Giant’s Bread · Book I · III · Chapter 1 3 4

IV

Under the reign of Susan Isabel, the nursery was quite different. You could be, and quite frequently were, naughty. Susan told you not to do things and you did them just the same! Susan would say: “I’ll tell your mother.” But she never did.

Susan had at first enjoyed the position and authority she had in Nurse’s absence. Indeed, but for Vernon, she would have continued to enjoy it. She used to exchange confidences with Katie, the under-housemaid.

“Don’t know what’s come over him, I’m sure. He’s like a little demon sometimes. And him so good and well behaved with Mrs. Pascal.”

To which Kate replied:

“Ah! she’s a one, she is! Takes you up sharp, doesn’t she?”

And then they would whisper and giggle.

“Who’s Mrs. Pascal?” Vernon asked one day.

“Well, I never, Master Vernon! Don’t you know your own Nurse’s name?”

So Nurse was Mrs. Pascal. Another shock. She had always been just Nurse. It was rather as though you had been told that God’s name was Mr. Robinson.

Mrs. Pascal! Nurse! The more you thought of it, the more extraordinary it seemed. Mrs. Pascal⁠—just like Mummy was Mrs. Deyre and Father was Mr. Deyre. Strangely enough Vernon never cogitated on the possibility of a Mr. Pascal. (Not that there was any such person. The Mrs. was a tacit recognition of Nurse’s position and authority.) Nurse stood alone in the same magnificence as Mr. Green, who, in spite of the hundred children (and Poodle, Squirrel and Tree), was never thought of by Vernon as having a Mrs. Green attached to him!

Vernon’s inquiring mind wandered in another direction.

“Susan, do you like being called Susan? Wouldn’t you like being called Isabel better?”

Susan (or Isabel) gave her customary giggle.

“It doesn’t matter what I like, Master Vernon.”

“Why not?”

“People have got to do what they’re told in this world.”

Vernon was silent. He had thought the same until a few days ago. But he was beginning to perceive that it was not true. You needn’t do as you were told. It all depended on who told you.

It was not a question of punishment. He was continually being sat on chairs, stood in the corner, and deprived of sweets by Susan. Nurse, on the other hand, had only had to look at him severely through her spectacles with a certain expression on her face, and anything but immediate capitulation was out of the question.

Susan had no authority in her nature, and Vernon knew it. He had discovered the thrill of successful disobedience. Also, he liked tormenting Susan. The more worried and flustered and unhappy Susan got, the more Vernon liked it. He was, as was proper to his years, still in the Stone Age. He savoured the full pleasure of cruelty.

Susan formed the habit of letting Vernon go out to play in the garden alone. Being an unattractive girl, she had not Winnie’s reasons for liking the garden. And besides, what harm could possibly come to him?

“You won’t go near the ponds, will you, Master Vernon?”

“No,” said Vernon, instantly forming the intention to do so.

“You’ll play with your hoop like a good boy?”

“Yes.”

The nursery was left in peace. Susan heaved a sigh of relief. She took from a drawer a paper-covered book entitled The Duke and the Dairymaid.

Beating his hoop, Vernon made the tour of the walled fruit garden. Escaping from his control, the hoop leapt upon a small patch of earth which was at the moment receiving the meticulous attentions of Hopkins, the head gardener. Hopkins firmly and authoritatively ordered Vernon from the spot, and Vernon went. He respected Hopkins.

Abandoning the hoop, Vernon climbed a tree or two. That is to say, he reached a height of perhaps six feet from the ground, employing all due precautions. Tiring of this perilous sport, he sat astride a branch and cogitated as to what to do next.

On the whole, he thought of the ponds. Susan having forbidden them, they had a distinct fascination. Yes, he would go to the ponds. He rose, and as he did so, another idea came into his head, suggested by an unusual sight.

The door into the Forest was open!