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diff --git a/21232.txt b/21232.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a5f552 --- /dev/null +++ b/21232.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3958 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hawthorns, by Amy Walton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hawthorns + A Story about Children + +Author: Amy Walton + +Illustrator: Unknown + +Release Date: April 27, 2007 [EBook #21232] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAWTHORNS *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +The Hawthorns; a Story about Children + +by Amy Walton +__________________________________________________________ + +This is a nice little book, which would certainly appeal to +its intended audience of eleven- or twelve-year-old little +girls. Its background is distinctly late Victorian, but +nevertheless a modern child would find nothing it could not +relate to other than the more pleasant general atmosphere +of those days. + +Amy Walton has written a sequel to this book, "Penelope and +the Others," also published on the Athelstane website. +NH +__________________________________________________________ + +THE HAWTHORNS; A STORY ABOUT CHILDREN + +BY AMY WALTON + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +EASNEY VICARAGE. + +Quite close to the nursery window at Easney Vicarage there grew a very +old pear-tree. It was so old that the ivy had had time to hug its trunk +with strong rough arms, and even to stretch them out nearly to the top, +and hang dark green wreaths on every bough. Some day, the children had +been told, this would choke the life out of the tree and kill it; that +would be a pity, but there seemed no danger of it yet, for every spring +the pear-tree still showed its head crowned with white blossoms, and +every summer the pears grew yellow and juicy, and fell with a soft +"splosh!" on the gravel path beneath. It was interesting to watch that, +and it happened so often, that it was hard to imagine a windsor pear +without a great gash where the sharp stones had cut into it; it was also +natural to expect when you picked it up that there would be a cunning +yellow wasp hidden somewhere about it, for all the little Hawthorns had +always found it so except the baby, and she was too small to have any +experience. Five little Hawthorns, without counting the baby, had +looked out of the nursery window and watched the pear-tree blossom, and +the sparrows build their nests, and the pears fall; but by the time this +story begins, four of them, whose names were Penelope, Ambrose, Nancy, +and David, were schoolroom children, and learnt lessons of Miss Grey +down-stairs. They had no longer much time for looking out of the +window, and the nursery was left in the possession of Dickie and Cicely +the baby. Dickie, whose real name was Delicia, was three years old--a +great girl now she thought--but she was still fond of kneeling up in the +window seat and flattening her little nose against the glass. She could +not see very much. Through the branches of the pear-tree a little to +the left appeared the church tower, and a glimpse here and there of grey +and white tombstones in the churchyard. Straight in front of her there +was a broad lawn sloping down to a sunk fence, and beyond that a meadow +with tall elms in it, and after that another meadow where cows were +feeding, and that was all. In the spring the meadows turned to gold and +silver with the buttercups and daisies, and the rooks cawed noisily in +the elms; but in the summer it was all very green and very quiet. +Particularly at lesson time, when the "others" were busy with Miss Grey, +and Dickie must not make a noise because baby was asleep. Then there +was only Andrew to be seen in the distance, bending over his barrow or +rake or spade; but he never looked up to the nursery window, and this +was not surprising, for Andrew had a great deal to do. He worked in the +garden, and fed the chickens, and took care of Ruby the horse, and +sometimes drove the wagonette into Nearminster; he also rang the church +bell, and was parish clerk. Perhaps it was because he had so much on +his mind that he was of a melancholy disposition, and seldom disposed +for conversation with the children. + +They thought it a pity sometimes that neither the nursery nor the +schoolroom window looked out to the front of the house, for it was only +a little way back from the street; not that there was much going on in +the village, but still you could hear the "clink, clink" from the +blacksmith's forge opposite, and see anyone passing the white gate which +led out into the road. The vicarage was an old house; many and many a +vicar had lived in it, and altered or added to it according to his +liking, so that it was full of twists and turns, inside and out, and had +wonderful nooks and corners, and strange cupboards under the stairs. +Pennie, who was eleven years old, and a great hand at "making up," +thought a good deal about those old bygone vicars, and founded some of +her choicest romances upon them. There was one particular vicar, a +tablet to whose memory was placed in the chancel just opposite the +Hawthorns' seat in church. + +"Godfrey Ablewhite, sometime vicar of this parish," etcetera. + +It seemed to Pennie, as she sat staring up at this during her father's +sermons, that she saw plainly what sort of man this Godfrey Ablewhite +had been. He was broad and strong, and rode a tall white horse, and had +doubtless built those large stables at the vicarage, because he was fond +of hunting. From this she would go on to adorn his character with many +daring feats of horsemanship, and by the time the sermon was over there +was another story ready to be eagerly listened to by the other +children--and, indeed, believed also, for they had an infinite trust in +Pennie. This was partly because she was the eldest, and partly because +she "made up" so well, and had such good ideas about games and plans. +No one could make a better plan than Pennie if she put her mind to it, +and this was a valuable faculty, for toys were not plentiful at Easney +Vicarage, and the children had to find their own amusements. These, +fortunately, did not depend upon anything to be bought in shops, for +there was only one in the village, and that was the post-office too. +There you could get bacon, and peppermint drops, and coarse grey +stockings; but for anything more interesting you had to drive to +Nearminster, ten miles away. Mother went over there sometimes, and took +each child with her in turn, but even then there was a serious drawback +to buying much, and that was want of money. + +Some children would doubtless think living at Easney a very dull affair. +No shops, nothing new to play with, and very little new to wear. +Pennie _did_ get a little tired sometimes of always wearing serge in +winter and holland in summer; but neither she nor her brothers and +sisters ever found their lives dull. They would have been astonished at +the idea. There were so many interesting things to do. For instance, +there was a large family of pet beasts and birds, some living in the +barn in cages, and some free. Snuff the terrier was the most intimate +and friendly of these last, and Methuselah the tortoise the greatest +stranger. The children regarded him with respectful awe, for he passed +so much of his life hidden away in the cold dark earth, that he must +know many strange and wonderful things which went on there; but, like +all people of really wide experience, he was singularly modest and +retiring in his behaviour, and appeared on the border the first mild day +in spring after his disappearance, with no fuss at all, and as if he had +done nothing remarkable. + +Pennie's jackdaw, a forward bird, who hopped about with an air of +understanding everything, was one day found perched on the tortoise's +shell with the evident intention of making some searching inquiries. +Methuselah, however, had very prudently drawn in his head, and Jack was +both baffled and disgraced. + +Next to the animals in point of interest came the Wilderness. This was +a part of the garden shut off from the rest by a shrubbery, and given up +to the children as their very own. Here they messed and muddled to +their hearts' content, carried out a great many interesting designs, and +reared quantities of mustard and cress; once they each had a garden, but +Nancy, Ambrose, and David had lately struck out the bold idea of joining +their plots of ground and digging a well. It was a delightful +occupation, and when the hole got deep it was pleasant to see how the +small frogs and other slimy reptiles crawled about at the bottom; but, +after much heated labour, there were no signs of water. Interest +flagged then, and the well was deserted, until the ever-ready Pennie +suggested the game of Joseph and his brethren, and it became a favourite +amusement to lower Dickie down in a basket amongst the frogs and newts. +Dickie was both small and brave, two very necessary qualities for her +part, for the basket was narrow, and wobbled about a good deal in its +descent; but she was used to perilous positions, and had a soul above +fear. + +The Wilderness was certainly very interesting; nevertheless at a certain +time in the summer it was completely forsaken, and that was when the hay +was down. Then everyone must help to get it in; and there could be no +lessons done, for even Miss Grey was in the hay-field. Then the excited +children, with flushed faces, worked as hard as though the whole matter +depended on them alone, and even Dickie, with tiny rake and sturdy legs +planted wide apart, did brave service. Then the maids, with sun-bonnets +tilted well forward on their foreheads, came out to toss a little hay, +and giggle a great deal, and say how hot it was; then the surly Andrew +threw sour looks of scorn at them, and the vicar, casting aside his +black coat, did more real work than anyone. Then mother came into the +field with Cicely in her arms, and was welcomed with acclamations, and +forthwith seated on a royal throne of hay; then, under her watchful +eyes, the ambitious Ambrose worked feverishly, and threw his arms and +legs about like an excited spider. Then Nancy laughed at him, and David +pushed him down, and Pennie covered him with hay; and it got into his +eyes and down his throat and he choked and kicked, and mother said: +"That will do, children!" Then tea was brought out and laid under the +great oak-tree, and everyone's face was very red, and everyone was very +thirsty. And then the cool evening came stealing on, and a tiny breeze +blew, and the hay smelt sweet, and the shadows lengthened, and it was +bed-time just as things were getting pleasant. + +Each time all this happened it was equally delightful, and it seemed a +pity when the field stood bare and desolate after the hay was carried, +shorn of its shadowy grass and pretty flowers; yet there was consolation +too in the size of the stack which the children had helped to make, and +which they always thought "bigger than last year." + +Soon after this autumn came and made the orchard and woods and lanes +interesting with apples and nuts and blackberries; and then, after the +apples and nuts had been stored away, and the blackberries made into +jam, it was time to look forward to the winter. + +Winter brought a great deal that was very pleasant; for sometimes he +came with snow and ice, and the children would wake up to find that in +the night he had quietly covered everything out-of-doors with a +sparkling white garment. + +Then what could be more delicious than to make a snow man or a snow +palace? + +Pennie, who was a great reader, and always anxious to carry out +something she had read about, inclined towards the palace; but the +others had less lofty minds. It quite contented them to make a snow +man, to put one of Andrew's pipes in his mouth and a battered hat on his +head, and stick in bits of coal for his eyes. + +"Isn't he lovely?" Nancy would exclaim when all these adornments were +complete. + +"Zovely!" echoed Dickie, clapping red worsted mittens ecstatically. + +"I think he's rather vulgar," Pennie said doubtfully on one of these +occasions with an anxiously puckered brow; "and besides, there's nothing +to make up about him. What can you pretend?" + +The snow man certainly looked hopelessly prosaic as Ambrose tilted his +hat a little more to one side. + +"Guy Fawkes?" suggested David, having studied the matter solidly for +some minutes. + +"No," said Pennie, "not Guy Fawkes--he's so common--we've had him heaps +of times. But I'll tell you what would be splendid; we'll make him a +martyr in Smithfield." + +The boys looked doubtful, but Nancy clapped her hands. + +"That's capital," she said. + +"You know," continued Pennie for the general information, "they burned +them." + +"Alive?" inquired Ambrose eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"How jolly!" murmured David. + +"Jolly! jolly! jolly!" repeated Dickie, jumping up and down in the snow. + +"Why were they burned?" asked Ambrose, who was never tired of asking +questions, and liked to get to the bottom of a matter if possible. + +"_Why_, I am not quite sure," answered Pennie cautiously, "because I've +only just got to it; but I _think_ it was something about the Bible. +I'll ask Miss Grey." + +"Oh, never mind all that," interrupted the practical Nancy impatiently; +"we'll make a splendid bonfire all round him and watch him melt. Come +and get the wood." + +"And we'll call him `a distinguished martyr,'" added Pennie as she moved +slowly away, "because I can't remember any of their real names." + +Pennie was never satisfied to leave things as they were; she liked to +adorn them with fancies and make up stories about them, and her busy +little mind was always ready to set to work on the smallest event of the +children's lives. Nothing was too common or familiar to have mysteries +and romance woven round it; and this was sometimes a most useful +faculty, for winter was not always kind enough to bring snow and ice +with him. Very often there was nothing but rain and fog and mud, and +then mother uttered those dreadful words: + +"The children must not go out." + +Then when lessons were over, and all the games exhausted, and it was +still too early for lights, the schoolroom became full of dark corners, +and the flickering fire cast mysterious shadows which changed the very +furniture into something dim and awful. + +Then was Pennie's time--then, watching her hearers' upturned faces by +the uncertain light of the fire, she saw surprise or pity or horror on +them as her story proceeded, and, waxing warmer, she half believed it +true herself. And this made the tales very interesting and thrilling. +Yet once Pennie's talent had an unfortunate result, as you shall hear in +the next chapter. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +THE "GARRET." + +The children all thought that Pennie's best stories were about a certain +lumber-room in the vicarage which was called the "Garret." They were +also the most dreadful and thrilling, for there was something about the +garret which lent itself readily to tales of mystery and horror. The +very air there was always murky and dim, and no sunlight could steal +through the tiny lattice window which came poking out from the roof like +a half-shut eyelid. Dust and cobwebs had covered the small leaded panes +so thickly that a dusky gloom always dwelt there, and gave an unnatural +and rather awful look to the various objects. And what a strange +collection it was! Broken spindle-legged chairs, rickety boxes, piles +of yellow old music-books and manuscripts, and in one corner an ancient +harp in a tarnished gilt frame. Poor deserted dusty old things! They +had had their day in the busy world once, but that was over now, and +they must stay shut up in the silent garret with no one to see them but +the spiders and the children. For these last came there often; treading +on tiptoe they climbed the steep stairs and unlatched the creaky door +and entered, bold but breathless, and casting anxious glances over their +shoulders for strange things that might be lurking in the corners. They +never saw any, but still they came half hoping, half fearing; and they +had, besides, another object in their visits, which was a great great +secret, and only known to Pennie, Nancy, and Ambrose. It was indeed a +daring adventure, scarcely to be spoken of above a whisper, and +requiring a great deal of courage. This was the secret: + +They had one day succeeded in forcing open the rickety lattice, which +was fastened by a rusty iron hasp, and looked out. There was a steep +red-tiled piece of roof covered with little lumps of lichen which ended +in a gutter and a low stone balustrade; there were tall crooked +chimneys, and plenty of places where cats and children could walk with +pleasure and safety. Soon it was impossible to resist the temptation, +and one after the other they squeezed themselves through the narrow +window, and wriggled cautiously down the steep roof as far as the +balustrade. It scraped the hands and knees a good deal to do this, and +there was always the danger of going down too fast, but when once the +feet arrived safely against the stone coping, what a proud moment it +was! + +Standing upright, they surveyed the prospect, and mingled visions of +Robinson Crusoe, Christopher Columbus, and Alexander Selkirk floated +across their brains. "I am monarch of all I survey," said Pennie on the +first occasion. And so she was, for everything seen from that giddy +height looked strange and new to her, and it was quite like going into +another country. + +The old church tower with the chattering jackdaws flying round it, the +pear-tree near the nursery window, the row of bee-hives in the +kitchen-garden, the distant fields where the cows were no bigger than +brown and white specks, all were lifted out of everyday life for a +little while. No one had forbidden this performance, because no one +knew of it, and the secrecy of it added to the mystery which belonged to +everything in the garret. + +It was not difficult to keep it hidden from the elders, for they did not +go into the lumber-room from year's end to year's end; so the spiders +and the children had it all to themselves, and did just as they liked +there, and wove their cobwebs and their fancies undisturbed. Now, +amongst Pennie's listeners when she told her tales of what went on in +the garret after nightfall, Ambrose was the one who heard with the most +rapt attention and the most absolute belief. He came next to Nancy in +age, and formed the most perfect contrast to her in appearance and +character, for Nancy was a robust blue-eyed child, bold and fearless, +and Ambrose was a slender little fellow with a freckled skin and a face +full of sensitive expression. He was full of fears and fancies, too, +poor little Ambrose, and amongst the children he was considered not far +short of a coward; it had become a habit to say, "Ambrose is afraid," on +the smallest occasions, and if they had been asked who was the bravest +amongst them, they would certainly have pointed out Nancy. For Nancy +did not mind the dark, Nancy would climb any tree you liked, Nancy could +walk along the top of a high narrow wall without being giddy, Nancy had +never been known to cry when she was hurt, therefore Nancy was a brave +child. Ambrose, on the contrary, _did_ mind all these things very much; +his imagination pictured dangers and terrors in them which did not exist +for Nancy, and what she performed with a laugh and no sense of fear, was +to him often an occasion of trembling apprehension. And then he was +_so_ afraid of the dark! That was a special subject of derision from +the others, for even Dickie was bolder in the matter of dark passages +and bed-rooms than he was. Ambrose was ashamed, bitterly ashamed of +this failing, and he made up his mind a hundred times that he would get +over it, but that was in the broad daylight when the sun was shining. +As surely as night came, and he was asked perhaps to fetch something +from the schoolroom, those wretched feelings of fear came back, for the +schoolroom was at the end of a long dark passage. + +Nancy, who was always good-natured, though she laughed at him, would +give him a nudge on such occasions if she were near him, and say: + +"Never mind, _I'll_ go;" but Ambrose never accepted the offer. He went +with a shiver down his back, and a sort of distended feeling in his +ears, which seemed to be unnaturally on the alert for mysterious noises. + +He always made up his mind before he got to the passage to check a wild +desire to run at full speed, and walk through it slowly, but this +resolve was never carried out. + +Before he had gone two steps in the darkness there would be a sense of +something following close behind, and then all was over, and nothing to +be seen but a panic-stricken little boy rushing along with his hands +held over his ears. How foolish! you will say. Very foolish, indeed, +and so said all the other children, adding many a taunt and jeer. + +But that did not do poor Ambrose any good, and he remained just as timid +as ever. Nevertheless there were moments of real danger when Ambrose +had been known to come gallantly to the front, and when he seemed to +change suddenly from a fearful, shrinking boy into a hero. Such was the +occasion when, alone of all the children, who stood shrieking on the +other side of the hedge, he had ventured back into the field to rescue +Dickie, who by some accident had been left behind among a herd of cows. +There she stood bewildered, holding up her little pinafore full of +daisies, helpless among those large horned monsters. + +"Run, Dickie," shouted the children; but Dickie was rooted to the ground +with terror, and did not move. + +Then Ambrose took his courage in both hands, and leaving the safe +shelter