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diff --git a/old/slwch10.txt b/old/slwch10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a3a613 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/slwch10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6860 @@ +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Slowcoach, by E. V. Lucas** + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Slowcoach + +by E. V. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE SLOWCOACH + +BY E. V. LUCAS. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER 1: THE AVORIES +CHAPTER 2: THE SOUND OF MYSTERIOUS WHEELS +CHAPTER 3: THE THOROUGH EXAMINATION +CHAPTER 4: DIOGENES AND MOSES +CHAPTER 5: THE PLANS +CHAPTER 6: MR. LENOX'S YOUNG BROTHER +CHAPTER 7: THE FIRST DAY +CHAPTER 8: THE FIRST NIGHT +CHAPTER 9: THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND CARAVAN +CHAPTER 10: THE WAYSIDE FRIEND +CHAPTER 11: STRATFORD-ON-AVON +CHAPTER 12: THE ADVENTURE OF THE YOUNG POLICEMAN +CHAPTER 13: THE ADVENTURE OF THE LITTLE OLD LADY +CHAPTER 14: THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY PONIES +CHAPTER 15: THE BLACK SPANIELS +CHAPTER 16: THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST BABY +CHAPTER 17: THE ADVENTURE OF THE OLD IRISHWOMAN +CHAPTER 18: THE LETTER TO X +CHAPTER 19: THE ADVENTURE OF THE LINE OF POETRY +CHAPTER 20: COLLINS'S PEOPLE +CHAPTER 21: THE ADVENTURE OF THE GIANT +CHAPTER 22: THE MOST SURPRISING ADVENTURE OF ALL +THE END + + + +CHAPTER 1: THE AVORIES + +Once upon a time there was a nice family. Its name was Avory, and it lived +in an old house in Chiswick, where the Thames is so sad on grey days and so +gay on sunny ones. + +Mr.--or rather Captain--Avory was dead; he had been wounded at Spion Kop, +and died a few years after. Mrs. Avory was thirty-five, and she had four +children. The eldest was Janet, aged fourteen, and the youngest was Gregory +Bruce, aged seven. Between these came Robert Oliver, who was thirteen, and +Hester, who was nine. + +They were all very fond of each other, and they rarely quarreled. (If they +had done so, I should not be telling this story. You don't catch me writing +books about people who quarrel.) They adored their mother. + +The name of the Avories' house was "The Gables," which was a better name +than many houses have, because there actually were gables in its roof. +Hester, who had funny ideas, wanted to see all the people who lived in all +the houses that are called "The Gables" everywhere drawn up in a row so +that she might examine them. She used to lie awake at night and wonder how +many there would be. "I'm sure mother would be the most beautiful, anyway," +she used to say. + +History was Hester's passion. She could read history all day. Here she +differed from Robert Oliver, who was all for geography. Their friends knew +of these tastes, of course, and so Hester's presents were nearly always +history books or portraits of great men, such as Napoleon and Shakespeare, +both of whom she almost worshipped, while Robert's were compasses and maps. +He also had a mapmeasurer (from Mr. Lenox), and at the moment at which this +story opens, his birthday being just over, he was the possessor of a +pedometer, which he carried fastened to his leg, under his knickerbockers, +so that it was certain to register every time he took a step. He kept a +careful record of the distance he had walked since his birthday, and could +tell you at any time what it was, if you gave him a minute or two to crawl +under the table and undo his clothes. He could be heard grunting in dark +places all day long, having been forbidden by Janet to undress in public. + +Robert's birthday was on June 20, Hester's on November 8, and Janet's on +February 28. She had the narrowest escape, you see, of getting birthdays +only once in every four years; which is one of the worst things that can +happen to a human being. Gregory Bruce was a little less lucky, for his +birthday was on December 20, which is so near to Christmas Day that mean +persons have been known to make one gift do for both events. None the less, +Gregory's possessions were very numerous; for he had many friends, and most +of them were careful to keep these two great anniversaries apart. + +Gregory's particular passion just now was the names of engines, of which he +had one of the finest collections in Europe; but a model aeroplane which +Mr. Scott had given him was beginning to turn his thoughts towards the +conquest of the air, and whereas he used to tell people that he meant to be +an engine driver when he grew up, he was now adding, "or a man like Wilbur +Wright." + +Most children have wanted to fly ever since "Peter Pan" began, and, as I +dare say you have heard, some have tried from the nursery window, with +perfectly awful results, having neglected to have their shoulders first +touched magically; but Gregory Bruce Avory wanted to fly in a more regular +and scientific manner. He wanted to fly like an engineer. To his mind, +indeed, the flying part of "Peter Pan" was the least fascinating; he +preferred the underground home, and the fight with the Indians, and the +mechanism of the crocodile. For a short time, in fact, his only ambition +had been to be the crocodile's front half. + +Janet, on the other hand, liked Nana and the pathetic motherly parts the +best; Robert's favourite was Smee, and often at meal times he used to say, +"Woe is me, I have no knife"; while Hester was happiest in the lagoon +scene. This difference of taste in one small family shows how important it +is for anyone who writes a play to put a lot of variety into it. + +Janet, the eldest, was also the most practical. She was, in fact, towards +the others almost more of a younger mother than an elder sister. Not that +Mrs. Avory neglected them at all; but Janet relieved her of many little +duties. She always knew when their feet were likely to be wet, and Robert +had once said that she had "stocking changing on the brain." She could +cook, too, especially cakes, and the tradesmen had a great respect for her +judgment when she went shopping. She knew when a joint would be too fat, +and you should see her pointing out the bone! + +Janet was a tall girl, and very active, and, in spite of her +responsibilities, very jolly. She played hockey as well almost as a boy, +which is, of course, saying everything, and her cricket was good, too. Her +bowling was fast and straight, and usually too much for Robert, who knew, +however, the initials of all the gentlemen and the Christian names and +birthplaces of most of the professionals. Gregory could not bear cricket, +except when it was his own innings, which he seemed to enjoy during its +brief duration. Hester thought it dull throughout, so that Janet had to +depend upon Robert and the Rotherams for the best games. + +Janet had very straight fair hair, and just enough freckles to be pretty. +She looked nicest in blue. Hester, on the contrary, was a dark little +thing, whose best frock was always red. + +As for the boys--it doesn't matter what boys are like; but Gregory, I might +say, usually had black hands: not because he was naturally a grubby little +beast, but because engineers do. Robert, on the contrary, was disposed to +be dressy, and he declined to allow his mother or Janet to buy his socks or +neckties without first consulting him as to colours. + +Among the friends of the family must be put first Uncle Chris, who was +Captain Avory's brother and a lawyer in Golden Square. Uncle Chris looked +after Mrs. Avory's money and gave advice. He was very nice, and came to +dinner every Sunday (hot roast beef and horse radish sauce). There was an +Aunt Chris, too, but she was an invalid and could not leave her room, where +she lay all the time and remembered birthdays. + +Next to Uncle Chris came Mr. Scott, who was a famous author and a very good +cricketer on the lawn, and Mr. Lenox, who was private secretary to a real +lord, and therefore had lots of time and money. Both Mr. Scott and Mr. +Lenox were bachelors, as the best friends of families always are; unless, +of course, their wives are invalids. + +Gregory, who was more social than Robert, also knew one policeman, one +coachman, three chauffeurs, and several Chiswick boatmen extremely +intimately. Robert's principal friend outside the family was a bird stuffer +in Hammersmith; but he does not come into this story. + +The Avories did not go to boarding school, or, indeed, to any school in the +ordinary way at all; Mrs. Avory said she could not spare them. Instead they +were visited every day except Saturdays by Mr. Crawley and Miss Bingham, +who taught them the things that one is supposed to know--Mr. Crawley taking +the boys in the old billiard room, and Miss Bingham the girls in the +morning room. At some of the lessons--such as history --they all joined. +The classes were attended also by the Rotherams, the doctor's children, who +lived at "Fir Grove," and Horace Campbell, the only son of the vicar. So it +was a kind of school, after all. + +Horace Campbell had always intended to be a cowboy when he grew up, but a +visit to a play called "Raffles" was now rather inclining him to +gentlemanly burglary. William Rotheram, like Gregory, leaned towards +flying; but Jack Rotheram voted steadily for the sea, and talked of little +but Osborne. + +Mary Rotheram played with a bat almost as straight as "Plum" Warner's, and +she knew most of the old Somersetshire songs-- "Mowing the Barley," and +"Lord Rendal," and "Seventeen come Sunday"--by heart, and sang them +beautifully. Gregory, who used to revel in Sankey's hymns as sung by Eliza +Pollard, the parlourmaid, now thought that the Somerset music was the only +real kind. Mary Rotheram had a snub nose and quantities of freckle and a +very nice nature. + +"The Gables" had a large garden, with a shrubbery of evergreens in it and a +cedar. It was not at all a garden-party garden, because there was a +well-worn cricketpitch right in the middle of the lawn, and Gregory had a +railway system where the best flowers ought to be; but it was a garden full +of fun, and old Kink, the gardener, managed to get a great many vegetables +out of it, too, although not so many as Collins thought he ought to. + +Collins was the cook, a fat, smiling, hot lady of about fifty, who had been +with Mrs. Avory ever since she married. Collins understood children +thoroughly, and made cakes that were rather wet underneath. Her Yorkshire +pudding (for Sunday's dinner) was famous, and her horse radish sauce was so +perfect that it brought tears to the eyes. + +Collins collected picture postcards and adored the family. She had never +been cross to any of them, but her way with the butcher's boy and the +grocer's boy and the fishmonger's boy was terrible. + +She snapped their heads off (so to speak) every morning, and old Kink spent +quite a lot of his time in rubbing from off the backdoor the awful things +they wrote about her in chalk. + +The parlourmaid was Eliza Pollard, who had red hair and a kind heart, but +was continually falling out with her last young man and getting another. +She told Hester all about it. Hester had a special knack of being told +about the servants' young men, for she knew also all about those of Eliza +Pollard's predecessors. + +The housemaid was Jane Masters, who helped Eliza Pollard to make the beds. +Jane Masters did not hold with fickleness in love--in fact, she couldn't +abide it--and therefore she was steadily true to a young man called 'Erb, +who looked after the lift at the Stores, and was a particular friend of +Gregory's in consequence. No man who had charge of a lift could fail to be +admired by Gregory. + +Finally--and very likely she ought to have come first--was Runcie, or Mrs. +Runciman, who had not only been the nurse of all the Avories, but of Mrs. +Avory before them, when Mrs. Avory was a slip of a girl named Janet Easton. +Runcie was then quite young herself, and why she was suddenly called Mrs. +no one ever quite knew, for she had never married. And now she was getting +on for sixty, and had not much to do except sympathize with the Avories and +reprove the servants. She had a nice sitting room of her own, where she sat +comfortably every afternoon when such work as she did was done, and +received visits from her pets, as she called the children (none of whom, +however, was quite so dear to her as their mother), and listened to their +adventures. + +On those evenings on which he came to "The Gables" Mr. Lenox always looked +in on her for a little gossip; and this was called his "runcible spoon"--the +joke being that Mr. Lenox and Runcie were engaged to be married. + +And now you know the Avory family root and branch. + + + +CHAPTER 2: THE SOUND OF MYSTERIOUS WHEELS + +One day in late June the Avories and the Rotherams and Horace Campbell were +sitting at tea under the cedar talking about a great tragedy that had +befallen. For Mrs. Avory had just heard that Mrs. Dudeney--their regular +landlady at Sea View, in the Isle of Wight, where they had lodgings +every summer for years and years, and where they were all ready to go next +month as usual--Mrs. Avory had just heard that Mrs. Dudeney had been taken +very ill, and no other rooms were to be had. + +Here was a blow! For the Rotherams always went to Sea View too, and had a +tent on the little strip of beach under the wood adjoining the Avories', +and they did everything together. And now it was very likely that the +Avories would not get lodgings at all, and certainly would not get any half +so good as Mrs. Dudeney's, where their ways were known, and their +bathing dresses were always dried at once in case they wanted to go in +again, and so on. + +They were all discussing this together, and saying what a shame it was, +when suddenly the unfamiliar sound of the opening of the old stableyard +gates was heard, and then heavy wheels scrunched in and men's voices called +out directions, such as, "Steady, Joe!" "A little bit to the near side, +Bill!" and so forth. + +Now, since the stable yard had not been used for years, it was no wonder +that the whole party was, so to speak, on tiptoe, longing to run and +investigate. But Mrs. Avory had always objected very strongly to +inquisitiveness, and so they stayed where they were and waited expectantly. +And then, after a minute or so, Kink came up to the table with a twinkle in +his old eye and a letter in his old hand. + +"Didn't we hear the sound of a carriage?" Mrs. Avory asked. + +"Did you, mum?" said old Kink, who was a great tease. + +"I'm sure there were wheels," said Mrs. Avory. + +Kink said nothing. + +"Of course there were wheels," said Robert. "Don't be such an old humbug." + +But Kink only twinkled. + +"It's only coals," said Gregory; "isn't it?" + +"The first I've heard of coals`" said Kink. + +"Kinky dear," said Janet, "is it something awfully exciting?" + +"Nothing very exciting about a house, that I know of, Miss Janet," said Kink. + +"A house!" cried Janet. "It couldn't have been a house!" + +"There's all sorts of houses," said Kink; "there's houses on the ground and +there's houses on--" + +"O Kinky," cried Hester, "I know!" + +And she clapped her hands and absolutely screamed. "I know. It's a caravan!" + +"A caravan!" the children shouted together, and with one movement they +dashed off to see. + +Old Kink laughed and Mrs. Avory laughed. + +"It's a caravan right enough," he said. "And a very pretty one too, and +none of they nasty gypsies in it neither." + +"But where does it come from?" Mrs. Avory asked, and in reply Kink handed +her the letter; but she had done no more than open it when Janet ran back +to drag her to see the wonderful sight. + +Gregory, I need hardly say, was already on the box with the whip in his +hand, while all the others were inside, except +Horace Campbell, who had climbed on the roof, and was telephoning down the +chimney. The men and horse that had brought it were gone. + +"Oh, mother," cried Hester, "whose is it? Is it ours? " + +"I expect the letter tells us everything," said Mrs. Avory, and, sitting on +the top of the steps, she unfolded the letter, and, after looking through, +read it aloud. + +This is what it said: + +DEAR CHILDREN, + +"It has long been my wish to give you a new kind of present, but I have +hitherto had no luck. I thought once of an elephant, and even wrote to +Jamrach about the idea--a small elephant, not a mountain---but I gave that +up. Chiswick is too crowded, and your garden is too small. But now I think +I have found the very thing. A caravan. It belonged to a lady artist, who, +having to live abroad, wished to sell it; and it is now yours. I tell you +this so that mother need not be afraid that it is dirty. It should reach +you this week, and can stand in the old coach house until you are ready to +set forth on the discovery of your native land. I should have liked also to +have added a horse and a man; but you must do that and keep an account of +what everything costs, and let me know when I come back from abroad. I +shall expect some day a long account of your adventures, and if you keep a +logbook, so much the better. + +"I am, +"Your true, if unsettling, friend, + +"X. + +"P.S.--You will find a use for the enclosed key sooner or later, and if you +want to write to me, address the letter to 'X., care of Smithurst and Wynn, +Lincoln's Inn Fields, W.C.'" + +For a while after the letter was finished the Avories were too excited and +thoughtful to speak, while as for the Rotherams and Horace Campbell, +however they may have tried, they could not disguise an expression, if not +exactly of envy, certainly of disappointment. There was no X. in their family. + +"May we really go away in it and discover England?" Robert asked. + +"I suppose so," said Mrs. Avory. + +"Then that makes Sea View all right," said Gregory. "Because this will do +instead." + +The poor Rotherams! Sea View had suddenly become tame and almost tiresome. + +Mrs. Avory saw their regrets in their faces, and cheered them up by the +remark that the caravan must sometimes be lent to others. + +"Oh, yes," said Janet. + +"Do you think Dr. Rotheram would let you go? " she asked Mary. + +"Of course he would," said Jack. "But I wish it was a houseboat." + +The suggestion was so idiotic that everyone fell on him in scorn. + +"But who is X.?" Mrs. Avory asked. + +The letter was written in a round office hand that told nothing. Mr. Scott +was the most likely person, but why should Mr. Scott hide? He never had +done such a thing. Or Mr. Lenox? But neither was it his way to be secret +and mysterious. Nor was it Uncle Christopher's. + +When, however, you have a caravan given you, and it is standing there +waiting to be explored, the question who gave it or did not give it becomes +unimportant. + +Gregory put the case in a nutshell. "Never mind about old X. now," he said. +"Let's make a thorough examination!" + + + +CHAPTER 3: THE THOROUGH EXAMINATION + +It was a real caravan. That is to say, either gypsies might have lived in +it, or anyone that did live in it would soon be properly gipsified. It was +painted in gay colours, and had little white blinds with very neat waists +and red sashes round them. That is the right kind of caravan. The brown +caravans highly varnished are wrong: they may be more luxurious, but no +gypsy would look at them. + +The body of it was green--a good apple green--and the panels were lined with +blue. Some people say that blue and green won't go together; but don't let +us take any notice of them. Just look at the bed of forget-me-nots, or a +copse of bluebells; or, for that matter, try to see the Avories' caravan. +The window frames and bars were white. The spokes and hubs of the wheels +were red. It was most awfully gay. + +Inside--but the inside of a caravan is so exciting that I hardly know how +to hold my pen. The inside of a caravan! Can you imagine a better phrase +than that? I can't. If Coleridge's statement is true that poetry is the +best words in the best order, then that is the best poem: the inside of a +caravan! + +The caravan was sixteen feet six inches long and six feet two inches high +inside. From the ground it stood ten feet. It was six feet four inches +wide. If you measure these distances in the dining room, you will see how +big it was, and you will be able to imagine yourselves in it. + +The woodwork was all highly varnished, and very new and clean. More than +halfway down the caravan were heavy curtains hanging across it, and behind +these was the bedroom, containing four beds, two on each wall, on hinged +shelves, that could be let down flat against the wall-by day, when the +folding chairs could be unfolded, and the bedroom +then became a little boudoir. + +The floor space was, however, filled this afternoon with great bundles +which turned out to be gypsy tents and sleeping sacks. "For the boys and +Kink to sleep in," said Janet; "but we must be very careful about +waterproof sheeting on the ground first." + +The rest of the caravan, between the door and the bedroom--about ten +feet--was the kitchen and living room. Here every inch of the wall was +used, either by chairs that folded back like those in the corridors of +railway carriages, or by shelves, racks, cupboards, or pegs. There were two +tables, which also folded to the wall. + +The stove was close to the door, but of course, no one who lives in a +caravan ever uses the stove except when it is raining. You make the fire +out of doors at all other times, and swing the pot from three sticks. +(Hedgehog stew! Can't you smell it?) There were kitchen utensils on hooks +and racks on each side of the stove which was covered in with shining +brass, and rows of enameled cups and saucers, and plates, and knives and +forks. The living room floor was covered with linoleum; the bedroom floor +had a carpet. Swinging candlesticks were screwed into the wall here and +there. It was more like the cabin of a ship than anything on land could +ever be, and Jack Rotheram began to weaken towards it. + +In course of time other things were discovered, showing what a thorough +person X. was. A large India rubber bath, for instance, and a bath sheet to +go under it. A Beatrice oil stove and oil. An electric torch for sudden +requirements at night. A tea-basket for picnics. Quantities of cart-oil. A +piece of pumice stone (very thoughtful). There was also a box of little +India rubber pads with tintacks, the use for which (not discovered till +later) was to prevent the rattling of the furniture by making it fit a +little better. And in one of the cupboards was a bottle of camphor pills, +and a tin of tobacco labeled "For Tramps and Gypsies." + +There was even a bookshelf with books on it: "Hans Andersen," "The Arabian +Nights," "Lavengro," "Inquire Within," "Mrs. Beeton," "Bradshaw" (rather +cowardly, Robert thought), and "The Blue Poetry Book." There was also "The +Whole Art of Caravaning," with certain passages marked in pencil, such as +this: + +"We pull up to measure the breadth of the gate, and if it be broad enough, +send forward an ambassador to the farm, who shall explain that we would +fain camp here, that we are not gypsies, vagabonds or suspicious +characters, that we will leave all as we find it, and will not rob or +wantonly destroy. And in case of need, he shall delicately hint that we may +incidentally provide good custom in butter, eggs, milk, and half a dozen +other things. Our ambassador must also, if it be possible, secure a stall +for the horse." + +And this useful reminder: + +"We must have water near at hand and a farm within reasonable distance, and +we should look for shelter from prevailing winds. We must avoid soft +ground, and it is a mistake to camp in long grass unless the weather be +particularly dry. We should be as far as possible from the road if there is +much traffic upon it. It is great advantage if there is a stream or lake at +hand for bathing. An old pasture field sloping away from the road will +often satisfy our requirements in low-lying districts. And up among the +moors we shall be content to take a piece of level ground where we can find +it. There will be nothing to disturb us there." + +And this excellent caravan poem: + +"I love the gentle office of the cook, +The cheerful stove, the placid twilight hour, +When, with the tender fragrance of the flower, +And all the bubbling voices of the brook, + +"The coy potato or the onion browns, +The tender steak takes on a nobler hue. +I ponder 'mid the falling of the dew, +And watch the lapwings circling o'er the downs. + +"Like portals at the pathway of the moon +Two trees stand forth in pencilled silhouette +Against the steel-grey sky, as black as jet-- +The steak is ready. Ah! too soon! too soon!" + +So much (with one exception) for the inside of the caravan. Underneath it +were still other things, for a box with perforated sides swung between the +wheels, and this was the larger, always cool and shady (except, as Janet +remarked, on dusty days), and near it on hooks were a hanging saucepan, a +great kettle, two pails, and two market baskets, a nose bag, and a skid. +Close by was a place for oats and chaff. + +A new set of harness was packed on the box, and it was so complete that on +each of the little brass ornaments that hang on the horse's chest was the +letter "A." On the back of the caravan was a shelf that might be let down, +making a kind of sideboard for outdoor meals. + +For two or three days the caravan did nothing but hold receptions. Everyone +who knew the Avories came to see it-- even Robert's bird stuffer, who said +he would like to borrow it for a week's holiday in Epping Forest, and +observe Nature through its windows. Several of Gregory's intimates also +examined it, and approved. Miss Bingham pronounced it elegant and +commodious, and Mr. Crawley (who, like all schoolmasters and tutors, made +too many puns) said that its probable rate of speed reminded him of his +name. Collins wished she might never have to cook in it, but otherwise was +very tolerant. Eliza Pollard said that her choice would be a motor car, and +Jane Masters brought 'Erb back on Sunday afternoon, and they exarmined it +together and decided that with such a home as that they might be married at +once. + +I have left till the last the most exciting thing of all. In an enclosure, +you remember, was a key concerning the purpose of which nothing was said in +the letter. Well, in the course of the exploration of the caravan, which +went on for some days, always yielding a fresh discovery, Robert came upon +a box securely fastened to the floor in a dark corner. + +"Mother! mother!" he cried; "where's that key? I've found a mysterious +keyhole!" + +They all hurried to the stable yard to see, and Robert swiftly inserted the +key, and turned it. He fell back, too much overcome to speak. The box +contained twenty-five new sovereigns. + + + +CHAPTER 4: THE ITEMS + +Mr. Lenox either knew everything, or knew someone who knew everything, so +that he was always certain to be able to help in any difficulty. Mrs. Avory +wrote to him to come round and consult with her about it, and he was there +at tea time. + +"A caravan!" he said, after she had finished. "Ripping! Nothing better." