So Mrs. Hedges smilingly gave her consent, and Rosie became Fred's real, genuine, proper young lady. He was to save all he could during the winter, and she to stitch and sing. In the spring, he would come back and they were to get married.
«At Easter,» said he.
«No,» said Mrs. Hedges, counting on her fingers. «In May. Then tongues can't wag, caravan or no caravan.»
Fred had not the faintest idea what she was driving at, for he had lived so much alone that no one had told him certain things that every young man should know. However, he well realized that this was an unusually short engagement for Ufferleigh, and represented a great concession to the speed and dash of the entertainment industry, so he respectfully agreed, and set off on his travels.
My Darling Rosie,
Well here we are in Painswick having had a good night Saturday at Evesham. Mary cleverer than ever that goes without saying now spells four new words thirty-six in all and when I say now Mary how do you like Painswick or Evesham or wherever it is she picks FINE it goes down very well. She is in the best of health and I hope you are the same. Seems to understand every word I say more like a human being every day. Well I suppose I must be getting our bit of supper ready she always sets up her cry for that specially when I am writing to you.
With true love
Fred
XXX
In May the apple trees were an in bloom, so it was an apple-blossom wedding, which in those parts is held to be an assurance of flowery days. Afterwards they took the bus to the market town, to pick up the caravan, which stood in a stable yard. On the way Fred asked Rosie to wait a moment, and dived into a confectioner's shop. He came out with a huge box of chocolates. Rosie smiled all over her face with joy. «For me?» she said.
«Yes,» said he. «To give to her as soon as she claps eyes on you. They're her weakness. I want you two to be real pals.»
«All right,» said Rosie, who was the best-hearted girl in the world.
The next moment they turned into the yard: there was the caravan. «Oh, it's lovely!» cried Rosie.
«Now you'll see her,» said Fred.
At the sound of his voice a falsetto squeal rose from within.
«Here we are, old lady,» said Fred, opening the door. «Here's a friend of mine come to help look after you. Look, she's brought you something you'll fancy.»
Rosie saw a middle-sized pig, flesh-coloured, neat, and with a smart collar. It had a small and rather calculating eye. Rosie offered the chocolates; they were accepted without any very effusive acknowledgment
Fred put the old horse in, and soon they were off, jogging up the long hills to the west. Rosie sat beside Fred on the driving seat; Mary took her afternoon nap. Soon the sky began to redden where the road divided the woods on the far hill-top. Fred turned into a green lane, and they made their camp.
He lit the stove, and Rosie put on the potatoes. They took a lot of peeling, for it seemed that Mary ate with gusto. Rosie put a gigantic rice pudding into the oven, and soon had the rest of the meal prepared.
Fred set the table. He laid three places.
«I say,» said Rosie.
«What?» said Fred.
«Does she eat along with us?» said Rosie. «A pig?»
Fred turned quite pale. He beckoned her outside the caravan. «Don't say a thing like that,» said he. «She won't never take to you if you say a thing like that. Didn't you see her give you a look?»
«Yes, I did,» said Rosie. «All the same — Well, never mind, Fred. I don't care, really. I just thought I did.»
«You wait,» said Fred. «You're thinking of ordinary pigs. Mary's different»
Certainly Mary seemed a comparatively tidy eater. All the same, she gave Rosie one or two very odd glances from under her silky, straw-coloured lashes. She seemed to hock her rice pudding about a bit with the end of her nose.
«What's up, old girl?» said Fred. «Didn't she put enough sugar in the pudden? Never mind — can't get everything right first time.»
Mary, with a rather cross hiccup, settled herself on her bunk. «Let's go out,» said Rosie, «and have a look at the moon.»
«I suppose we might,» said Fred. «Shan't be long, Mary. Just going about as far as that gate down the lane.» Mary granted morosely and turned her face to the wall.
Rosie and Fred went out and leaned over the gate. The moon, at least, was all that it should be.
«Seems funny, being married and all,» said Rosie softly.
«Seems all right to me,» said Fred.
«Remember them crosses you drew in the dirt in the road that day?» said Rosie.
«That I do,» said Fred.
«And all them you put in the letters?» said Rosie.
«All of 'em,» said Fred. «I remember every one.»
«Kisses, that's what they're supposed to stand for,» said Rosie.
«So they say,» said Fred.
«You haven't given me one, not since we was married,» said Rosie. «Don't you like it?»
«That I do,» said Fred. «Only, I don't know —»
«What?» said Rosie.
«It makes me feel an queer,» said Fred, «when I kiss you. As if I wanted —»
«What?» said Rosie.
«I dunno,» said Fred. «I don't know if it's I want to eat you all up, or what»
«Try and find out, they say,» said Rosie.
A delicious moment followed. In the very middle of it a piercing squeal rose from the caravan. Fred jumped as if he were shot.
«Oh, dear!» he cried. «She's wondering what's up. Here I come, old girl! Here I come! It's her bedtime, you see. Here I come to tuck you in!»
Mary, with an air of some petulance, permitted this process. Rosie stood by. «I suppose we'd better make it lights out,» said Fred. «She likes a lot of sleep, you see, being a brain worker.»
«Where do we sleep?» said Rosie.
«I made the bunk all nice for you this morning,» said Fred. «Me, I'm going to doss below. A sack full of straw, I've got»
«But —» said Rosie. «But —»
«But what?» said he.
«Nothing,» said she. «Nothing.»
They turned in. Rosie lay for an hour or two, thinking what thoughts I don't know. Perhaps she thought how charming it was that Fred should have lived so simple and shy and secluded all these years, and yet be so knowing about so many things, and yet be so innocent, and never have been mixed up in bad company — It is impossible to say what she thought.
In the end she dozed off, only to be wakened by a sound like the bagpipes of the devil himself. She sat up, terrified. It was Mary,
«What's up? What's up?» Fred's voice came like the ghost's in Hamlet from under the floor. «Give her some milk,» he said.
Rosie poured out a bowl of milk. Mary ceased her fiendish racket while she drank, but the moment Rosie had blown out the light, and got into bed again, she began a hundred times worse than before.
There were rumblings under the caravan. Fred appeared in the doorway, half dressed and with a straw in his hair.
«She will have me,» he said, in great distress.
«Can't you — Can't you lie down here?» said Rosie.
«What? And you sleep below?» said Fred, astounded.