of the hedge, ran back to his little sister's side. As he +reached her a large black cow with crooked horns detached herself from +the herd, and walked quickly up to the children lashing her tail. +Ambrose did not stir. He stood in front of Dickie, took off his straw +hat and waved it in the cow's face. She stood still. + +"Run back to the others, Dickie," said Ambrose quietly, and, Dickie's +chubby legs recovering power of movement, she toddled quickly off, +strewing the ground with daisies as she went. Covering her retreat, +Ambrose remained facing the cow, and walked slowly backwards still +brandishing his hat; then, one quick glance over his shoulder assuring +him of Dickie's safety, he too took to his heels, and scrambled through +the gap. + +That was certainly brave of Ambrose; for though Farmer Snow told them +afterwards, "Thuccy black coo never would a touched 'ee," still she +_might_ have, and for the moment Ambrose was a hero. + +The children carried home an excited account of the affair to their +father, penetrating into his very study, which was generally forbidden +ground. + +"And so it was Ambrose who went back, eh?" he said, stroking Dickie's +round head as she sat on his knee. + +"Yes, father," said Pennie, very much out of breath with running and +talking, "we were all frightened except Ambrose." + +"And why weren't you frightened, Ambrose?" + +"I was," murmured Ambrose. + +"And yet you went?" + +"Yes. Because of Dickie." + +"Then you were a brave boy." + +"A brave boy, a brave boy," repeated Dickie in a sort of sing-song, +pulling her father's whiskers. + +"Now I want you children to tell me," pursued the vicar, looking round +at the hot little eager faces, "which would have been braver--not to be +frightened at all, or to go in spite of being frightened?" + +"Not to be frightened at all," answered Nancy promptly. + +"Do you all think that?" + +"Yes," said Pennie doubtfully, "I suppose so." + +"Well," continued the vicar, "I _don't_ think so, and I will tell you +why. I believe the brave man is not he who is insensible to fear, but +he who is able to rise above it in doing his duty. People are sometimes +called courageous who are really so unimaginative and dull that they +cannot understand danger--so of course they are not afraid. They go +through their lives very quietly and comfortably, as a rule, but they do +not often leave great names behind them, although they may be both good +and useful. + +"Others, again, we are accustomed to consider cowards, because their +active, lively imagination often causes them to see danger where there +is none. These people do not pass such peaceable lives as the first; +but there is this to be remembered: the same nature which is so alive to +fear will also be easily touched by praise, or blame, or ridicule, and +eager therefore to do its very best. It is what we call a `sensitive' +nature, and it is of such stuff very often, that great men and heroes +are made." + +The children listened very attentively to what their father said, and if +they did not understand it all they gathered enough to make them feel +quite sure that Ambrose had been very brave about the cow. So they +treated him for a little while with a certain respect, and no one said +"Ambrose is afraid." As for Ambrose himself, his spirits rose very +high, and he began to think he never should feel afraid of anything +again, and even to wish for some great occasion to show himself in his +new character of "hero." He walked about in rather a blustering manner +just now, with his straw hat very much on one side, and brandished a +stick the gardener had cut for him in an obtrusively warlike fashion. +As he was a small thin boy, these airs looked all the more ridiculous, +and his sister Nancy was secretly much provoked by them; however, she +said nothing until one evening when Pennie was telling them stories. + +The children were alone in the schoolroom, for it was holiday time. It +was just seven o'clock. Soon Nurse would come and carry off Dickie and +David to bed, but at present they were sitting one each side of Pennie +on the broad window-seat, listening to her with open ears and mouths. +Nancy and Ambrose were opposite on the table, with their legs swinging +comfortably backwards and forwards. + +All day long it had been raining, and now, although it had ceased, the +shrubs and trees, overladen with moisture, kept up a constant drip, +drip, drip, which was almost as bad. The wind had risen, and went +sighing and moaning round the house, and shook the windows of the room +where the children were sitting. Pennie had just finished a story, and +in the short interval of silence which followed, these plaintive sounds +were heard more plainly than ever. + +"Hark," she said, holding up her finger, "how the Goblin Lady is playing +her harp to-night! She has begun early." + +"Why does she only play when the wind blows?" asked Ambrose. + +"She comes _with_ the wind," answered Pennie, "that is how she travels, +as other people use carriages and trains. The little window in the +garret is blown open, and she floats in and takes one of those big +music-books, and finds out the place, and then sits down to the harp and +plays." + +"What tune does she play?" asked David. + +"By the margin of fair Zurich's waters," answered Pennie; "sometimes she +sings too, but not often, because she is very sad." + +"Why?" inquired Ambrose, ruffling up his hair with one hand, as he +always did when he was getting interested. + +Pennie paused a moment that her next remark might have full weight; then +very impressively and slowly she said: + +"She has not _always_ been a Goblin Lady." + +This was so unexpected, and suggested so much to be unfolded, that the +children gazed speechless at Pennie, who presently continued: + +"Once she was a beautiful--" + +"Is she ugly now?" hastily inquired David. + +"Don't, Davie; let Pennie go on," said Ambrose. + +"I want to know just one thing," put in Nancy; "if it's dark when she +comes, how does she see to read the music?" + +"She carries glowworms with her," answered Pennie; "they shine just like +the lamps in father's gig at night, and light up all the garret." + +"Now, go on, Pennie," said Ambrose with a deep sigh, for these +interruptions were very trying to him. "Once she was a beautiful--" + +"A most beautiful lady, with long golden hair. Only she was very very +proud and vain. So after she died she could not rest, but has to go +flying about wherever the wind will take her. The only pleasure she has +is music, and so she always tries to get in where there is anything to +play. That is why she goes so often to the garret and plays the harp." + +"Why doesn't she go into the drawing-room and play the piano?" asked +Nancy bluntly. Nancy's questions were often very tiresome; she never +allowed the least haze or uncertainty to hang over any subject, and +Pennie was frequently checked in the full flow of her eloquence by the +consciousness that Nancy's eye was upon her, and that she was preparing +to put some matter-of-fact inquiry which it would be most difficult to +meet. + +"There you go, interrupting again," muttered Ambrose. + +"Well, but why doesn't she?" insisted Nancy, "it would be so much +easier." + +"Why, of course she can't," resumed Pennie in rather an injured voice, +"because of the lights, and the people, and, besides, she never learnt +to play the piano." + +"I wish I needn't either," sighed Nancy. "How nice to be like the +Goblin Lady, and only play the harp when one likes!" + +"I should like to see her," said Ambrose thoughtfully. + +"You'd be afraid," said Nancy; "why, you wouldn't even go into the +garret by daylight alone." + +"That was a long time ago," said Ambrose quickly. "I wouldn't mind it +now." + +"In the dark?" + +"Well, I don't believe you'd go," said Nancy. "You might perhaps go two +or three steps, and then you'd scream out and run away; wouldn't he, +Pennie?" + +"Why, you know he _was_ brave about the cow," said Pennie, "braver than +any of us." + +"That was different. He's quite as much afraid of the dark as ever. I +call it babyish." + +Nancy looked defiantly at her brother, who was getting very red in the +face. She was prepared to have something thrown at her, or at least to +have her hair, which she wore in a plaited pig-tail, violently pulled, +but nothing of the sort happened. Nurse came soon afterwards and bore +away David and Dickie, and as she left the room she remarked that the +wind was moaning "just like a Christian." + +It certainly was making a most mournful noise that evening, but not at +all like a Christian, Ambrose thought, as he listened to it--much more +like Pennie's Goblin Lady and her musical performances. + +Pennie had finished her stories now, and she and Nancy were deeply +engaged with their dolls in a corner of the room; this being an +amusement in which Ambrose took no interest, he remained seated on the +table occupied with his own reflections after Nurse had left the room +with the two children. + +Nancy's taunt about the garret was rankling in his mind, though he had +not resented it openly as was his custom, and it rankled all the more +because he felt that it was true. Yes, it _was_ true. He could not +possibly go into the garret alone in the dark, and yet if he really were +a brave boy he ought to be able to do it. Was he brave, he wondered? +Father had said so, and yet just now he certainly felt something very +like fear at the very thought of the Goblin Lady. + +In increasing perplexity he ruffled up his hair until it stood out +wildly in all directions; boom! boom! went the wind, and then there +followed a long wailing sort of sigh which seemed to come floating down +from the very top of the house. + +It was quite a relief to hear Nancy's matter-of-fact voice just then, as +she chattered away about her dolls: + +"Now, I shall brush Jemima's hair," Ambrose heard her say to Pennie, +"and you can put Lady Jane Grey to bed." + +"I ought to be able to go," said Ambrose to himself, "and after all I +don't suppose the Goblin Lady _can_ be worse than Farmer Snow's black +cow." + +"But her head's almost off," put in Pennie's voice. "You did it the +last time we executed her." + +"If I went," thought Ambrose, continuing his reflections, "they would +never, never be able to call me a coward again." + +He slid off the table as he reached this point, and moved slowly towards +the door. He stood still as he opened it and looked at his sisters, +half hoping they would call him back, or ask where he was going, but +they were bending absorbed over the body of the unfortunate Lady Jane +Grey, so that two long flaxen pig-tails were turned towards him. They +did not even notice that he had moved. + +He went quickly through the long dimly-lighted passage, which led into +the hall, and found that Mary was just lighting the lamp. This looked +cheerful, and he lingered a little and asked her a few questions, not +that he really wanted to know anything, but because light and human +companionship seemed just now so very desirable. Mary went away soon, +and then he strolled a few steps up the broad old staircase, and met +Kittles the fluffy cat coming slowly down. Here was another excuse for +putting off his journey, and he sat down on the stairs to pass a few +agreeable moments with Kittles, who arched his back and butted his head +against him, and purred his acknowledgments loudly. But presently, +having business of his own, Kittles also passed on his way, and Ambrose +was alone again, sitting solitary with his ruffled head leaning on one +hand. Then the church clock struck eight. In half an hour it would be +bed-time, and his plan not carried out. He must go at once, or not at +all. He got up and went slowly on. Up the stairs, down a long winding +passage, up some more stairs, and across a landing, on to which the +nursery and the children's bedrooms opened. He stopped again here, for +there was a pleasant sound of Dickie and David's voices, and the +splashing of water; but presently he thought he heard Nurse coming out, +and he ran quickly round the corner into a little passage which led to +the foot of the garret stairs. This passage was dimly-lighted by a +small low window, which was almost covered outside by the thickly +growing ivy. Even in the daytime it was very dusky, and now it was +quite dark, but Ambrose knew the way well, and he groped about with his +hands until he came to the steep carpetless steps. And now his heart +began to beat very quickly, for he felt that he was in the region of +mystery, and that anything might happen at any moment. The wind had +dropped, and there was no sound at all to be heard, though he strained +his ears to the utmost for some signs of the presence of the Goblin +Lady. + +"Perhaps," thought he, "she has finished playing and gone away again +with the wind." This was an encouraging idea, and though his knees +trembled a good deal, he went on bravely until he came to the place +where the stairs took a sudden sharp turn; but here he saw something +which brought him to a standstill again, for underneath the garret door +at the top there was a faint gleam of light. "That's the glowworms," +thought Ambrose, "and she's there still." His spirits sank. + +_Could_ he go on? It must be now or never. With a tremendous effort he +went quickly up the remaining steps, stood on tiptoe to unlatch the +door, and pushed it open. It swung back with a creak upon its rusty +hinges, and a cold wind rushed in Ambrose's face, for the window was +open. The room was faintly lighted, not with glowworms, but by the pale +rays of a watery moon, which made some of the objects whitely distinct, +and left others dark and shadowy. Standing motionless on the threshold, +Ambrose turned his eyes instinctively to the corner where the harp was +dimly visible. There was certainly no one playing it, but as he looked +he heard a faint rustle in that direction. What was it? Again it came, +this time louder, with a sound like the flapping of feathers. Could it +be the Goblin Lady? But Pennie never said she had wings. Unable to go +either backwards or forwards, Ambrose remained rooted to the spot with +his eyes fixed on the mysterious corner. Rustle, rustle, flap, flap, +went the dreadful something, and presently there followed a sort of low +hiss. At the same moment a sudden gust of wind burst through the window +and banged the door behind him with a resounding clap. Panic-stricken +he turned and tried to open it, but his cold trembling fingers could not +move the rusty fastening. He looked wildly round for a means of escape, +and his eye fell on a bright ray of moonlight resting on the lattice +window. He rushed towards it, scrambled up on to a box, from thence to +the window-ledge, and thrust himself through the narrow opening. If the +thing came after him now, he could go no further than the balustrade, +unless he jumped down into the garden, "and that would kill me," he +thought, "Pennie has often said so." + +He stood on the rough tiles, holding on to the iron window frame with +one hand; behind him the dark garret, where the thing still flapped and +rustled, and before him the sloping roof, the tall chimneys, the garden +beneath, partly lighted up by the moon. He could see the nursery +window, too, in an angle of the house, brightly illumined by the +cheerful fire within. Dickie and David were snugly in bed now, warm and +safe, and Nurse was most likely searching everywhere for him. If they +only knew! + +"If ever I get back," he said to himself, "I never _will_ try to be +brave again; it's much better to be called a coward always." He had +hardly come to this conclusion before, with a tremendous whirring noise, +something came banging up against the shut part of the window from +within the garret. Ambrose gave one wild scream, let go his hold, and +went rolling over and over quicker and quicker, down--down--down. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +GOBLINET. + +He remembered nothing more until he woke up that night in his own little +bed with a very confused feeling that something dreadful had happened, +though he could not think what it was. There was a light in his room, +which was strange too, and presently he saw that Nurse was sitting there +with her spectacles on, nodding sleepily over a book. What could it +mean? He clasped his head with both hands, and tried to remember; but +it was startling to find that there was a wet bandage round it, and +inside it there was a dull throbbing ache, so he soon gave up trying and +lay quietly with his eyes fixed on Nurse, and the funny shadow she made +on the wall. At last she gave a most tremendous nod, which knocked off +her spectacles, and then she gathered herself up and opened her eyes +very wide. Presently she came to the bed with a glass in her hand and +leant over Ambrose to see if he was awake; he drank what she gave him +eagerly, for he was thirsty, and as he lay down again he said with an +effort: + +"I think I've had a very bad dream, Nurse, and my head _does_ ache so." + +"Well, you're safe and sound now, my lamb," she answered, patting his +shoulder soothingly; "just you turn round and go to sleep again." + +Still puzzled Ambrose closed his eyes, and wondered vaguely for a few +minutes why Nurse called him "lamb." She had not done it since he had +the measles, so he supposed he must be ill; but he did not feel at all +equal to asking questions about anything, and was soon fast asleep +again. + +But this was the beginning of many weary days and nights for poor little +Ambrose. When the doctor came the next day he looked gravely at Mrs +Hawthorn. + +"The child is in a high fever," he said, "and has had, I should think, +some great nervous shock. Great care and quiet are needed. Let him +sleep as much as possible." + +But that was the difficulty, for, as time went on, Ambrose seemed less +and less able to sleep quietly at night. As evening drew on the fever +and restlessness increased; he could not bear to be left alone a moment, +and often in the night he would start up and cry out trembling: + +"Take her away." "She is coming." "Don't let her catch me." + +It was most distressing for everyone and puzzling too, for no one could +imagine what it was that had frightened him in the garret, or how he +came to be there at all at that time in the evening. It was evidently a +most terrible remembrance to him, for he could not bear the least +reference to it, and to question him was a sure way to give him what he +called "bad dreams." So in his presence the subject was dropped; but +Mrs Hawthorn and Nurse did not cease their conjectures, and there was +one person who listened to their conversation with a feeling of the +deepest guilt. This was Pennie, who just now was having a most +miserable time of it, for she felt that it was all her fault. If she +had not told those stories about the Goblin Lady it never would have +happened, although it certainly was Nancy who had put the garret into +Ambrose's head. + +Nancy was the only person she could talk to on the subject, but she was +not any comfort at all. + +"Don't let's think about it," she said. "I knew you made it up. I +daresay he'll get better soon." + +Poor Pennie could not take matters so lightly; it was a most dreadful +weight on her mind, and she felt sure she should never have another +happy minute till she had confessed about the Goblin Lady. But she was +not allowed to see Ambrose, and she could not bring herself to tell +anyone else about it. Once she nearly told mother, and then something +stuck in her throat; and once she got as far as the study door with the +intention of telling father, but her courage failed her and she ran +away. + +She would creep to Ambrose's door and listen, or peep round the screen +at him while he was asleep, and her face got quite thin and pointed with +anxiety. Every morning she asked: + +"Is he better, mother? May I go and sit with him?" But the answer +always was: + +"Not to-day, dear. We hope he is better, but he has such bad nights." + +Pennie was very wretched, and felt she could not bear it much longer. + +She was in the nursery one morning looking listlessly out of the window, +when her attention was caught by a conversation going on between Nurse +and Mrs Hawthorn, who was sitting there with Cicely in her arms. + +"I know no more than that baby, ma'am," said Nurse emphatically, as she +had said a hundred times before, "why or wherefore Master Ambrose should +take such a thing into his head. It's easy to frame that he should get +scared--when once he was up there in the dark, for he's a timid child +and always has been. But what _took_ him there all alone? That's what +_I_ want to know!" + +"I cannot understand it," said Mrs Hawthorn; "but it makes him so much +worse to ask him questions that we must leave it alone until he is +stronger. We cannot be too thankful that he was not killed." + +"Which I never doubted for one moment that he was, ma'am, when I found +him," continued Nurse; "he was lying all crumpled up and stone-cold, for +all the world like Miss Nancy's dormouse when she forgot to feed it for +a week." + +On this theme Nurse was apt to become very voluble, and there were few +things she liked better than describing her own feelings on the +occasion. Mrs Hawthorn held up her hand entreatingly: "Do not talk of +it, Nurse," she said; "I cannot bear it." And then they went on to +discuss other matters. + +Now all this while Pennie had been trying to make up her mind to speak. +There was a fly just in front of her on the window-pane, and as she +watched it crawling slowly along she said to herself: + +"When it gets as far as the corner I will tell mother." But alas! +before the fly had nearly completed his journey Mrs Hawthorn rose to +leave the nursery. As she passed Pennie she stopped and said: + +"Why, Pennie, my child, it is not like you to be idle. And you look +mournful; what's the matter?" + +"I