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Avory, "but--" + +"Oh, well," said Mr. Lenox, "that's all right. A few little bothers, but +soon over." He checked them off on his finger. "Item---as your old Swan of +Avon, Hester, would say--item, a driver." + +"I was thinking of Kink," said Mrs. Avory; "but there's the garden." + +"Yes," said Mr. Lenox, "and there's also Kink. Do you think he'd go? " + +"The best thing to do is to ask him," said Mrs. Avory. "Gregory, just run +and bring Kink in." + +Kink soon appeared, fresh from the soil. + +"Would you be willing to drive the caravan if we decided to use it? " Mrs. +Avory asked. + +"'If'!" cried the children. "Steady on, mother. 'If'!" + +Kink, who was a great tease, pretended to think for quite a long time, +until his silence had driven the children nearly desperate. "Yes," he then +said, "I should, mum, provided you let me find a trustworthy man to go on +with the garden. Otherwise I shouldn't dare to face Mrs. Collins when I +came back." + +"That's very kind of you, Kink," said Mrs. Avory. + +"Good old Kinky!" said Gregory. + +"Yes," said Mr. Lenox. "And now for item two. The horse. How would you go +to work to get a horse, Kink?" + +"Well," said Kink, "that's a little out of my way. A horse radish, yes; but +not a horse." + +Everyone laughed: the old man expected it. + +"Then," said Mr. Lenox, with a mock sigh, "I suppose the horse will have to +be found by me. We don't want to buy one--only to hire it." + +"Don't let's have a horse," said Gregory; "let's have a motor. I think a +motor caravan would be splendid." + +"There you're quite wrong," said Mr. Lenox. "The life-blood of a caravan is +sloth; the life-blood of a motor is speed. You can't mix them. And how +could Robert here survey England creditably if he rushed through it in a +motor? You're going to survey England, aren't you, Bobbie? No, it must be a +horse, and I will get it. I will make friends with cabmen, and coachmen, +and grooms, and stable-boys. I will carry a straw in my mouth. I will get a +horse to do you credit. What colour would you like?" + +"White," said Janet. + +"It shall be a white horse," said Mr. Lenox. "And now," he added, "the way +is cleared for item three. Can you guess what that is? " + +They all tried to guess, but could not. They were too excited. + +"A dog," said Mr. Lenox. + +"Oh, yes," they cried. + +"To guard the caravan at night and when we are away," said Janet. + +"Exactly," said Mr. Lenox. "And what kind of a dog? " + +"A dachshund," said Hester. + +"Too small," said Mr. Lenox. + +"A St. Bernard," said Robert. + +"Too mild," said Mr. Lenox. + +"A spaniel," said Janet. + +"Too gentle," said Mr. Lenox. + +"A fox-terrier," said Gregory. + +"Not strong enough," said Mr. Lenox. "I leave it to Mr. Lenox," said Mrs. +Avory. + +"Very well, then," said Mr. Lenox, "a retriever--a retriever, because it is +big and formidable, and also because, when tied up, it will always be on +the watch. We'll buy the _Exchange_ and _Mart_, and look up retrievers. We +can't hire a dog; we must buy outright there. Now, then, Bobbie, item +four?" + +"Maps," said Bobbie. + +"Right," said Mr. Lenox. "I wish I was coming with you." + +"Do," they all cried. + +"I can't," said Mr. Lenox. "If I were to go away before September, I should +get the sack, and then I should starve. His Lordship is sufficiently cross +with me now, because I had to give him out leg-before at the annual estate +match last Saturday, when I was umpiring. He couldn't stand anything else." + +That night Mrs. Avory, Uncle Christopher, Mr. Scott, and Mr. Lenox were +talking after dinner. + +"It's a very wonderful present," said Mrs. Avory; "but there are two things +about it that are not quite satisfactory. One is that one likes to know +where such gifts come from, and the other is that for a party of children +to go away alone, with only Kink, is a great responsibility." (That's a +word which mothers are very fond of.) "Suppose they're ill?" + +"It's a risk you must take," said Uncle Chris. "Don't anticipate trouble." + +"Because," Mrs. Avory went on, "I should not go with them, although I might +arrange to meet them here and there on their journey. They would like me to +be with them, I know, and they would like to be without me, I know." + +"I shouldn't worry about the giver of the present," said Mr. Scott. "You +have many friends from whom you would have no objection to accept a +caravan, and there's no harm in one of those friends wishing to be +anonymous. As for the other matter, I don't see much risk so long as Kink +goes too. He's a careful and very capable old sport, and Janet's as good a +mother as you any day." + +Mrs. Avory laughed. "Yes, I know that," she said. "But what about gypsies +and tramps?" + +"One has always got to take a few chances," said Uncle Christopher. "They +may get things stolen now and then from the outside of the caravan, but I +should doubt if anything else happened. Kink and a good dog would see to +that. And Janet would see to the children keeping dry, or getting dry +quickly after rain, and so forth. Such an experience as a fortnight in a +caravan of their own should be a splendid thing for all of them. Gregory, +for example--it's quite time that he studied the A B C of engineering and +began where James Watt began, instead of merely profiting by the efforts of +all the investigators since then. I mean, it's quite time he watched a +kettle boil; and Hester would get no harm by mixing a little washing-up +with her 'Romeo and Juliet' wool-gathering." + +"I think you're right," said Mrs. Avory; "and I'm sure they are very +unlikely to get any such experience here. But I shall be very nervous " + +"No, you won't," said Mr. Lenox, "because we'll arrange that you shall have +news. I have thought of that. A telegram every morning at breakfast and a +telegram every evening after tea. That will be perfectly simple. And +letters, of course." + +In this way it was settled that the Great Experiment might be tried, +especially as so wise a woman as Collins and so old an ally as Runcie were +not against it. Both, indeed. were of Uncle Christonher's opinion that the +self-help and self-reliance which the caravan would lead to would be of the +greatest use. + +Collins, when she heard later some hint of the possible route the caravan +would follow, became not only a supporter of the scheme, but an enthusiast, +because her own home was not distant, and she made the children promise to +spend a day there with her brother, the farmer. She also gave Janet some +lessons in frying-pan cooking. + +Runcie never became an enthusiast, but she allowed herself to be +interested, if cautionary. + +"To think of the nice comfortable beds you will be leaving," she would say. + +"A horse is a vain thing for safety," she would say. + +"The blisters you'll get on your poor feet!" she would say. + +"The indigestion!" she would say. + +"Living like gypsies," she would say. + +"No proper washing or anything," she would say. + +"Cheer up, Runcie,îGregory would reply; "you're not going." + +"And glad I am I'm not," she would answer. + +"I wish you were, Runcie, and then we'd show you in the villages as 'The +Old-Woman-Who-Can't-See-Any-Fun-in-Caravaning' Walk up! Walk up! A penny a +peep!" + +A clever dog. He knows the difference between an attack and a feeling of +faintness. But just come down to the Bricklayers' Arms, and I'll show you." + +"No, thank you," said Mr. Lenox hastily. "How much is he?" + +"Three pounds," said Mr. Amos. + +"Oh, come!" said Mr. Lenox. "Not for a public-house dog." + +"Not a penny less," said Mr. Amos. + + + +CHAPTER V: DIOGENES AND MOSES + +The Sea View disappointment being so keenly felt, Mrs. Avory decided to +give the children an extra holiday of a fortnight at once, in which to +taste the delights of the caravan, and meanwhile she would herself go down +to the Isle of Wight to try to find other rooms; and it was arranged that +Mary Rotheram and one of her brothers and Horace Campbell should be +squeezed into the party too. Jack and William Rotheram therefore tossed up +for it, and Jack won. + +This suddenness, as we shall see, was very fortunate, but it threw Mr. +Lenox into a state of perspiration quite strange to him. + +"My dear Jenny," he said to Mrs. Avory, "how am I to get a horse to do you +credit, if you hurry me so? A horse is an animal requiring the most careful +study. Each one of its four legs needs separate consideration. I should +have liked some weeks of thought. The dog, too. Just as there is only one +satisfactory horse in the world for each family, so is there only one +satisfactory dog; and you ask me to get both in a few minutes." + +He lay back and fanned himself. + +Then he pulled two pennies from his pocket and gave them to Gregory, and +told him to go to the station bookstall and bring back the _Exchange_ and +_Mart._ + +The _Exchange_ and _Mart,_ as perhaps you may not know, is, without any +exaggeration, the most delightful paper in the world. It contains nothing +that one dislikes to read about, such as accidents, murders, suicides, +politics, and criticisms of concerts; it contains nothing whatever of such +things, while, on the other hand, it is packed with matters of real +interest. It tells you who has dogs for sale, and rabbits for sale, and +magic-lanterns for sale, and cameras for sale, and bicycles for sale, and +guinea-pigs for sale,--all at a bargain,--and it tells you also who wants +to buy rabbits and cameras and guinea-pigs; and it also tells you who wants +to exchange rabbits for a gun, or a dog for a fishing-rod, or a gramophone +for a parrot. + +Gregory brought the paper back, and Mr. Lenox at once turned to the section +entitled "The Kennel," and then to the subsection "Retrievers," and he +found the names of three persons who wished to sell wonderful specimens of +that breed. + +Two were in London and one was at Harrow. + +Gregory therefore went off to find a taxicab (no easy thing at Chiswick), +and, coming back with one at last, Mr. Lenox and he drove to the nearest of +the London addresses. + +The first was no good at all. The retrievers were all puppies, so gentle +and playful that they would not have frightened even a mouse from the +caravan door. But the next, which was at Bermondsey, was better. Here, in a +small backyard, they found Mr. Amos, the advertiser, surrounded by kennels. +He was a little man with a squint, and he declared that he had nothing but +the best-bred dogs with the longest pedigrees. + +"But we don't want anything so swagger as that," said Mr. Lenox. + +"We want a watchdog to be kept on a chain, but friendly enough with his own +people. If you keep only pedigree dogs, we may as well get on to our next +address." + +Mr. Amos stepped between Mr. Lenox and the door. "It's most extraordinary +odd," he said, " for, although I make it almost a religion never to have +any but pedigree dogs, it happens that just at this very moment I have got, +for the first time in my whole career, an inferior animal. It's not mine. +Oh, no; I'm only taking care of it for a friend. But it's a retriever all +right, and a good one, mark you, though not a pedigree dog. My friend wants +a good home for it. He's very particular about that. Kind, nice people, you +know. Bones. I dare say you know him," Mr. Amos added: "Mr. Bateman, who +keeps the Bricklayers' Arms." + +How funny, Gregory thought, to keep bricklayers' arms! And he wondered why +the bricklayers didn't keep their own arms, and who kept their legs, and he +might have asked if Mr. Amos had not called to a boy named Jim to "bring +Tartar over here, and look slippy." + +While Jim was bringing Tartar,--who lived in a tub, and must therefore, Mr. +Lenox said, be called in future Diogenes,--Mr. Amos reminded them how much +more likely one is to get good watch-work from a dog who is not of the +highest breeding than from a prize-winner. "As I often say," he added, "you +can have too much blood; that you can. Too much blood. It's the only fault +of many of my dogs." + +Diogenes now stood before them, looking by no means overburdened with blood +and extremely ready for a new home. + +Mr. Lenox asked why Mr. Amos thought he was a good watch-dog. + +"Think!" said Mr. Amos. "I don't think; I know. If Mr. Bateman was here and +you were to hit him, that dog would kill you. No thinking twice, mark you. +He'd just kill you." + +"I hope," said Mr. Lenox, "I shall never meet Mr. Bateman in his presence. +Suppose I were to fall against him accidentally --how perfectly ghastly!" + +"No fear of that," said Mr. Amos. + +"He's very well, then," said Mr. Lenox, "we must get on, Gregory. We have +still that other address." + +"Two pounds ten," said Mr. Amos. + +"Oh, no," said Mr. Lenox; "much too dear. Come along, Gregory." + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Mr. Amos, "though it will be the end of +my friendship with Mr. Bateman. I'll say nothing about the collar and +chain, and take two pounds." + +"Too dear," said Mr. Lenox, stepping to the taxi. + +"Well, how much will you give?" Mr. Amos asked. + +"I'll give you twenty-five shillings as he stands," said Mr. Lenox. + +"He's yours," said Mr. Amos. + +Mr. Lenox immediately paid the money, and then he went to a small grocer's +near by and bought a bag of biscuits, and with them he and Gregory fed the +famished Diogenes all the way back to Chiswick, and by the time they +reached home he seemed so affectionate with them as never to have had +another master. + +Diogenes had come, of course, to stay; but the horse was merely to be +hired. To hire a carriage-horse or a riding-horse is easy enough, but a +cart-horse as strong as a steam-engine is more difficult to find. + +Mr. Lenox decided to advertise, and he therefore sent the following +advertisement to the _Daily Telegram:_ + +"Wanted--To hire for a month at least, an exceedingly powerful, gentle +white horse to draw a caravan. Reply by letter. L., 'The Gables.' +Chiswick." + +"There," said Mr. Lenox, as he read it out, "that's as clear as crystal. No +one can misunderstand that." + +But, as a matter of fact, people will misunderstand anything; for on the +day the advertisement appeared quite a number of men called at "The +Gables," all leading horses of every size and colour. Kink was kept busy in +getting rid of them, but one man succeeded in finding Robert unattended, +and did all he could to persuade him that a pair of small skew-bald ponies +such as he had brought with him would be far more useful in a caravan than +one large cart-horse. + +"Run in and tell your father that, old sport," said he. "Tell him I've got +a pair of skews here as will do him credit, and he shall have the two for +twenty pounds." + +"No, no," said Robert; "they're no use at all. We advertised for one large, +strong white horse." + +Mr. Crawley was coming away from the house at this moment, and the man +tackled him. + +"Have the pair, mister," said the man. "They're wonderful together--draw a +pantechnicon. There's lots of white on them, too. Your little boy here has +taken such a fancy to them," he added. "Eighteen pound for the two." + +Another man, who brought a black horse and said that white horses always +had a defect somewhere, fastened on Miss Bingham. + +"This is what you want, mum," he said. "Honest black. Never trust a white +horse," he said. "Black's the colour. Look at this mare here--she's a +beauty. Strong as an elephant and docile as a tortoise. Fifteen quid, mum, +and a bargain." + +"My good man," said Miss Bingham, "you are laboring under a +misapprehension. I require no horse." + +Fortunately, among the letters were several that told of exactly the kind +of horse that was needed, and one afternoon a stable boy led into the yard a +perfectly enormous creature which Mr. Lenox had hired for a pound a week +from a man at Finchley. + +"Warranted sound in wind and limb," said Mr. Lenox, "and his name is Moses." + +Gregory, having given Moses a lump of sugar, declined ever again to wish +for a motor caravan, especially as Mr. Scott slipped into his hand that +evening a large knife containing eight useful articles, including a hook +for extracting stones from horses' feet. + + + +CHAPTER 6: THE PLANS + +The question where to go came next, and, compared with this, all the other +preparations had been simple. Here they were, with a caravan, and a horse, +and a driver, and a dog, and maps, and a mapmeasurer (do you know what +they're called?--they're called wealemafnas), and tents, and--most of +all--permission to be entirely alone; and it was not yet decided where they +were going. + +Of course, as you may suppose, each of the party knew where he or she +wanted to go, but that was merely a private matter; no general decision had +been come to. + +Mr. Crawley, who may be said to have lived for golf, suggested Ashdown +Forest, and then, he said, he could look them up from time to time if they +made a permanent camp there. But who wants to be looked up by a tutor when +one is on a caravan holiday? + +Miss Bingham was in favour of an itinerary (as she called it) that embraced +two or three cathedral cities. + +Mr. Lenox said: "Go to Sussex, and camp under the downs at night and +explore them by day." + +Mr. Scott, on the other hand, said: "Go to Berkshire and see the White +Horse that Tom Hughes scoured and wrote about." And he promised to lend +them the book to convert them to this project. + +Mrs. Avory declined to express any opinion. "It's your caravan," she said, +"and I would much rather you decided everything for yourselves." (What a +delightful mother!) + +Janet wanted to go to the New Forest, because she had never been there, and +now was a chance, and because for many years "The Children of the New +Forest" had been her favourite story. + +Robert wanted to go to Salisbury Plain and see the sun rise at Stonehenge, +and cast an eye over the military operations there. + +Jack Rotheram wanted to go to Hambledon, in Hampshire, to see the cradle of +cricket, as it is called--the old ground on Broad Half-penny Down where +they used to play cricket in tall hats, as described in John Nyren's book, +which someone had given him. + +Mary Rotheram wanted to go to Bredon Hill in Worcestershire, because she +had always wanted to ever since she had learned a song which began: + +"In summertime on Bredon +The bells they sound so clear; +Round both the shires they ring them +In steeples far and near, +A happy noise to hear. + + +"Here of a Sunday morning +My love and I would lie, +And see the coloured counties, +And hear the larks so high +About us in the sky." + +That line about the coloured counties had always fascinated her: she had +longed also to see them, lying beneath her, all spread out. The coloured +counties! She talked so enthusiastically and prettily about it that she +quite won over Robert, who decided that Bredon would be quite as +interesting as Salisbury Plain, and would give him practice, too, in +estimating square miles; so that there were two for Bredon Hill, as against +one for all the other places. + +Gregory, however, was not for Bredon. He wanted to see the flying-ground at +Sheppey, which is in a totally different direction, and perhaps induce +someone with an aeroplane to give him a lift. + +Horace Campbell sided with Gregory, while Hester voted continually and +feelingly for Stratford-on-Avon. To see Stratford-on-Avon--that was her +idea: to walk through the same streets as her beloved Shakespeare, to see +the place where his house had stood, to row on his river, to stand by his +tomb! + +When the time came to discuss the journey seriously, it was Hester who won. +Stratford-on-Avon was decided on, with an extension to Bredon Hill as the +farthest point away, returning by way of Cheltenham and Cirencester to +Faringdon (for the White Horse), and then taking train for home, and +leaving Kink and Moses to do the remaining seventy miles alone. + +The distance from Bredon to Faringdon through Cheltenham, Cirencester, and +Fairford, was roughly forty-five miles, or five days of nine miles each. +Starting at Oxford, as was proposed, they would be three or four days in +getting to Stratford, and two days there; three days more, at the most, in +getting to Bredon, This would make eleven days altogether, which would +make, with rests on the two Sundays, and one whole day at the White Horse, +the full fortnight. + +This, then, is what was at last decided: that Kink should get the caravan +to Oxford and be all ready for the children to join him on the Wednesday +morning. They should go down to Oxford on the day before and be looked +after by Mr. Lenox's young brother, who was at Oriel. + +They should leave Oxford in the caravan on the next morning on their way to +Stratford-on-Avon. + +The distance from Oxford to Stratford was thirty-nine miles, and it was +decided to do this in three days, which meant thirteen miles a day. The +first night, therefore, would be spent near Wooestock, the next near +Chipping Norton, and the third near Shipston down in the green meadows on +the banks of the Stour. At Stratford they would find Mrs. Avory waiting for +them, and stay with her at the Shakespeare Hotel for a day or so. By that +time they would know exactly how much or how little they liked the caravan, +and what things were necessary; and then Mrs. Avory would go back and they +would begin their real adventures. Could anything be better? Although, of +course, Robert was very contemptuous of the Shakespeare Hotel part of the +programme. "The idea of sleeping in a bed!" he said. + +The next thing to do was to apportion the various duties. Kink, of course, +was arranged for; he was to drive and to look after the horse and sleep as +near the caravan as could be managed; while Diogenes was always to be on +guard. Kink also was to see about water. + +Janet was purser and steward. She had to decide what food was wanted, and +to keep the money. Hester was the official letter-writer, and was under a +promise to write home every other evening. Robert was the guide and +geographer; he kept the maps. He was also the telegraphist. Mary Rotheram, +who had taken lessons in cooking, was chief cook, and she was to be helped +by Janet. Jack was superintendent of the washing-up, and Horace Campbell +was his principal ally. (How tired they got of it!) Jack, Horace, and +Robert were carriers between the grocer's, the butcher's, the baker's, and +the Slowcoach. + +It was arranged that Gregory, being the smallest and weakest, and therefore +the least likely to be refused, should go on and ask leave of the farmers +on whose land it was proposed to rest the caravan at night. Mary Rotheram +should be his companion, and ask for eggs and milk at the same time. + +Next came the victualling, and this was exceedingly interesting, although +it made great holes in the sovereign box. Janet and Mary Rotheram sat for +hours over the Stores List, and they were continually taking important +questions to Collins. + +"How many tins of mustard ought we to take? A dozen at fourpence? " + +"Mustard, Miss Mary? Why, two penny ones would be enough for a month." + +(Three and tenpence saved, you see.) + +"I say, Collins, how long do eggs