Dido and Pa Read Online Free Page A

never a soul to give the poor wretch a sip through a straw, or to change her bandages—"
    "
Bandages?
"
    "Or to pick up her—
hic
—crutches if she drops 'em. 'Only fetch me Dido, fetch Dido,' she whispers, 'if it's the last thing you do, fetch me Dido!' and I responded, 'My angel, I will fetch your dear sister if it means dragging her between serried ranks of saber-toothed tigers.' Which is hardly more than the case, I'm that bothered and beset by ill-wishers and enemies—"
    "But where
is
Penny, Pa?" demanded Dido, for Mr. Twite had by now reached a closed carriage, quite a grand one, with a coat of arms on its door, which waited, with horses ready harnessed, in the shade of the hedge.
    "Why, not too far from here, my dove; if we travel at the best speed our horses can command, I daresay you may just arrive before she breathes her pitiful last..." And Mr. Twite opened the carriage door. In the light of a silvery rocket which just then ascended, Dido saw that the coat of arms depicted an iron fist, holding a hammer, on a gold background.
    Dido stood still, tugging back against her father's insistent arm, and said,
    "Here, wait a mo, Pa, I ain't said yet that I'm a-coming with you—for one thing, my pal Simon's back there at the pub, and he'll be wondering where the blazes I've spooked off to—"
    "Simon? Simon?" said Mr. Twite vaguely. "Ah, yes, your young painter acquaintance; a fine, upstanding lad.... A sight
too
upstanding by half, as I recall," Mr. Twite muttered to himself under his drooping ginger mustaches. "Never trouble about your friend Simon, my larkspur; time presses too much for such considerations. I will instruct Ned here to give Simon your kindest regards and explain that you were called away on an errand of life and death—you'll see to that, Ned—
hic
—will you not?" he continued, addressing a villainous-looking lad who stood at the horses' heads. "Make very sure that you find the correct person: a handsome stripling named Simon, who used to lodge with me in my house at Rose Alley in Southwark. Be sure to give him the message, as well as my own very kindest regards."
    "Aye, aye, I'll be sartin sure, guvnor," replied the lad, emphasizing his intentions with an evil grin, screwing up his unpleasing face and laying one finger alongside his nose.
    "Do so. That's my good boy."
    "But Pa—I don't
wish
to leave Simon—I haven't even said good-bye—I only just
met
him again—" protested Dido, struggling in vain against her father's grip.
    "No matter for that, my dilly; idle politeness must always give way when Necessity calls." And Mr. Twite picked up his daughter bodily and thrust her into the carriage. "You will have
ample
time to see Simon hereafter, have no fear—perhaps"—and he sprang into the vehicle after her, slamming the door. "Give 'em their heads, then, Morel," he called to the driver through the trap, and the coach started off with such a jolt that Dido was thrown to the floor.
    "Saints save us, Pa, you sure are in a rush," she gasped,
picking herself up from among the rushes with which the floor was strewn, and thankful for the thickness of her new jacket, which had protected her bones from bruising.
    "Never mind it, my sugar-knob; the sight of your sister's joy will repay any such slight vexation," replied Mr. Twite, pulling out a pipe and a pouch of Vosper's Nautical Cut tobacco.
    Dido said nothing. She was beginning to be more than a little aggrieved at this summary treatment. Pa's got no right to hale me off thisaway, she thought. Still, I'll make sure he don't keep me under his thumb once I've seen Penny. Soon as I see how she really is—probly not so bad as Pa makes out—I can cut and run. But what riles me most is that poor Simon will be so put about; he'll be wondering where in herring's name I've got to. And he'll think it downright rude and capsy of me to light off like this without a by-your-leave.
    That shravey-looking boy won't give him no message, I'll lay.
    In this