think Miss Pennie frets after her brother, ma'am," observed Nurse. + +"Well, then," said Mrs Hawthorn, "I have something to tell you that I +am sure you will like. The doctor thinks Ambrose much better to-day, +and if you are very quiet and discreet I will let you go and have tea +with him this afternoon at five o'clock." + +"Oh, mother, mother," cried Pennie, "how lovely! May I really?" + +"Yes; but you must promise me one thing, and that is that you will not +speak of anything that has to do with the garret or his accident." + +Pennie's face fell. + +"Very well, mother," she said in a dejected tone. + +"If you can't feel sure, Pennie," said her mother observing the +hesitation, "I can't let you go." + +"I won't, really, mother," repeated Pennie with a sigh--"truly and +faithfully." + +But she felt almost as low-spirited as ever, for what was the good of +seeing Ambrose if she could not make him understand about the Goblin +Lady? She remained at the window pondering the subject, with her eyes +fixed on the grey church tower, the top of which she could just see +through the branches of the pear-tree. It reminded her somehow of her +father's text last Sunday, and how pleased she and Nancy had been +because it was such a short one to learn. Only two words: "Pray +always." She said it to herself now over and over again without +thinking much about it, until it suddenly struck her that it would be a +good thing to say a little prayer and ask to be helped out of the +present difficulty. "If I believe enough," she said to herself, "I +shall be helped. Father says people always are helped if they believe +enough when they ask." + +She shut her eyes up very tight and repeated earnestly several times: "I +_do_ believe. I really and truly do believe;" and then she said her +prayer. + +After this she felt a little more comfortable and ran out to play with +Nancy, firmly believing that before five o'clock something would turn up +to her assistance. + +But Pennie was doomed to disappointment, for five o'clock came without +any way out of the difficulty having presented itself. + +"I suppose I didn't believe hard enough," she said to herself as she +made her way sorrowfully upstairs to Ambrose's room. Just as she +thought this the study door opened and her father came out. He was +carrying something which looked like a large cage covered with a cloth. +Pennie stopped and waited till he came up to her. + +"Why, whatever can that be, father?" she said. "Is it alive? Where are +you taking it?" + +"It is a little visitor for Ambrose," he answered; "and I'm taking him +upstairs to tea with you both. But you're not to look at him yet;" for +Pennie was trying to peep under the cloth. + +When they got into Ambrose's room she was relieved to find that he +looked just like himself, though his face was very white and thin. He +was much better to-day, and able to sit up in a big arm-chair with a +picture-book. But nevertheless before Nurse left the room she whispered +to Pennie again that she must be very quiet. + +There was no need for the caution at present, for Pennie was in one of +her most subdued moods, though at any other time she would have been +very much excited to know what was inside the cage. + +"Now," said the vicar when he was seated in the arm-chair, with Ambrose +settled comfortably on his knee, "we shall see what Ambrose and this +little gentleman have to say to each other." + +He lifted off the covering, and there was the dearest little brown and +white owl in the world, sitting winking and blinking in the sudden +light. + +Ambrose clasped his little thin hands, and his eyes sparkled with +pleasure. + +"Oh, father," he cried, "what a darling dear! Is he for me? I always +_did_ want to have an owl so!" + +He was in such raptures when he was told that the owl was to be his very +own, that when the tea was brought in he could hardly be persuaded to +touch it. Pennie, too, almost forgot her troubles in the excitement of +pouring out tea, and settling with Ambrose where the owl was to live. + +"The nicest place will be," at last said Ambrose decidedly, "in that +corner of the barn just above where Davie's rabbits are. You know, +Pennie. Where it's all dusky, and dark, and cobwebby." + +"I think that sounds just the sort of place he would feel at home in," +said their father; "and now, would you like me to tell you where I got +him?" + +"Oh, yes, please, father," said Ambrose, letting his head drop on Mr +Hawthorn's shoulder with a deep sigh of contentment. "Tell us every +little scrap about it, and don't miss any." + +"Well, last night, about nine o'clock, when I was writing in the study, +I wanted to refer to an old book of sermons, and I couldn't remember +where it was. I looked all over my book-cases, and at last I went and +asked mother, and she told me that it was most likely put away in the +garret." + +Ambrose stirred uneasily, and Pennie thought to herself, "They said I +wasn't to mention the garret, and here's father talking about it like +anything." + +"So I took a lamp," continued Mr Hawthorn, "and went upstairs, and +poked about in the garret a long while. I found all sorts of funny old +things there, but not the book I wanted, so I was just going down again +when I heard a rustling in one corner--" + +Pennie could see that Ambrose's eyes were very wide open, with a +terrified stare as if he saw something dreadful, and he was clinging +tightly with one hand to his father's coat. + +"So I went into the corner and moved away a harp which was standing +there, and what do you think I saw? This little fluffy gentleman just +waked up from a nap, and making a great fuss and flapping. He was very +angry when I caught him, and hissed and scratched tremendously; but I +said, `No, my friend, I cannot let you go. You will just do for my +little son, Ambrose.' So I put him into a basket for the night, and +this morning I got a cage for him in the village, and here he is." + +Mr Hawthorn looked down at Ambrose as he finished his story: the +frightened expression which Pennie had seen had left the boy's face now, +and there was one of intense relief there. He folded his hands, and +said softly, drawing a deep breath: + +"Then it was not the Goblin Lady after all." + +"The Goblin Lady! What can the child mean?" said the vicar looking +inquiringly at Pennie. + +But he got no answer to his question, for Pennie's long-pent-up feelings +burst forth at last. Casting discretion to the winds, she threw her +arms vehemently round Ambrose, and blurted out half laughing and half +crying: + +"I made it up! I made it up! There _isn't_ any Goblin Lady. Oh, dear! +Oh, dear! I made it every bit up!" + +The two children sobbed and laughed and kissed each other, and made +incoherent exclamations in a way which their puzzled father felt to be +most undesirable for an invalid's room. He had been carefully warned +not to excite Ambrose, and what _could_ be worse than this sort of +thing? + +Perfectly bewildered, he said sternly: + +"Pennie, if you don't command yourself, you must go out of the room. +You will make your brother ill. It is most thoughtless of you. Tell me +quietly what all this means." + +With many jerks and interruptions, and much shamefacedness Pennie +proceeded to do so. Looking up at her father's face at the end she was +much relieved to see a little smile there, though he did not speak at +once. + +"You're not angry, are you, father?" said Ambrose doubtfully at last. + +"No, I am not angry," replied Mr Hawthorn, "but I am certainly +surprised to find I have two such foolish children. I don't know who +was the sillier--Pennie to make up such nonsense, or Ambrose to believe +it. But now I am not going to say anything more, because it is quite +time for Ambrose to go to bed, so Pennie and the owl and I will say +good-night." + +What a relief it was to hear the dreaded subject spoken of so lightly. +Pennie felt as though a great heavy weight had been suddenly lifted off +her mind, and she was so glad and happy that after she had left +Ambrose's room she could not possibly walk along quietly. So she hopped +on one leg all down a long passage, and at the top of the stairs she met +Nurse hastening up to her patient: + +"You look merry, Miss Pennie," said she. "I hope you haven't been +exciting Master Ambrose." + +"Why, yes," Pennie couldn't help answering. "Father and I have both +excited him a good deal; but he's much better, and now he'll get quite +well." + +And Pennie was right, for from that night Ambrose improved steadily, +though it was some time before he became quite strong and lost his +nervous fears. + +The first visit he paid, when he was well enough to be wheeled into the +garden in a bath-chair, escorted by the triumphant children, was to see +his new pet, the owl. There he was, hanging in his cage in the darkest +corner of the barn. Ambrose looked up at him with eyes full of the +fondest affection. + +"What shall we call him, Pennie?" he said. "I want some name which has +to do with a goblin." + +Pennie considered the subject with her deepest frown. + +"Would `Goblinet' do?" she said at length; "because, you see, he is so +small." + +"Beautifully," said Ambrose. + +So the owl was called "Goblinet." + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +DAVID'S PIG. + +By the time Ambrose was quite well again, and able to run about with the +others and play as usual, the holidays were over; Miss Grey came back, +and lessons began. + +It was late autumn; hay-time had passed and harvest, and all the fields +looked brown and bare and stubbly. The garden paths were covered with +dry withered leaves, which made a pleasant sound when you shuffled your +feet in them, and were good things for Dickie to put into her little +barrow, for as often as she collected them there were soon plenty more. +Down they came from the trees, red, brown, yellow, when the wind blew, +and defied the best efforts of Dickie and Andrew. There were very few +flowers left now--only a few dahlias and marigolds, and some clumps of +Michaelmas daisies, so the garden looked rather dreary; but to make up +for this there was a splendid crop of apples in the orchard, and the +lanes were thickly strewn with bright brown acorns. And these last were +specially interesting to David, for it was just about this time that he +got his pig. + +David was a solid squarely-built little boy of seven years old, with +hair so light that it looked almost grey, and very solemn blue eyes. He +spoke seldom, and took a long time to learn things, but when once that +was done he never forgot them; and in this he was unlike Nancy, who +could learn quickly, but forget almost as soon. Miss Grey always felt +sure that when once David had struggled through a lesson, whether it +were the kings and queens of England, or the multiplication table, that +he would remember it if she asked him a question weeks afterwards. But +then it was a long time before he knew it--so long that it often seemed +a hopeless task. Nevertheless, if David was slow he was certainly sure, +and people had a habit of depending upon him in various matters. For +instance, when Nurse wanted to intrust the baby for a few moments to any +of the children during her absence from the nursery, it was never to the +three elder she turned, but to David, and her confidence was not +misplaced. Once having undertaken any charge or responsibility, David +would carry it through unflinchingly, whether it were to amuse the baby, +or to take care of any of the animals while their various owners were +away. It would have been impossible to him to have forgotten to feed +the dormouse for a week as Nancy did, or to have left Sappho the canary +without any water, which Pennie to her great agony of mind was once +guilty of doing. + +David's animals never missed their meals, or were neglected in any way; +he was particularly proud of his sleek rabbits, which, together with a +family of white rats, lived in the barn, and certainly throve +wonderfully, if numbers mean prosperity. The biggest rabbit was called +Goliath, and it was David's delight to hold him up by the ears, in spite +of his very powerful kicks, and exhibit his splendid condition to any +admiring beholder. But though Goliath was handsome, and the white rats +numerous, their owner was not quite satisfied, for his fondest wish for +some time past had been to possess a pig. A nice little round black +pig, with a very curly tail; he would then be content, and ask nothing +further of fortune. + +He thought of the pig, and hoped for the pig, and it would not be too +much to say that he dreamed of the pig. When he passed a drove of them +in the road, squeaking, pushing, grunting, and going every way but the +right, he would stand in speechless admiration. His mind was a +practical one, and did not dwell merely on the pleasure of owning the +pig itself, but also on the prospect of fattening, selling, and +realising money by it. + +"You'd never be able to have it killed," said Nancy, who was his chief +confidante, "after you got fond of it, and it got to know you; you'd as +soon kill Goliath." + +"I shouldn't have it killed," answered David. "I should sell it to the +farmer." + +"Well; but _he'd_ have it killed," pursued the relentless Nancy. + +This was unanswerable. + +"Never mind. I want a pig, and I shall save up my money," said David +sturdily. + +David's bank was a white china house which stood on the nursery +mantel-shelf; it had a very red roof with a hole in it, and into this he +continued for some time to drop all his pennies, and halfpennies, and +farthings with great persistency, and a mind steadily fixed on the pig. +After all, however, he got it without spending any of his savings, and +this is how it happened:-- + +One fine morning at the end of September the children were all ready for +their usual walk with Miss Grey--all, that is, except Dickie, who, being +still a nursery child, went out walking with Nurse and baby. The other +four, however, were ready, not only as regards hats and jackets, but +were also each provided with something to "take out," which, in their +opinion, was quite as indispensable. Penelope therefore carried a +sketching book, Ambrose a boat under one arm, and under the other a +camp-stool in case Miss Grey should be tired, Nancy two dolls and a +skipping-rope, and David a whip and a long chain. At the end of this +was the terrier dog Snuff, choking and struggling with excitement, and +giving vent to smothered barks. Snuff would willingly have been loose, +and there was indeed not the least occasion for this restraint, as it +would have been far easier to lose David than the dog; he knew well, +however, that children have their little weaknesses in these matters, +and submitted to his bondage with only a few whines of remonstrance when +the company had once fairly started. + +His patience was a good deal tried on this occasion, as well as that of +the children, for it seemed as though Mrs Hawthorn never would finish +talking to Miss Grey in the hall. At last, however, she said something +which pleased them very much: + +"I want you to go to Hatchard's Farm for me, and ask about the butter." + +Now Hatchard's Farm was the place of all others that the children +delighted to visit. It was about two miles from Easney, and the nicest +way to it was across some fields, where you could find mushrooms, into a +little narrow lane where the thickly growing blackberry brambles caught +and scratched at you as you passed. This lane was muddy in winter, and +at no time in the year did it appear so desirable to Miss Grey as to the +children; but it was such a favourite walk with them that she generally +yielded. The only other way of getting to the farm was by the +high-road, and that was so dreadfully dull! After scrambling along the +lane a little while, you saw the red-brown roofs of the barns and +outbuildings clustering round the house itself, and almost hiding it, +and soon a pleasant confusion of noises met your ear. Ducks quacked, +hens cackled, pigeons perched about on the roofs kept up a monotonous +murmur; then came the deep undertones of the patient cows, and as you +neared the house you could generally hear Mrs Hatchard's voice in her +dairy adding its commanding accents to the medley of sounds. It +certainly was a delightful farm, and David had long ago determined that +when he grew up he would have one just like it, and wear brown leather +gaiters like Farmer Hatchard's. He would also keep pigs like his--quite +black, with very short legs and faces, and tightly curled tails. But +some time must pass before this, and the next best thing was to go as +often as possible to see them, and ask all manner of questions of the +farmer or his men. There was no one in the great wide kitchen when the +party arrived on this occasion, and Miss Grey sat down to wait for Mrs +Hatchard, while the children made their usual tour of admiring +examination. They had seen every object in the room hundreds of times +before, but how interesting they always were! The high-backed settle on +each side of the fire was dark with age, and bright with the toil of +Mrs Hatchard's hands; the heavy oak rafters were so conveniently low +that the children could see the farmer's gun, a bunch of dips, a pair of +clogs, a side of bacon kept there as in a sort of storehouse. At the +end of the room opposite the wide hearth was the long narrow deal table, +where the farmer and his men all dined together at twelve o'clock, for +they were old-fashioned people at Hatchard's Farm; and behind the door +hung the cuckoo clock, before which the children never failed to stand +in open-mouthed expectation if it were near striking the hour. On all +this the sun darted his rays through the low casement, and failed to +find, for all his keen glances, one speck of dust. + +Miss Grey sat in the window-seat looking absently out at the marigolds +and asters in the gay garden, when she felt a little hand suddenly +placed in hers, and, turning round, saw David, his face crimson with +suppressed excitement: + +"Come," he said, pulling her gently, "come and look here." + +He led her to the hearth, and pointed speechless to something which +looked like a small flannel bundle in a basket. As she looked at it, it +moved a little. + +"Well, Davie," said she, "what is this wonderful thing? Something +alive?" + +David had knelt down close to the bundle and was peering in between the +folds of the flannel with an expression of reverent awe. He looked up +gravely. + +"Don't you see," he said slowly in lowered accents, "it's a little baby +pig!" + +Stooping down Miss Grey examined it more closely, and found that it was +indeed a little black pig of very tender age, so closely covered up in +flannel that only its small pointed snout and one eye were visible. + +"Do you suppose it's ill?" inquired David. + +"I daresay it is," answered Miss Grey; "we'll ask Mrs Hatchard about it +presently." + +The other children had gathered round, all more or less interested in +the invalid pig; but presently, Pennie having suggested that they should +go and see the new little calf, they ran out of the kitchen in search of +fresh excitement. + +"Come along, Davie," said Ambrose, looking back from the door; "come out +and see the other pigs." + +"No," said David decidedly, "I shall stop here." + +He took his seat as he spoke on the corner of the settle nearest the +pig, with the evident intention of waiting for Mrs Hatchard's arrival; +he was not going to lose a chance of inquiring closely into such an +important subject. + +And at last Mrs Hatchard came bustling in, cheerful, brisk, and +ruddy-faced as usual, with many apologies for her delay. Miss Grey +plunged at once into business with her, and the patient David sat +silently biding his time for the fit moment to put his questions. + +"Won't you run out, little master?" said the good-natured farmer's wife, +noticing the grave little figure at last. "There's the calves to see, +and a fine litter of likely young pigs too." + +"No, thank you," said David politely. "I want to know, please, why you +keep this one little pig in here, and whether it's ill." + +"Oh, aye," said Mrs Hatchard, coming up to the basket and stooping to +look at the occupant, which was now making a feeble grunting noise. +"I'd most forgot it. You see it's the Antony pig, and it's that weakly +and dillicut I took it away to give it a chance. I doubt I sha'n't rear +it, though, for it seems a poor little morsel of a thing." + +"How many other little pigs are there?" asked David. + +"Why, there's ten on 'em--all fine likely pigs except this one, and they +do that push and struggle and fight there's no chance for him." + +"Why do you call it the Antony pig?" pursued David with breathless +interest. + +"Well, I don't rightly know why or wherefore," said Mrs Hatchard; "it's +just a name the folks about here always give to the smallest pig in the +litter." + +"Do you think Farmer Hatchard knows?" inquired David. + +"Well, he might," said Mrs Hatchard, "and then again he mightn't. But +I tell you what, Master David, if yonder little pig lives, and providin' +the vicar has no objections, I'll give him to you. You always fancied +pigs, didn't you now?" + +David was still leaning fondly over the basket, and made no reply at +first. It took some time to fully understand the reality of such a +splendid offer. + +"Come, Davie," said Miss Grey, "we must say good-bye and go and find the +others." + +Then he got up, and held out his hand gravely to Mrs Hatchard. + +"Good-bye," he said. "Thank you. I hope you'll accede in rearing the +Antony pig. I should like to have it very much, if father will let me." + +David went home from the farm hardly able to believe in his own good +fortune, but according to his custom he said very little. + +The matter was discussed freely, however, by the other children, and it +was so interesting that it lasted them all the way back. Would the pig +live? they wondered, and if it did, would their father let David have +it? Where would it live? What would David call the pig if he did get +it? This last inquiry was put by Ambrose, and he felt quite rebuked +when his brother replied scornfully, "Antony, of course." + +But there was some demur on the part of the vicar when he was informed +of the proposed addition to his live stock. + +"I don't like to disappoint you, my boy," he said, "but you know Andrew +has plenty to do already. He has the garden to look after, and the +cows, and my horse. I don't think I could ask him to undertake anything +more." + +Poor little David's face fell, and his underlip was pushed out +piteously. He would not have cried for the world, and none of the +children ever thought of questioning what their father said; so he stood +silent, though he felt that the world without the Antony pig would be +empty indeed. + +"Do you want it very much, Davie?" said the vicar, looking up from his +writing at the mournful little face. + +"Yes, father, I do," said David, and with all his resolution he could +not choke back a little catching sob as he spoke. + +"Well, then, look here," said his father; "if you will promise me to +take entire charge of it, and never to trouble Andrew, or call him away +from his work to attend to it, you shall have the pig. But if I find +that it is neglected in any way, I shall send it back at once to Farmer +Hatchard. Is that a bargain?