boil?" + +"Collins, you have to prick sausages, don't you, or else they burst?" + +"Collins, how many loaves do eight people want a day?" + +"Four, Miss Janet, at the least--large ones." + +"Including Kink? " Janet explained. + +"Oh, Kink too! Five, then, if not six, the old gormandizer." + +"Collins, what's the best part of beef for stewing?" + +"Collins, you can put anything into a stew, can't you? Absolutely anything?" + +"Collins, if you've put too much pepper into a thing, is there any way of +getting it out again?" + +Mrs. Avory was very particular about tinned things. "You must have plenty +of tongues," she said, "in case the fire won't burn or the meat is too +tough;" and privately she instructed Kink to keep an eye on their eating. +"They must eat, Kink, don't forget. Never mind what they say; make them eat +sensibly." To the stores Mrs. Avory herself added a number of tongues and a +good deal of plain chocolate. + +The day for Kink's departure--at least three days before the others were to +leave--at last arrived, and by eleven o'clock everything was ready: Kink +was seated on the shafts, with the reins in one hand, and in the other an +ancient map of the road from London to Oxford, which Robert had found in +one of his father's Road Books, of which there were many in the library, +and had carefully traced. It was called _Britannia Depicta;_ OR, _"Ogilby" +Improved,_ 1753, and, so that you may see what kind of help Kink was +offered, I have had the map reproduced here. Kink, I may say, having some +difficulty in reading even the plain print of the morning paper, held the +tracing in his hand only so far as he was in sight. He then folded it up +and placed it in his pocket, and when he was in any doubt as to the way, +asked the first person he met. + +Mr. Lenox and Mr. Scott were both there in time to see the start of the +Slowcoach, as they had decided to call it. Also present at the start was +the greater part of adult Chiswick and all its children, who filled the +street opposite "The Gables" and cheered. Kink accepted their enthusiasm +with calm, but as he said afterwards to Collins, "I felt like the Prince of +Wales and all the royal family." + +Both Mr. Scott and Mr. Lenox brought contributions to the Slowcoach's +stores. Mr. Scott's was a large bundle of firelighters and twelve dozen +boxes of matches. "You can't have too many matches," he said. Mr. Lenox's +was ointment for blisters. + +Uncle Christopher was also there to see the start, and he brought with him +an envelope. "This envelope," he said, "is not to be opened unless you're +in any very serious difficulty. Then open it." + +And so, in a scene of wild excitement, Kink cracked his whip, Moses +strained at the collar, the Slowcoach creaked heavily out of the yard, and +its historic journey was begun. + + + +CHAPTER 7: MR. LENOX'S YOUNG BROTHER + +Mr. Lenox's young brother met the party on the Oxford platform. He was +accompanied by two of his friends, who were dressed in grey flannels and +straw hats, and were smoking very large and beautiful pipes. Mr. Lenox's +young brother introduced these friends as Fizzy and Shrimp, and then they +packed themselves into three hansoms and drove off. + +Mr. Lenox's young brother led the way with Janet and Mary. Fizzy (at least, +Hester thought it was Fizzy, but it may have been Shrimp) came next with +Hester, Horace, and Gregory; and then came Shrimp (unless it was Fizzy) +with Robert and Jack. + +Oxford hansoms are the worst in the world, but seldom has a ride been more +delightful. The three hosts pointed out the colleges as they passed, until +they came, far too soon, to the Mitre, where they were to sleep. + +"Now take your things upstairs and make sure where your rooms are, and tidy +up if you want to," said Mr. Lenox's young brother, "and then hop down, and +we'll take you to see the caravan, and show you about a little, and perhaps +go on the river; and in the evening we're going to have supper in my rooms. +Fizzy's going to conjure, and perhaps we'll have charades." + +These words made tidying up an even simpler matter than usual, and the +party started off. + +Kink, it seems, had reached Oxford that morning, and was at the Green Man, +where the Slowcoach was an object of extraordinary interest to the +neighbourhood. They found him seated on the top step reading the paper, +while forty-five children (at least) stared at him. Diogenes lay at the +foot of the steps. + +Kink was very glad to see them. No, he said, he hadn't had any adventures +exactly, but driving a caravan was no work for a modest man who wished for +a quiet life among vegetables. + +"This," he said, waving his pipe at the increasing crowd, "is nothing. You +should have see them at Beaconsfield and High Wycombe. They began by +thinking I was Lord John Sanger, and when they were satisfied that I +wasn't, they made sure I was a Cheap Jack with gold watches for a shilling +each." + +"How does it go, Kink?" Robert asked. + +"It goes all right," said Kink, "but the crockery wants muffling. You can't +hear yourself think when you trot." + +"And Diogenes?" + +"Diogenes," said Kink, "is a masterpiece. He begins to growl at tramps when +they're half a mile away. Why is it, I wonder," Kink added, "that dogs +can't abide ragged clothes? This Oxford, they tell me, "is a clever place. I +wonder if anyone here can explain that?" + +Mr. Lenox's young brother and his friends had now to be shown the +Slowcoach, which they pronounced "top hole," and then Moses was inspected +in his stable; and, this being done, they were ready for the river--or, +rather, for the ices at a pastrycook's shop in the High Street--called the +High--which were, to precede the river. + +Then they all trooped down to the boats and had a perfect hour's rowing; +and then they explored Oxford a little, and saw Tom Quad at Christ Church +(or "The House," as it is called), and were shown the rooms in which the +author of "Alice in Wonderland" lived for so many years; and so right up +through the city to Magdalen Grove, where the deer live, and Magdalen +Tower, on the top of which the May Day carols are sung. + +Mr. Lenox's young brother lived in rooms outside his college; he would not +enter the college until next term. They were in Oriel Lane, and exceedingly +comfortable, with at least twenty pipes in a pipe-rack on the wall, and at +least thirty photographs of his favourite actresses, chiefly Pauline Chase, +and five cricket-bats in the corner, and about forty walking-sticks, and a +large number of puzzles of the "Pigs in Clover" type, which nearly drove +Gregory mad while supper was being prepared. + +The preparation consisted merely of the entrance of one man after another +carrying silver dishes; for everything was cold, although exceedingly +sumptuous and solid. There were chickens all covered with a beautiful thick +whitewash, on which little hearts and stars cut out of truffles were +sprinkled. There was a tongue all over varnish, like the dainty foot of a +giant Cinderella. There were custards and tarts and jellies. There were +also bottles exactly like champagne bottles, which, however, contained +ginger ale, and for Mr. Lenox's young brother and his friends there were +silver tankards of beer. It was, in short, not a supper, but, as Mary +Rotheram expressed it, using her favourite adjective at the moment, a +supreme banquet. + +Then another friend, with spectacles, called the Snarker, came in, and they +began. Mr. Lenox's young brother was a very attentive host, and made +everyone eat too much. Then he made a speech to propose the health of the +Slowcoaches, as he called them, and to wish them a prosperous journey. +"That you will all be happy," he said, very gravely, in conclusion, "is our +earnest wish. But the one thing which my friends and I desire more than any +other--and I assure you that they are with me most cordially in this +sentiment (aren't you, Fizzy? aren't you, Shrimp? aren't you, +Snarker?)--the one thing that we desire more than any other is, that you +may never be run in for exceeding the speed limit." This was a very +successful joke. + +After supper came Fizzy's conjuring tricks, which were not very bewildering +to children who had once had a real conjurer from the Stores, as these had, +and then a charade played by Mary, Horace, Fizzy, and Shrimp for the others +to guess. + +The first act represented a motorist (Fizzy) who ran over and killed an old +woman (Mary), and was arrested by a policeman (Horace), and fined +eighteenpence by a magistrate (Shrimp). + +The second was a cockney scene in which two costers (Fizzy and Shrimp) took +their girls (Mary and Horace) to Hampstead Heath to 'ave fun. + +The third was Henry VIII. (Shrimp) receiving Anne of Cleves (Fizzy) and her +Maid of Honour (Mary), and telling Wolsey (Horace) to prepare the divorce, +because she was a " great Flanders mare." + +You see the whole word, of course--Car-'ave-Anne. + +Finally the Snarker said that they must play one writing game before they +went home. The Snarker, it seemed, came from a family which was devoted to +writing games, and had even made improvements in "Consequences," which is, +when you all know each other extrernely well, the best writing game of all. +But among strangers, as the Snarker explained, it was not so good, because +they can't understand the jokes against uncles and aunts. + +They did not, therefore, play "Consequences," but instead wrote what the +Snarker called "composite stories." That is to say, they each took a large +sheet of paper and began at the top a story, writing as much as they could +in two minutes. Then the paper was passed on, and the story continued by +the next person, until all had had one turn. Then the original beginners +each finished his story, and they were read out. + +As there were eleven playing, this meant there were eleven stories; but I +will copy only one of them. (Janet kept the papers, or I should not be able +to do that.) + +This is the one which was begun by Hester, who liked to be serious and +mysterious in her work, and was almost vexed when others turned it to +nonsense. She called it "The Secret of the Castle," and began it like this: + +"It was a dark and gloomy night in the year 1135, when the young Lord +Almeric reached his impressive and ancestral home. Nothing could be heard +but the sighing of the wind in the turrets and the moaning of Boris, the +great wolfhound. Lord Almeric had ridden far, and was tired, and the +gloominess of his ancestral home weighed on his spirits, which were +naturally buoyant and high. Flinging himself from his gaily comparisoned +horse, and tossing the rein with a muttered, 'Here, varlet!' to the waiting +groom, he opened the massive doors and entered the hall. What was his +amazement to see--" + +"Time!" called the Snarker, who had his watch before him, and Hester had to +stop. + +Gregory came next. His idea of the game was not very clear, to begin with, +and he had some difficulty in reading what was written, so he was able to +write very little, and that not too helpfully. He therefore wrote words +that were always near his heart: + +"--a flying-machine." + +and that was all. + +Then came Janet. Always wishing to be kind and make things easy, she longed +to get the story back into the spirit and period of poor little romantic +Hester's opening passages. But Gregory had spoiled everything. Janet, +however, did her best: + +"The young lord drew back with a start, for he could hardly believe his eyes. + +'What,' he exclaimed, 'is this strange mixture of wires and wings? Can my +father's astrologer have really done it at last after all these fruitless +years? He must indeed have been busy since I rode forth to battle. +Eftsoons, do I dream or wake?' He touched the strange thing cautiously, but +it did not bite, and gradually there came upon him an exceeding desire to +fly. 'By my halidom,' he cried, 'I will e'en inquire further into this +mystery--" + +Next came Fizzy, who was bent on being funny at any cost. He wrote: + +"--as the man said, sticking his fork into the German sausage. 'What ho, my +merry minions, help!' he cried; 'let us draw forth the areoplane into the +home meadow, for I would fain experiment with it. A lord is no lord unless +he can daunt the swallow and the pigeon. So saying, he rang the alarm-bell, +which was only kept for fires and burglaries, and summoned the household. +'A murrain on ye for being so pestilent slow!' he shouted. 'Gadsooth, ye +knaves! let loose the petrol, or I soar not into the zenith.'" + +Then came Mary, who naturally had no patience with nonsense. She ignored +Fizzy's contribution completely, and got back to romance: + +"Meanwhile, seated in her room in the home turret sat the lovely Lady +Elfrida, the picture of woe. Why did her lord tarry? Had she not heard him +ride into the courtyard and give his palfrey to the waiting serf? Yet where +was he? He was to spring up the stairs lightly as a roebuck of the +mountains to welcome her, and now where was he? Little did she guess--" + +Here Shrimp took the paper and wrote: + +"--that a brand-new monoplane was blocking up the stairs, so big that not a +roebuck on earth could jump it. But what of the secret of the castle? Was +that the secret? No. Why did the wind shriek and the deerhound moan? If you +would know this, reader, come with me down the dungeon steps and unbar +yonder dark door. For there in the dark recess of that terrible cell lay--" + +The Shrimp, even although time had not been called, was very glad to leave +off here. Robert took the paper. He read the narrative as well as he could, +and added these words: + +"But I cannot bring my pen to write the word. It was a secret; indeed, the +secret of the castle. No wonder that the dog moaned and the wind howled and +the Lady Elfrida grieved." + +The Snarker, who, after all, had begun the wretched game, and whose duty it +was, therefore, to pull this ruin of a story together again, ought to have +played fair; but instead he went back to what Fizzy had called an +"areoplane," spelling not being taught at Oxford. He therefore wrote: + +"And meanwhile, what of the aeroplane? Fortunately, the night was short, +and there was soon enough light by which to fly, and in a brief time the +seneschals and myrmidons had the great machine in the midst of the +tourney-ground, all ready for flight. Lord Almeric seated himself and +grasped the lever. A firm push from the willing arms of a hundred carles +and hinds, and he was in the air. 'Ah,' he cried, 'odds bodkins, this is +indeed life! Never have I felt such sensations. I will never walk or ride +again. I will sell my motorcar and my horses and my boots. Flying is for me +for ever!"' + +Jack now took the paper: + +"Lord Almeric was always a very clever man, and it was nothing to him that +he had never flown before. He had studied the pictures of the flying men in +the illustrated papers while waiting at the dentist's, and he knew the +principles of mechanics. No wonder, then, that he flew with perfect +control, circling the home turret, where the Lady Elfrida was still +weeping, with the greatest ease, and calling to her messages of comfort, +which--" + +Here the Snarker called "Time!" again, and Mr. Lenox's young brother took +the paper: + +"--she could not hear. 'Come down, good lord, or of a verity thou wilt fall +and crack thy coxcomb!' shouted the major-domo from beneath; but the +intrepid Almeric heeded not the warning, and only rose higher and higher, +nearer and nearer to the stars. And then, suddenly, there was an awful +shriek, and his body was seen to be hurtling steadily and surely towards +the earth, gaining speed with every revolution. 'Help, help!' they cried; +'he must be dashed to pieces; nothing can save him.' But at that moment --" + +Here Horace had to go on. He was not a literary boy, and it took him more +than one minute to read all that had gone before. All he could therefore +add was: + +"--he woke up. 'Where am I?' he said. 'You have fallen out of bed,' said +Lady Elfrida." + +Poor Hester! her face was a picture of perplexity and indignation when she +came to read the story all through. There was clearly no sensible ending +possible, and she therefore merely wrote: + +"Not to this day has the secret of the Castle been solved, but visitors are +still shown, on payment of a shilling each, the place where Lord Almeric +dreamed he fell from a flying-machine in the year 1135." + +And then Mr. Lenox's young brother and his friends took them back to the +Mitre, and said good-night. + + + +CHAPTER 8: THE FIRST DAY + +Mr. Lenox's young brother gave them a tremendous breakfast, and called in +Fizzy and Shrimp and the Snarker to help, and then Janet paid the bill at +the Mitre and bought a few things, including two cold chickens, and they +all went down to the little inn yard together and found Kink waiting for +them. + +Janet, whose duties as paymaster had now begun in earnest, also paid Kink's +bill; Robert set his pedometer at zero; and the whole party started, +followed by the crowd of idle men and children to which they were destined +to become so accustomed. For a caravan with people in it who are not +gipsies is still an excitement in England. + +Kink drove and the others walked behind, or by the side, or in +front--mostly in front, for it was soon discovered that Moses had a slower +walk than any other of the party--in fact, two miles an hour was more than +his rate, although Kink assured them that he could trot from four to five +on the level, and keep it up. + +It was a fine but rather windy day, and the dust flew about a little too +much; but everything was too fresh and exciting for that to matter. What is +a little dust on the first day of a caravan expedition! + +Mr. Lenox's young brother and his jolly friends turned back at Wolvercot, +as there was work to do even at Oxford. It was not until their last waving +handkerchiefs were out of sight that the children really felt themselves at +the start of their adventurous enterprise. In fact, Robert put the feeling +into words. "Now we're beginning," he said. + +Up to this time all had walked; but, glancing at Gregory's lagging legs, +Janet soon began to assume the little mother once again. In consultation +with Kink, it was decided that on fairly level roads Moses was equal to the +Slowcoach plus four passengers, and it was therefore agreed that there +should never be more than that number riding at once, but, in order that no +one should be too tired, they should take it in turns to enjoy these short +periods of ease. + +The arrangement made it necessary to appoint a new officer, who was called +the Regulator of Rests, and Mary Rotheram was chosen. Her duties were not +quite as simple as they sound, because Gregory, the youngest, and Hester, +being not very much older and not very strong, were to have more rides than +anyone else; Kink also must be allowed to ride a good deal. And this meant +a little calculation; but Mary was always good at arithmetic. + +Gregory, of course, refused point blank to ride a single yard; but he was +rarely sorry, none the less, when the time came to climb the steps and +settle down in a chair. + +They had lunch that first day near Yarnton, without making any camp or +cooking anything. The cooking was to be saved for the evening. They merely +tore the two cold chickens to pieces and ate them with bread-and-butter and +stone ginger beer from an inn beside the road. It is much the best way with +a cold chicken. Afterwards bananas, which someone had told Mrs. Avory were +the most sustaining of fruit. + +Robert had arranged an easy day to begin with, and they were to go no +farther than Woodstock, where, for those not too tired, there was Blenheim +to see, the wonderful house of the Duke of Marlborough, and Fair Rosamond's +Bower, and the park and the lake. Hester even had hopes of finding a +distressed Blenheim spaniel puppy in some romantic sort of way, and +adopting it for life. + +But there were none of these things for them. Indeed, caravaners very soon +get out of the habit of making plans at all. It is all too uncertain. The +only things that really are certain are work and delay. They got no nearer +to Blenheim than to peer through its gates and to recite, very imperfectly, +the verses about old Caspar's work and little Wilhelmine. + +At about half-past three they entered Woodstock, and, after passing through +the village and doing a little shopping there, surrounded by all +Woodstock's children who were not in school, they began to look about for a +camping-place. And this needs more thought than one might suppose, for +there must be some shelter from the wind, and water must not be too +distant. Also one does not want to be very close to a busy and dusty road. + +Kink, who had gone off on a little tour of inspection, came back at last +and said he had found an excellent field, high and dry, and sheltered too. +Stopping a labourer, they found that the farmer was Mr. Gosden, of +Blackett's; and Gregory and Mary Rotheram hurried off to the farm-house, +which was a few fields off, to ask permission, and get some milk, and +perhaps eggs and butter. + +They found the door of the kitchen open, but no one there. It was a large, +low kitchen, with a very red brick floor, and it led into the dairy, where +they could see the flat pans of milk. The fire was burning so brightly that +they knew the farmer's wife could not be far away. Over the mantelpiece was +a gun. Two or three highly polished and highly coloured grocer's +calendars--pictures of beautiful women--were on the walls. Sides of bacon +hung from the ceiling. The whole place smelled of wood smoke and plenty. +The children noticed all these things as they stood in the doorway, every +now and then knocking. + +At last they heard steps, and a very wide and smiling woman entered the +kitchen from another door. + +"Well," she asked, "what can I do for you? " + +Gregory, proud to be really beginning his duties, said: "Please, may we +camp tonight in one of your fields? We're living in a caravan." + +"You've come to the wrong person," said Mrs. Gosden. "That's my husband's +affair, and he's rather particular. He's gone to Chipping Norton; but," she +added, as Gregory began to look miserable, "he'll be back any minute now. +You sit down and have a cup of tea with me and wait for him." + +So they sat down, and Mrs. Gosden made the tea, which she took from a +highly coloured tin, covered also with beautiful women, and they had with +it bread and butter and lettuce, and talked. + +"And how do you like gipsying?" Mrs. Gosden asked. + +"I think it's going to be splendid," Mary said; "but we've only just begun." + +"Then you haven't slept out before?" + +"No," said Mary. + +"My word!" said Mrs. Gosden; "what sore throats you'll have in the morning! +Roughing it's all very well by day, but give me a comfortable bed to lay in +of a night. That's me!" + +At this moment the sound of wheels was heard, and Mrs. Gosden jumped up and +added some hot water to the tea and cut some more bread-and-butter. "That's +father," she said, and Mr. Gosden soon after came in. + +He was a big man with whiskers under his chin all the way round, but none +on the rest of his face. + +"Hello!" he said; "visitors!" + +"Yes," said Mrs. Gosden, "a young lady and gentleman who are living in a +caravan, and want to camp in the hay takers. At least, I think it's the hay +takers from what they say of it." + +"Ho, do they?" said Mr. Gosden. "A nice state of things," he added with a +twinkle, "when every one who comes to ask leave to spoil one of my fields +gets a nice tea given them!" and he laughed. + +"We shouldn't spoil it," said Gregory. + +"Well," said Mr. Gosden, "perhaps you'll tell me how you make a fire. Isn't +it on the ground? And what do you do with your rubbish? Clean it up and +take it along with you? Not too likely. I've had caravaners here before." + +"We will," said Mary, "I promise"--seeing as she spoke the necessity of a +new official being appointed at once: the Remover of Camp Litter. + +"I said the other day," continued the farmer, "that never again would I let +a caravan into my fields, didn't I, Bet? And how can I go back on that?" + +"You did say it," said Mrs. Gosden, "true enough, but you're halways +breaking your word. You said you'd bring me a new alarm clock the next +time you went to Oxford, and I've never got it yet, and that's months ago." + +"Never mind," said Mr. Gosden; "it means longer in bed for you. Well," he +added to Mary, "I'll come down with you and look at the turnout and see. +But I must finish my tea first." + +Never, thought Mary, could anyone have eaten so much tea or taken so long +over it, and she was in despair about the others waiting in the road, +hungry and impatient; but there was nothing for it but to be quiet, and at +last Mr. Gosden was ready. + +The others, it was true, had become very tired of waiting, but they had +spent some of the time in bringing water from the nearest cottage. No one +who gets really cross from waiting should ever go away in a caravan. Mr. +Gosden had a good look at all of them and at Kink before he said anything. +He then gave them leave to camp very near the hedge, and he