{nowrap|course{{bar|2}}"}}

Jane broke off her narration, in dignified disgust at George's behaviour. "Oh, well, George, if it amuses you, perhaps the less I say the better. What you don't seem to see is if that 'adn't bin red ink, I should have been a murderer."

{{PD/US|1928}}