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed," cried the delighted David; and he ran out to tell the +result of his interview to the anxious children waiting outside the +study door. + +So David was to have the pig; and, with the assistance of Ambrose and a +few words of advice from Andrew, he at once began to prepare a +habitation for it. Fortunately there was an old sty still in existence, +which only wanted a little repairing, and everything was soon ready. +But the rearing of the Antony pig still hung trembling in the balance, +and some anxious weeks were passed by David; he called to inquire after +it as often as he possibly could, and, to his great joy, found it on +each occasion more lively and thriving--thanks to Mrs Hatchard's +devoted care. + +And at last the long-wished-for day arrived. Antony was driven to his +new home with a string tied round his leg, in the midst of a triumphal +procession of children, and David's joy and exultation were complete. + +There was certainly no danger of his neglecting his charge, or of asking +anyone to assist him in its service; never was pig so well cared for as +Antony, and as time went on he showed an intelligent appreciation of +David's attentions not unmixed with affection. Perhaps in consequence +of these attentions he soon developed much shrewdness of character, and +had many little humorous ways which were the pride of his master's +heart. The two were fast friends, and seemed to understand each other +without the need of speech, though David had been known to talk to his +pig when he believed himself to be in private. As for the _selling_ +part of the plan, it seemed quite to have faded away, and when Andrew +said with a grin: + +"Well, young master, t'pig 'ull soon be ready for market noo," David got +quite hot and angry, and changed the subject at once. + +On rare occasions Antony was conducted, making unctuous snorts of +pleasure, into the field to taste a little fresh grass and rout about +with his inquisitive nose; but the garden was of course forbidden +ground. Therefore, when he was once discovered in the act of enjoying +himself amongst Andrew's potatoes, the consternation was extreme. It +was Nancy who saw him, as she sat one morning learning a French verb, +and staring meanwhile absently out of the schoolroom window. Her +expression changed suddenly from utter vacancy to keen interest, and her +monotonous murmur of "J'ai, Tu as, Il a," to a shout of, "Oh, Davie, +there's Antony in the garden!" + +"Nancy," said Miss Grey severely, "you know it is against rules to talk +in lesson time. Be quiet." + +"But I can't really, Miss Grey," said Nancy, craning her neck to get a +better view of the culprit; "he's poking up the potatoes like anything. +Andrew _will_ be so cross. You'd better just let us go and chase him +back again." + +The excitement had now risen so high that Miss Grey felt this would +really be the best plan, for attention to lessons seemed impossible, and +soon the four children were rushing helter-skelter across the garden in +pursuit of Antony. With a frisk of his tail and a squeak of defiance he +led the chase in fine style, choosing Andrew's most cherished borders. +What a refreshment it was, after the tedium of French verbs and English +history, and what a pity when Antony, after a brave resistance, was at +length hustled back into his sty! + +Whether the door was insecure, or not too carefully fastened after this, +remains uncertain; but it is a fact that these pig-chases came to be of +pretty frequent occurrence, and always happened, by some strange chance, +during school hours. The cry of, "Pig out!" and the consequent rush of +children in pursuit, at last reached such a pitch that both Miss Grey +and the much-tried Andrew made complaint to the vicar. Miss Grey +declared that discipline was becoming impossible, and Andrew that there +would not be a "martal vegetable in the garden if Master David's pig got +out so often." Then the vicar made a rule to this effect: + +"If David's pig is seen in the garden again, it goes back that same day +to Farmer Hatchard." + +The vicar's rules were not things to be disregarded, and his threats +were always carried out. David and Ambrose might have been seen with a +large hammer and nails very busy at the pig-sty that afternoon, and +Antony's visits to the garden ceased, until one unlucky occasion when +David was away from home, and it fell out in the following manner:-- + +In the cathedral town of Nearminster, ten miles from Easney, lived +Pennie's godmother Miss Unity Cheffins, and it was Mr and Mrs +Hawthorn's custom to pay her an annual visit of two or three days, +taking each of the four elder children with them in turn. It was an +occasion much anticipated by the latter, but more for the honour of the +thing than from any actual pleasure connected with it, for Miss Unity +was rather a stiff old lady, and particular in her notions as to their +proper behaviour. She was fond of saying, "In _my_ time young people +did so and so," and of noticing any little failure in politeness, or +even any personal defect. She was a rich old lady, and lived in a great +square house just inside the Cathedral Close; it was sombrely furnished, +and full of dark old portraits, and rare china bowls and knick-knacks, +which last Miss Unity thought a great deal of, and dusted carefully with +her own hands. Amongst the many injunctions impressed upon the +children, they were told never to touch the china, and there were indeed +so many pitfalls to be avoided, that the visit was not by any means an +unmixed pleasure to Mrs Hawthorn. The children themselves, however, +though they missed the freedom of their home, and were a little afraid +of the upright Miss Unity, managed to extract enjoyment from it, and +always looked enviously upon the one of their number whose turn it was +to go to Nearminster. + +And now the time had come round again, and it was David's turn to go, +but there was one drawback to his pleasure, because he must leave the +pig. Who could say that some careless hand might not leave the door of +the sty open or insecurely fastened during his absence? Then Antony's +fate would be certain, for Andrew was only too eager to carry out the +vicar's sentence of banishment, and was on the watch for the least +excuse to hurry the pig back to the farm. + +After turning it over in his mind, David came to the conclusion that he +could best ensure Antony's safety by placing him under someone's special +care, and he chose Nancy for this important office. + +"You _will_ take care of him, won't you?" he said, drawing up very close +to her and fixing earnest eyes upon her face, "and see that his gate is +always fastened." + +Nancy was deeply engaged in painting a picture in the _Pilgrim's +Progress_; she paused a moment to survey the effect of Apollyon in +delicate sea-green, and said rather absently: + +"Of course I will. And so will Ambrose and so will Pennie." + +"No, but I want you partickerlerlery to do it," said David, bungling +dreadfully over the long word in his anxiety--"you _more_ than the +others." + +"All right," said Nancy with her head critically on one side. + +"I want you to promise three things," went on David--"to keep his gate +shut, and to give him acorns, and not to let Dickie poke a stick at +him." + +"Oh, yes, I'll promise," said Nancy readily. + +"Truly and faithfully?" continued David, edging still closer up to her; +"you won't forget?" + +"No, I really won't," said Nancy with an impatient jerk of her elbow; +"don't you worry me any more about it." + +"I took care of your dormouse when _you_ went," continued David, "and +didn't forget it once. So you ought to take care of my pig, it's only +fair." + +"Well, don't I tell you I'm going to?" said Nancy, laying down her +paint-brush with an air of desperation. "I sha'n't do it a bit more for +your asking so often. Do leave off." + +"You'll only be away three days, Davie," said Pennie, looking up from +her book; "we can manage to take care of Antony that little while I +should think." + +"Well," said David, "Nancy's got to be 'sponsible, because I took care +of her mouse." + +"If I were you," said Ambrose with a superior air, "I wouldn't use such +long words; you never say them right." + +"I say," interrupted Pennie, putting down her book, "what do you all +like best when you go to Nearminster? I know what _I_ like best." + +"Well, what is it?" said Ambrose; "you say first, and then Nancy, and +then me, and then David." + +"Well," said Pennie, clasping her knees with much enjoyment, "what I +like best is going to church in the Cathedral in the afternoon. When +it's a little bit dusky, you know, but not lighted up, and all the +pillars look misty, and a long way off, and there are very few people. +And then the boys sing, and you feel quite good and just a little bit +sad; I can't think why it is that I never feel like that in our church; +I suppose it's a cathedral feeling. That's what I like best. Now you, +Nancy." + +"Why," said Nancy without the least hesitation. "I like that little +Chinese mandarin that stands on the mantel-piece in Miss Unity's +sitting-room, and wags its head." + +"And _I_ like the drive back here best," said Ambrose, "because, when +we're going there's only Miss Unity to see at the end; but when we get +here there are all the animals and things." + +"I don't call that liking Nearminster. I call it liking home," said +Nancy. "Now, it's your turn, David." + +"I don't know what I like best," said David solemnly. "I only know what +I like least." + +"What's that?" + +"Miss Unity," said David with decision. + +"Should you call her very ugly?" inquired Ambrose. + +"Yes, of course, quite hideous," replied Nancy indistinctly, with her +paint-brush in her mouth. + +"Well, I'm not quite sure," said Pennie; "once I saw her eyes look quite +nice, as if they had a light shining at the back of them." + +"Like that face Andrew made for us out of a hollow pumpkin, with a +candle inside?" suggested Nancy. + +"You're always so stupid, Nancy!" said Ambrose scornfully. "I know what +Pennie means about Miss Unity; _I've_ seen her eyes look nice too. +Don't you remember, too, how kind she was when Dickie was so rude to +her? I've never been so afraid of her since that." + +The next day the party started for Nearminster in the wagonette, David +sitting in front with his feet resting comfortably on his own little +trunk. Andrew, who drove, allowed him to hold the whip sometimes, and +the end of the reins--so it was quite easy to fancy himself a coachman; +but this delightful position did not make him forget other things. +Beckoning to Nancy, who stood with the rest on the rectory steps, he +lifted a solemn finger. + +"Remember!" he said. + +Nancy nodded, the wagonette drove away followed by wavings, and +good-byes, and shrieking messages from the children, and was soon out of +sight. + +"That was like Charles the First," said Pennie; "don't you remember just +before they cut off his head--" + +"Oh, don't!" said Nancy; "pray, don't talk about Charles the First out +of lesson time." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +MISS UNITY. + +It was a lonely life which Miss Unity Cheffins lived at Nearminster, but +she had become so used to it that it did not occur to her to wish for +any other. Far far in the distance she could remember a time when +everything had not been so quiet and still round her--when she was one +of a group of children who had made the old house in the Close echo with +their little hurrying footsteps and laughing voices. One by one those +voices had become silent and the footsteps had hastened away, and Miss +Unity was left alone to fill the empty rooms as she best might with the +memories of the past. That was long long ago, and now her days were all +just alike, as formal and even as the trimly-kept Close outside her +door. And she liked them to be so; any variety or change would have +been irksome to her. She liked to know that exactly as eight o'clock +sounded from the cathedral Bridget would bring her a cup of tea, would +pull up her blind to a certain height, and would remark, "A fine +morning, ma'am," or "A dull morning," as the case might be. At eleven +o'clock, wet or dry, she would sally forth into the town to do the light +part of her marketing and cast a thoughtful eye on the price of +vegetables; after which, girt with a large linen apron, and her head +protected by a mob-cap, she would proceed to dust and wash her cherished +china. From much loneliness she had formed a habit of talking quietly +to herself during these operations; but no one could have understood +her, for she only uttered the fag-ends of her thoughts aloud. + +The Chinese mandarin which Nancy admired was the object of Miss Unity's +fondest care; some bygone association was doubtless connected with him, +for she seldom failed to utter some husky little sentences of endearment +while she lingered over his grotesque person with tender touches of her +feather brush. So the day went on. After her dinner, if the weather +were fair, she would perhaps deck herself with a black silk mantilla and +a tall bonnet with nodding flowers, and go out to visit some old friend. +A muffin, a cup of tea, and perhaps a little cathedral gossip would +follow; and then Miss Unity, stepping primly across the Close, reached +the dull shelter of her own home again, and was alone for the rest of +the evening. At ten o'clock she read prayers to Bridget and the little +maid, and so to bed. + +The even course of these days was only disturbed twice in the year--once +by Mr and Mrs Hawthorn's visit to Nearminster, and once by Miss +Unity's visit to Easney. These were important events to her, +anticipated for months, not exactly with pleasure; for, though she was +really fond of her friends, she was shy, and to be put out of her usual +habits was, besides, a positive torture to her. Then there were the +children! Troublesome little riddles Miss Unity often found them, +impossible to understand; and it is a question whether she or they were +the more uncomfortable when they were together. For she had an idea, +gathered from some dim recollection of the past, that children needed +constant correction and reproof; and she felt sure Mary Hawthorn +neglected her duty in this respect, and was over-indulgent. So, being a +most conscientious woman, she tried to supply this shortcoming, and the +result was not a happy one. + +She was ill at ease with all the children, but of Dickie she was fairly +frightened, for Dickie had disgraced herself at her very first +introduction. Seeing Miss Unity's grim face framed by the nodding +bonnet bending down to kiss her, the child looked up and said with a +sweet smile, "Ugly lady!" + +There was no disguising it, for Dickie's utterance had the clearness of +a bell, and a horrified silence fell on the assembly. + +"Don't be naughty, Dickie," said Mrs Hawthorn reprovingly; "say, `How +do you do?' directly." + +But Miss Unity had straightened herself up and turned away with an odd +look in her eyes. + +"Don't scold the child, Mary," she said; "she's not naughty, she's only +honest." + +From that time Pennie never considered Miss Unity quite ugly, and indeed +her features were not so much ugly as rugged and immovable. When her +feelings were stirred she was not ugly at all; for they were good, kind +feelings, and made her whole face look pleasant. So little happened in +her life, however, that they generally remained shut up as in a sort of +prison, and were seldom called forth; people, therefore, who did not +know her often thought her cross. But Miss Unity was not cross--she was +only lonely and dull because she had so little to love. Nothing could +have passed off better than the Hawthorns' visit on this particular +occasion, and indeed when David was with her Mrs Hawthorn never feared +the unlucky accidents which were apt to occur with the other children. +He was so deliberate and careful by nature that there was no risk of his +knocking down the china, or treading on the cat's tail, or on the train +of Miss Unity's gown. Nancy did all these things frequently, however +hard she tried to be good, and was, besides, very restive under reproof +and ready to answer pertly. + +On the whole Miss Unity liked to have the grave little David with her +better than the other children, though she sometimes felt when she found +his solemn and disapproving gaze fixed upon her. David on his side had +his opinions, though he said little, and he had long ago made up his +mind that he did not like Miss Unity at all. So he was sorry to find, +when the day came for leaving Nearminster, that she was going back to +Easney with them instead of making her visit later in the year. It +would not be nearly as pleasant as driving alone with his father and +mother, he thought; for now he could not ask questions on the way, +unless he talked to Andrew, and he was always so silent. + +When the wagonette came round there were so many little packages +belonging to Miss Unity that it was quite difficult to stow them away, +and as fast as that was done Bridget brought out more. Not that there +was much luggage altogether, but it consisted in such a number of +oddly-shaped parcels and small boxes that it was both puzzling and +distracting to know where to put them. Mr Hawthorn was busy for a good +quarter of an hour disposing of Miss Unity's property; while David +looked on, keenly interested, and full of faith in his father's +capacity. + +"That's all, I think," said Mr Hawthorn triumphantly at last, as he +emerged from the depths of the wagonette, and surveyed his labours; +"there's not much room left for us, certainly, but I daresay we shall +manage." + +As he spoke Bridget came out of the house carrying a waterproof bundle, +bristling with umbrellas and parasols. + +"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the vicar in a discouraged voice, "is that to +go? Does your mistress want all those umbrellas?" + +"She wouldn't like to go without 'em, sir," replied Bridget. + +"Where _shall_ you put them, father?" asked David in quite an excited +manner. + +That was indeed a question, but it was at length solved by Mr Hawthorn +deciding to walk, and the wagonette was ready to proceed, David sitting +in front as usual. After several efforts to make Andrew talk he fell +back for amusement on his own thoughts, and in recognising all the +well-known objects they passed on the road. Presently they came to a +certain little grey cottage, and then he knew they were halfway home. +It had honeysuckle growing over the porch, and a row of bee-hives in the +garden, which was generally bright and gay with flowers; just now, +however, it all looked withered and unattractive, except that on one +tree there still hung some very red apples, though it was the beginning +of November. That reminded David of Antony, who had a great weakness +for apples. He smiled to himself, and felt glad that he should see his +pet so soon. + +After this cottage there was a long steep hill to go up, and here Ruby +the horse always waited for Andrew to get down and walk. David might +really drive now, and even flick at Ruby's fat sides with the whip, +which was pleasant, but did not make the least difference to his speed. + +When they had reached the top of the hill, the little square tower of +Easney church could just be seen, and the chimneys of the vicarage, but +though they looked near, there were still nearly four miles to drive. +Now it was all downhill, and Ruby pounded along at an even trot, which +seemed to make a sort of accompaniment to David's thoughts-- + + To market, to market, + To buy a fat pig; + Home again, home again, + Jig a jig, jig! + +it said, over and over again. "I wonder whether Antony will know me!" +thought David. + +Five minutes more and the carriage stopped at the white gate, and Andrew +getting down to open it, David drove in a masterly manner up to the +front door, where Ambrose, Pennie, and Dickie were assembled to welcome +the return. Amidst the bustle which followed, while Miss Unity's +belongings were being unpacked and carried indoors under the watchful +eye of their owner, David slipped down from his perch and hurried away +towards the kitchen-garden; Antony lived there, and he would go and see +him first of all. As he ran along the narrow path, bordered with +fruit-trees, he stooped to pick up a wrinkled red apple which had +fallen. "He's _so_ fond of 