asked them to +promise to be gone by ten the next morning, as he had some cattle coming +in, and to clear up thoroughly, and then off he went. He stepped back to +tell them to come up to the farm in the morning for milk and butter and to +report on their night, and started off once more. + +Gregory, who had clearly been puzzling over something, ran after him. + +"Well?" said Mr. Gosden. + +"Where do they take the hay?" Gregory said. + +"Who? " Mr. Gosden asked. + +"The hay takers," said Gregory. + +"I don't understand," said Mr Gosden. + +"What hay takers? It's not a hay meadow. We graze it." + +"Mrs. Gosden," said Gregory, "called the field the hay takers." + +Mr. Gosden laughed loudly. " That's my missis's pronounciation," he said. +"She's much too fond of haitches: she will put them in the wrong place. I +often correct her, but it's no use. It's nothing to do with hay. It's the +size of the field--the size, don't you see? The eight acres: that's what +she meant to say, bless her old heart!" + + + +CHAPTER 9: THE FIRST NIGHT + +"Well," said Janet, "that's a very nice start. It would have been horrid if +the first farmer had been crusty." + +"Ah," said Mary Rotheram, "but you should see his wife! It was she who did +it for us really. Perhaps after dinner we might walk up there to thank +her." + +After dinner! How recklessly young caravaners can talk. But you shall hear.... + +Kink with much skill got Moses and the Slowcoach into the field and shut +the gate, and then the great carriage rocked and swayed over the grass, +making no sound but a mixture of creaking and crockery. At last he brought +it to a stand just under a tall hedge, and Moses was at once taken out and +roped to a crowbar driven in the ground. + +"The first thing," said Janet, "is the fire," and Jack and Horace were sent +off to collect wood and pile it near the Slowcoach, and fix the tripod over +it. As it was quite dry, one of Mr. Scott's lighters soon had it blazing, +and Mary, as chief cook, threw quickly into the water in the pot the large +piece of brisket they had bought at Woodstock, together with potatoes and +carrots and little onions and pepper and salt. + +That done, and leaving Horace with strict orders to keep the fire fed, the +others began to unpack. First of all mackintosh sheets and rugs were thrown +on the ground round the fire, and then Robert and Jack drew out their tent +and set it up on the farther side of the fire, some four or five yards +away, so that the fire was midway between the tent and the caravan. + +The tent was similar to those which gipsies use--not with a central pole, +but stretched over half-hoops which were stuck in the ground. It was wide +enough for three boys to lie comfortably in their sleeping-bags side by +side. Gregory was to sleep in the caravan with the girls; Kink was to go to +Woodstock. + +Meanwhile, with all of them, except Mary and Gregory, who had done well +with Mrs. Gosden's tea, the pangs of hunger were at work, and the steam of +the great iron pot hanging over the fire did nothing to allay them. Mary +and Janet every now and then thrust a fork into the meat, but its +resistance to the point was heart-breaking. + +"Hadn't you better have some biscuits to go on with?" Janet said at last; +but the others refused. It would spoil the stew, they thought. + +"At any rate," Janet said, "let's get everything ready, not only for +supper,"-- you see, it wasn't called dinner any longer,--"but for +washing-up afterwards." + +So Kink went off for some more water, and a large basin was set on a box, +and dishcloths were put by it; and a rackety search began for plates, and +knives and forks, and mugs, and tinned fruits, and more plates and spoons +and moist sugar, and all the other things which appear on our tables at +mealtimes as naturally as leaves on the trees, but which in a caravan mean +so much fuss and perplexity. In fact, all the children returned home with a +vastly increased respect for the ability and punctuality of Collins and +Eliza Pollard and Jan Masters. + +For a while the air was simply full of questions and remarks, some of which +I copy down, and you may guess who asked them. + +"I say, Janet, where's the tin-opener?" + +"Janet, dear, ought we to have napkins?" + +"Hester, you little nuisance, get off that box; it's got the bread in it." + +"Hester, stop reading and come and help." + +"Horace, the fire's nearly out." + +"I wish some of you would stop talking and tell me where the tin-opener is." + +"Jack, you lazy ruffian, why don't you get some more sticks?" + +"I say, Kink, do you think this old brisket will ever be done?" + +"Kink, does it ruin potatoes and things to stew too long?" + +"Kink, is there any decent way of opening a tin without a tin-opener?" + +"I'm perfectly certain the sugar was in this cupboard. Gregory, have you +been at the sugar? " + +"It's a good deal harder than a rock, still." + +"Can you make a tin-opener out of a fork? " + +"I am perfectly certain I saw the corkscrew this morning." + +"Oh, I say, I didn't come out in this old caravan to die of hunger and +neglect." + +"Mary, where did you put the milkjug? " + +"Let's have that beast of a brisket out and cut him up, and put him in +again in smaller pieces." + +"Oh, Jack, how clever you are! However did you think of that?" + +"I expect it's hunger sharpening his wits." + +"I say, it's all very well to say cut him up small; but he's red hot. I'm +scalded horribly." + +"So am I." + +"Yes, and so am I, the way you make him jump about. It splashed right over +here." + +"Kink, come and help us hold the brisket down while we cut him up." + +The result of all this confusion was the appointment of two or three new +officials. Horace was made Keeper of the Tinopener, and Gregory Keeper of +the Cork screw, while Jack was given the title of Preserver of Enough Oil +in the Beatrice Stove, because you can do wonders with a Beatrice stove +while waiting for the real fire to burn up--but only if there's oil in it. + +Jack's brilliant device of slicing the brisket was successful, and by +half-past seven they were seated on their rugs round the fire eating the +most supreme stew of the century, as Mary Rotheram called it. They ate it +in soup-plates, with a great deal of juice, into which they dropped their +bread. + +Suddenly old Kink, who had been eating steadily for a quarter of an hour +just outside the circle, stepped up to what we may call the supper-table, +with his watch in his hand. + +"Miss Janet," he said, "there's only a quarter of an hour to get to +Woodstock to send off the telegram." + +Janet looked at the official telegraphist in alarm. "Oh, Bobbie," she said, +"how dreadful if we had missed it! You must simply run!" + +Robert sprang to his feet in a moment. + +"Give me a shilling," he said. "I'll make it up as I go along. Keep some +tinned pears for me." + +"I'll come too," said Jack, and off they bolted. + +They reached the post-office just in time to despatch this message: + +"Avory Gables Chiswick just finished glorious brisket all well love." + +On their return Robert and Jack found washing-up in full swing, and were +not sorry to be able to eat their pears in comfort and watch the others +being busy. + +The light was now going fast; the bats flitted over their heads, and there +was no sound save the talking and clattering of the washers-up and the +grinding of Diogenes's teeth on the brisket bone. Various projects for +spending the last hours of the day had been talked of, but now that it was +here no one seemed to have the slightest energy left either to walk into +Blenheim Park or cross the three or four fields to Blackett's. In fact, +they wanted but one thing, and that was to creep into their very novel beds +and see what it was like to sleep like gipsies. + +Everything was therefore put ready for breakfast. A last load of wood was +brought for the fire, Diogenes was transferred to the long rope which +enabled him to range all round the camp, and Kink said good night and +trudged off to the village inn. + +And so the first night began. + +Gregory was a little fractious for a while, considering it an indignity to +be sleeping in the caravan instead of with the men; but he was no sooner +tucked into his berth than he fell asleep and forgot the insult. The girls +were also very soon on their little shelves, either sleeping or drowsily +enjoying the thought of sleep; but Robert and Jack and Horace did not +hurry. The fire was still warm, and they huddled round it with Diogenes, +and talked, and listened to Moses crunching the grass, and made plans for +the morrow. Then at last they carried the sheeting and the rugs to the +tent, and crept into their sacks and prepared to sleep. + +With the exception of Gregory, no one slept very well. Hester was +frightened by an owl which hooted close to the caravan, and Janet had to +hold her hand for quite a long time, which is a very uncomfortable thing to +do when you are in the berth below, and then, just as she was going off +again, a rabbit, pursued by a stoat, screamed right under their wheels, as +it seemed, and Hester's fright began anew. + +Jack and Horace were probably a little over excited, for they were very +restless; and to be restless on the hard ground-- with no springs, as in +our beds at home--is to get sore and wakeful; while Robert was intently +conscious of every sound and if you sleep in a field you hear thousands of +them--all the rustlings of the little shy nocturnal animals, tiny +squeakings and shrillings in the grass, as well as the cries of the birds +of prey. Now and then, too, a spider ran over his face and made him jump, +and very early the strong light poured into the mouth of the tent and made +it seem absurd to be in bed any longer. + +The result was, that it was not till the morning that they began to sleep +properly at all, and that made them much less ready to get up than they had +expected to be. + + + +CHAPTER 10: THE ADVENTURE OF THE SECOND CARAVAN + +The arrival of Kink at half-past six was a great relief. Robert hailed him, +and Kink said it was a beautiful morning. + +"Don't you get up yet," he said, after Robert and Janet had both told him +of the night. "I'll make the fire and boil the kettle, and fetch water, and +so on, and you get up when I tell you. Otherwise, you'll all be too tired +and get ill." + +And so they had the blessed experience of lying still and drowsy, and +hearing Kink move about for their comfort. + +The boys were up first, and made extremely noisy toilets in the washing-up +basin, and then Jack and Gregory went off to the farm for milk and butter +and eggs, and Mrs. Gosden, who seemed, early as it was, to be in the very +middle of a day's work, and who refused to believe that the boys were not +deceiving her when they denied having sore throats, gave them leave to +gather strawberries, so that their return to the Slowcoach was a new +triumph. + +Their breakfast was chiefly scrambled eggs, ham, and strawberries, and by +ten o'clock, true to their bargain, they were out of the field and on the +highroad, and no sign of their camp remained, save a black circle caused by +the fire and a slight crushing of the grass all round it. + +They had gone a very little way before Robert, who had already been to +Woodstock with the morning telegram, began to realize that he was in for a +blister on his left heel, and, on asking the others, he found that they +were not too comfortable either. + +"This means," he told Mary, speaking to her in her oflicial capacity of +Regulator of Rests, "that we shall have to ride a good deal, because we +simply must go twelve miles today, or we shan't be at Stratford in time +for mother tomorrow afternoon." + +Mary therefore ordered them in and out of the Slowcoach with great +frequency, but it was not a great deal of use, for they hobbled more and +more. + +At Enstone they stopped for lunch, which consisted of a tongue and bananas +and ginger beer; and here they met a friendly tinker, drinking his ale +outside the inn, who, noticing their lameness, gave them some good advice. +"If you can't stop and rest," he said, "you should soap your stockings, and +it's a good thing now and then to change the stockings from left to right. + +They found that the soap was really useful, and got on much better, and a +little later they were overtaken by two young men on a walking tour, who +slowed down to fall into step for a while with Robert and Jack. One gave +them some hints. "When you are very tired," he said, "it helps to hold +something in front of you at full length--even a walking stick will do, or +a coat rolled up. It pulls you along. You look like an idiot, of course, but +that doesn't matter. No one who minds looking foolish will ever have a +really good time. It is a good thing to prevent a stitch in your side to +carry a little pebble in your mouth. Squeezing a cork in each hand helps." + +"Another way to make walking easier," said the other young man, "is to sing +as you go. All sing together--marching songs, if you know any, such as +'Tramp, boys, tramp.' That's what soldiers do on long marches, and it makes +all the difference." + +They didn't take the road to Chipping Norton, but stopped at the town, +while Kink, who had no blisters, went into the town to get the evening's +dinner; and meanwhile Janet persuaded the Beatrice stove to give them tea. +It was while here that they had their first experience of Diogenes as a +guardian, for he frightened away two tramps who seemed likely to be +troublesome. + +On Kink's return, Robert urged them on, for he had marked down on his map a +spot called the Hollow, about five miles farther on, near Long Compton, +which sounded exceedingly attractive as a campingground, especially to one +who had read "Lavengro" and remembered the Dingle there, near Long Melton; +and hither, +very footsore, but still brave and happy, they came about half-past four, +and made a very snug camp in it without asking anyone's leave. + +It was not time for supper, and they were very glad to lie about and be +lazy while the stew was slowly cooking. Robert and Janet and Mary consulted +very deeply about the morrow, and at last decided that it would be best to +remain there all the day and get their blisters cured with Mr. Lenox's +ointment, and therefore a telegram would have to go to Mrs. Avory at once, +telling her not to go to Stratford till Saturday, "and also," Robert added, +"to bring my bicycle. We can easily fasten it on the roof, and it's going +to be frightfully necessary often and often. This evening, for instance. +Here we are, goodness knows how far from a telegraph-office, and everyone +lame except Kinky, who'll have to go." + +Kink, however, had luck, for he met a baker's cart on its way to Chipping +Norton, and the man not only said he would take the telegram and the +letter, but he agreed to bring out a number of things to eat the next day. + +Feeling rested and well fed, they therefore went to bed that Thursday night +much more likely to sleep than on the night before. + +And, indeed, everyone did sleep well, except, once again, Robert. Whatever +the reason, he was very wide awake; and at some hour in the middle of the +night he crept out of his sack and walked into the open, away from the +trees, intent upon comparing the magnetic north--which his compass gave +him--with the true north, which anyone can find by looking at the Great +Bear sprawling across the skies and getting the Pole Star from its +pointers. + +Having marked the difference on the glass of his compass with a spot of ink +from his fountain-pen, Robert returned to the Hollow; but to his +astonishment and alarm, on reaching the caravan he could not find the tent. +There was the Slowcoach right enough, with its white blinds glimmering, and +he could hear Moses munching close by; but there was no tent, and +apparently no Diogenes. + +Robert was not a timid boy, but the lateness of the hour and the loneliness +of the place and this extraordinary occurrence affected his nerves, so that +he suddenly had a panic, and, running up the steps, he beat on the +caravan-door as if wolves were after him. + +"Hullo! hullo!" cried a gruff voice that certainly did not belong to any of +the girls. "What the dickens do you want?" + +Robert nearly fell off the steps in his surprise. "Please," he said, "I +want the Slowcoach." + +For answer the door opened, and a big head and beard and a pyjama arm were +pushed out. + +"Slowcoach?" the head said. "What Slowcoach? There's no Slowcoach here." + +"The Slowcoach is the name of our caravan," said Robert. + +"Oh, it is? " said the head. "Then it's over there. I saw it as I came in. +This is the Snail." + +"Thank you very much," said Robert, who had quite recovered his composure. +"How late are you going to stay here in the morning?" + +"I don't know," said the head, yawning vastly. "It depends on the country. +I shan't go till after breakfast, anyhow. But I'm much too tired to talk +now. Goodnight, Slowcoach." + +"Good night, Snail," said Robert. + +And that is how the Avories came to know the great Hamish MacAngus; for +when Robert led them round to visit him the next morning ("And it is right +for us to call first," said Janet, "since we have lived here longer"), they +found that the owner of the Snail was nothing less than the famous--But I +must tell you in the next chapter. + + + +CHAPTER 11: THE WAYSIDE FRIEND + +Mr. MacAngus had just finished his ham and eggs, and was lighting his pipe. + +"Good morning, Slowcoaches," he said. "I'm very pleased to see you. Sit +down wherever you like. Furniture by Dame Nature; everything as nice as +Mother makes it. This is a friendly, reasonable hour to meet. That young +brother of yours--I suppose he is your brother"--pointing to Robert--"pays +calls in the middle of the night. He seems to think every caravan in the +world belongs to him. How a man who lives in a London terrace knows his +house I never could understand, but to recognize one's own caravan ought to +be quite easy." + +Mr MacAngus, you must understand, did not say all this in one breath, for he +was a slow man. But it reads as if he did, because none of the others +uttered a word. It was all too bewildering and also too amusing. He was so +big and so strange, and he had such a twinkle in his eye, that they +preferred to let him go on, knowing that whatever he said would be +entertaining. + +"Well," he said at last, "now we must stop talking nonsense and introduce +ourselves. But first I should like you all to guess who I am and what I do +for a living. You first," he said, pointing to Janet. + +"I think you are a kind of hermit," she said at last. + +"Right," he said. "But that's not enough. What do I do? You," he added, +pointing to Mary, "what do you think I do?" + +"Perhaps you lecture," said Mary, "or preach. No, I don't think you preach. +I think very likely you speak to villagers about politics--tariff reform +and things like that." + +The big man laughed. "Very well," he said. "Now you," to Robert. + +"I think you're a gentleman gipsy," said Robert. "Like Lavengro. Are you? " + +"In a way," said the stranger, "but I shan't tell you till you've all +guessed." + +Jack Rotheram then guessed that he was a spy, and this amused him immensely. + +"In a kind of way I am that too," he answered. "At any rate, I am always +looking out for the fatness of the land." + +Hester guessed he had a broken heart because of a disappointment in love, +and was living all alone because he hated the world, like Lord Byron. + +He liked this most of all, and laughed for a long time--much longer, he +explained afterwards, than a broken-hearted Lord Byron would have done. + +Horace Campbell did not exactly guess, but said that he hoped that the +stranger was a gentleman burglar--a kind of Raffles and Robin Hood in +one--who robbed only the wicked rich and helped the poor. "As," he added, +"I want to." + +"Oh, do you?" said the big man. "Well, don't rob me, anyway. Wait till I +have led the Snail to a place of safety." + +And lastly Gregory guessed. "I think," he said, "you are a vagabond." + +"Gregory!" cried Janet; "you mustn't say things like that," while the +stranger laughed again. + +"Why not? " Gregory inquired. "I mean like the Wandering Jew Mr. Crawley +told us about. He called him the prince of vagabonds." + +"Well," said the stranger, "Gregory's right. I am a vagabond. But I'm +something else too, and I'll tell you. I'm an artist. My name is Hamish +MacAngus. I live in the Snail most of the summer, and in London in the +winter. I cover pieces of cardboard and canvas with paint more or less like +trees, and cows, and sheep, and skies, and people who have more pennies +than brains buy them from me; and then I take the pennies, and change them +for the nice sensible things of life, such as bacon, and tobacco, and oats. +My horse's name is Pencil. I came here from Banbury, and I am making slowly +for Cropthorne. Now tell me all about yourselves. Tell me in the order of +age." + +The children looked at each other, and laughed. + +"You first," said Mr. MacAngus, again to Janet; "you're the eldest, I can see." + +"My name," said Janet, "is Janet Avory. I live in Chiswick. Our caravan is +the Slowcoach. We are going to Stratford-on-Avon. Our horse is called +Moses. Our--" + +"Oh, Janet," said Hester, "you're not leaving anything for us to tell!" + +"Very well," said Janet, "that's all." + +"My name," said Mary, "is Mary Rotheram. I am the daughter of a doctor at +Chiswick. My brother and I are the Avories' guests. I am fourteen. Father +has one of your pictures." + +"Good judge!" Mr. MacAngus said. + +"Now, Macbeth," he said, pointing to Robert. + +"My name isn't Macbeth," said Robert. + +"No," said the artist, "but that's how I think of you. Why? Can anyone tell +me?" + +"I can," said Hester. "Because he woke you up--'Macbeth hath murdered sleep.'" + +"Splendid!" said Mr. MacAngus. "As a reward you shall tell your story +before Macbeth does." + +"I am nine," said Hester. "My name is Hester. I adore Shakespeare. I am +Janet's sister." + +"Good!" said Mr. MacAngus. "We will read Shakespeare together this +afternoon. From the way you walk I can see that this is blister day. We +will all take it easy and be happy, and you shall cure your lameness. Now, +Mac." + +"I am thirteen," said Robert. "I am the geographer of the party. I am sorry +for murdering your sleep, but glad, too, because you're so jolly." + +"Now you," said Mr. MacAngus to Jack Rotheram. + +"I am not an Avory," said Jack. "I am Mary's brother. I am twelve. I am +going to Osborne next year." + +"Very sensible of you," said Mr. MacAngus. "And you, sir," he added to +Horace Campbell, "the burglar's friend." + +"My name is Horace Campbell," he replied. "I am the son of the Vicar of +Chiswick. I am nine. I am also the Keeper of the Tin-opener." + +"Oh, yes," said Jack, "I forgot that. I am the Preserver of Enough Oil in +the Beatrice Stove." + +"I am proud to meet such important personages," said Mr. MacAngus. "And +now, lastly, you,"--he said to Gregory,--"the little nipper, the tiny tot +of the party." + +Gregory was furious. He scowled at the artist like thunder. + +"Go on," said Mr. MacAngus; "don't mind me. I always tease little important +boys." + +"My name is Gregory Bruce Avory," said Gregory, "and I am seven. I am going +to be an aviator. I have to ask the farmers if we may camp in their fields, +and I keep the corkscrew. Please tell me," he added, "why you call your +horse Pencil? " + +"Because he draws me," said Mr. MacAngus. + +"And now," he continued, "let us do the most interesting thing in the world +to people like ourselves: let us examine each other's caravans." + +After they had finished visiting each other, and Mr. MacAngus had given +them, speaking as an old campaigner, some very useful if simple hints, such +as always pitching the tent with its back to the wind; and keeping inside a +supply of dry wood to light the fires with; and tying fern on Moses's head, +against the flies; and carrying cabbage leaves in their own hats, against +the heat; and walking with long staves instead of short walking +sticks--after this he made them all sit round their fire, and sketched +them, and the picture hangs at this very moment in Mrs. Avory's bedroom at +"The Gables." + +After lunch, which he shared with them, adding to the pot some very +fragrant mixed herbs from a little packet, they lay on the grass round him, +and he read to them from Shakespeare--first from "Macbeth," which was very +dreadful, but fine, and then from "Midsummer Night's Dream " and the +"Winter's Tale." + +After supper he took them outside the Hollow, and they lay on their backs +and studied the stars, about which he knew everything that can be known, +and nothing whatever that Gregory wanted to know. + +And they went to bed early, to be ready for the long journey on the +morrow-- with their feet covered with Mr. Lenox's ointment--declaring it +was one of the most delightful days they had ever spent. + + +CHAPTER 12 + +STRATFORD-ON-AVON + +The next morning was dull, but dry, and they were ready early, for there +were sixteen miles to be done before Stratford-on-Avon was reached. They +were, however, easy