Mrs.Avory's train to London was an early one, and the Slowcoaches had left Stratford behind them before ten, and were by eleven at Binton Bridges, where the river again joins the road, and where they stopped to discuss the question whether to go straight on through Bidford and the Salfords, or to take the road to the south of the Avon through Welsford and the Littletons.
Robert was very firm for the Bidford way, and, of course, he won; and, as it happened, it was very well that he did.
It was a fine, bracing day, and they were all very vigorous after the two days of rest in Stratford, and they therefore trudged gaily along in the sun, not stopping again until just before Bidford, on the hill where Shakespeare's crab-tree used to grow, under which he had slept so long after one of his drinking contests.For it seems to have been his habit to go now and then with other Stratford friends to neighbouring villages to see whether they or the villagers could drink the most--a custom that even Hester found it hard to defend.Indeed, she got no farther than to say: "Iam sure he was naturally troubled by thirst."The tree has gone, but another stands in its place, and by this the children sat and ate a little lunch, and talked about the poet.Robert repeated to them the old rhyme about the Warwickshire villages which Shakespeare is said to have composed--possibly in this very field:
"Piping Pebworth, dancing Marston, Haunted Hillborough, hungry Grafton, Dodging Exhall, Papist Wixford, Beggarly Broom and drunken Bidford."Bidford is not drunken now; it is only sleepy: a long steep street, with, at the top, the church and a beautiful old house, now cottages, once the Falcon Inn, where Shakespeare used to drink, and where the chair came from that they had seen at the birthplace yesterday; and at the foot the Swan Inn and the old bridge.
Bidford is built very like a wateringplace--that is to say, it is all on one side of the river.The water to-day looked very tempting, especially as a great number of boats were lying on it waiting to be hired; but Robert sternly ordered his party onwards.
Has it ever occurred to you that in the life of every policeman there is one day when he wears his majestic uniform in public for the first time ?
It must, of course, be so.No matter how many times he may have put it on at home privately, to get used to it, the day must at last come when he has to walk forth into the streets, and in the eyes of those who have known him ever since he was a boy, or even a baby, changed from a man like themselves to an important and rather dreadful guardian of the peace.If he is a simple fellow, the great day may leave him very much as he was; but if he is at all given to conceit, it may make him worse.
Now it happened that this Tuesday on which the Slowcoaches were on their way from Stratford to Evesham was the very day on which Benjamin Roper was beginning his duties as a member of the Warwickshire constabulary.His beat in the morning lay between Bidford and Salford Priors, and he was standing beside the road, on the top of the little hill called Marriage Hill--just before you cross the River Arrow and come to Salford Priors station--at the very moment that Moses, after painfully dragging the Slowcoach up the same eminence, had reached the summit.
At the door of the caravan were to be seen Mary, Hester, and Gregory, whose turn it was to ride; and P.C.Roper stared in astonishment at faces so unlike the swarthy, tanned children he was expecting.
He stared so long indeed--everything being a little strange to him that day--that Jack, who, with Horace, was walking just behind, politely but with every intention of being severe, inquired: "Do you think you'll know us next time?"P.C.Roper said nothing, but frowned at Jack with an expression so full of dignity, reprimand, and suspicion that Jack could not help laughing.
"Oh, I say," he said, "don't be cross.Mayn't we go about in a caravan if we want to? No one else has objected.""No," Horace added, "the King said nothing as we came through London, and the Mayor of Stratford asked us to tea."Kink laughed at this--much too loudly--and the young policeman realized that he had been foolish.Instead, however, of laughing, too, he became more important and angry, and suddenly he thought of a means of retaliation.
Pulling out a notebook and pencil, he said: "I want to see your license for this caravan." He said this not because he really wanted to see it, but because it suggested itself as a good demand and one which would make the children realize that he was a man of authority not to be trifled with.But when he saw the blank which fell on their faces, and even on Kink's too, he knew that he had stumbled by chance on an excellent weapon, and he resolved to make the most of it.
"Come," he said, "the license.I'm waiting to see it."Janet and Robert, who had by this time come up, were told of the difficulty.
"License?" said Robert."What license?"
"All carriages must have licenses," said the policeman, "and all caravans have to produce theirs when called for, because they're always moving about."The children gathered round Kink to discuss it.Kink said that it was all Greek to him.He supposed, of course, that caravans had to have licenses, but he'd never heard of demands for them in the highroad."But do be civil to him, Master Robert," he implored."You never get any good out of cheeking the police.""Well," said Robert to the constable, "this caravan was given to us.The license for it was got, I feel sure, by the person who gave it to us.""Who was that person?" P.C.Roper asked, with his pencil ready to write down the name.
Here was a poser.Who indeed? The children had discussed X.often enough, but were no nearer to discovering him.
"I don't know," Robert was forced to say.