'em!" thought he, as he put it in his +pocket. There was the sty, and now he should soon hear the low grunt so +delightful to his ears. All was silent, however, and he went on more +slowly, with a slight feeling of dread, for somehow the sty had a +strangely empty look about it. "He's eating," said David encouragingly +to himself; but even as he said so he stood still, quite afraid to go +any nearer. Then he called gently: "Choug, choug, choug." No sign of +life. No inquiring black snout peering over the edge. Unable to bear +the uncertainty, he rushed forward and looked into the sty. + +Empty! Yes, quite empty--Antony's straw bed was there, and the remains +of some food in his trough, but no Antony! + +David stood staring at the desolate dwelling for some minutes, hardly +able to believe his eyes; then with a thrill of hope he said to himself: + +"He must have got out. He must be somewhere in the garden;" and he +turned round to go and search for him. As he did so, he saw a small +dejected figure coming down the path towards him with downcast face and +lagging step. It was Nancy--grief in every feature, and guilt in every +movement. One glance was enough for David; he understood it all now, +and he flushed angrily, and turned his back upon her, clenching his +fists tightly. She came slowly up and stood close to him; she was +crying. + +"Oh, Davie," she said. "I am so sorry." + +"Where's Antony?" said David in a muffled voice without looking at her. + +"He's gone." + +"Where?" + +"Back to the farm." + +"Why?" + +"Andrew took him. He found him eating the spinach, and he said he must +obey orders. And I asked Miss Grey to stop him, and she said she +couldn't interfere--" + +Nancy stopped and gasped. + +"Then," said David sternly, "you didn't fasten his gate." + +"Oh, I _thought_ I did," said Nancy, beginning to sob again in an +agonised manner; "but I forgot to put that stick through the staple, and +he must have pushed it open. I am so sorry." + +"That's no good at all," said David with a trembling lip; "Antony's +gone." + +"I'll give you anything of mine to make up," said Nancy eagerly--"my +bantam hen, or my dormouse, or my white kitten." + +"I don't want anything of yours," said David, "I want my own pig." + +Nancy was silent, except for some little convulsive sobs. Presently she +made a last effort. + +"Please, Davie," she said humbly, "won't you forgive me? I _am_ so +sorry." + +David turned round. His face was very red, but he spoke slowly and +quietly: + +"No," he said, "I won't forgive you. I never mean to. You promised to +take care of Antony, and you haven't. You're _very_ wicked." + +Then he went away and left Nancy in floods of tears by the empty sty. + +Everyone sympathised with David at first, and was sorry for his loss, +though perhaps no one quite understood what a great one it was to him; +but there was another feeling mingled with his grief for Antony, which +was even stronger, and that was anger towards his sister. David had a +deep sense of justice, and it seemed hard to him that he alone should +suffer for Nancy's wrong-doing. When he saw her after a time as merry +and gay as though Antony had never existed, he felt as hard as stone, +and would neither speak to her nor join in any game in which she took +part. She ought to be punished, he thought, and made to feel as unhappy +as he did. Poor little Davie! he was very miserable in those days, and +sadly changed, for his once loving heart was torn with grief and anger, +which are both hard to bear, but anger far the worse of the two. So he +moped about mournfully alone, and no one took much notice of him, for +people got tired of trying to comfort him and persuade him to forgive. +Even his mother was unsuccessful: + +"You ought to forgive and forget, Davie," said she. + +"I _can't_ forget Antony," replied David, "and I don't want to forgive +Nancy. I'd rather _not_." + +"But she would be the first to forget any wrong thing you did to her," +continued Mrs Hawthorn. + +"Nancy _always_ forgets," said David, "wrong things and right things +too." + +Mrs Hawthorn was silenced, for this was strictly true. + +"I don't know what to make of David," she said to her husband +afterwards. "I would ask you to let him have the pig back, but I don't +think he ought to have it while he shows this unforgiving spirit." + +"Let him alone," said the vicar. "Leave it to time." + +So David was left alone; but time went on and did not seem to soften his +feelings in the least, and this was at last brought about by a very +unexpected person. + +One morning Miss Unity, who had now been staying some time at Easney, +went out to take a little air in the garden: it was rather damp under +foot, for it had rained in the night, but now the sun shone brightly, +and she stepped forth, well protected by over-shoes and thick shawl, +with the intention of taking exercise for exactly a quarter of an hour. + +From the direction of the Wilderness she heard shouts and laughter which +warned her of the children's whereabouts, and she turned at once into +another path which led to the kitchen-garden. + +"How Mary does let those children run wild!" she said to herself, "and +Pennie getting a great girl, too. As for Miss Grey, she's a perfect +cipher, and doesn't look after them a bit. If they were _my_ +children--" + +But here Miss Unity's reflections were checked. Lifting her eyes she +saw at the end of the narrow path a low shed which looked like a +pig-sty; by it was a plank, raised at each end on a stone, so as to form +a rough bench, and on this there crouched a small disconsolate figure. +It was bent nearly double, and had its face buried in its hands, so that +only a rough shock of very light hair was visible; but though she could +not see any features Miss Unity knew at once that it was David mourning +for his pig. + +Her first impulse was to turn round and go quickly away, for she had +gathered from what she had heard of the affair that he was a very +naughty, sulky little boy; as she looked, however, she saw by a slight +heaving movement of the shoulder that he was crying quietly, and her +heart was stirred with sudden pity: + +"It's a real grief to the child, that's evident, though it's only about +a pig," she said to herself, and, yielding to another impulse, she +walked on towards him instead of going back. But after all it was a +difficult situation when she got close to him, for she did not know what +to say, although she felt an increasing desire to give him comfort. At +any rate it was useless to stand there in silence looking at that little +bowed head; would it be better to sit down by him, perhaps? she +wondered, casting a doubtful eye on the decidedly dirty plank. Miss +Unity was delicately particular, and her whole soul recoiled from dirt +and dust, so it was really with heroic resolution that she suddenly +folded her nice grey gown closely about her and took a seat, stiffly +erect, by David's side. When there she felt impelled to pat his head +gently with two long fingers, and say softly: "Poor little boy!" + +David had watched all Miss Unity's movements narrowly through a chink in +his fingers, though he kept his face closely hidden, and when she sat +down beside him he was so surprised that he stopped crying. He wondered +what she was going to say. She would scold him, of course, everyone +scolded him now, and he set his teeth sullenly and prepared to defend +himself. Then the unexpected kind words fell on his ear, and he could +not help bursting into fresh tears, and sobbed as if his heart would +break. It was partly for Antony, partly for Nancy, partly for himself, +that he was crying; he was so tired of being naughty, and he wanted so +much to be made good again. + +Miss Unity was sadly perplexed by the result of her efforts; she seemed +to have made matters worse instead of better, and she sat for some +minutes in silent dismay by the side of the sobbing David. But having +begun she felt she must go on, and taking advantage of a little lull she +presently said: + +"Was it a nice pig, David?" + +"B-b-beautiful." + +"And you miss it?" + +This was so evident a fact that David seemed to think it needed no +answer, and Miss Unity continued: + +"It's sad to lose anything we know and love. Very hard to bear. It's +quite natural and right to be sorry." + +David took his hands away from his face, which was curiously marked by +dirty fingers and tears, and lifted a pair of blurred blue eyes to Miss +Unity. He was listening, and she felt encouraged to proceed: + +"But though it's hard, there is something else that is much worse; do +you know what that is?" + +"No," said David. + +"To be angry with anyone we love," said Miss Unity solemnly; "that is a +very bitter feeling, and hurts us very much. All the while we have it +in our hearts we can't be happy, because anger and love are fighting +together." + +David's eyes grew rounder and larger. Could this really be Miss Unity? +He was deeply impressed. + +"And they fight," she went on, "until one is killed. Very often love is +stronger, but sometimes it is anger that conquers, and then sad things +follow. In this way, David, much evil has happened in the world from +time to time." + +Miss Unity paused. She felt that she was getting on very well, and was +surprised at her own success, for David had stopped crying, and was +staring at her with absorbed interest. She went on: + +"When once we let anger drive love quite out of our hearts all manner of +bad things enter; but we don't often succeed in doing it, because love +is so great and strong. Do you know why you're so unhappy just now?" + +"Because I've lost Antony," said David at once. + +"Yes, that is one reason, but there is a bigger one. It is because you +are angry with Nancy." + +David hung his head. + +"You're fond of Nancy, Davie? I've heard your mother say that you and +she are favourite playfellows." + +"No," said David, "not now. She promised to shut Antony's gate--and she +forgot." + +Miss Unity stopped a moment to think; then she said: + +"Would you be happier, David, if Nancy were to be punished?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" + +"Because it would be fair." + +"Well--you know it's Nancy's birthday soon, and she has to choose what +present I shall give her?" + +David nodded his head. He knew it very well; and not only that, he knew +what Nancy was going to choose, for she had confided to him as a great +secret that her heart was set on a kitchen-range for the doll's house. + +"When she chooses, would you like me to say: `No, Nancy. Because you +were careless and forgot David's pig I shall give you nothing this +year?'" + +Miss Unity waited eagerly for the answer. How she hoped it would be +"No." She had not been so anxious for anything for a long time. + +But David raised his head, gazed at her calmly, and said quite +distinctly: + +"Yes." + +Miss Unity sighed as she got up from her lowly seat. + +"Very well, David," she said, "it shall be so; but I am sorry you will +not forgive your sister." + +She went sadly back to the house, thinking to herself: + +"Of course _I_ could not persuade where others have failed. It was +foolish to try. I have no influence with children. I ought to have +remembered that." + +But she was mistaken. That night when she was dressing for dinner there +was a little knock at her door, very low down as though from somebody of +short stature. She opened it, and there was David. + +"If you please," he said, "I've come to say that I'd rather you gave +Nancy the kitchen-range--I mean, whatever she chooses for her birthday." + +"Then you've forgiven her?" asked Miss Unity excitedly. + +"Yes," said David. "Good-night, because it's bed-time. Nurse said I +was to go back directly." + +He held out his hand, and also raised a pursed-up mouth towards Miss +Unity, which meant that he wished to be kissed. + +Feeling the honour deeply she stooped and kissed him, and her eyes +followed the little square figure wistfully as it trotted down the +passage to the nursery; when it disappeared she turned into her room +again with a warmer feeling about her heart than she had known for many +a day. + +Three days after this was Nancy's birthday, and although the +kitchen-range did not appear she hopped and skipped and looked so +brimful of delight that David could not help asking: "What are you so +pleased about?" + +"Come with me," was Nancy's reply, "and I'll show you Miss Unity's +birthday present. It's the best of all." + +She hurried David into the garden, and up to the pig-sty--empty no +longer! There was Antony as lively as ever, and ready to greet his +master with a cheerful grunt! + +"There," she said, in the intervals of a dance of triumph, "I and Andrew +fetched him home. Father said we might. I asked Miss Unity to ask him +to have him back for a birthday present. And she did. She was so kind; +and I don't think she's ugly now at all." + +Nor did David; and he never said again that the thing he liked least at +Nearminster was Miss Unity, for he had a long memory for benefits as +well as for injuries. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +ETHELWYN. + +"Oh, dear me!" said Pennie, looking at herself in the glass over the +nursery mantel-shelf; "it _is_ ugly, and _so_ uncomfortable. I wish I +needn't wear it." + +"It," was Pennie's new winter bonnet, and certainly it was not very +becoming; it was made of black plush with a very deep brim, out of which +her little pointed face peered mournfully, and seemed almost swallowed +up. There was one exactly like it for Nancy, and the bonnets had just +come from Miss Griggs, the milliner at Nearminster, where they had been +ordered a week ago. "Do you come and try yours on, Miss Pennie," said +Nurse as she unpacked them, "there's no getting hold of Miss Nancy." + +So Pennie put it on with a little secret hope that it might be a +prettier bonnet than the last; she looked in the glass, and then +followed the exclamation with which this chapter begins. + +"I don't see anything amiss with it," said Nurse, who stood with her +head on one side, and the other bonnet perched on her hand. "They're as +alike as two pins," she added, twirling it round admiringly. + +"They're both just as ugly as they can be," said Pennie mournfully; "but +mine's sure to look worse than Nancy's--it always does. And they never +_will_ stay on," she added in a still more dejected voice, "unless I +keep on catching at the strings in front with my chin." + +"Oh, well, Miss Pennie," said Nurse, "your head will grow to it, and you +ought to be thankful to have such a nice warm bonnet. How would you +like to go about with just a shawl over your head, like them gypsies we +saw the other day?" + +"_Very much indeed_," said Pennie, who had now taken off the bonnet and +was looking at it ruefully. "There was one gypsy who had a red +handkerchief, which looked much prettier than this ugly old thing." + +"You oughtn't to mind how things look," returned Nurse. "You think too +much of outsides, Miss Pennie." + +"But the outside of a bonnet is the only part that matters," replied +Pennie. + +She was quite prepared to continue the subject, but this was not the +case with Nurse. + +"I've no time for argufying, miss," she said as she put the bonnets +carefully back into their boxes. "I'm sure my mistress will like them +very much. They're just as she ordered them." And so the subject was +dismissed, and Pennie felt that she was again a victim. + +For, as Nurse had said, Pennie _did_ care a great deal about outsides, +and she thought it hard sometimes that she and Nancy must always be +dressed alike, for the same things did not suit them at all. Probably +this very bonnet which was such a trial to Pennie would be a suitable +frame for Nancy's round rosy face, and look quite nice. It was +certainly hard. Pennie loved all beautiful things, from the flowers in +the garden and fields to the yellow curls on Cicely's ruffled head, and +it often troubled her to feel that with pretty things all round her she +did not look pretty herself. So the winter bonnet cast quite a gloom on +her for the moment, and although it may seem a small trial to sensible +people it was a large one to Pennie. How often she had sighed over the +straight little serge frocks which she and Nancy always wore, and +secretly longed for brighter colours and more flowing lines, and now +this ugly dark bonnet had come to make things worse. It would make her +feel like a blot in a fair white copybook, to walk about in it when the +beautiful clean snow covered the earth. What a pity that everything in +the world was not pretty! + +Pennie's whole soul went out towards beauty, and anyone with a pretty +face might be sure of her loving worship and admiration. "All is not +gold that glitters, Miss Pennie," Nurse would say, or, "Handsome is that +handsome does;" but it made no impression at all; Pennie continued to +feel sure that what looked pretty _must_ be good, and that a fair +outside meant perfection within. + +She stood thoughtfully watching Nurse as she put the bonnets away. It +_would_ be nice to wear a scarlet handkerchief over your head like that +gypsy. Such a lovely colour! And then there would be no tormenting +"caught back" feeling when the wind blew, which made it necessary to +press the chin firmly on the strings to keep that miserable bonnet on at +all. And besides these advantages it would be much cheaper, for she had +heard her mother say that Miss Griggs' things were _so_ expensive; "but +then," Mrs Hawthorn had added, "the best of them is that they _do_ +last." Pennie thought that decidedly "the worst" of them, for she and +Nancy would have to wear those bonnets for at least two winters before +they showed any signs of wearing out--indeed, they had been made rather +large in the head on purpose. + +But it was of no use to think about it any more now, so with a little +sigh she turned away and went back to her dolls, prepared to treat the +ugly one, Jemima, with even more than usual severity. Jemima was the +oldest doll of the lot, made of a sort of papier-mache; her hair was +painted black and arranged in short fat curls; her face, from frequent +washing and punishment, had become of a leaden hue, and was full of +dents and bruises; her nose was quite flat, and she had lost one arm; in +her best days she had been plain, but she was now hideous. And no +wonder! Poor Jemima had been through enough trials to mar the finest +beauty. She had been the victim at so many scenes of torture and +executions that there was scarcely a noted sufferer in the whole of the +History of England whom she had not, at some time or other, represented. +To be burnt alive was quite a common thing to Jemima, and sometimes, +descending from the position of martyr to that of criminal, she was +hanged as a murderer! In an unusually bloodthirsty moment Ambrose had +once suggested _really_ putting out her eyes with red-hot +gauffering-irons, but this was overruled, and Jemima's eyes, pale blue +and quite expressionless, continued to stare placidly on the stake, +gibbet, or block, as the case might be. + +It was a relief to Pennie just now to cuff and scold Jemima, and to pet +the Lady Dulcibella, who was a wax doll with a lovely pink and white +complexion, and real golden hair and eyelashes. She had everything +befitting a doll of her station and appearance--a comfortable bed with +white curtains, an arm-chair with a chintz cushion, private brushes and +combs, and an elegant travelling trunk. Her life altogether was a +contrast to Jemima's, who never went to bed at all, and had no +possessions except one ragged old red dress; nevertheless, it is +possible that Dulcibella with all her elegance would have been the more +easily spared of the two. + +Nancy soon joined Pennie, and the little girls became so absorbed in +their play that they were still busy when tea-time came; they hurried +down-stairs to the schoolroom, for Miss Grey was particular about +punctuality, and found that David and Ambrose were already seated, each +with his own special mug at his side; mother was in the room too, +talking to Miss Grey about an open letter which she held in her hand. + +Mrs Hawthorn always paid the children a visit at schoolroom tea, and +they generally had something wonderful to tell her saved up for this +occasion--things which had occurred during their walk, or perhaps +exciting details about the various pet animals. Sometimes she in her +turn had news for them, and when Pennie saw the open letter she changed +her intention of saying that the bonnets had come home, and waited +quietly. Perhaps mother had something interesting to tell. + +Pennie was right, for Mrs Hawthorn presently made an announcement of +such a startling character that the new bonnets sank at once into +insignificance. + +"Children," she said, "a little girl is coming to stay with you." + +Now such a thing had never happened before, and it was so astonishing +that they all stared at their mother in silence with half-uplifted mugs, +and slices of bread and butter in their hands. Then all at once they +began to pour forth a torrent of questions:-- What is she like? Where +does she live? How old is she? What is her name? + +Mrs Hawthorn held up her hand. + +"One at a time," she said. "If you will be quiet you shall hear all +about it. This little girl lives in London. Her mother is a very old +friend of mine, though you have never seen her, and I have asked her to +let her little daughter come here for a visit. She is about Pennie's +age, and her name is Ethelwyn." + +"What a long one!" said Nancy; "must we call her all of it?" + +"I think it's a beautiful name," said Pennie. "Almost as good as +`Dulcibella.' And then we might call her `Ethel,' or `Winnie,' they're +both pretty." + +"Well, you can settle that afterwards," said their mother. "You must +wait and see what she likes best to be called. And that reminds me to +say that I hope my children will be hospitable