miles, twelve of them being on the flat beside the +Stour. + +Mr.MacAngus had decided to stay on in those parts a little longer before +making for Cropthorne, and therefore, after helping with the inspanning, as +he called packing up, he said good-bye, but gave them a list of the places +where it was worth while asking for him. They were sorry to lose him, but +the immediate future was too exciting, with Stratford-on-Avon and Mrs. +Avory in it, to allow time for regrets. + +After a day entirely without any adventures they found Mrs. Avory. She was +waiting for them at the Shakespeare Hotel, which is one of the most +fascinating inns in England, with staircases and passages in lavish +profusion, and bedrooms named after the plays. Hester and her mother slept +in the "Winter's Tale," Janet and Mary in "Cymbeline." Robert and Gregory +were "The Two Gentlemen of Verona" for the time being, and Horace and Jack +lay in the "Comedy of Errors." Kink and Diogenes were somewhere at the +back, and the Slowcoach was in the yard, surrounded by motor-cars. + +At the next table at dinner--in a beautiful old room with green matting on +the floor and a huge open fireplace--sat an old gentleman with white hair +and bright eyes behind very luminous spectacles, and from the tone in which +he talked to the waiter they guessed him to be an American. After dinner he +smoked cigarettes in an immensely long holder of amber and gold, and now +and then smiled at the children. + +They were all rather tired, and went quickly to bed. Robert, who, you +remember, had been so contemptuous of the Shakespeare Hotel blankets and +sheets, slept a full ten hours; never, indeed, can a Gentleman of Verona +have passed a better night; and the others expressed no grief at having to +lie in proper beds once more. + +When they came down to breakfast the next morning, they found a letter +addressed to + +Mr. KINK' S CHILDREN'S PARTY. + +Shakespeare Hotel, + +Stratford-on-Avon. + +Robert looked at it, and threw it down. + +"Very offensive," he said. + +Mrs. Avory handed it to Janet. + +"Whoever can it be from?" Janet asked, turning it over and over. "The +postmark is Chiswick." + +"A good way to find out," said Gregory, "is to open it." + +Janet did so, and read it, laughing. "It's an attempt at a nasty letter +from William," she said. "He's pretending to be cross because Jack won. +Poor William! Listen: + +DEAR LITTLE ONES, + +"I hope you are having a good time in that stuffy caravan, and manage to +avoid blisters. I thought you would like to hear that father has given me +leave to go to Sheppey, and stay for three days with Mr. Fowler, who has +promised to take me up in an aeroplane. I am also to have riding-lessons, +and Aunt Mildred has promised me a pony, being so sorry to hear that I was +done out of the caravan trip by a fluke. Uncle Jim has sent me 5 pounds. +According to the papers the weather is going to break up directly. Your +affectionate and prosperous friend, + +WILLIAM ROTHERAM. + +Jack was speechless with fury. "The story-teller!" he cried. + +But Mary laughed. "I think it's rather clever," she said. "It almost took +me in." + +"Do you mean to say it's a good joke?" Jack asked. + +"I think so," said Mary. + +"I don't," said Jack. "I think jokes ought to be straightforward. I think +you ought to know exactly that they are jokes." + +"Miss Bingham," said Robert, "would say that such inventions were in poor +taste." + +"So they are," said Jack. + +"Poor William!" said Mrs. Avory. "You oughtn't to be cross with him, Jack. +After all, he did lose when you tossed up." + +"Yes," said Jack. "But, look here, Mrs. Avory, suppose some of it's true." + +At this they all roared, for it showed what Jack's trouble really was. + +"Oh, Jack," said his sister, "you mustn't want everything. Even if it were +true, you ought to be much happier here." + +"Have some more coffee, Jack," Mrs. Avory said quickly. + +As it was Sunday, they went to Trinity Church (which usually costs sixpence +to enter, because of Shakespeare's tomb--a charge of which I am sure the +poet would not approve). As the words in the sermon grew longer and longer, +Hester made renewed efforts to get a glimpse of the tomb, but it was in a +part of the chancel that was not within sight. She had instead to study the +windows, which she always liked to do in church; and she found herself +repeating the lines on the tomb, which she had long known: + +"Good friend, for Jesus sake forbeare To digg the dust enclosed heare: +Bleste be ye man Yt spares these stones, And curst be he yt moves my +bones." + +On Sunday, even after service, the church was not on view, but the next day +it was there that they hurried directly after breakfast, Hester carrying +with her some little bunches of flowers. They paid their sixpences, and +made straight for Shakespeare's tomb, and stood before the coloured +bust--that bust which you see in reproduction at every turn in this loyal +town. It is perhaps more interesting than impressive, +and the children had a serious argument over it, Jack even daring to say +that the face was stupid-looking, and Gregory declining almost petulantly +to consider Shakespeare in the least like a swan. + +Poor Hester, how to defend him against these horrid boys! + +Janet came to the rescue by saying that Jack was probably thinking that the +forehead was too high; but a high forehead was a sign of genius. + +"It may be so," said Jack, "but father has a poor patient with water on the +brain just like that." (What can you do with people, who talk in this way +?) + +"But, of course," said Horace, "it doesn't matter what he looked like +really, because he didn't write the plays at all. They were written by +Roger Bacon." + +This led to acute trouble. + +"How can you say such wicked things!" Hester protested, bursting into tears. + +"But I read it in a book," said Horace, who had not wished to hurt her, but +still desired to serve the truth. "It was sent to father." + +"Everything in books isn't true," said Janet. + +"Oh, I say!" said Horace. + +"Of course it's not," said Mary. "Books are always being replied to and +squashed." + +"Well, this book was by a Member of Parliament," said Horace. + +This was very awkward for the defenders of Shakespeare. What were they to do? + +Gregory, who had not seemed to be interested in the debate, settled it. He +walked up to an old man who was standing near them, and asked him. "It +isn't true," he said, "is it, that Shakespeare's works were written by +Bacon?" + +"No," said the old man, "it's a wicked falsehood." + +"How do you know?" asked Horace. + +"How do I know!" exclaimed the old man. "Why, I've lived at Stratford, man +and boy, seventy years, and of course I know." + +"Of course," said Janet. + +"But a Member of Parliament says it was Bacon," Horace persisted. + +"What's he Member for?" the old man asked. "Eh? Not for Stratford-on-Avon, +I'll be bound." + +"I don't know," said Horace, who had nothing else to say. + +"Take my advice," the old man replied, "and don't believe anyone who says +that Shakespeare wanted help. Look at that brow!" + +"But he isn't like a swan, is he?" Gregory asked. + +"Of course not," said the old man. "That's poetry. If he had been like a +swan, it wouldn't have been poetry to call him one." + +Gregory pondered for a little while. Then he asked: "Would it be poetry to +call a swan a Shakespeare?" + +"Oh, Gregory, come away," said Janet; "you're too clever this morning!" + +Hester, however, still had much to do, and she refused to go until she had +laid some flowers also on Anne Hathaway's tomb and on that of Susanna, +Shakespeare's daughter, who married Dr. Hall. She also copied the epitaph, +which begins: + +"Witty above her sexe, but that's not all, +Wise to Salvation was good Mistress Hall." + +But I am going too fast, for this was Monday morning, and we have not yet +accounted for all of Sunday. The only Shakespeare relic which they visited +that day was the site of his house, New Place, close to the hotel. The +house, of course, should be standing now, and would be, but for the +behaviour of a deplorable clergyman, as you shall hear. Shakespeare, grown +rich, and thinking of returning to Stratford from London, bought New Place +for his home; he died there in 1616, and his wife and daughter, or his +descendants, lived in it for many years after. And then it was bought by +the Rev. Francis Gastrell, a Cheshire vicar, who began by cutting down +Shakespeare's mulberry tree--under which not only the poet had sat, but +also Garrick--because he was annoyed that visitors wished to see it; and +then, a little later, in his rage at the demand for the poor rate (a tax to +help support the workhouse, which, since he was living elsewhere, he +considered he ought not to have to pay), he pulled down the building too. +That was in 1759, and now the site of the house is a public garden where +you may walk and still see of this memorable habitation only the traces of +some of the walls and Shakespeare's well. + +They found the old gentleman from the hotel in the garden reading his +guidebook, and it was he who told them the story. "So far as I can +understand," said he, "nothing was done to the man at all. Nobody +horsewhipped him. It was lucky it did not happen in America." + +The old gentleman, whose name was Nicholas Imber, and who came from +Philadelphia, then took them to see Harvard house, of which he, as an +American, was very proud, and they drifted about with him, and looked at +other of the old Stratford buildings. + +All the time he kept on saying quietly to himself: "Vengeance on the Rev. +Francis Gastrell!" + +"Perhaps," said Hester, "there is a mistake in the verses in the church. +Perhaps they ought to be: + +"'Bleste be ye man yt spares these bones, +And curst be he yt moves my stones.' + +That would mean the Rev. Francis Gastrell." + +"I hope so," said Mr. Imber. "It's a very good idea. But why do you like +Shakespeare so?" + +"He's so wonderful," said Hester. + +"Yes, but so is Scott, say, and Dickens." + +"Oh, but Shakespeare's so beautiful, too," said Hester. + +The children had gone alone to the church on the Monday morning. On +returning to the hotel they found Mrs. Avory ready for them, and all +started for the birthplace in Henley Street, where Shakespeare was born, +probably on April 23, 1564. This is now a museum with all kinds of +Shakespeare relics in it, profoundly interesting to Hester if not to the +others. The desk at which he sat in the Grammar School is there; and his +big chair from the Falcon Inn at Bidford; and many portraits; and on one of +the windows, scratched with a diamond, is the name of Sir Walter Scott. The +boys wanted to write their names, too, but it is no longer allowed; +although I fancy that if Sir Walter Scott could visit Stratford again he +would be permitted to break the rule. + +They stood in the bedroom where Shakespeare was born, and where his father +and mother probably died; and they looked into the garden where he used to +play; and Horace very mischievously pointed out the fireplace in the +kitchen where, as he told Hester, they cooked their bacon. + +Mrs. Avory was then informed of the mean attacks on Shakespeare which +Horace had made in the church, and their complete refutation by the old +man, whose judgment she upheld. + +"Horace," she said, "oughtn't to be here at all. He ought to be at St. +Albans. We will look up the trains when we get back to the hotel." + +Horace was not quite certain whether this was serious or not. "Why St. +Albans?" he asked. + +"Because that is where your friend Bacon lived," said Mrs. Avory. + +The next place to visit was the Memorial, which is a very ugly building by +the river, where the Festival is held every spring. This is not very +interesting to children, being given up to books and pictures connected +with the stage; but close by are the steps leading to the boats, each of +which has a Shakespearian name, and Mrs. Avory allowed them to row about +for an hour before lunch. This they did, Robert and Mary and Horace and +Hester in the _Hermione_, and Janet and Gregory and Jack in the _Rosalind._ + +After lunch, while they were waiting about in the hall looking at the +pictures, and not quite sure what to do, Mr. Imber of Philadelphia +approached them. "I wonder," he said, "if you would do me a favour. I have +scores of nephews and nieces, and also many friends, in America, to whom I +want to send picture postcards. Now," he continued, "listen here. Here's +seven shillings, one for each of you; and here's a five-shilling piece. Now +I am going to give you each a shilling to buy picture post cards with, and +I want you each to buy them separately--in different shops if you like +--and then bring them back to me, and I'll give the five-shilling piece to +the one who has what I think the best collection. Now off you go." + +So they hurried off. Stratford-on-Avon, I may tell you, exists almost +entirely on the sale of picture postcards and Shakespeare relics, and there +was therefore no difficulty in finding seven shops, each with a first-class +assortment. + +In this way an hour went very pleasantly, and then the results were laid +before the old gentleman. Of course, there were many duplicates, but each +collection had four or five cards that the others had not. After long +consideration, Mr. Imber handed the five shillings to Mary. + +Gregory's was the only really original collection, for, taking advantage of +the circumstance that Mr. Imber had said nothing about the postcards being +strictly of Stratford-on-Avon, he had bought only what pleased himself: all +being what are called comic cards--dreadful pictures of mothers-in-law, and +twins, and surprised lovers. + +Mr. Imber laughed, and told him to keep them. + +"Now," said Gregory, selecting a peculiarly vulgar picture of a bull +tossing a red-nosed man into a cucumber frame, "I shall send this to Miss +Bingham." + +"Gregory!" exclaimed Janet; "you shall do nothing of the kind." + +"Why not?" Gregory asked. "She'll only laugh, and say: 'How coarse!'" + +"No," said Janet, "we'll take them back to the shop, and change them for +nice ones." + +"Oh, no, not all," Gregory pleaded. "Collins would love this one of the +policeman with a cold pie being put into his hand by the cook behind his +back." + +"Very well," said Janet, "you may send her that, especially as we're +getting her some pretty ones." + +"Yes," said Gregory, "and Eliza must have this one of the soldier pushing +the twins in the perambulator" + +"Very well," said Janet, "but no others." + +"Oh, yes," said Gregory, "there's Runcie. I'm sure she'd love this one of +the curate being pulled both ways at once by two fat women. She's so +religious." + +After tea they walked to Shottery to see Anne Hathaway's cottage, although +not even Hester could be very keen about the poet's wife. Hester, indeed, +had it firmly in her head that she was not kind to him. "Otherwise," she +said, "he would have left her his best bed instead of his second-best bed." + +None the less Hester was very glad to have Mr. Imber's present of little +china models of the cottage and the birthplace. To the others he gave +either these or coloured busts of Shakespeare; and to Gregory an ivory +pencil-case containing a tiny piece of glass into which you peeped and saw +twelve views of Stratford-on-Avon. + +After dinner they sat down to the serious task of writing on the picture +postcards which they had bought for themselves, while Gregory earned +sixpence by sticking stamps on Mr. Imber's vast supply. Jack felt it his +duty also to write to William: + + +DEAR WILLIAM, + +"Thanks for your very kind and informing letter. We are glad you are having +such a good time. This is a rotten caravan, and you are well out of it. +"Yours, + +"J. R. + +"P.S.--Don't fall off your clothes-horse too often." + + + +CHAPTER 13 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE YOUNG POLICE- +MAN + +Mrs. Avory's train to London was an early one, and the Slowcoaches had left +Stratford behind them before ten, and +were by eleven at Binton Bridges, where the river again joins the road, and +where they stopped to discuss the question whether to go straight on +through Bidford and the Salfords, or to take the road to the south of the +Avon through Welsford and the Littletons. + +Robert was very firm for the Bidford way, and, of course, he won; and, as +it happened, it was very well that he did. + +It was a fine, bracing day, and they were all very vigorous after the two +days of rest in Stratford, and they therefore trudged gaily along in the +sun, not stopping again until just before Bidford, on the hill where +Shakespeare's crab-tree used to grow, under which he had slept so long +after one of his drinking contests. For it seems to have been his habit to +go now and then with other Stratford friends to neighbouring villages to +see whether they or the villagers could drink the most--a custom that even +Hester found it hard to defend. Indeed, she got no farther than to say: "I +am sure he was naturally troubled by thirst." + +The tree has gone, but another stands in its place, and by this the +children sat and ate a little lunch, and talked about the poet. Robert +repeated to them the old rhyme about the Warwickshire villages which +Shakespeare is said to have composed--possibly in this very field: + +"Piping Pebworth, dancing Marston, + Haunted Hillborough, hungry Grafton, + Dodging Exhall, Papist Wixford, +Beggarly Broom and drunken Bidford." + +Bidford is not drunken now; it is only sleepy: a long steep street, with, +at the top, the church and a beautiful old house, now cottages, once the +Falcon Inn, where Shakespeare used to drink, and where the chair came from +that they had seen at the birthplace yesterday; and at the foot the Swan +Inn and the old bridge. + +Bidford is built very like a wateringplace--that is to say, it is all on +one side of the river. The water to-day looked very tempting, especially as +a great number of boats were lying on it waiting to be hired; but Robert +sternly ordered his party onwards. + +Has it ever occurred to you that in the life of every policeman there is +one day when he wears his majestic uniform in public for the first time ? +It must, of course, be so. No matter how many times he may have put it on +at home privately, to get used to it, the day must at last come when he has +to walk forth into the streets, and in the eyes of those who have known him +ever since he was a boy, or even a baby, changed from a man like themselves +to an important and rather dreadful guardian of the peace. If he is a +simple fellow, the great day may leave him very much as he was; but if he +is at all given to conceit, it may make him worse. + +Now it happened that this Tuesday on which the Slowcoaches were on their +way from Stratford to Evesham was the very day on which Benjamin Roper was +beginning his duties as a member of the Warwickshire constabulary. His beat +in the morning lay between Bidford and Salford Priors, and he was standing +beside the road, on the top of the little hill called Marriage Hill--just +before you cross the River Arrow and come to Salford Priors station--at the +very moment that Moses, after painfully dragging the Slowcoach up the same +eminence, had reached the summit. + +At the door of the caravan were to be seen Mary, Hester, and Gregory, whose +turn it was to ride; and P.C. Roper stared in astonishment at faces so +unlike the swarthy, tanned children he was expecting. + +He stared so long indeed--everything being a little strange to him that +day--that Jack, who, with Horace, was walking just behind, politely but +with every intention of being severe, inquired: "Do you think you'll know +us next time?" + +P.C. Roper said nothing, but frowned at Jack with an expression so full of +dignity, reprimand, and suspicion that Jack could not help laughing. + +"Oh, I say," he said, "don't be cross. Mayn't we go about in a caravan if +we want to? No one else has objected." + +"No," Horace added, "the King said nothing as we came through London, and +the Mayor of Stratford asked us to tea." + +Kink laughed at this--much too loudly--and the young policeman realized +that he had been foolish. Instead, however, of laughing, too, he became +more important and angry, and suddenly he thought of a means of +retaliation. + +Pulling out a notebook and pencil, he said: "I want to see your license for +this caravan." He said this not because he really wanted to see it, but +because it suggested itself as a good demand and one which would make the +children realize that he was a man of authority not to be trifled with. But +when he saw the blank which fell on their faces, and even on Kink's too, he +knew that he had stumbled by chance on an excellent weapon, and he resolved +to make the most of it. + +"Come," he said, "the license. I'm waiting to see it." + +Janet and Robert, who had by this time come up, were told of the difficulty. + +"License?" said Robert. "What license?" + +"All carriages must have licenses," said the policeman, "and all caravans +have to produce theirs when called for, because they're always moving +about." + +The children gathered round Kink to discuss it. Kink said that it was all +Greek to him. He supposed, of course, that caravans had to have licenses, +but he'd never heard of demands for them in the highroad. "But do be civil +to him, Master Robert," he implored. "You never get any good out of +cheeking the police." + +"Well," said Robert to the constable, "this caravan was given to us. The +license for it was got, I feel sure, by the person who gave it to us." + +"Who was that person?" P.C. Roper asked, with his pencil ready to write +down the name. + +Here was a poser. Who indeed? The children had discussed X. often enough, +but were no nearer to discovering him. + +"I don't know," Robert was forced to say. + +P.C. Roper smiled a deadly smile. "Oho!" he said. "You don't know who gave +you the caravan! Things are looking up. Caravans drop from the sky, do +they? A very thin story indeed. I'll trouble you to come with me, all of +you, and see my inspector." + +P.C. Roper was quite happy now. He had not only filled the impertinent +children with fear, but he had done a smart thing on his very first day as +constable. He drew himself up, and returned the notebook to his pocket. + +"Your inspector?" Robert said. "Where does he live?" + +"Well," said P.C. Roper, "he lives at Bidford, but he's at Stratford +to-day, at the Police Court, and he won't be back till the evening." + +"We can't wait till evening," Robert said. "It would throw out all our plans." + +"Plans!" exclaimed P.C. Roper. "Plans indeed! Aren't you suspicious-looking +persons in the possession of an unlicensed caravan, and unable to give any +reasonable account of how you got it? Your plans can wait." + +"Please give us a little time to discuss it," Janet said, and they all +surrounded Kink once more. + +"Of course it's absurd," Jack said; "but what an awful pity you don't know +who X. is! That's what makes the trouble. It looks so silly, too." + +"Do you really think that caravans have to show licenses?" Janet asked Kink. + +"I never thought about it," Kink said, "but it sounds reasonable in a way. +Gipsies, you know. If Master Campbell hadn't said that about the King and +the Mayor I shouldn't have laughed, and then the copper wouldn't have lost +his wool, and we should be all right." + +"Never mind about that," said Janet. "We can't bother about what is done. +The thing is, what we are to do. How funny of Mr. Lenox not to have thought +about the license!