to their guest. Do you +know what that means?" + +"I know," said Ambrose, gulping a piece of bread and butter very quickly +in his haste to be first. "Let _me_ say. It means taking care of +people when they're ill." + +"Not quite right," said Mrs Hawthorn. "You are thinking of `hospital,' +which is a different thing, though both words come from the same idea; +can you tell, Pennie?" + +"It means being kind, doesn't it?" said Pennie. + +"It means something more than that. What do you say, Davie?" + +"Always to give her the biggest piece," said David, with his eyes +thoughtfully fixed on the pile of bread and butter. + +Nancy was then appealed to, but she always refused to apply her mind out +of lesson hours, and only shook her head. + +"Well," said Mrs Hawthorn, "I think Davie's explanation is about the +best, for hospitality does mean giving our friends the best we have. +But it means something more, for you might give Ethelwyn the biggest +piece of everything, and yet she might not enjoy her visit at all. But +if you try to make her happy in the way _she likes best_, and consider +her amusement and comfort before your own, you will be hospitable, and I +shall be very pleased with you all. I expect, however, she will be +chiefly Pennie and Nancy's companion, because, as she has no brothers +and sisters, she may not care about the games you all play together. +She has not been used to boys, and might find them a little rough and +noisy." + +Pennie drew herself up a little. It would be rather nice to have a +friend of her very own, and already she saw herself Ethelwyn's sole +support and adviser. + +The children continued to ask questions until there was nothing else to +be learnt about Ethelwyn, and she was made the subject of conversation +after their mother left the room, and until tea was over. They made +various plans for the amusement of the expected guest. + +"I can show her my pig," said David. + +"And the rabbits and the jackdaw and the owl," added Ambrose. + +"Oh, I don't suppose she'll care at all about such common things as pigs +and rabbits," said Pennie rather scornfully, for the very name of +Ethelwyn had a sort of superior sound. + +"Then she'll be a stupid," said Ambrose. + +"Owdacious," added David. + +"Davie," said Miss Grey, "where did you hear that word?" + +"Andrew says it," answered David triumphantly; "he says Antony grows +owdacious." + +A lively argument followed, for David could not be brought to understand +for some time why Andrew's expressions were not equally fit for little +boys and gardeners. Ethelwyn was for the time forgotten by everyone +except Pennie, who continued to think about her all that evening. +Indeed, for days afterwards her mind was full of nothing else; she +wondered what she was like, and how she would talk, and she had Ethelwyn +so much on the brain that she could not keep her out of her head even in +lesson time. She came floating across the pages of the History of +England while Pennie was reading aloud, and caused her to make strange +mistakes in the names of the Saxon kings. + +"Ethelbert, not Ethelwyn, Pennie," Miss Grey would say for the twentieth +time, and then with a little impatient shake Pennie would wake up from +her day-dreams, and try to fix her mind on the matter in hand. But it +was really difficult, for those kings seemed to follow each other so +fast, and to do so much the same things, and even to have names so much +alike, that it was almost impossible to have clear ideas about them. +Pennie's attention soon wandered away again to a more attractive +subject: Ethelwyn! it was certainly a nice name to have, and seemed to +mean all sorts of interesting things; how small and poor the name of +Pennie sounded after it! shortened to Pen, as it was sometimes, it was +worse still. No doubt Ethelwyn would be pretty. She would have long +yellow hair, Pennie decided, not plaited up in a pig-tail like her own +and Nancy's, but falling over her shoulders in a nice fluffy way like +the Lady Dulcibella's. Pennie often felt sorry that there was no +fluffiness at all about her hair, or that of her brothers and sisters; +their heads all looked so neat and tight, and indeed they could not do +otherwise under Nurse's vigorous treatment, for she went on the +principle that anything rough was untidy. Even Dickie's hair, which +wanted to curl, was sternly checked, and kept closely cropped like a +boy's; it was only Cicely's that was allowed at present to do as it +liked and wave about in soft little rings of gold. + +Pennie made her plans and thought her thoughts, and often went to bed +with Ethelwyn's imaginary figure so strongly before her that she had +wonderful dreams. Ethelwyn took the shape of the "Fair One with the +Golden Locks," in the fairy book, and stood before her with yellow hair +quite down to her feet--beautiful, gracious, smiling. Even in the +daylight Pennie could not quite get rid of the idea, and so, long before +she had seen her, the name of Ethelwyn came to mean, in her romantic +little mind, everything that was lovely and desirable. + +And at last Ethelwyn came. It was an exciting moment, for the children +were so unused to strangers that they were prepared to look upon their +visitor with deep curiosity. They were nevertheless shy, and it had +occurred to David and Nancy that the cupboard under the stairs would be +a favourable position from which to take cautious observations when she +arrived. + +Ambrose, therefore, and Pennie were the only two ready to receive their +guest, for Dickie was busy with her own affairs in the nursery; they +waited in the schoolroom with nervous impatience, and presently the +drawing-room bell rang twice, which was always a signal that the +children were wanted. + +"That's for us," said Pennie. "Come, Ambrose." + +But Ambrose held back. "_You_ go," he said. "Mother doesn't want me." + +And Pennie, after trying a few persuasions, was obliged to go alone. +But when she got to the door and heard voices inside the room she found +it difficult to go in, and stood on the mat for some minutes before she +could make up her mind to turn the handle. She looked down at her +pinafore and saw that it was a good deal crumpled, and an unlucky +ink-spot stared at her like a little black eye in the very middle of it; +surely, too, Nurse had drawn back her hair more tightly than usual from +her face. Altogether she felt unequal to meeting the unknown but +elegant Ethelwyn. + +It must be done, however, and at last she turned the handle quickly and +went into the room. Mrs Hawthorn was sitting by the fire, and in front +of her stood a little girl. Her hair _was_ fluffy and yellow, just as +Pennie had thought, and hung down her back in nice waves escaping from +the prettiest possible quilted bonnet (how different from that black +plush one upstairs!) This was dark blue like her dress, and she carried +a dear little quilted muff to match. Her features were neat and +straight, and her large violet eyes had long lashes curling upwards; +there was really quite a striking likeness between her face and the Lady +Dulcibella's, except that the cheeks of the latter were bright pink, and +Ethelwyn was delicately pale. + +Pennie noticed all this as she advanced slowly up the room, deeply +conscious of the crumpled pinafore and the ink-spot. + +"This is Pennie," said her mother, and Ethelwyn immediately held out her +hand, and said, "How do you do?" in rather a prim voice and without any +shyness at all. + +"Now I shall give Ethelwyn into your care, Pennie," continued Mrs +Hawthorn. "You may take her into the garden and show her the pets, or +if she likes it better you may go upstairs and play with your dolls. +Make her as happy as you can, and I shall see you all again at +tea-time." + +The two little girls left the room together, and Pennie led the way +silently to the garden, giving furtive glances now and then at her +visitor. She felt sure that Ethelwyn would be surprised and pleased, +because mother had said that in London people seldom had gardens; but +her companion made no remark at all, and Pennie put the question which +had been a good deal on her mind: + +"What do you like to be called?" + +"My name's Ethelwyn," said the little girl. + +"Yes, I know," said Pennie. "Mother told us. But I mean, what are you +called for short?" + +"I'm _always_ called Ethelwyn. Father and mother don't approve of names +being shortened." + +"Oh!" said Pennie deeply impressed. Then feeling it necessary to assert +herself, she added: "_My_ name's Penelope Mary Hawthorn; but I'm always +called Pennie, and sometimes the children call me Pen." + +Ethelwyn made no answer; she was attentively observing Pennie's blue +serge frock, and presently asked: + +"What's your best dress?" + +"It's the same as this," said Pennie, looking down at it meekly, "only +newer." + +"Mine's velveteen," said Ethelwyn, "the new shade, you know--a sort of +mouse colour. Nurse says I look like a picture in it. Do you always +wear pinafores?" + +Before Pennie had time to answer they had arrived at the Wilderness, and +were now joined by Nancy and the two boys, who came shyly forward to +shake hands. + +"These are our gardens," said Pennie, doing the honours of the +Wilderness; "that's mine, and that's Dickie's, and the well belongs to +the others. They dug it themselves." + +Ethelwyn looked round, with her little pointed nose held rather high in +the air: + +"Why don't you keep it neater?" she said. "What an untidy place!" + +It was a blow to Pennie to hear this, but the truth of it struck her +forcibly, and she now saw for the first time that to a stranger the +Wilderness might not be very attractive. There were, of course, no +flowers now, and Dickie had tumbled a barrowful of leaves on to the +middle of Pennie's border, which was further adorned by a heap of oyster +shells, with which David intended some day to build a grotto. It looked +more like a rubbish heap than a garden, and the close neighbourhood of +the well did not improve it. There was only one cheerful object in the +Wilderness just now, and that was a little monthly rose-bush in Dickie's +plot of ground, which, in spite of most unfavourable circumstances, bore +two bright pink blossoms. + +After glancing scornfully round, Ethelwyn stooped and stretched out her +hand to pick the roses; but Pennie caught hold of her dress in alarm. + +"Oh, you mustn't," she cried; "they're Dickie's." + +Ethelwyn looked up astonished. + +"Who's Dickie?" she said; "what does he want them for?" + +"It isn't `he,' it's `she,'" said Nancy; "she's the youngest but one, +and she's saving them for mother's birthday." + +"Wouldn't it be a joke," said Ethelwyn laughing, "to pick them? She'd +never know where they'd gone." + +Pennie could not see anything funny in this idea at all, but she +remembered what Mrs Hawthorn had said about making their guest happy in +her own way, and she felt obliged to answer: + +"If you want to do it _very_ much you may." + +She was sorry to see that Ethelwyn immediately pulled both the little +roses off the tree, but tried to excuse her in her own mind. She did +not understand, perhaps, how much Dickie wanted them. Such a pretty +graceful creature as Ethelwyn _could_ not do anything purposely unkind. + +Nancy, however, not the least dazzled by Ethelwyn's appearance, was +boiling with anger. + +"I call that--" she began; but Pennie nudged her violently and +whispered: "She's a visitor," and the outspoken opinion was checked. + +David, too, turned the general attention another way just then; he came +gravely up to Ethelwyn and inquired: + +"Do you like animals?" + +"Animals?" said Ethelwyn; "oh, you mean pets. Yes, I like them +sometimes." + +"Then I'll show you my pig," said David. + +"A pig!" exclaimed Ethelwyn in rather a squeaky voice of surprise; "what +a nasty, dirty thing to have for a pet! Don't you mean _pug_?" + +"No, I don't," said David; "I mean pig." + +"But it's not a common sort of pig at all," put in Pennie hastily, for +she saw her brother's face getting crimson with anger, "and it's +beautifully clean and clever. It shakes hands." + +"We've got lots of animals," added Ambrose, "only you must come round to +the barn to see them." + +"Well," said Ethelwyn as the children all moved away, David rather +sulkily, with hands in his pockets, "I _never_ heard of a pig as a pet. +I don't believe it's a proper sort of pet at all. Now, _I've_ got a +little tiny toy terrier at home, and he has a collar with silver bells. +I _had_ a canary, but Nurse left its cage on the window-ledge in a high +wind, and it blew right down on the pavement from the very tip-top of +the house, so it died." + +"Oh," cried Nancy, horror-stricken, "how dreadful! Weren't you sorry?" + +"Not very," said Ethelwyn coolly. "You see I'd had it a long time, and +I was rather tired of it, and I often forgot to feed it." + +The animals were now visited, and introduced by their respective owners, +but without exciting much interest in Ethelwyn, for whatever she saw it +always appeared that she had something far better at home. Even +Antony's lively talents failed to move her, and, though she _could_ not +say she had a nicer pig herself, she observed calmly: + +"Ah, you should see the animals in the Zoological Gardens!" + +And to this there was no reply. + +Then she was taken to swing in the barn, and this proved a more +successful entertainment, for as long as the children would swing her +Ethelwyn was content to be swung. When, however, Nancy boldly remarked: + +"It's someone else's turn now," she was not quite so pleased, and soon +said in a discontented voice: + +"I'm tired of this. Let's go indoors and see your playthings." + +Here it was the same thing over again, for she found something slighting +to say even of the Lady Dulcibella, who was sitting prepared to receive +visitors in her best pink frock. + +"Can she talk?" asked Ethelwyn. "_My_ last new doll says `papa,' +`mama.'" + +Then her eye fell on the luckless Jemima, who, in her usual mean attire, +was sitting in the background with her head drooping helplessly, for it +had been loosened by constant execution. + +"Oh," cried Ethelwyn, pouncing upon her with more animation than she had +yet shown, "here's a fright!" + +She held the doll up by its frock, so that its legs and one remaining +arm dangled miserably in the air. + +"It's only Jemima," said Pennie. She was vexed that Ethelwyn had seen +her at all, and there was something painful in having her held up to the +general scorn. + +Ethelwyn began to giggle. + +"Why do you keep a guy like that?" she said. "Why don't you burn it?" + +"Well, so we do," replied Nancy, "very often. We burnt her only last +week." + +"She was Joan of Arc," explained Pennie. "Only make-believe, you know. +Not real flames." + +Ethelwyn stared. "What odd games you play!" she said. "I never heard +of them. But I know one thing: if she were mine I'd soon put her into +real flames." + +The rest of the day went on in much the same way, and the children found +it more and more difficult to amuse their guest. It was astonishing to +find how very soon she tired of any game. "What shall we do now?" was +her constant cry; and it grew so tiresome that Nancy and the boys at +last went off to play together, and left her entirely to Pennie. And +this arrangement grew to be a settled thing, for it really was almost +impossible to play the usual games with Ethelwyn; there was no sort of +check on her overbearing ways, because "she was a visitor," and must do +as she liked. Now, she was a very poor hand at "making up," and did not +understand "Shipwrecks" or "Desert Islands" in the least; but this would +not have mattered if she had been willing to learn. Joined, however, to +complete ignorance on those subjects, she had a large amount of conceit, +and seemed to think she could do everything better than anyone else. +For instance, if they were going to play "Shipwrecks"--"I'll be +captain," she would exclaim at once. This had always been Ambrose's +part, and he rather prided himself on his knowledge of nautical affairs, +gathered from a wide acquaintance with Captain Marryat's stories. He +gave it up politely to Ethelwyn, however, and the game began. But in +two minutes she would say: "I'm tired of being captain; I'd rather be +Indian savages." Indian savages was being performed with great spirit +by Nancy, but the change was made, and the game went on, until Ethelwyn +cast an envious eye upon Dickie, who, with a small pail and broom, was +earnestly scrubbing at the carpet, under the impression that she was a +cabin-boy washing the deck of a ship. "_I_ should like to be +cabin-boy," said Ethelwyn. + +But here the limit of endurance was reached, for Dickie grasped her +little properties tightly and refused to give up office. + +"_Me_ will be cabin-boy," was all she said when Pennie tried to persuade +her. + +"You see she's so little," said the latter apologetically to Ethelwyn, +"there's no other part she _can_ take, and she likes the pail and broom +so." + +"Oh, very well," said the latter carelessly, "then I don't care to play +any more. It's a very stupid game, and only fit for boys." + +Things did not go on pleasantly at Easney just now, and the longer +Ethelwyn stayed the more frequent became the quarrels; she had certainly +brought strife and confusion with her, and by degrees there came to be a +sort of division amongst the children. Pennie and Ethelwyn walked +apart, and looked on with dignified superiority, while the others played +the old games with rather more noise than usual. Pennie tried to think +she liked this, but sometimes she would look wistfully after her merry +brothers and sisters and feel half inclined to join them; the next +minute, however, when Ethelwyn tossed her head and said, "How vulgar!" +she was quite ashamed of her wish. + +She wondered now how it was that she had been able to play with the boys +so long without disagreement before Ethelwyn came. Of course these +quarrels were all their fault, for in Pennie's eyes Ethelwyn could do no +wrong; if sometimes it was impossible to help seeing that she was greedy +and selfish, and even told fibs, Pennie excused it in her own mind-- +indeed, these faults did not seem to her half so bad in Ethelwyn as in +other people, and by degrees she thought much more lightly of them than +she had ever done before. + +For Ethelwyn had gained a most complete influence over her, partly by +her beauty, and partly by her coaxing, flattering ways. It was all so +new to Pennie; and, though she was really a sensible little girl, she +loved praise and caresses overmuch; like many wiser people, she could +not judge anyone harshly who seemed to admire her. + +So she was Ethelwyn's closest companion in those days, and even began to +imitate what she considered her elegant manners. She spoke mincingly, +and took short little stiff steps in walking, and bent her head +gracefully when she said, "Yes, please," or "No, thank you." The new +plush bonnet was a misery to her, and she sighed to be beautifully +dressed. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +THE CHINESE MANDARIN. + +This uncomfortable state of things had been going on for nearly a +fortnight, and Ethelwyn's visit was drawing to a close, when one morning +there came a letter from Miss Unity. It contained an invitation to +Pennie to stay three days at Nearminster, and ended with these words: + +"If my god-daughter has her little friend still with her, I shall be +glad to see her also, if she would like to come." + +Now it happened that this suggestion of Miss Unity's came at a +wonderfully convenient moment; for it had been arranged already that +Ethelwyn's governess should meet her at the Nearminster station in three +days' time, and take her back to London. She would now go from Miss +Unity's house instead of from Easney, and Mrs Hawthorn was not at all +sorry to think that the children would be separated a little earlier +than was first intended. + +So, with many cautions not to be troublesome, not to talk in bed, and +not to touch the china, she told the little girls that they were to go +to Nearminster. The news quickly spread through the family, and caused +a deep but secret joy to the other children, for they were very tired of +Ethelwyn; nevertheless they restrained any expression of their pleasure +until the day of departure, when they gathered at the white gate to see +the wagonette pass. The little girls were feeling even more dignified +and grown-up than usual, for it was a great event to drive over to +Nearminster quite alone; therefore it was all the more trying to be +greeted by a derisive song: + + "Hurray, hurray, hurray! + Ethelwyn is gone away!" + +screamed the shrill voices, even Dickie doing her best to swell the +chorus. It was so loud that it sounded a long way up the road; and +Ethelwyn's favourite remark, "How very vulgar!" did not disguise it in +the least. + +The first day at Nearminster was fine and bright, and the children found +plenty to entertain them. It was all new to Ethelwyn; and to Pennie, +although she knew them so well, every object had an ever fresh interest. +They went into the market with Miss Unity in the morning, and watched +her buy a chicken, fresh eggs, and a cauliflower, which she carried home +herself in a brown basket. Then in the afternoon Bridget was allowed to +take the children into the town that they might see the shops, and that +Pennie might spend her money. For she had brought with her the contents +of her money-box, which amounted to fivepence-halfpenny, and intended to +lay out this large sum in presents for everyone at home. It was an +anxious as well as a difficult matter to do this to the best advantage, +and she spent much time in gazing into shop-windows, her brow puckered +with care and her purse clutched tightly in her hand. Ethelwyn's +advice, which might have been useful under these circumstances, was +quite the reverse; for the suggestions she made were absurdly above +Pennie's means, and only confusing to the mind. + +"I should buy that," she would say, pointing to something which was +worth at least a shilling. + +Pennie soon left off listening to her, and bent her undivided attention +to the matter--how to buy seven presents with five pence halfpenny? It +might have puzzled a wiser head than Pennie's; but at last, by dint of +much calculation on the fingers, she arrived with a mind at rest at the +following results:-- An india-rubber ball for the baby, a lead pencil +for father, a packet of pins for mother, a ball of twine for Ambrose, a +paint-brush for Nancy, a pen-holder for David, and a tiny china dog for +Dickie. + +Ethelwyn was very impatient long before the shopping was done. + +"Oh, spend the rest in sweets," she said over and over again in the +midst of Pennie's difficulties. + +But Pennie only shook her head, and would not even look at chocolate +creams or sugar-candy until she had done her business satisfactorily. + +In the evening she amused herself by packing and unpacking the presents, +and printing the name of each person on the parcels, while Miss Unity +read aloud. It was not a very amusing book, and Ethelwyn, who had spent +all her money on sweets and eaten more of them than was good for her, +felt cross and rather sick and discontented. She yawned and fidgeted, +and frowned as openly as she dared, for she was afraid of Miss Unity; +and when at last bed-time came, and the little girls were alone, she +expressed her displeasure freely. + +"I can't bear stopping here," she said. "It's a dull, ugly old place, I +think I wish I was back in London." + +"Well, so you will be the day after to-morrow," replied Pennie shortly. +She did not like even Ethelwyn to abuse Nearminster, and she was +beginning to be just a little tired of hearing so much about London. + +Unfortunately for Ethelwyn's temper the next day was decidedly wet--so +wet that even Miss Unity could not get out into the market, and settled +herself with a basket of wools for a morning's work. Through the +streaming window-panes the grass in the Close looked very green and the +Cathedral very grey; the starlings were industriously pecking at the +slugs, and the jackdaws chattered and darted about the tower as usual, +but there was not one other living thing to be seen. "Dull, horribly +dull!" Ethelwyn thought as she knelt up in the window-seat and pressed +her nose against the glass. It was just as bad inside the room; there +was Miss Unity's stiff upright figure, there was her needle going in and +out of her canvas, there was the red rose gradually unfolding with every +stitch. There was Pennie, bent nearly double over a fairy book, with +her elbows on her knees and a frown of interest on her brow. There was +nothing to see, nothing to do, no one to talk to. Ethelwyn gaped +wearily. + +Then her idle glance fell on the clock. Would it _always_ be twelve +o'clock that morning? And from that it passed to the Chinese mandarin, +which stood close to it. He was a little fellow, with a shining bald +head and a small patch of hair on each side of it; his face, which was +broad, had no features to speak of, and yet bore an expression of feeble +good-nature. Ethelwyn knew that the merest touch would set his head +nodding in a helpless manner, and she suddenly felt a great longing to +do it. But that was strictly forbidden; no one must touch the mandarin +except Miss Unity; and, though she was generally quite willing to make +him perform, Ethelwyn did not feel inclined to ask her. She wanted to +do it herself. "If she would only go out of the room," thought the +child, "I'd make him wag his head in a minute, whatever Pennie said." + +Curiously enough Bridget appeared at the door just then with a message. + +"If you please, ma'am," she said, "could Cook speak to you in the +kitchen about the preserving?" + +Now was Ethelwyn's opportunity, and she lost no time. She went quickly +up to the mantel-piece directly Miss Unity closed the door, and touched +the mandarin gently on the head. + +"Look, Pennie! look!" she cried. + +Pennie raised her face from her book with an absent expression, which +soon changed to horror as she saw the mandarin wagging his head with +foolish solemnity. Ethelwyn stood by delighted. + +"I'll make him go faster," she said, and raised herself on tiptoe, for +the mantel-piece was high. + +"Don't! don't!" called out Pennie in an agony of alarm; but it was too +late. Growing bolder, Ethelwyn gave the mandarin such a sharp tap at +the back of his head that he lost his balance and toppled down on the +hearth with a horrible crash. + +There he lay, his poor foolish head rolling about on the carpet, and his +body some distance off. Hopelessly broken, a ruined mandarin, he would +never nod any more! + +For a minute the little girls gazed speechlessly at the wreck; there was +silence in the room, except for the steady tick-tack of the clock. Then +Ethelwyn turned a terrified face towards her friend. + +"Oh, Pennie!" she cried, "what _shall_ I do?" for she was really afraid +of Miss Unity. + +Pennie rose, picked up the mandarin's head, and looked at it +sorrowfully. + +"Mother _told_ us not to touch the china," she said. + +"But can't we do anything?" exclaimed Ethelwyn wildly; "couldn't we +stick it on? He's not broken anywhere else. See, Pennie!" + +She put the mandarin on the mantel-piece and carefully balanced the +broken head on his shoulders. + +"He looks as well as ever," she said; "no one would guess he was +broken." + +"But he _is_," replied Pennie; "and even if he _can_ be mended I don't +suppose he'll ever nod like he used to." + +"Are you going to _tell_ her we broke him?" asked Ethelwyn after a short +pause. + +Pennie stared. + +"_We_ didn't break him," she said; "it was you, and _of course_ you'll +tell her." + +"That I sha'n't," said Ethelwyn sulkily; "and if you do, you'll be a +sneak." + +"But you'll _have_ to say," continued Pennie, "because directly he's +touched his head will come off, and then Miss Unity will ask us." + +"Well, I shall wait till she finds out," said Ethelwyn, "and if you tell +her before I'll never never speak to you again, and I won't have you for +my friend any longer." + +"I'm not going to tell," said Pennie, drawing herself up proudly, +"unless she asks me straight out. But I _know_ you ought to." + +As she spoke a step sounded in the passage, and with one bound Ethelwyn +regained her old place in the window-seat and turned her head away. + +Pennie remained standing by the fire, with a startled guilty look and a +little perplexed frown on her brow. + +Miss Unity's glance fell on her directly she entered; but her mind was +occupied with the cares of preserving, and though she saw that the child +looked troubled she said nothing at first. + +"If Ethelwyn would _only_ tell," thought Pennie, and there was such +yearning anxiety in her face as she watched Miss Unity's movements that +presently the old lady observed it, and looked curiously at her through +her spectacles. + +"Do you want anything, Penelope?" she asked, and as she spoke she +stretched out her hand to the mantel-piece, for the mandarin was a +trifle out of his usual place. She moved him gently a little nearer the +clock; Pennie's expression changed to one of positive agony, and the +mandarin's head fell immediately with a sharp "click" on to the marble! +Clasping her hands, Pennie turned involuntarily towards Ethelwyn. Now +she _must_ speak. But Ethelwyn was quite silent, and did not even turn +her head. It was Miss Unity's voice which broke the stillness. + +"Child," she said, "you have acted deceitfully." + +She fixed her eyes on Pennie, who flushed hotly, and certainly looked +the very picture of guilt. + +_Of course_ Ethelwyn would speak now. But there was no sound from the +window-seat. + +Pennie twisted her fingers nervously together, her chest heaved, and +something within her said over and over again: "I didn't do it--I didn't +do it." She had quite a struggle to prevent the little voice from +making itself heard, and her throat ached with the effort; but she kept +it down and stood before Miss Unity in perfect silence. + +The latter had taken the broken head in her hand, and was looking at it +sorrowfully. + +"I valued this image, Penelope," she went on, "and I grieve to have it +destroyed. But I grieve far more to think you should have tried to +deceive me. Perhaps I can mend the mandarin, but I can't ever forget +that you have been dishonest--nothing can mend that. I shall think of +it whenever I see the image, and it will make me sad." + +The little voice struggled and fought in Pennie's breast to make itself +heard: "I didn't do it, I didn't do it," it cried out wildly. With a +resolute gulp she kept it down, but the effort was almost too great, and +Miss Unity's grave face was too much to bear. She burst into tears and +ran out of the room. Then hurrying upstairs she plunged her head into +the side of the big bed where she and Ethelwyn slept together, and cried +bitterly. Unjustly accused, disappointed, betrayed by her best friend-- +the world was a miserable place, Pennie thought, and happiness +impossible ever again. There was no one to take her part--Ethelwyn was +deceitful and unkind; and as she remembered how she had loved and +worshipped her, the tears flowed faster. How could she, _could_ she +have done it? Then looking back, she saw how wilfully she had shut her +eyes to Ethelwyn's faults, plain enough to everyone else. That was all +over now: she had broken something beside the mandarin that day, and +that was Pennie's belief in her. It was quite gone; she could never +love her the least little bit again, beautiful and coaxing as she might +be; like the mandarin, she had fallen all the lower because she had once +stood so high. + +Then Pennie's thoughts turned longingly towards home. Home, where they +were all fond of her, and knew she was not a deceitful little girl. She +was very sorry now to remember how she had neglected her brothers and +sisters lately for her fine new friend, and how proud and superior she +had felt. + +"Oh," she cried to herself in a fervour of repentance, "I never, never +will care so much about `outsides' again! Insides matter much the +most." + +The next day passed sorrowfully for Pennie, who felt a heavy cloud of +undeserved disgrace resting upon her. Whenever she saw Miss Unity +glance at the empty space on the mantel-piece, she felt as guilty as +though she really had broken the mandarin, and longed for an opportunity +of justifying herself. But there was no chance of that; the day went on +and Miss Unity asked no questions, and behaved just as usual to the +little girls--only she looked rather sad and stern. + +As for Ethelwyn, when she was once quite sure that Pennie would not +"tell," her spirits rose, and she was lavish of her thanks and caresses. +She pressed gifts upon her, and kisses, and was anxious to sit quite +close to her and hold her hand; but Pennie was proof against all this +now. It had no effect upon her at all, and she even looked forward with +a feeling of positive relief to the next day, when she would say +good-bye to the once-adored Ethelwyn. + +And the time came at last; smiling, nodding, and tossing her yellow +hair, Ethelwyn got into the train which was to take her away from +Nearminster, and Pennie stood at Miss Unity's side on the platform, +gazing seriously after her from the depths of the plush bonnet. In her +hand she held almost unconsciously a large packet of sweets which +Ethelwyn had thrust into it just before entering the carriage; but there +was no smile on her face, and when the train had rolled out of sight, +she offered the packet to Miss Unity: + +"Please, take these," she said; "I don't want them." + +That same afternoon Mrs Hawthorn and Nancy were to drive in from Easney +and fetch Pennie home, and she stationed herself at the window a good +hour before they could possibly arrive, ready to catch the first glimpse +of Ruby's white nose. When, at length, after many disappointments, +caused by other horses with white noses, the wagonette really appeared, +she could hardly contain herself for joy, and was obliged to hop about +excitedly. She was so glad to see them. There was mother, and there +was Nancy, dear old Nancy, in the black plush bonnet, which was now a +far more pleasant object to Pennie than the smart blue one she had +lately envied. Now the carriage was stopping, and Nancy was lowering +one stout determined leg to the step, clutching mother's umbrella and a +doll in her arms. Pennie stayed no longer, but rushed down-stairs into +the hall and opened the door. It might have been a separation of years, +instead of three days, from the warmth of her welcome, and Nancy said +presently with her usual blunt directness: + +"What makes you so glad to see us?" + +Pennie could not explain why it was, but she felt as if she had never +really been at home during Ethelwyn's visit to Easney, and was now going +back again--the real old Pennie once more. So she only hugged her +sister for reply, and both the little girls went and sat in the +window-seat together, while their mother and Miss Unity were talking. + +But soon Nancy's observant glance, roving round the room, fell on the +empty space beside the clock. + +"Why!" she said in a loud voice of surprise, "where's the mandarin?" +For she was very fond of the funny little image, and always expected to +see him wag his head when she went to Nearminster. + +Everyone heard the question, and for a minute no one answered. Then +Miss Unity said gravely: + +"There has been an accident, Nancy. The mandarin is broken. I fear you +will never see him nod his head again." + +"Oh, what a pity!" exclaimed Nancy. "Who did it?" Then turning to her +sister with an alarmed face, "Was it you?" + +"I _hope_ not," said Mrs Hawthorn, leaning forward and looking +earnestly at Pennie. + +In fact everyone was looking at her just then--Miss Unity with sorrow, +Mrs Hawthorn with anxiety, and Nancy with fear. How delightful it was +to be able at last to stand straight up, and answer triumphantly with a +clear conscience, "No!" + +At that little word everyone looked relieved except Miss Unity, and her +face was graver than before as she said: + +"Then, Pennie, why didn't you say so?" + +"You never asked me," said Pennie proudly. + +Miss Unity's frown relaxed a little; she bethought herself that she +really never had asked the child; she had taken it for granted, judging +only by guilty looks. + +"If it was not you, Pennie," she said gently, "who was it?" + +"I can't tell that," said Pennie, "only _I_ didn't." + +"Then," exclaimed Nancy eagerly, "I expect it was that mean Ethelwyn." + +Miss Unity took off her spectacles and rubbed them nervously; then she +went up to Pennie and kissed her. + +"I am sorry I called you deceitful, Pennie," she said, "but I am very +glad to find I was wrong. When I look at the mandarin now, I shall not +so much mind his being broken, because he will remind me that you are a +good and honourable child." + +Now the cloud was gone which had made Pennie's sky so dark, and all was +bright again; the drive back to Easney, which she always enjoyed, was on +this occasion simply delightful. Though the afternoon was dull and +foggy, and there was a little drizzling rain, everything looked pleasant +and gay from under the big umbrella which she and Nancy shared together; +the old woman at the halfway cottage smiled and nodded as they passed, +as though she knew that Pennie felt specially happy, and when they got +to the white gate, there were Ambrose and David waving their caps and +shouting welcome. How delightful to be at home again--without Ethelwyn! + +Pennie rushed about, hugging everybody and everything she happened to +meet, animals and human beings alike, till she became quite tiresome in +her excess of joy. + +"There, there, Miss Pennie, that'll do. Leave the child alone now, +you'll make her quite fractious," said Nurse, rescuing Cicely from a +too-energetic embrace. Pennie looked round for something fresh to +caress, and her eye fell on the Lady Dulcibella sitting in her arm-chair +by the dolls' house. There was a satisfied simper on her pink face, as +though she waited for admiration; she held her little nose high in the +air, and one could almost hear her say, "How very vulgar!" Pennie +turned from her with a shudder, and picked up Jemima, who was lying on +the floor flat on her face. + +"Why, Pennie," exclaimed Nancy, opening her eyes very wide, "you're +_kissing Jemima_!" + +"Well," replied Pennie, giving the battered cheek another hearty kiss, +"I feel fond of her. She's the oldest of all, and very useful I think +she ought to be kissed sometimes." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +HOW DICKIE WENT TO THE CIRCUS. + +"Has you ever seen a circus, Andoo?" + +"Aye, missie." + +"When has you seen it?" + +"Years ago, little missie--years ago. When I was a fool." + +"Is you fool now, Andoo?" + +"Maybe, missie, maybe," (with a grim smile); "but I surely was then." + +Dickie dismissed the subject for the moment, and turned her attention to +the little green barrow full of sticks which she had just wheeled into +the potting shed. There was a pleasant mingled scent of apples, earth, +and withered leaves there; from the low rafters hung strings of onions, +pieces of bass, and bunches of herbs, and in one corner there was a +broken-backed chair, and Andrew's dinner upon it tied up in a blue +checked handkerchief. Bending over his pots and mould by the window in +his tall black hat, and looking as brown and dried-up as everything +round him, was Andrew himself, and Dickie stood opposite, warmly muffled +up, but with a pink tinge on her small round nose from the frosty air. +She was always on good terms with Andrew, and could make him talk +sometimes when he was silent for everyone else; so, although she very +seldom understood his answers, they held frequent conversations, which +seemed quite satisfactory on both sides. + +Her questions to-day about the circus had been called forth by the fact +that she had seen, when out walking with Nurse, a strange round white +house in a field near the village. On asking what it was, she had been +told that it was a tent. What for? A circus. And what was a circus? +A place where horses went round and round. What for? Little girls +should not ask so many questions. Dickie felt this to be +unsatisfactory, and she accordingly made further inquiries on the first +opportunity. + +She laid her dry sticks neatly in the corner, and grasping the handles +of her barrow, stood facing Andrew silently, who did not raise his grave +long face from his work; he did not look encouraging, but she was quite +used to that. + +"Did 'oo like it, Andoo?" she inquired presently with her head on one +side. + +"Well, you see, missie," replied Andrew, "I lost the best thing I had +there, through being a fool." + +"Tell Dickie all about it," said Dickie in a coaxing voice. + +She turned her little barrow upside down as she spoke, sat down upon it, +and placed one mittened hand on each knee. + +"Dickie kite yeddy. Begin," she said in a cheerful and determined +manner. + +Andrew took off his hat, and feebly scratched his head; he looked +appealingly at the little figure on the barrow as though he would gladly +have been excused the task, but though placid, the round face was calmly +expectant. + +"I dunno as I can call it to mind," he said apologetically; "you see, +missie, it wur a powerful time ago. A matter of twenty years, it wur. +It was when I lost my little gal." + +"Where is 'oor 'ittle gal?" asked Dickie. + +"Blessed if I know," said Andrew, shaking his head mournfully; "but +wherever she be, she ain't not to call a _little_ gal now, missie. She +wur jest five years old when I lost her, an' it's twenty years ago. +That'll make her a young woman of twenty-five, yer see, missie, by this +time." + +"Why did 'oo lose 'oor 'ittle gal?" pursued Dickie, avoiding the +question of age. + +"Because I wur a fool," replied Andrew frowning. + +"Tell Dickie," repeated the child, to whom the "little gal" had now +become more interesting than the circus; "tell Dickie all about 'oor +'ittle gal." + +"Well, missie," began Andrew with a sigh, "it wur like this. After her +mother died my little gal an' I lived alone. I wasn't a gardener then, +I was in the cobblin' line, an' sat all day mendin' an' patchin' the +folks' boots an' shoes. Mollie wur a lovin' little thing, an' oncommon +sensible in her ways. She'd sit at my feet an' make-believe to be +sewin' the bits of leather together, an' chatter away as merry as a +wren. Then when I took home a job, she'd come too an' trot by my side +holdin' me tight by one finger--a good little thing she was, an' all the +folks in the village was fond of her, but she always liked bein' with me +best--bless her 'art, that she did." + +Andrew stopped suddenly, and drew out of his pocket a red cotton +handkerchief. + +"Why did 'oo lose her?" repeated Dickie impatiently. + +"It wur like this, missie," resumed Andrew. "One day there come a +circus to the village, like as it might be that out in the field yonder, +an' there was lots of 'orses, and dogs that danced, an' fine ladies +flyin' through hoops, an suchlike. Mollie, she wanted to go an' see +'em. Nothing would do but I must take her. I can see her now, standin' +among the scraps of leather, an' the tools, an' the old boots, an' +saying so pleadin', `Do'ee take Molly, daddie, to see the gee-gees.' +So, though I had a job to finish afore that night, I said I'd take her, +an' I left my work, an' put on her red boots--" + +"Yed boots?" said Dickie inquiringly, looking down at her own stumpy +black goloshes. + +"Someone had giv' me a scrap of red leather, an' I'd made her a pair of +boots out of it," said Andrew; "they didn't cost me nothin' but the +work--so I put 'em on, an tied on her little bonnet an' her handkercher, +an' we went off. Mollie was frighted at first to see the 'orses go +round so fast, an' the people on their backs cuttin' all manner of +capers, just as if they wur on dry ground. She hid her face in my +weskit, an' wouldn't look up; but I coaxed her a bit, an' when she did +she wur rarely pleased. She clapped her hands, an' her cheeks wur red +with pleasure, an' her blue eyes bright. She wur a pretty little lass, +Mollie wur." + +Andrew stopped a minute with his eyes fixed thoughtfully on Dickie, and +yet as though he scarcely saw her. She hugged herself with her little +crossed arms, and murmured confidentially, "Dickie will go to the circus +too." + +"There wur a chum of mine sittin' next," continued Andrew, "an' by and +by, when the place was gettin' very hot, an' the sawdust the horses +threw up with their heels was fit to choke yer, he says to me, `Old +chap,' he says, `come out an' take a glass of summat jest to wet yer +whistle.' + +"`I can't,' says I, `I've got my little gal to look after. I can't +leave her.' But I _was_ dry, an' the thought of a glass of beer was +very temptin', `no call to be anxious over that,' says he; `you won't be +gone not five minutes, an 'ere's this lady will keep an eye on her fur +that little while, I'm sure.' `Certingly,' says the woman sitting next, +who was a stranger to me but quite respectable-lookin'. `You come to +me, my dearie!' and she lifted Mollie on to her knee an' spoke kind to +her, an' the child seemed satisfied; an' so I went." + +Andrew coughed hoarsely but went on again after a minute, speaking more +to himself than Dickie--who, indeed, did not understand nearly all he +had been saying. + +"When I got into the `Blue Bonnet' there wur three or four more of my +chums a-settin' round the fire an' havin' a argyment. `'Ere,' says one, +`we'll hear what Andrew Martin's got to say to it. He's a tough hand at +speakin'--he'll tell us the rights on it.' An' before I knew a'most I +wur sittin' in my usual place next the fire, with a glass of beer in my +hand. I wur pleased, like a fool, to think I could speak better nor any +of 'em; an' I went on an' on, an' it wasn't till I heard the clock +strike that I thought as how I'd left my little gal alone in the circus +for a whole hour. I got up pretty quick then, for I thought she'd be +frighted, but not that she could come to any harm. So I went back +straight to where I left her with the woman, an'--" + +"What does 'oo stop for?" said Dickie impatiently. + +"She wur _gone_, missie!" said Andrew solemnly, spreading out his hands +with a despairing gesture--"gone, an' the woman too! I've never seen my +little gal since that day." + +"Where is 'oor 'ittle gal?" asked Dickie. + +"Lost, missie! lost!" said Andrew shaking his head mournfully. "I +sha'n't never see her no more now. Parson he was very kind, an' offered +a reward, an' set the perlice to work to find her. 