--he thought of everything else." + +"Yes, and X. too," said Robert. "But it's just terrible to have to go back +and wait all day for the inspector. We are due at Evesham this afternoon." + +"Couldn't we overpower him," Horace said, "and bind him, and leave him in +the ditch?" + +"Yes," said Hester, "or ask him to have a glass of milk, and drug it?" + +"Don't be absurd," said Robert. "This is serious. All right," he called out +to P.C. Roper, who was getting anxious, "we're just coming." + +Then Janet had a happy thought. "I say," she exclaimed, "where is that +envelope that Uncle Christopher gave us? He said we were to open it if we +got into a real mess. Well, now's the time." + +"It's in the safe," said Robert, and he dashed into the caravan and brought +it out. + +Janet opened it and read it slowly. Then she smiled a radiant smile, and, +advancing to the constable, handed him a paper. + +"Here is the license," she said; "you will find our name and address on it. +Now, perhaps, we may go on." + +P.C. Roper read the license very carefully, frowned, and handed it back. + +"It would save a lot of trouble," he said, " if you would produce such +things directly you were asked for them." + +"But we didn't know we'd got it," Janet said. + +P.C. Roper pressed his hand to his forehead. "I don't know where I am," he +muttered. + +"They've got a caravan, and they don't know who gave it to them; and +they've got envelopes, and they don't know what's in them. Does your mother +know you're out?" he added as a farewell shot. + +The Slowcoaches could not help it; they gave him three cheers, and then +three more for Uncle Christopher. + +"Well," said Janet, "that's all right, but it's lucky he did not see Uncle +Christopher's letter. Listen: + +DEAR CHILDREN, + +"It has suddenly occurred to me that some ass of a policeman may want to +see your license, and I have therefore procured one for you. If you get +into any kind of trouble, be sure to give my name and address, and +telegraph for me. + +"Your affectionate Uncle, + +CHRIS. + +"It would have been better," Kink said, "if your uncle had handed you the +license right away--not made a mystery of it." + +"Oh, no," said Hester. + +As it happened, they were destined not to reach Evesham that day, for at +Abbots Salford Moses cast a shoe, and that meant the blacksmith and delay. +When the accident was discovered, and the children were surrounding Moses +and helping Kink in his examination of the hoof, a farmer who was walking +by stopped and joined them. He asked the trouble, and offered them his +advice. + +"You put your caravan in my yard there," he said, pointing to a beautiful +gateway just ahead, "and you make yourselves comfortable there while the +horse is being shod. I'll show you the house if you like," he added; "it's +very old, and haunted too, and there's a grand boatingplace at the weir +just across the meadows. Don't worry about the horse or anything. + +If you go to bed early and get up early, it will come to the same thing as +if you had gone right on." + +Everyone except Robert, who liked to see his time-tables obeyed, and +perhaps Gregory, who had been deprived for some days of his office of +asking leave for a camping-ground, and was now balked again, was glad of +the mischance that brought camp so early, and Hester was wild with +pleasure, for Salford Hall is an old mansion of grey stone, built three +hundred years ago, and now mysterious and, except for a few rooms, +desolate. It has also an old garden and a fish-pond, and a little Roman +Catholic chapel whose altar-candles have been alight for centuries. + +The farmer was very kind. He gave the children leave to go anywhere and +everywhere, but they must not, he said, run or jump, because the floors +were not strong enough. He led them from room to room, to the +dancing-gallery in the roof. + +There was a very old bagatelle-table in one room, all moth-eaten, and a few +old pictures still on the walls--a knight and his lady with Elizabethan +ruffs, and a portrait of a greyhound. From a top window the farmer showed +them Evesham's bell-tower. + +But the most exciting moment was when each of them in turn was allowed to +hide in the priest's hiding-hole. This was a very ingenious cupboard behind +a row of shelves intended to have books or china on them, which swung back +when you loosened a catch. Hester crouched here and shut her eyes, and +firmly believed that the Protestants were after her. + +In her next letter she implored her mother to take the Hall, and live there +in the summer. "I am sure," she wrote, "it would be very cheap, because it +is so shabby and is crumbling away in many places. I would gladly live in +the priest's hiding-hole always. Please think about it seriously." + +Afterwards the farmer showed them the way down to the weir, over the +railway, and advised them to have the caravan taken down there, and sleep +there that night near the rushing water. + +"You couldn't have done it two months ago," he said. + +"Why not?" Robert asked. + +"Guess why," said the farmer. + +And will you believe it, none of them could guess. + +"Because it was flooded," said the farmer. "In winter it's often just a +great lake, from the railway at the foot of our garden right to the +Marlcliff Hills." + +And so Moses (with a beautiful new shoe) was put into the shafts again, and +they went gently over the soft green meadows to the weir, and there they +had their supper, and explored the mill and the shaggy wood overhanging it, +and rowed a little in a very safe boat, and stood on the little bridges, +and watched the rushing water, and then walked slowly beside the still +stream higher up as the light began to fade, and surprised the water-rats +feeding or gossiping on the banks--none of which things could they have +done had Moses had the poor sense to retain his near fore-shoe. + + + +CHAPTER 14 + + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE LITTLE OLD LADY + +They left the weir very early the next morning, after a breakfast from the +cold ham which Mrs. Avory had bought them at Stratford. On their way +through the village they stopped at Salford Hall, because Hester and +Gregory had had an argument as to whether or not it was possible to hear +the breathing of the person in the hiding-hole. The farmer allowed them to +go upstairs and try, and, as it happened, Hester was right, and you could +hear it, if you had patience. Gregory came out again as purple as a plum +through holding +it in so long. + +Then they said good-bye to the farmer and strode on through Harrington and +Norton, and a little beyond this Robert took those that cared about it to +see the obelisk on the site of the Battle of Evesham, at which Simon de +Montfort was killed in 1265. And so they came through the orchards of +plum-trees, on which the fruit was now forming, to Evesham itself. + +It was while they were walking through Evesham, beside or behind the +Slowcoach, in the middle of the road, that Janet felt a hand on her arm, +and, looking round, perceived a very small and very neat and very anxious +little servant maid. + +"Please," she said, "Miss Redstone, my mistress says, will you all step +into her house and partake of refreshment, and do her a very great favour?" + +Janet could hardly believe her ears. + +"All of us!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes," said the little servant, "all, please." + +Janet thought very hard for a moment or two. Who was this Miss Redstone? +What would Mrs. Avory do under the same circumstances? she was asking +herself. "Which house?" she inquired at last. + +"That one," said the little anxious servant, pointing to the neatest and +brightest little house you ever saw, with dazzling steps and a shining +knocker, and a poor little pathetic face peering hopefully over the blind. + +The pathetic little face settled it. "All right," Janet said at once, and, +calling the others together and telling Kink to wait for them outside the +town, she led them in. + +They were shown into a tiny and spotless parlour, with woolwork footstools, +where after a moment or so they were joined by Miss Redstone, the little +old lady whom Janet had seen at the window, but whose face was now smiling +and contented. + +"You must think me very strange, my dears," she said, "but I will explain. +I am Godfrey Fairfax." + +A dreadful silence fell on the room. The children looked at each other +shamefacedly, and almost in fear, for they thought the little old lady must +be mad. + +As for her, she again looked the picture of woe. "O dear," she said, "is it +possible that none of you have ever even heard of me! Surely one of my +stories must have found its way to your house?" + +"Do you write stories?" Janet asked. + +"Yes, I have written lots, but I'm afraid they don't sell as they ought to. +Of course, Godfrey Fairfax is not my real name; it is just the name I take +as a writer, because people prefer that books should be written by a man +rather than by a woman. I am really Miss Redstone. Why I called you in was +to ask if you would be so very kind as to sit down and have some cake and +milk while I read you my last story--quite a short one--and you can tell me +what you think of it. There are so few children that I know here, and it +makes such a difference to get some real criticism. Do you mind?" + +They all said they didn't mind at all, and after the cake and milk had been +brought in by the little servant, Godfrey Fairfax cleared her throat and +began. + +"It is a story," she said, "of Roundheads and Cavaliers--a very suitable +story to write here, so close to the battlefields of Tewkesbury and Marston +Moor. It is called 'Barbara's Fugitive.' Now listen, my dears." + +BARBARA S FUGITIVE + +On a bright June morning, early in the Protectorate, Colonel Myddelton, +followed by a groom, rode through the gates of the old Hall and turned his +horse's head towards London. At the bend in the road, halfway up Sheringham +Hill, he stopped a moment and waved his hand in the direction of the house. +A white handkerchief fluttered at an upper window in reply. + +"My poor lonely Barbara!" said the Colonel, smiling tenderly as he passed +again out of sight of his daughter. + +"Dear father!" said Barbara, as the Colonel disappeared from view. She did +not, however, at once leave the window, but remained leaning out, with the +warm touch of the sun on her head, drinking in the morning sounds. + +The village, half a mile distant, was just visible to Barbara through the +trees--red-roofed, compact, the cottages gathering about the church like +chickens round the mother hen. On a summer day like this anyone listening +at the Hall could hear the busy noises, the hum of this little hive of +humanity, with perfect clearness; the beat of the hammer on the anvil in +Matthew Hale's smithy, the "Gee, whoa!" of the carter on the distant road, +the scrunching of the wagon-wheels, the crowing cocks, and now and then the +shouts of boys and the laughter of children. These audible tokens of active +life were a comfort to Barbara. A moment before, on parting with her +father, she was aware of a new and disturbing loneliness, but now she felt +no longer with the same melancholy that she was solitary, apart from her +fellows. + +It was the time when the country was divided between the followers of the +Throne and the followers of Cromwell; the time when sour visages, who were +for the moment in the places of authority, glowered beneath black hats, and +the village games were forbidden; the time when Royalist gentlemen dropped +a crumb into their wineglasses after dinner, and, looking meaningly at each +other, tossed off the red liquor, saying fervently as they did so, "God +send this CRUMB WELL down." But actual fighting was over, and the country +on the surface peaceable again, although a word often was sufficient to +draw forth steel among the high folks or set an inn full of villagers to +fisticuffs. There was not a Royalist in the country but awaited the moment +when he could strike another blow to avenge his dead master and reinstate +his young Prince. Among these loyal gentlemen Colonel Myddelton was not the +least. + +Colonel Myddelton was a widower, and Barbara, young though she was, had +long acted as the mistress of the household. Yet, in spite of her good +sense and caution, Barbara had been the obstacle to the Colonel's +departure. She was, he considered, unfit to be left alone with no more +stalwart companions than old Digger, the maids, and the children; but her +repeated assurances that she felt no foreboding at last conquered, and that +morning, as we have seen, he had ridden off. + +"You know, father," she had told him again and again, "Philip is close at +hand, and truly I can see no danger. Was not I alone for days and nights +together when you were with the King and the Prince?" + +"Well, well," the Colonel had responded at last; "but I shall speak a word +to Matthew as I pass the forge to-day, and he will keep his eye on the +place." Matthew Hale, the blacksmith, had served under Colonel Myddelton in +more than one campaign, and he rang as true as his own anvil. + +Thus it was that Barbara was left alone in the great house, with none to +bear her company but Jack, who was but twelve, and Marjorie, who was but +eight, and little Alys, and old Digger, the odd man, and the maids. There +were also, it is true, stablemen and gardeners, but they lived in the +village. + +The next of age to Barbara was Philip (Philip Sidney Myddelton in full, so +named after that sweet and noble gentleman and soldier who fell at +Zutphen). Philip was sixteen, and at this time was still at his lessons +with Mr. Fullarton, of Framshott, a village eight miles distant. Mr. +Fullarton was a ripe scholar who kept a house wherein some score of boys +whose parents had no strong liking for the great grammar schools were +received and fitted with enough learning to take them into Oxford or +Cambridge. The boys ranged in age from ten to seventeen, and at this time +Philip was their leader. None could shoot with a crossbow as skillfully as +he (that very spring he had killed twenty-three water-rats, and you know +how wary they are); none was so fearless a rider; none more expert at +flying the hawk or training hounds. The boys' worthy instructor received a +liberal sum in payment for his services, and his house was thus made more +of a home than a mere school. Each boy who wanted it was permitted to keep +his own horse and dog, and after lessons were over their liberty was little +encroached upon, provided that they observed the rules of the house. + +The Reverend Jeremy Fullarton was Royalist to the marrow, and only +Royalists entrusted their sons to his keeping; hence +the house was a home of Cavalier sentiment. The older boys had even +constituted themselves into a little corps, and all games had given way +before the joys of drilling and military tactics. Here again Philip led, +although his sworn allies, Hugh Lorimer and Vernon Hutchinson (a nephew of +the great Colonel Hutchinson, whose memoirs were written by his wife Lucy) +and Rupert Ommaney, shared the command. Not often do you find a bond +uniting as many as four schoolboys in devoted friendship, but such was the +case with this gallant quartet, Philip and Hugh, Rupert and Vernon. + +"IS IT INTERESTING?" THE LITTLE OLD LADY ASKED EARNESTLY. + +"VERY," SAID JANET. + +"I LIKE BARBARA," SAID HESTER. + +"I LIKE PHILIP," SAID GREGORY. + +GODFREY FAIRFAX WAS ABOUT TO BEGIN AGAIN, WHEN HORACE INTERRUPTED. + +"EXCUSE ME," HE SAID. "BUT I'VE BEEN THINKING. DIDN'T YOU WRITE 'FOR THE +GOOD CAUSE'?" + +"YES," SHE SAID. + +"WHY," SAID HORACE, "THAT'S MY FAVOURITE BOOK. YOU REMEMBER THAT, JACK? THE +WARS OF THE ROSES AND THE YORKIST FAMILY? YOU MUST REMEMBER WHERE THE +SPY--GILES FEATHERHEAD--IS CAUGHT IN THE BUTTERY, AND HOW THEY DUCK HIM?" + +"OF COURSE I DO," SAID JACK. "IT'S PERFECTLY RIPPING." + +GODFREY FAIRFAX WAS SO PLEASED TO HEAR THIS THAT HER VOICE FOR A MOMENT OR +TWO WAS QUITE HUSKY. THEN SHE RESUMED. + +In the evening Matthew Hale appeared bearing a basket of tools, and +insisted upon testing all locks and bolts, and Barbara and he explored the +house together, making all safe with the exception of a window in the +library. This room was on the ground-floor, easily accessible, and, try as +he would, there was one window which the blacksmith could not secure. The +good fellow was for sleeping on the floor all night by way of guard, but +Barbara would not hear of it, and, in the end, Bevis, the mastiff, the +great dog that had followed Colonel Myddelton into camp in the late war, +was chained outside the window. Satisfied with this arrangement, Matthew +pulled his forelock and said good night, and Barbara prepared for bed. + +Folks kept better hours in those days than we now do. First she peeped in +at the sleeping children. Then she talked long and earnestly with the cook +concerning the morrow's programme, and at nine o'clock she climbed to her +room. + +Barbara, however, could not sleep; so, after an hour or two had passed, she +rose, lit a candle, threw on a wrap, and descended the broad staircase, +intent upon a queer and enthralling Spanish book--the story of a mad knight +and his comic, matter-of-fact attendant, which was a favourite of her +father's. + +The book was wont to stand in a corner of the library close to his hand as +he sat writing by the window, and, opening the door, Barbara crossed the +floor with her hand outstretched to take it. So familiar was she with the +mad knight's position on the shelves that she carried no light. + +Her hand was within a yard of the sheepskin cover when she leaped back with +frozen blood, for there, a foot from her, in her father's chair, was the +figure of a man. Instantly she remembered the open window. A breath from +the roses floated in and fanned her face; until her dying day Barbara had +but to be conscious of the scent of roses to see again that darkened room, +to feel again that tightening of the heart. She could neither scream nor +move. + +The tension was snapped by the man himself, who suddenly awoke and +stretched his arms, and, in doing so, smote Barbara on the shoulder. He +sprang to his feet with a cry of astonishment and apology, and at that +moment she was herself again. + +"A thousand pardons," he said, bowing low before her. + +"Who--who are you?" Barbara found words to ask. "And what is your business +here? It is no part of a gentleman's behaviour to enter houses by the +window." + +"Nay," said the man, and Barbara noted that his speech was of one gently +born--"nay, it is truly no gentleman's conduct, but in these days, when +Kings are laid low at the hands of traitors"--and his voice had a bitter +ring--"and rebels sit in high places, a gentleman must perforce descend to +trickery and meanness now and then." + +Barbara repeated her question. "But tell me who you are, and what you want? +There is a gate to the place; there are servants to open it. Why did you +steal upon us thus? And Bevis?" she added, as a sudden misgiving seized +her, "he was chained by the window. Have you killed him? Oh, say you have +not hurt Bevis?" + +"Nay, I could not hurt an old friend," said the stranger. "Bevis and I are +old friends. He remembered me at once." + +Barbara's fear diminished somewhat at these words. "Old friends!" she +exclaimed, half reassured. + +"Yes," said the stranger, "we were together in the west. Colonel Mvddelton, +whom I have striven hither to talk with, and I went through a campaign +together; a futile campaign, I fear, with more of pursuit than pursuing, +but for a high cause. I'faith, it seems my lot to be pursued. And you, fair +lady (for, dark though it is, I know you are fair), are you Colonel +Myddelton's daughter, the mistress Barbara, of whom he has told me?" + +"I am Colonel Myddelton's daughter," said Barbara. "But you, sir?" + +"Right, right," the stranger replied, more gaily; "you ply me hard, but my +name stays secret, none the less. Yet this ring may perhaps convince you I +am no common housebreaker. See, it was the gift of your father, and a +passport, so he said, to Myddelton Hall by day or night." And he stretched +forth a ring, which Barbara immediately recognized as an old signet of her +father's which suddenly he had ceased to wear, he said not why. She was +partially satisfied. "And Bevis," added the stranger--"take it, will you +not, dear lady, as a good omen that Bevis let me pass almost unchallenged? +But your father," he went on--"is he ill, or away? or will you lead me to +him? Had I not fallen asleep, I was about to seek his room. As for entering +by the gate, you must know, young mistress, the danger now run by friends +of the late King." + +"Ah, yes," said Barbara, with a sigh. "My father," she added, "rode this +morning to London, where he will be a week yet; but I can tell you where he +is lodged. Will you not follow him?" + +"London!" the young man repeated, in disappointed tones; "what does he +there? London is no place for a true man." + +"He has ridden thither," said Barbara, "on matters touching his property, +which the rebels would confiscate." + +"Rebels!" cried the stranger excitedly. "Ha! a good word in your mouth, +young mistress. I like to hear you say that thus roundly. Zounds!" he +added; "it is ill news that your father is away, for I have but a few hours +in this country, and I must even return without accomplishing my mission. +To London I dare not adventure. But, mistress, will you not bring a light, +that we may see if we still doubt each other; and then we must talk of a +plan of safety." + +"Stay where you are," said Barbara, "and I will fetch a candle." + +During her absence the stranger had not moved. As she entered he stepped +forward and took the light from her, holding it high and scrutinizing her +face narrowly. + +"Ah!" he exclaimed at last, with a sigh; "good as gold! Would that other +lands could breed such grace! It is ill to be banished from one's own +countrywomen." + +Barbara blushed and turned away. + +The young man, who was soberly clad, had dark, almost black hair, and dark +eyes. His mouth was perhaps too loose, but he was prepossessing. A certain +melancholy, an air of bafflement, seemed to overshadow him. Barbara's +sympathy was his at that moment, and he knew it. + +"There is a hiding-place in the house," he said, after a pause; "your +father has told me of it." + +Barbara started; but at these words, her last suspicion vanished. "There +is," she replied simply. + +"Then will you lodge me there?" the stranger answered. "The gravest issues +depend upon the success with which my visit here is kept secret. So far, I +believe I have eluded suspicion and pursuit, but these Roundheads are +cunning as jackals. And, dear preserver, might I crave some food and +drink?" + +"Alas!" exclaimed Barbara, "I have delayed hospitality too long. But, you +see," she added, smiling, "such visitors are rare at Myddelton Hall. Our +gates fly wide to welcome my father's friends when we know of their +approach, I assure you, sir." + +The stranger bowed, and, smiling in reply, lost for the moment his air of +melancholy. + +"Your hiding-place is close at hand," she said, and looked again at the ring. + +It was certainly her father's; she had often seen it on his hand. And +Bevis, too! No, there could be no longer any doubt as to the stranger's +genuineness. At least, if there were, she banished it forthwith, for, +moving swiftly to the door, she locked it, and then, crossing the room to +the fireplace, held up the light and revealed a portrait of an elderly man +in Elizabethan costume. + +"My great-grandfather," she said, "with whom, as I will show you, liberties +have been taken." + +So saying, she climbed on a chair, and, reaching upward, pressed her finger +against the portrait's right eye. As she did so, a spring was set in +motion, and the picture slid upwards, taking the top line of the heavy oak +frame with it, and leaving the remaining three sides in their place, +disclosing a cavity in the wall. + +"Climb in there," Barbara said, handing the candle to the stranger, "and +turn sharp to the right, and then to the left, and you will come to an iron +door, which rises and falls like a portcullis. The handle is of no use, but +on the ceiling you will see the motto, _'Nil desperandum,'_ which you must +take as counsel offered to yourself. Press the space in the centre of the +D, and the door will open." + +The stranger did so. + +"Now," Barbara called to him, "wait a little, and I will bring you food." + +She replaced the picture, and sought the kitchen, soon returning with the +remains of a pasty and a flask of Rhenish, which, after again touching the +spring, she handed up to her guest. He took them, and disappeared into the +passage, whither, with the assistance of a chair and a scramble, Barbara +followed him. + +The room was a minute but very complete retreat. A little bed stood in the +corner, and by its side a tiny table and chair, on which were writing +materials. + +"To-morrow, sir," said Barbara, "I will come and inquire after you. You +want sleep now. I wish you good rest and good fortune." And, so saying, she +left him. + +GODFREY FAIRFAX PAUSED AGAIN. "WELL," SHE SAID, "DO YOU STILL LIKE IT?" + +"VERY MUCH," SAID JANET. + +"IT'S VERY EXCITING," SAID MARY. + +"I LIKE THE HIDING-PLACE," SAID GREGORY. + +"WE'VE JUST SEEN ONE AT SALFORD HALL--ONLY THAT WAS FOR PRIESTS--INSIDE A +CHINA CUPBOARD. I GOT IN IT. THE PICTURE'S MUCH BETTER." + +"DO YOU LIKE IT?" MISS REDSTONE SAID TO ROBERT. + +"PRETTY WELL," HE ANSWERED; AND THEY ALL LAUGHED. + +"DON'T LAUGH," SAID MISS REDSTONE; "THAT'S JUST THE KIND OF REMARK I WANT. +NOW TAKE SOME MORE CAKE, ALL OF YOU, AND I WILL GO ON." + +Barbara awoke almost with the birds, after two or three hours of fitful +sleep, and with a rush came the memory of last night's events. Her first +thought was for the quick and safe departure of the stranger, and weariness +of head told her it was time to seek advice. + +"Oh, if father were here!" was the burden of her thoughts. But he was far +away, and the immediate question was whom to ask for help. She ticked off +the neighbouring gentlemen, and decided against them one by one. Old Digger +was useless. Matthew Hale was sound, but stupid. Everything pointed to her +brother Philip. + +No sooner had she made up her mind than Barbara turned to her writing-table +and penned a laborious letter to the Rev. Jeremy. Poor Barbara! Spelling +was not her strongest point, nor, indeed, did anyone then mind whether +spelling was good or bad. She wrote as follows: + +DEARE AND REVEREND SIR, + +"My father has riden to London and I would faine not be without manlie +companie in so grate an house (olde Digger being worthie and trustie but a +lyttel deaf and