'Twarn't all no +good. So I giv' up the cobblin' an' went about the country doin' odd +jobs, because I thought I might hear summat on her; but I never did, an' +after years had gone by I come ere an' settled down again. So that's +how I lost my little gal, an' it's nigh twenty years ago." + +At this moment Nurse's voice was heard outside calling for Dickie, and +Andrew's whole manner changed at the sound. He thrust the red +handkerchief into his pocket, clapped his hat firmly over his eyes, and +bent towards his work with his usual cross frown. + +Dickie looked up with a twinkling smile as Nurse came bustling in. + +"Andoo tell Dickie pitty story," she said. + +"Ho, indeed!" said Nurse with a sharp glance at Andrew's silent figure. +"Mr Martin keeps all his conversation for you, Miss Dickie, I think; he +don't favour other people much with it." + +On their way to the house Dickie did her best to tell Nurse all she had +heard from Andrew; but it was not very clear, and left her hearer in +rather a confused state of mind. There was something about a 'ittle +gal, and red boots, and a circus, and something that was lost; but +whether it was the red boots that were lost, or the little girl, was +uncertain. However, Nurse held up her hands at proper intervals and +exclaimed, "Only fancy!" "Gracious me!" and so on, as if she understood +perfectly; and when Dickie came to the last sentence this was really the +case, for she said in a decided voice: + +"Dickie will go to the circus too." + +"No, no," replied Nurse; "Dickie is too little to go--she will stay at +home with poor Nursie and baby." + +It seemed to Dickie that they always said she was too little when she +wanted to do anything nice, but if ever she cried or was naughty they +said she was too big: "Oh, fie, Miss Dickie! a great girl like you!" If +she was a great girl she ought to go to the circus; and she repeated +firmly, "Me _will_ go," adding a remark about "Andoo's 'ittle gal," +which Nurse did not hear. + +At dinner-time there was nothing spoken of but the circus; the children +came in from their walk quite full of it, and of all the wonderful +things they had seen in the village. Outside the blacksmith's forge +there was a great bill pasted, which showed in bright colours the +brilliant performance of "Floretta the Flying Fairy" on horseback; there +was also a full-length portrait of Mick Murphy the celebrated clown. + +Even more exciting were the strange caravans and carts arriving in the +field where the large tent had already been put up; and Ambrose had +caught sight of a white poodle trimmed like a lion, which he felt quite +sure was one of the dancing-dogs. + +The circus was to stop two days--might the children go to-morrow +afternoon? + +There was a breathless silence amongst them whilst this question was +being decided, and mother said something to Miss Grey in French; but +after a little consultation it was finally settled that they were to go. +Dickie had listened to it all, leaving her rice-pudding untasted; now +she stretched out her short arm, and, pointing with her spoon at her +mother, said: + +"Dickie too." + +But Mrs Hawthorn only smiled and shook her head. + +"No, not Dickie," she said; "she is too young to go. Dickie will stay +at home with mother." + +Now the vicar was not there--if he had been he would probably have said, +"Let her go;" and Dickie knew this--it had happened sometimes before. +So now, although she turned down the corners of her mouth and pushed up +one fat shoulder, she murmured rather defiantly: + +"Dickie will ask father." + +The next day was Saturday--sermon day, and the vicar was writing busily +in his study when he heard some uncertain sounds outside, as though some +little animal were patting the handle of the door--the cat most likely-- +and he paid no attention to it, until he felt a light touch on his arm. +Looking down he saw that it was Dickie, who, having made her way in, +stood at his elbow with eager eyes and a bright flush of excitement on +her cheeks. + +"Please, father," she said at once, "take Dickie to see the gee-gees." + +The vicar pushed back his chair a little and lifted her on to his knee. +He would have liked to go on with his sermon, but he always found it +impossible to send Dickie away if she once succeeded in getting into his +study. + +"What does Dickie want?" he asked rather absently. + +"Please, father, take Dickie to see gee-gees," she repeated in exactly +the same tone as at first. + +The vicar took up his pen again and made a correction in the last +sentence he had written, still keeping one arm round Dickie. But this +divided attention did not please her; she stuck out two little straight +brown legs and said reflectively: + +"Dickie got no yed boots." + +"No, no," said the vicar with his eyes on his sermon; "Dickie's got +pretty black boots." + +"Andoo's 'ittle gal got yed boots," pursued Dickie. + +"Andrew's little girl! Andrew hasn't got a little girl," said her +father. + +For answer Dickie pursed-up her lips, looked up in his face, and began +to nod very often and very quickly. + +"Where is she, then?" asked the vicar. + +Dickie stopped nodding, and, imitating Andrew as well as she could, +shook her head mournfully, spread out her hands, and said: + +"Lost! lost!" + +"You funny little thing!" said the vicar, laying down his pen and +looking at her. "I wonder what you've got into your head. Wouldn't +Dickie like to run upstairs now?" + +But she only swung herself backwards and forwards on his knee and +repeated very fast, as if she were saying a lesson: + +"Please, father, take Dickie to see gee-gees." + +There was evidently no chance of getting rid of her unless this question +were answered, and the sermon must really be finished. The vicar looked +gravely at her and spoke slowly and impressively: + +"If Dickie is a good little girl, and will go upstairs to the nursery +directly, and _stay there_, father will ask if she may go and see the +gee-gees." + +Dickie got down and trotted away obediently, for she thought she had +gained her point; but alas later on, when mother was appealed to, she +was still quite firm on the subject--Dickie must _not_ go to the circus. +The four other children were enough for Miss Grey to take care of, and +Nurse could not be spared--Dickie must stay at home and be a good little +girl. + +Stay at home she must, as they were all against her; but to be a good +little girl was quite another thing, and I am sorry to say it was very +far from her intention. If she were not taken to the circus she would +be as naughty a little girl as she possibly could. So when she had seen +the others go off, all merry and excited, leaving her in the dull +nursery, she threw herself flat on her face, drummed with her feet on +the floor, and screamed. At every fresh effort which Nurse made to +soothe her the screams became louder and the feet beat more fiercely, +and at last the baby began to cry too for sympathy. + +Dickie was certainly in one of her "tantrums," and Nurse knew by +experience that solitude was the only cure, so after a while she took +Cicely into the next room and shut the door. For some time Dickie went +on crying, but presently, when she found that Nurse did not come back, +the sobs quieted down a little, and the small feet were still; then she +lifted her face up from the floor with big tears on her cheeks and +listened. Hark! what was that funny noise? Boom boom! boom! and then a +sort of trampling. It was the circus in the field close by, and +presently other strange sounds reached her ear. She looked at the door +leading into the bed-room--it was fast shut, and Nurse was walking up +and down, singing to the baby in a low soothing tone. Dickie got up +from the floor and stood upright with sudden resolve shining in her +eyes: she would go to the circus in spite of them all! + +Fortune favours the disobedient sometimes, as well as the brave, and she +met no one to ask where she was going on her journey through the +passages; when she came to the top of the stairs she saw that the hall +was empty and silent too--only the dog Snuff lay coiled up on the mat +like a rough brown ball. He had not been allowed to go to the circus +either. She went slowly down, holding by the balusters and bringing +both feet carefully on to each step; as she passed him Snuff opened one +bright eye, and, watching her, saw that she went straight to the +cupboard under the stairs, where the children's garden coats and hats +were kept. There they hung, five little suits, each on its own peg, and +with its own pair of goloshes on the ground beneath. Dickie's things +were on the lowest peg, so that she might reach them easily and dress +herself without troubling anyone. She struggled into the small grey +coat, tied the bonnet firmly under her fat chin, and sat down on the +lowest stair to put on the goloshes. Snuff got up, sniffed at her, and +gave a short bark of pleasure, for he felt quite sure now that she was +going into the garden; but Snuff was wrong this time, as he soon found +when he trotted after her. Dickie had wider views, and though she went +out of the garden door, which stood open, she turned into a path leading +to the front of the house and marched straight down the drive. Through +the white gate they went together, the little grey figure and the little +brown one, and along the village street. It was more deserted than +usual, for everyone was either in the circus or gaping at the outside of +it, and Dickie and her companion passed on unquestioned. Soon they +reached the field where the tent and some gaily-painted caravans stood; +but here came an unexpected difficulty. Which was the circus? Dickie +stood still and studied the question with large round eyes, and her +finger in her mouth, Snuff looking up at her wistfully. + +Nearest to them there was a large travelling caravan, with windows and +curtains, and smoke coming out of a funnel in the roof; its sides were +brightly decorated with pictures of horses, and of wonderfully beautiful +ladies jumping through hoops, and there was also a picture of a funny +gentleman with red patches on his face. This must be the circus, Dickie +decided at last, and she proceeded to climb up the steps in front, +closely followed by Snuff. The door was a tiny bit open, and she gave +it a push and looked in. Things never turn out to be much like what we +have expected, and it was so in Dickie's case, for what she saw was +this: + +A small room with a low bed in one corner, and a black stove, and pots +and dishes hanging on the walls; a cradle with a baby in it, and by the +cradle a pleasant-faced young woman sitting in a wicker chair sewing +busily--so busily that it was quite a minute before she raised her eyes +and saw the little grey-coated figure standing at the door with the dog +at its side. + +"Well, little dear," she said, "an' what do you want?" + +Dickie murmured something, of which only the word circus was distinct. + +"Is mammy at the circus?" asked the woman smiling; but Dickie shook her +head decidedly. + +"Why, bless your little 'art," said the woman, getting up from her +chair, "I expect you've lost your folks. You come in and stay a-longer +me till the circus is done, and then we'll find 'em. Jem 'ull be 'ome +then. I'd go myself, but I can't leave the little un here." + +Dickie began to pout in a distressed manner when the woman took her up +in her arms; this was not the circus after all. But just as she was +making up her mind to cry, her attention was caught by something lying +on the baby's cradle, and she held out her hand for it and said "Pitty!" +It was a tiny roughly-made scarlet leather boot, rather faded and worn, +but still bright enough to please Dickie's fancy. She chuckled to +herself as the woman gave it her, and muttered something about "Andoo's +'ittle gal;" and presently, tired with her great adventure and made +drowsy by the warmth of the little room, she dropped off to sleep on the +woman's knee, with the boot hugged tightly to her bosom. + +"Pretty dear! What a way her folks will be in!" said the woman to +herself, and she laid Dickie softly on the bed and covered her with a +shawl. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +They were indeed "in a way" at the vicarage. When the circus party came +back they found everyone in a state of most dreadful anxiety, and the +whole house in confusion. Dickie was missing! Every crevice and corner +was searched, and every place, likely and unlikely, that a child could +be in. No Dickie. Could she possibly have gone into the village alone? +It was getting dusk; there were strange people and tramps about--it was +an alarming thought. Andrew must go at once and inquire at every +cottage. + +Andrew went, lantern in hand, and chin buried in his old grey comforter. +"Had anyone seen Miss Dickie and the dorg that arternoon?" + +No; no one had seen little missie. Always the same answer until he got +to the circus field, where knots of people still lingered talking of the +performance. Amongst these he pushed his way, making the same inquiry, +sometimes, if they were strangers, pausing to give a description of +Dickie and Snuff; and at last the answer came from a thin man with a +very pale face, who was standing near the entrance to the tent: + +"Right you are, gaffer. The little gal's all serene. My missus has got +her in the caravan yonder." + +Guided by many outstretched and dirty fingers, Andrew made his way up +the steps and told his errand to the woman within. There was Dickie, +sleeping as peacefully as though she were tucked up in her own little +cot; Snuff, who was curled up at her feet, jumped up and greeted Andrew +with barks of delight, but even this did not rouse her. + +"There," said the woman, lifting the child gently, "you'd better take +her just as she is, shawl an' all; it's bitter cold outside, an' you'll +wake her else." + +She laid Dickie in the long arms stretched out to receive her, and as +she did so the shawl fell back a little. + +"She's got summat in her hand," said Andrew, glancing at the little red +boot. + +"So she has, bless her," said the woman; "you'll mind an' bring that +back with the shawl, please, mister. I set store by yonder little +boot." + +Andrew stared hard at the woman. "The vicar'll be werry grateful to you +for takin' care of the little gal," he said. "What might be yer name, +in case he should ax' me?" + +"My name's Murphy," she answered, "Molly Murphy; my husband's Mr +Murphy, the clown, him you see in the playbills." + +Still Andrew stood with his eyes fixed on her face; then he looked from +her to the little boot clutched so tightly in Dickie's fat fist. + +"Might you 'appen to have the feller one to this?" he asked. + +"Surely," answered the woman. "Once they was mine, an' now I'm keeping +'em against my little gal's old enough to wear 'em." + +She held out the other red boot. + +"Is there--is there," asked Andrew hesitating, "two big `M's' wrote just +inside the linin'?" + +"Right you are," answered the woman; "an' it stands fur--" + +"It stands fur `Molly Martin,'" said Andrew, sitting suddenly down on +the edge of the bed with Dickie in his arms. "Oh, be joyful in the +Lord, all ye lands! I set every stitch in them little boots myself', +an' you're the little gal I lost twenty years ago!" + +It really did turn out to be Andrew's little girl, grown into a young +woman and married to Mr Murphy the clown. The whole village was +stirred and excited by the story, and Andrew himself, roused for the +moment from his usual surly silence, told it over and over again to +eager audiences as he had to Dickie, only now it had a better ending. + +The children at the vicarage found it wonderfully interesting--more so +than one of Pennie's very best, and the nice part about it was that it +had been Dickie who discovered Andrew's little girl. Indeed, instead of +being scolded for disobedience as she deserved, Dickie was made into a +sort of heroine; when she was brought home sound asleep in Andrew's +arms, everyone was only anxious to hug and kiss her, because they were +so glad to get her back again, and the next day it was much the same +thing. The children were breathless with admiration when the history of +the red boot was told, and Dickie's daring adventure, and Mrs Hawthorn +was scarcely able to get in a word of reproof. + +"But you know," she said, "that though we're all glad Andrew's daughter +is found, still it was naughty and wilful of Dickie to go out by +herself. She knew she was doing wrong, and disobeying mother." + +"But if she hadn't," remarked David, "most likely Andrew never would +have found his little girl." + +"Perhaps not," said Mrs Hawthorn; "but it might not have ended so well. +Dickie might have been hurt or lost. Good things sometimes come out of +wrong things, but that does not make the wrong things right." + +Still the children could not help feeling glad that Dickie had been +disobedient--just that once. + +And then another wonderful thing to think of, was that Andrew was now +really related to the clown, whose appearance and manners they had all +admired so much the day before. That delightful, witty person, whose +ready answers and pointed pleasantries made everyone else seem dull and +stupid! He was now Andrew's son-in-law. It appeared, however, that +Andrew was not so grateful for this advantage as he might have been. + +"Aren't you glad, Andrew," asked Nancy, "that Molly married the clown?" + +"Why, no, missie," he answered, scraping his boot on the side of his +spade, "I can't say as I be." + +"Why not? He must be _such_ a nice man, and _so_ amusing." + +"Well," said Andrew, "it's a matter of opinion, that is; it's not a +purfesson as _I_ should choose, making a fool of myself for other fools +to laugh at. Not but what he do seem a sober, decent sort of chap, and +fond of Molly; so it might a been worse, I'll not deny that." + +A sober, decent sort of chap! What a way to refer to a brilliantly +gifted person like the clown! + +"An' they've promised me one thing," continued he as he shouldered his +spade, "an' that is that they'll not bring up the little un to the same +trade. She's to come an' live a-longer me when she's five years old, +an' have some schoolin' an' be brought up decent. I don't want my +gran-darter to go racin' round on 'orses an' suchlike." + +"Then you'll have a little girl to live with you, just as you used to," +said Pennie. + +"And her name will be Mollie too," said Ambrose. + +"But you won't take her to the circus again, I should think?" added +David. + +"Andoo's 'ittle gal had yed boots," said Dickie, and here the +conversation finished. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hawthorns, by Amy Walton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAWTHORNS *** + +***** This file should be named 21232.txt or 21232.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/3/21232/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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