stiffe). Therefor I pray you let me have my brother Philip +and his friends for this daye that I may be more at mine ease. + +"Your servant, + +BARBARA MYDDELTON. + +Having sanded and folded the paper Barbara awakened Jack. + +"Jack!" she called, shaking him in his bed. "Jack, I have an errand for +you. Jump up quickly and dress, and then saddle Roger, and I will get you +some food, and then you must ride at a gallop to Framshott to Mr. +Fullarton's, and he will send back Philip with you, and Hugh and Vernon and +Rupert." + +Having seen the little fellow off, Barbara set the servants to work on a +business that would keep them remote from the library, and then visited her +guest. She first knocked three times on the chimney--a sign that had been +agreed on. After a minute had passed he replied, and, having made certain +that no one could enter or see into the library, Barbara removed the +picture and waited. + +The young man immediately sprang into the room. + +"Good morrow, sir," said Barbara simply, with a curtsey. + +"Good morrow, fair hostess and preserving angel," said the young man, with +a bow. + +"We must come to business at once," said Barbara, and forthwith she told +him of her message to her brother. "Philip is very young," she added, "but +true as steel, and his head is older than his years." + +"Good," said the stranger, and he unfolded his plans. That night he must +embark for France. He was expected by the master of the _Antelope,_ a +schooner lying all ready to weigh anchor at Portallan, the harbour twelve +miles distant. She would sail by the night tide, with or without him. It +was understood that, if he were not there, evil had befallen him. + +"Everything depends," he explained, "on my departure to-night. The cause +hangs upon it. A blight on my evil luck!" he cried. "Were Colonel Myddelton +at home, I should not be fleeing from my own country empty-handed. I shall +be writing to him most of this day, but a spoken word is worth a volume of +pen stuff." + +It was arranged at length that as soon as the dusk came three of the boys, +with the stranger wearing the clothes of the fourth, should ride out, +ostensibly on the return to the schoolhouse. + +Thus, no suspicion would be aroused, and, once in the road, it would be +simple to turn the horses' heads towards the sea and gain the harbour. + +That settled, Barbara gave breakfast to her guest, and he returned to his +hidingplace for the rest of the weary day with a store of candles and an +armful of books and paper. + +Two hours later the boys rode in, all excitement, and Barbara watched them +attack the loaded breakfast-table. Philip's friends were, of course, all +devoted to this grave, sweet girl, although not bitter rivals. + +"Philip dear," said Barbara swiftly, when, after breakfast, she had drawn +her brother into her room and locked the door "there is in the castle at +this moment a messenger from the Prince, who has come to see our father on +grave business. You can guess what such business would be. He dare not +follow him to London, and must leave to-night for the nearest seaport, his +errand all unperformed. I sent for you and your friends because the +gentleman is our guest, and must be treated with courtesy and care. He is +unattended, and the countryside is alive with traitors. You and your +friends will protect him to-night, will you not?" + +"To the death," said Philip. + +"Ah, I knew!" said his sister proudly. + +"Barbara," exclaimed Philip, "it was fine of you to send for us!" And he +hugged her mightily. "But where is the gentleman?" + +"In hiding," she answered; "but mind, not a word of this to the others. +Tell them enough to stop questions. Not a soul knows he is here save you +and me. Later they must know, for one of you will have to lend him clothes. +Only three of you can ride as his guard." + +"But, Barbara," cried Philip in alarm, "it is not I who will stay behind? +It could not be. I am his host. And what build of man is he, Barbara? Say +he is not my size." + +"No, Phil dear; he is taller by a hand's breadth." + +"Ah," sighed Philip, with intense relief, "then it must be Rupert! Poor +Rupert!" + +"Now," said Barbara, "forget all about it, and have a good holiday with the +boys. The evening is distant yet." + +"I wish it were here!" Phil exclaimed fervently as he ran off. + +Philip at once sought out Rupert, and, slipping his hand into his arm, led +him away from the others. He wanted to break the news gently. + +"I say, Rupert," he said, "you remember that crossbow of mine you wanted so +much?" + +Rupert remembered. + +"Well, it is yours," said Philip. "And I want you to ride Tiger oftener +than you do." (Tiger was Philip's most prized horse.) + +Rupert was beginning to be mystified, but he could see that all this was +but the preamble to something more important. + +"And, Rupert," Philip continued, "you know how keen we all are to smash +those Roundheads, don't you?" + +Rupert knew. + +"But it isn't always possible, you understand, for everyone to fight and be +in the front, is it? Some have to do quieter work where they are not seen, +haven't they?" + +Rupert agreed, a little impatiently. "But Phil," he added, "what does all +this mean? What do you want me to do?" + +"Well," said Philip, "I can't tell you everything; but to-night it may be +necessary for some of us to ride to Portallan, and one to stay behind, and +I thought I would try to make it easier for you to be the one to stay +behind, that's all. It must be you, I'm afraid, poor old fellow!" + +The reader paused again. + +"I LIKE THAT BIT ABOUT SPELLING," SAID JACK. + +"I THINK BARBARA AND PHILIP WERE VERY LUCKY," SAID ROBERT. "THERE'S NO FUN +LIKE THAT NOW. WY IS ALL THE FUN IN THE PAST?" + +"I THINK IT'S FUN TO GO FOR A CARAVAN-TOUR," SAID MISS REDSTONE; "AND +THAT'S IN THE PRESENT." + +"OH, YES," SAID ROBERT, "THAT'S FUN, NO DOUBT; BUT IT DOESN'T COMPARE WITH +FIGHTING AGAINST ROUNDHEADS." + +"I THINK BARBARA WAS MOST HORRIBLY LUCKY," SAID HESTER, " BECAUSE, OF +COURSE, THE STRANGER WAS--" + +"HUSH!" SAID THE AUTHOR; AND SHE BEGAN TO READ ONCE MORE. + +The day wore on slowly. Barbara did her best to go through the household +duties naturally, but the tension was severe. She was perpetually conscious +of a fear that, after all, in spite of his confidence in his skill, the +stranger might have been tracked and pursued. + +She had, indeed, in the peace of the afternoon, but just dismissed the +suspicion, when the white face of Philip appearing suddenly at the door of +the library, where she was sitting, brought back all her tremors. + +"Roundheads!" he gasped. + +Her heart stood still. "Oh, if father were here!" was all she could murmur +moaningly, as the clatter of hoofs rung out in the courtyard. + +A minute later old Digger tottered in shaking like a reed, followed by an +officer and three soldiers. Barbara rose to meet them, biting her lips to +repress her emotion "What is it?" she inquired coldly. + +"Guard the doors and the windows! said the Captain to his men, ignoring +her. He looked round the room, and then condescended to reply. + +"We are seeking a rebel," he said. "He has been traced to this +neighbourhood, and it would be natural for him to seek hospitality here. +The Myddeltons are fond of such dirt." + +"This roof shelters no rebels," said Barbara simply. + +"Colonel Myddelton, this doddering old fool tells me," said the Captain, +indicating Digger, "is away." + +"Clearly," said Barbara, "or your language would be more guarded." + +"And no one has come seeking refuge?" the Captain pursued, adding, to +Barbara's intense relief: "But asking questions is sheer waste of breath. I +have no time to talk. We must search the house." + +Barbara sank into her chair again. Surely they must hear the beating of her +heart, she thought. Oh, anything, anything to appear calm! The risk was +double--first, that they might themselves discover the secret place; +secondly, that in tapping the walls, as they were even now doing, they +might give her signal to the fugitive, and thus cause him to betray +himself. She buried her face in her embroidery, but was aware that the +Captain's eyes were on her. The soldiers were passing round the room +slowly, thoroughly. In the stress of her perturbation Barbara rose and +moved to the door, controlling her agitation with a tremendous effort. + +"Follow the lady," said the Captain to one of the soldiers. "Don't lose +sight of her for a moment." ("The minx knows something," he muttered in his +moustache.) + +"You brute!" cried Philip, drawing his sword. "Do you dare to order my +sister to be dogged? Come on." And he made a lunge at the Roundhead. + +"Steady!" said the Captain, parrying the thrust--"steady, young fellow!" + +Barbara, catching at the door, screamed and swooned. + +Philip thrust at him again. + +"Be still," muttered the Captain; "we must have no bloodshed here." And he +twitched the weapon from the boy's hand, adding: "Very well, I withdraw the +order. Carry your sister to her room, and my soldier shall merely stand +sentinel at her door. Another word, you puppy, and I'll have you in irons!" + +With an effort Philip obeyed, remembering the duty the night held for him; +and he and Digger together carried Barbara to her room, followed by the +soldier, who took up his stand at the door. + +On resuming their search, the soldiers did no more than thrust their pikes +up the chimney, and in a few minutes proceeded to the other rooms. + +An hour later the Captain sent for Philip, who sauntered into his presence +whistling a country dance. + +"I am going at once," said the Captain. + +Philip had it in his mind to press him ironically to stay, with a word of +regret that his visit was so short; but he stifled the temptation, and +simply nodded. + +"But I am not in the least satisfied," the Captain continued, "and I mean +to leave three soldiers behind to guard the entries and your sister's room. +No one leaves the Hall to-night." + +Philip's face fell. "But I must," he said. "I am at school at Framshott, +and we, my companions and I, must ride back to-night." + +"Your companions!" said the Captain. + +"Yes," said Philip; "I will call them." And he shouted from the window to +the boys playing bowls in the garden. + +They came up, and were passed before the scrutinizing eyes of the Roundhead. + +"Royalist whelps!" he muttered. "Very well," he said at length, " you may +go. But mind, no one else leaves the house." + +Then, giving careful instructions to the three men left in charge, he rode +off with the others. + +News spreads rapidly in villages at all times, and it was, therefore, not +surprising that Matthew Hale should hear that there were Roundheads at +Myddelton Hall very soon after they had clattered into the courtyard. + +"Roundheads at the Hall, are there?" he said. "Then I reckon I'll join +them. It won't be the first time I've met a Roundhead--no, nor smashed one, +either." So saying, he laid aside his hammer, and, taking instead a bar of +iron, he left his boy in charge of the smithy, and set out for the Hall. + +Matthew reached the Hall a few minutes after the Captain and two of the +Roundheads had ridden off. The first person he saw was Philip, who, with +the three boys and little Jack, were plotting together in the shrubbery. + +"Hullo, Matt!" cried Philip; "come here. We want you." + +Matthew turned aside from the carriageway, and joined the little group. +They all looked profoundly grave and important. + +"What is it, young master?" said the blacksmith. "And where's Mistress +Barbara? Don't say she's ill." + +Then Philip told him the story, omitting all reference to the refugee, +whose existence was a secret to the other boys, from the arrival of the +Captain to his departure, ending: + +"And at this very moment, Matt, there are three Roundhead soldiers on guard +in the Hall--two at the doors, and one standing--can you believe +it?--standing at my sister's door. I've fought him once," Philip continued, +"but he's too strong, and now the others are keeping us out of the house, +and we've charged them several times, but without doing any good, and there +are a thousand reasons why we shouldn't any of us be hurt." + +"But where are the grooms and gardeners?" Matthew asked. + +"Oh, they all disappeared," said Philip. "I suppose they feared an inquiry +might be dangerous. It's bad for the health and reputation to fight a +Roundhead." + +Matthew laughed grimly. "It's bad for the Roundhead's health if he runs +against this," he said, raising the iron bar. + +At this moment Jack interrupted. "See, Phil," he cried, "Barbara's waving +to you at the window." + +It was so. They all glanced up, and at the window Barbara's pale face was +visible. + +A sudden thought came to Philip, and, leading Matthew into the open, he +pointed to the blacksmith, and threw an inquiring look to his sister. She +hesitated a second or two, and then nodded yes with cheery emphasis, so +Philip led Matthew away and supplemented the story he had already told him +with the startling announcement that all the time there actually was a +fugitive Cavalier in the house. + +Matthew Hale whistled; he had no words. + +"And he must reach Portallan," said Philip, "to catch the midnight tide. +Three of us are going to ride with him, and he takes Rupert's clothes. We +should have got him away finely if it hadn't been for these soldiers." + +"Then we must smash the soldiers," said Matthew simply. "How many are they? +Three, and one of them upstairs. And we are five, not counting Master Jack. +Very well. So long as they don't use gunpowder, we can beat them." + +In a few minutes the old soldier had sketched out a plan of action. + +GODFREY FAIRFAX AGAIN PAUSED. + +"IT'S GETTING RATHER GOOD," SAID ROBERT. + +"HOW SPLENDID IF WE COULD HAVE A CIVIL WAR NOW! + +"I LIKE MATTHEW HALE BEST," SAID GREGORY. + +"ARE THEY REALLY GOING TO FIGHT? ARE THE BOYS REALLY GOING TO KILL ANYONE? +IT'S SO ROTTEN IN MOST STORIES, BECAUSE THEY ONLY TALK ABOUT IT." + +"WAIT," SAID THE AUTHOR. + +The sentinels were stationed each at one door at the back of the house, +twenty or thirty yards apart. The principal entrance they had locked, so +that there remained to guard only the two doors into the courtyard. Their +instructions were to permit the boys to pass in and out, and to ride off at +evening unmolested, but the attacks made upon them prompted the additional +precaution to keep the aggressive four out of the house altogether. The two +men walked up and down at their posts, and occasionally exchanged a remark +together, and occasionally threw a glance at the shrubbery. +They seemed, however, to feel no apprehension. + + + +"Can any one of you climb? the blacksmith asked suddenly. + +"I can," said Jack. + +"Famous!" said the blacksmith; "then come with me." So saying, he led the +way down the shrubbery until the front of the house was in view. "Now," he +added, "you shall climb that pipe." And he pointed to a pipe by the +doorway. "The ivy will help you." + +"And when I am at the top?" Jack asked. + +"When you are at the top," said the blacksmith, "you will loosen a stone +and drop it on the head of one of your friends yonder"--indicating the +courtyard with a jerk of his head. "That will settle him. At the same +moment I'll overwhelm the other. We must prevent them firing at any costs. +But don't miss him, whatever you do, or we are worse off than before." + +"No," said Jack, "I shall aim very carefully. I will wait till he is +exactly underneath, and then, plob! It will get him on his topknot." + +The ivy was, of course, out of sight of the two sentries so long as they +stayed at their posts; but, as anyone who knows Myddelton Hall, which is +little altered since that time, will understand, a very trifling extension +of his beat would bring one of them into a position to command the +carriagedrive which Jack had to cross to get from the shrubbery to the +house. However, the boy sauntered off, looking as aimless as a piece of +floating thistledown, and gained the house unperceived. Directly he was +past the soldiers' line of vision he became brisker, and in a few minutes +the party in +the shrubbery, who had by this time returned to their original post, and at +the point in the bushes nearest to the sentries, saw him scrambling over +the roof. + +"If he were hurt," said the blacksmith, " the Colonel would never forgive me." + +"He's climbed that too often for danger of accidents," said Philip. + +Jack was now crawling along a coping just over the farther sentry, and they +watched him picking out the mortar from between two big stones with his +knife. In five minutes he had it loose, and, grasping it with both hands, +he pushed it close to the edge, and then peeped over. The soldier was some +yards from the plumb. Jack looked down at the shrubbery for guidance. The +smith raised his hand to signify patience. Jack waited. Breathlessly the +ambushed party watched the two soldiers, who were now talking together. +Would they never return to their doors? Five anxious minutes passed, and +then, with a look round, Jack's man began to move nearer his position under +the coping. Once he stopped, and, retracing half a step, called out a +facetious after-thought. The boys grunted impatiently, and the blacksmith +swore in his beard. Then the soldier took another step back, laughing at +his wit, yet moving irresolutely, as though he had another word or two to +add to the joke. After this his progress backwards was steady. + +At last, when he was within a yard of the precise spot, and not one of the +attacking party had a grain of patience left, the smith dropped his hand, +and Jack toppled the stone over the edge. It fell with a terrible +swiftness; the soldier completed his yard of step, and the block took him, +not on the crown, but on the right shoulder. It was, however, enough. Down +he fell without a sound. + +His companion, glancing up at the instant, saw him fall, and, leaving his +matchlock, ran to his assistance. At the same moment the smith and the boys +rushed from the shrubbery. The soldier, running towards his friend, +observed them approaching, checked himself in bewilderment, and then swung +round on his heel and made for his weapon. But Matthew was too quick for +him. The smith was quite twenty yards distant, but, gathering himself +together, he flung out his arm, and with all his might threw the iron bar +at the retreating sentry. The missile sped true; over and over it twisted +in the air, and, catching the soldier with a horrid thud in the back, laid +him low. + +"Hurrah!" cried Philip. + +"Hurrah!" cried Jack, peering down from the roof as the others bound the +two wounded men with ropes. It was quickly done, and they were hauled into +the stable and secured safely therein, and old Digger told off to watch +them and mind them as well as he might. + +"Now we can go ahead," was Matthew's comment, grimly uttered, as he opened +the door. Philip was for accompanying him, but Matthew said no. "In a +minute or two I will be back with your sister," he added. "I want to settle +the other man alone. I have a few scores to pay off." + +He sprang up the stairs three at a bound, grasping his iron bar firmly, and +at last came to Barbara's landing. There before the door stood the +Roundhead, who evidently had heard nothing of the disturbance below. + +"Ha, smith," he cried, on spying Matthew, "what are you looking for?" + +"I came to have a little talk," said Matthew easily, taking in his man with +a quick glance. + +"Well, then, you had best descend those stairs again," replied the soldier; +"I'm in no mood for talking." + +"Now, that's curious," said Matthew genially, leaning against the wall, +"because I am. I never felt more disposed to conversation in my life." + +The soldier scowled and fingered his matchlock. + +"But perhaps," Matthew continued, darting forward suddenly, and with a blow +of the iron bar knocking the gun from the man's hand--"perhaps a little +tussle would be more to your liking. I have a mind to smash your face. What +do you say?" + +The soldier drew his sword. + +"No," said Matthew, striking it down with the bar; "I don't want iron. It's +so noisy. I have the sound of iron all day in my smithy. Give me a little +change." He kicked the sword along the passage, and threw his bar after it. + +"Now," said he, "we are equal. Come!" + +So saying, the blacksmith tapped the Roundhead on the chin. The soldier +made an attempt to defend himself, but fisticuffs were out of his line, and +Matthew had a series of easy openings. The smith punished him badly for a +while, and then, remarking that he had set his heart on spoiling one or two +more Roundheads before he died, followed the words with a blow on the +soldier's nose that laid him low. + +The blacksmith pulled himself together, and then, opening a cupboard door +near by, pushed the sentry into it and turned the key. + +The next thing was to liberate Barbara, who, when she heard what had +happened, asked with nice tact if Matthew did not think that they could +talk more comfortably in the kitchen, and Matthew replied that his brain +was always more fertile in the presence of cold pasty and ale than at any +other time. + +"WAS THAT ALL RIGHT?" GODFREY FAIRFAX ASKED GREGORY. + +"FIRST-RATE," HE SAID. "I CAN'T THINK WHY YOUR BOOKS DON'T SUCCEED." + +"PERHAPS THIS IS THE BEST OF THEM," ROBERT SUGGESTED. + +"BARBARA IS VERY BRAVE," SAID JANET. "I ADMIRE HER TREMENDOUSLY." + +"AND PHILIP, TOO," SAID HESTER. + + + +"0H, BUT JACK AND THE STONE IS BEST," SAID GREGORY. "I COULD HAVE DONE THAT." + +"SO COULD I," SAID HORACE CAMPBELL; "IT'S JUST WHAT I WANT TO DO--THINGS +LIKE THAT." + +"YOU'RE RATHER BLOOD-THIRSTY LITTLE BOYS," SAID GODFREY FAIRFAX. "PERHAPS +I HAD BETTER BEGIN AGAIN. IT IS GOING TO BE QUIETER NOW." + +Once in the kitchen, Barbara and Philip and the blacksmith took rapid +counsel together as to the best course of action. It was now late in the +afternoon; the Captain might be back with another bodyguard at any time, +and, once he returned, there would be no chance of getting the stranger +away. It was therefore important to furnish him with the disguise--Rupert's +clothes--and spirit him out of the house at once. On the other hand, as he +did not count upon being at sea till midnight, this would simply mean +exchanging one hiding-place for another; but, all things considered, it was +imperative that he should stay no longer at the Hall. + +This decided, Rupert was called in to divest himself of his clothes, and +soon afterwards he sent down the bundle, and with it Barbara sought the +stranger, while Matthew, feeling very well satisfied with the day's work, +sauntered to the stables to examine the wounds of the Roundhead soldiers. +He found them groaning, but in a way to recover, and then, calling the +boys, he set them to prepare the horses against their journey. It was +approaching evening, but the month being June, there was no chance of a +dark departure, even if they waited as late as half-past eight, so that one +hour of leaving was almost as safe as another. + +Barbara found her prisoner very tired of his confinement, and very hungry. +She explained the cause of her delay, and, leaving him to change into the +clothes as quickly as he might, she hurried off for food. When she came +back, the young man, looking for all the world like a darker Rupert, was +standing in the library with his own clothes in his hand. + +"My brother will tell you what has been devised for you," Barbara said. + +"Thank you," he replied, putting out his hand. "Thank you, sweet preserver. +I shall see you again, I know; but it may be long, very long. Will you keep +this ring? Show it to your father when he returns, and guard it carefully +till we meet in the future. Then you shall give it me once more." He +slipped the ring on her finger and kissed it. + +A moment later he stood in the courtyard beside Rupert's horse, where the +others were waiting. + +"Heavens!" said Hugh to Philip; "what's happened to Rupe?" + +"Yes," echoed Vernon, "who's that in old Rupe's clothes?" + +"Shut up!" Philip hissed, fixing them with a meaning glance. "Say another +word, and I'll flay you! That's Rupert Ommaney, and no one else, and I warn +you to remember it." + +"Come along, Rupert," he cried cheerily, aloud to the stranger. "It's time +we were off." + +With that they swung into the saddle, and rattled out of the courtyard, the +stranger in the midst. As he rounded the corner of the house he looked back +and smiled farewell to Barbara and the smith and Jack, who stood together +watching the departure. Barbara waved her hand, and a moment later her +fugitive was out of sight. + +"THAT'S NOT ALL, IS IT?" HESTER INQUIRED ANXIOUSLY, AS MISS REDSTONE STOPPED. + +"ISN'T IT A GOOD ENDING?" SHE ASKED. + +"NO," SAID GREGORY, "OF COURSE NOT. I WANT TO KNOW IF HE GOT TO THE HARBOUR +ALL RIGHT, AND WHO HE WAS." + +"OH, I THINK WE KNOW WHO HE WAS," JANET SAID. + +"WHO?" GREGORY ASKED. "I DON'T KNOW." "WELL, IT'S NOT THE END," SAID MISS +REDSTONE; "BUT THE END IS VERY NEAR, AND THAT WILL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING." AND +SHE BEGAN AGAIN. + +The boys and their companion had not been gone an hour when in rode the +Captain and his two soldiers with a terrible clatter. The Captain leaped +from his horse, and strode into the house, roaring for the men he had left +on guard. Barbara, who was in the library with Rupert, heard the noise and +divined its meaning. + +"Rupert," she said swiftly, on a sudden inspiration, "will you add one more +kindness to your long list? Will you hide in here for a few minutes?" So +saying, she showed him the secret chamber. + +Rupert hesitated not a moment, but swung himself up and was lost to view. +The picture hardly descended when the Captain entered. + +"Ha!" he cried, casting a quick glance at Barbara. "So you have escaped my +soldiers' vigilance. A nice story of traitorous mutiny I shall have to +report to London! Three of the Parliament's men beaten and bound, and +rebels here in hiding. For there is a hiding-place here, I will lay my +life, and by the look in your eyes, mistress, the bird is still in it." + +So saying, he set his men once more to work on the walls, and himself +attacked the portrait. Barbara stood by watching them. After five minutes' +fumbling the spring was touched. The Captain leaped into the cavity, and +they heard him utter a cry of triumph. A moment later he came forth, +leading Rupert. But his expression of joy vanished when he gained the +light, dim though it was, and found that his captive was but a schoolboy, +and a laughing one at that. + +"Tricked again!" he cried, as he flung the lad off and dashed from the room. + +His men followed, and in a moment they were all in the saddle. + +Barbara turned to Rupert with a smile. "Thank you!" she said. + +"You are splendid!" was all he could say in reply. + +"If you will bring me a candle," said Barbara, "I will look at the little +room again." + +Bidding Rupert remain exactly where he was, she entered the secret room. +"The Captain was too impetuous," she remarked, picking up a letter +addressed to herself; "he ought to have gone on after discovering Rupert." +"To Mistress Myddelton," the superscription ran, and she opened it with +trembling fingers. + +"Thank you," was all it said, but the signature struck her dizzy. It was +the signature of the exiled Prince. + +"I KNEW IT!" HESTER EXCLAIMED. + +"BUT IT DOESN'T HURT THE STORY TO KNOW IT?" MISS REDSTONE ASKED ANXIOUSLY. + +"0H, NO, NOT AT ALL," SAID JANET AND MARY. "PLEASE GO ON." + +MISS REDSTONE RESUMED. + +On leaving the Hall the boys and their companion had turned at once down +the highroad in the direction of Mr. Fullarton's at Framshott, which was +precisely the opposite direction to Portallan and the sea, Philip's idea +being to ride for a few miles as if on the journey back to school, and to +be seen by as many people who knew them by sight as possible, then to +branch off into a sheltering wood, wait there till dark, and start again, +refreshed, in a bee-line for the harbour. In this way the Captain would, if +he were to return and follow them, be put on a wrong scent, and give up any +chase as a waste of effort. + +But Barbara's trick in hiding Rupert undid the plan, for the first person +whom the Captain and his men met on leaving the Hall for the second time +swore so positively to having seen the FOUR schoolboys that the Roundhead's +suspicions were at +once aroused, and, turning his horse's head, he led the way at all speed +towards Portallan. + +"Then there was a man there all the time," he cried bitterly to himself, +"and he has escaped in that puppy's clothes! 'Sdeath, if I catch him now . +. .!" He ground his teeth together in his rage, and dug the rowels of his +spurs into the horse's side. Without another word they rode at the gallop +through the growing darkness. + +The boys were riding together at a good swinging pace, the stranger, in +Rupert's clothes, leading the way by a neck, Philip beside him, and the +other two behind. It was not a dark night, but a mist rolling inland from +the sea--one of those white mists well known along the south coast, which +predicate hot weather--enveloped them impenetrably except at very short +range. + +"Halt!" they heard the Captain cry, halfway down the hill. + +"Ay, it is likely we shall halt for that," said the stranger, with a laugh. +"I'll show him," and, turning in his saddle, he discharged a pistol down +the road. "That's for our enemies," he remarked grimly, "and may it hit +someone!" + +A few moments later came an answering shot, whistling past their heads +ominously. + +"Break for the nearest copse," replied the stranger, promptly, "for a +council of war. Quick, now's the time! The top of the hill is cover for +us." So saying, he put his horse to the bank, cleared it, and galloped over +the field to the trees which loomed grey and indefinite before them. + +The others followed. In two minutes they were under the boughs. Not daring +to breathe, they heard the troopers thunder along the highroad, all +unconscious for the moment of the trick that had been played them. + +"Now," said the stranger briefly, "we must divide. I shall proceed to +Portallan alone very warily." + +The faces of the boys fell at these words. Relinquish their duty before a +blow had been struck? It was humiliating--impossible. Philip first found +voice. "No, sir," he cried emphatically; "nothing of the kind! My sister +bade me not leave your side until you embarked for France, and her word is +my law." + +"And we stand by Phil," said Vernon, with equal emphasis. + +"You are brave boys," the stranger answered, "but you must do to-night as I +say. There is no time to argue here, and if I miss the tide I am undone, +for loyal captains are rare birds, I promise you. There may be not another +safe ship this fortnight." + +"But the enemy," said Philip,--"you will have to pass them. How can you do +that single-handed?" + +"Besides," Hugh interpolated, "is it fair to rob us of our sport like this?" + +"Yes," said Vernon, supporting him, "it is seldom enough one has any chance +of striking a blow for the cause. We are well armed. We are four to their +three." + +The young man made a gesture of impatience. + +"Peace," he said. "I have told you we must separate; let that be final. +You, Philip, shall accompany me part of the way, at any rate--I owe you +that; but the others will ride each towards the sea by different but fairly +direct ways. They will probably each be pursued, but must do the best they +can, avoiding bloodshed if possible. The captain has two men with him, and +Vernon and Hugh must each decoy one of them away in pursuit. That will +leave merely the captain, who is certain to ride to the port. You, Philip, +will divert him, and the way will thus be clear and open to me to get on +board. Please God, we all get through safely!" + +So saying, the stranger shook hands with Hugh and Vernon, who were +convinced by something in his voice that this was their +master and nothing more was to be said, and in a moment he and Philip were +gone. + +Events happened precisely as the stranger had foretold. Vernon and Hugh, +riding full tilt towards Portallan, attracted each a Roundhead soldier, and +each boy used his knowledge of the country to lead the men a wild-goose +chase. Vernon's pursuer succumbed first, for he and his horse fell into a +small but sufficient chalk-pit a mile or two from Framshott just as dawn +was breaking. As for Hugh's man, after three hours' zigzag riding through +the mist he was deftly persuaded to gallop into the Worminglore bog, and +there Hugh, flinging a parting word of derision, left him floundering. The +man fired a bullet in the direction of the boy's voice, but it did no harm +except to his hat, and only served to increase Hugh's reputation among his +companions at school as a desperate fellow. It is not every boy who has a +bullet-hole in his hat. + +Meanwhile Philip and the stranger spurred to the sea by a devious course. +They rode silently, the stranger's hand alert to seize his pistol. +Suddenly, when only a mile or two from the harbour, a light or two being +visible on the ships riding at anchor, he reined in with a jerk before a +shepherd's hut which stood at the edge of a sheepfold on the naked down, a +yard from the road. + +"Just the thing!" he cried; "we have still an hour." + +Bidding Philip stay there and keep watch, he leaped from his horse and +opened the door of the hut. + +"Who's there?" growled the voice of the shepherd. + +"A friend, if you hold your peace," said the young man; "otherwise a foe, +and a strong one, I can promise you." He clicked a pistol as he spoke, and +the shepherd stood up and pulled his forelock. + +"I want no words," said the stranger, "and no delay. Do as I tell you, in +the King's name." + +"Ay, marry!" cried the shepherd; "in the King's name I'll do anything." + +"Good fellow," said the stranger, "well said. Take off that smock and those +legcasings." + +The man took them off. The stranger divested himself of Rupert's clothes at +the same time, and hastily donned those of the shepherd. "Tie mine in a +bundle," he said to the man. "I shall leave you cold to-night, I fear, but +here is money. Lie close in a blanket till the morrow, and then send for +your wife to buy other clothes. But keep your tongue from wagging." + +So saying, the stranger shouldered his bundle, and, taking the shepherd's +crook in his hand, he left the hut and rejoined Philip. "My dear boy," he +said, "I must leave you now. I shall creep into the town under cover of +this disguise, safely enough, and be on board in half an hour. Farewell. I +shall never forget your services to me, as you will be reminded some day, +and from a quarter you least expect." With these words he shook the boy's +hand and was lost in the mist. + +Philip waited irresolutely for some minutes. Then a plan came to him which, +if successful, would make the humiliation of the Roundhead complete. "Yes," +he said "I'll do it;" and forthwith he urged his horse towards the town at +a smart trot leading the other by the reins and talking loudly with its +imaginary rider. The ruse was successful. The Roundhead Captain was, as +Philip had suspected, in ambush just at the outskirts, all ready to dart +forth and at last make the capture. When within a dozen yards of his form, +dimly outlined in the fog, Philip loosed the led horse, and lashing it +sharply over the flanks, turned his own steed, and rode off at full gallop +which he did not slacken till he reached home. He glowed as he rode. + +Barbara's head appeared at the window in response to his clatter. Calling +the single word "Safe!" from the gate, he spurred on to Framshott. + +"Outwitted clean!" said the Captain to himself, as he came up at last with +the riderless animal two hours after. "Outwitted, discredited, and by a +parcel of children! However, let's make the best of it;" and so saying, he +urged his horse towards Myddelton Hall, leading the stranger's by the +bridle. + +At three in the morning, when the sun was rising, and the air was sweet and +cool, and songs of birds made music all around him, Philip rode into the +yard of the school-house. He found Rupert waiting for him. + +"Hugh and Vernon are in the kitchen making a famine," said Master Ommaney. +"Old Full's down there with them, and he's as pleased as a Merry Andrew +about it all! He keeps shaking hands with us." + +"It's been grand," said Philip, as he shut the stable door on his horse. +"I'm so sorry you couldn't come, too, Rupe, old boy." + +At about the same time the Captain thundered on the Hall door. The +blacksmith very deliberately descended the stairs to unlock it. Barbara +followed. + +"You must give me lodging to-night," the Captain said curtly. "My men will +be here soon, and there are three good fellows to be cared for to whom your +servants have done serious mischief." + +Barbara, looking contrite, told the Captain that a room was at his service, +and there was food in the kitchen. He attended first to his horse, and then +she set a brave supper before him and the smith. + +"Well, young lady," said the Captain at length, "I must compliment you on +your cleverness. You nested your bird well, and you saw to it that he flew +well, too. All we have to show for it is a broken nose, a broken shoulder, +and a broken back. It is a sad business for us all; bad for you, when head +quarters come to hear of it, and bad for me, in not being sharper. But it +might have been worse," he added; "why, the fugitive might have been the +Prince himself, instead of this twopenny-halfpenny spy!" Barbara smiled. + +* * * * + +In conclusion it may be said that, as it turned out, no more was heard of +the matter by Colonel Myddelton. The Roundhead Captain felt that the day's +work did not sufficiently redound to his credit, and he shrank from the +chaff that would follow when it was known that a girl and some schoolboys +had outwitted him. He therefore kept silence. + +Some years had to pass before Barbara and Philip received their reward; but +one of the first acts of the Merry Monarch on ascending the throne was to +make Philip a knight and to send Barbara a pair of very beautiful horses +and a carriage. + + + +THERE WAS A SILENCE AFTER GODFREY FAIRFAX HAD FINISHED. + +THEN, "IS IT TRUE?" GREGORY ASKED. + +"IS IT A GOOD STORY?" THE AUTHOR INQUIRED, BY WAY OF REPLY. + +"OH, YES," SAID GREGORY. "RIPPING!" + +"THEN LET'S CONSIDER IT TRUE," SAID MISS REDSTONE. + +"OF COURSE IT'S TRUE," SAID HESTER. + +"DO YOU LIKE IT AS WELL AS 'FOR THE GOOD CAUSE?" MISS REDSTONE ASKED HORACE. + +"NOT QUITE," HE SAID, "BUT VERY NEARLY." + +"AND YOU?" SHE INQUIRED OF JACK. + +"IT'S JOLLY INTERESTING," HE SAID, "ANYWAY." + +"WELL, I'M VERY MUCH OBLIGED TO YOU FOR LISTENING TO ME SO LONG," MISS +REDSTONE SAID. "YOU'VE BEEN VERY KIND, AND YOU'VE CHEERED ME UP EXTREMELY. +GOOD-BYE. I SHALL NEVER FORGET YOUR KINDNESS, AND I SHALL SEND YOU THE +STORY WHEN IT IS PRINTED." + +AND AFTER GIVING HER THEIR ADDRESS, THEY RESUMED THEIR JOURNEY, AND +DISCUSSED THE ROMANCE AT INTERVALS ALL THE WAY TO BREDON HILL. + + + +CHAPTER 15 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE RUNAWAY PONIES + +The distance from Evesham to Elmley Castle, a little village under Bredon +Hill, is only five or six miles, and the Slowcoaches were comfortably +encamped in a field there by six o'clock, for at Evesham they did no more +than walk through the churchyard to the beautiful square Bell Tower with +its little company of spires on the roof. Mary bought a guide at a shop at +the corner of the market-place and read the story. + +This Bell Tower, with a gateway and a wall or so, is all that remains of a +Benedictine abbey which was built by the Bishop of Worcester in the reign +of Ethelred. The Bishop, it seems, had a swineherd named Eoves, who one +day, while wandering in the Forest of Arden ("In which the scene of 'As You +Like It' is laid, Hester, and which used to cover all the ground where +Evesham now stands"), was visited in a vision by three radiant damsels. He +returned at once and told the Bishop, who, on being led to the same spot, +after a preparation of fasting and prayer, had the same vision, and at once +recognized the damsels as the Virgin Mary and two Angels. + +At that time the meaning of such heavenly visitations was plain, and the +Bishop at once set about building an abbey on the spot. He appointed +himself the first abbot and named it after his swineherd Eoves--Eoves'ham. + +The abbey was large and prosperous, but the Danes destroyed it in one of +their raids, and it had to be rebuilt on a more splendid scale. Then came +Henry VIII. and his quarrel with the Church of Rome, and the abbey was +confiscated and given as a grant to Sir Philip Hoby, one of his friends, +who at +once (being a man of the type of the Rev. Francis Gastrell) raised what +money he could on it by turning it into a quarry for stones. And that is +why so many old houses in this neighbourhood have carved stones in their +walls. + +The party then returned to the marketplace and walked down to the bridge, +where they joined Kink and set out for their goal. + +Elmley Castle is one street, with a ruined cross at one end and the church +at the other, and the great hill over all. The cottages are as white as +snowdrops, and they have heavy thatch roofs. The women wear large blue +Worcestershire sunbonnets. The only shop is a post-office too, so that +Robert was able to send his telegrams very easily. + +After supper some of them walked through the churchyard (which has a very +curious sun-dial in it) to the meadows beyond, in search of the castle, the +site of which is mentioned on the map, but is quite undiscoverable now; +while Robert made friends with an old labourer smoking his pipe outside the +great tithe barn, and asked him about the road up Bredon' as it was his +project to sleep on the very top of the hill the next night. + +But the old man changed their plans completely; for he convinced Robert +that the Slowcoach would never get to the top without at least two more +horses to help, and even then it would be an unwise course to take, because +there was no proper road, and it might be badly shaken. + +It was therefore arranged that the older and stronger children should take +their lunch to the top of the hill and eat it there, and that Kink, with +Hester and Gregory, should go round the hill? which rises all alone from +the plain like a great sleeping monster, on the flat roads, and meet them +on the other, or south side, at Beckford, in the afternoon; and they should +then go on for five or six miles farther to their campingground near +Oxenton. + +The night was uneventful except for a rather startling visit from a +peacock, which stood just inside the boys' tent and uttered such sounds as +only a peacock can. + +Both parties started early the next morning. Gregory and Hester, being for +the first time alone as owners of the Slowcoach, were very proud and +excited, and Gregory insisted upon Janet giving him two shillings in case +of any emergency, although Kink had plenty of money. The nice old women in +the Worcestershire sunbonnets came to see them start, and, well supplied +with stone gingerbeer from the Queen's Head--Queen Elizabeth's head, as it +happens--off they went, Gregory beside Kink, and Hester inside reading Hans +Andersen's story of the nightingale. + +The others, after waving good-bye, set their feet bravely towards the +slopes of Bredon Hill--no small undertaking, for it is very steep and the +day was hot. But the pathway is pleasant, first passing by the gardens of +the great house, where, burning blue on the wall, they saw their visitor of +the night; and then through a deep lane to a hillocky meadow, and so up to +the turf of the higher slopes, where the views begin, and where it is very +agreeable to rest. + +But Robert urged them on. "It is quite flat at the top," he said, "and +there is a tower at the very edge, and a perfect place for a picnic." + +Here we will leave them, climbing pantingly up, and follow the Slowcoach, +as Moses drew it steadily along the lanes at the base of the hill, between +the high hedges. At first, as I said, Kink and Gregory walked; but after a +while they both sat in front, just over the shafts, and Gregory held the +reins (he called it driving), and they discussed life--which means that +Gregory asked a thousand questions and Kink did his best to answer or +ignore them. + +"It's not true, is it, that when all the cows in a field stand up it's +going to rain?" + +"Don't you think Bredon Hill would be a ripping place to start to fly from?" + +"Shall we stop and cook our dinner, or have cold things?" + +"It's not true, is it, that whenever you see a white horse you see a +red-haired girl? I suppose that means only in London, where there are so +many people?" + +"Do you know that you can't walk over London Bridge without seeing a white +horse?" + +"Do you think that Moses is ever going to have a stone in his shoe so that +I can get it out with my knife? Couldn't we drive him over a very stony +place?" + +"You can't really tell the time by dandelions, can you?" + +And so forth, till Kink's head would have ached if he had not trained it +not to. + +Gregory was rattling on in this way when suddenly they heard a screaming +and scrambling and thudding behind them, and a moment later a chaise with a +little girl in it, drawn by a pair of grey ponies, dashed past at a fearful +pace, only just avoiding the caravan, and disappeared in a cloud of dust; +and then after a minute or so came a tremendous shattering crash, and all +was still. + +"It's a smash-up," said Kink, urging Moses into a trot. "We must help +them;" and at the same time Hester's white face appeared at the window and +implored Kink to drive faster. + +In a minute or so they saw a moving mass at the side of the road, which +they knew to be the broken chaise, and a farm labourer holding the head of +the one pony that was on its feet. Kink tied Moses to a gate-post, and ran +to the man's help, telling the children to wait a moment. Both were rather +frightened, and they stood hand in hand by Moses and watched. + +They saw Kink lift something from the chaise and lay it on the grass. Then +they saw him hacking at the harness with his pruning-knife until the pony +was free, when the man led it to another gate-post and tied it there. Then +Kink hacked again, and drew the carriage away from the pony that was lying +on the ground; and then he and the man lifted the bundle once more and came +with it very carefully to the Slowcoach, Kink calling out to Gregory to +open the door and put some pillows on the floor. + +When Kink and the man reached the Slowcoach, Hester saw that they were +carrying a girl of about her own age, who was lying in their arms quite +still, with her eyes closed. + +They placed her gently on the cushions, and Kink dashed a little water on +her face. + +After a moment or so she opened her eyes and asked where she was. + +"You're all right," said Hester. "You've had an accident. We're taking care +of you." + +Then the little girl remembered. "The ponies!" she cried. "Are they hurt?" + +"I'm afraid one of them is," said Kink. "But never mind now. The great +thing is that you weren't thrown out. Keep quiet now, missie, and we'll +look after everything." + +But the little girl would not be silenced. + +"Which one is hurt?" she asked. "Which one? Is it Marshall or Snelgrove?" + +"I don't know," said Kink. "They're both alike." + +"Oh, no, they're not," said the little girl. "Marshall has a white star +between his eyes. Oh, do say Marshall's all right! Marshall's my very own." + +"I'll go and see," said Gregory; and he ran off, and came back to say that +Marshall was the one that seemed to be all right, but Snelgrove had broken +his leg and couldn't move. + +"Oh, I'm so glad about Marshall," said the girl; "but poor Tommy, how sorry +he'll be!" + +"See if you can get up, missie," said Kink. "I want to know if you're hurt +anywhere." + +The little girl sat up and then stood up. "I feel all right," she said, +"only very giddy." + +Kink uttered a sigh of relief. "Drink this cold water," he said. "That will +make you much better. And now tell us all about the accident, because we +shall have to let your people know." + +"Well," said the little girl, "mother and I were driving to Ashton to see +Aunt May; and mother had just got out to leave the _British Workman_ at old +Mr. Dimmock's, when the ponies took fright and ran away. I held the reins +as long as I could, and when I saw your caravan in front I screamed to warn +you, and then there was a terrible crash, and I don't remember anything +else." + +"And what will your poor mamma be doing?" said Kink. + +"Oh, poor mother!" said the little girl. "She'll be so nervous! But she'll +be coming after us as fast as she can, because she saw them start off." + +"Then I think," said Kink, "the best thing to do is for us to leave this +man here to mind the ponies and tell your mamma you're all right; and we'll +go on to Ashton as quick as we can, and send back some help. We'll take you +to your aunt's, missie, and the man will tell your mamma when she comes up +what we've done. I'm so glad you're not hurt." + +So Hester and Gregory were left with the little girl, who told them her +name was Patricia Mordan, and she was ten, and they lived near Fladbury, +and she had a King Charles spaniel; while Kink urged Moses towards Ashton, +which was only a mile or so away. + +Hester put the kettle on the Beatrice stove, thinking that tea was the best +thing, and Gregory sat down and looked at their guest, and thought what a +splendid adventure it was to tell the others about when they met them +later. + +Patricia, who was now in a deck-chair, examined the caravan in a kind of +ecstasy. "What a lovely place it is!" she said. "Do you really live here? +How scrumptiously exciting!" + +"My bed's over there," said Gregory. + +"Where do you stop at night?" Patricia asked. + +"I have to go to the farmers and get leave to camp on their land," said +Gregory. + +"And is it just you two and the driver?" Patricia asked. + +"Oh, no," said Gregory; "there are five others, but they are walking over +Bredon Hill. They said we could not walk so far, +which is rot, of course; but I'm glad we didn't, because then we shouldn't +have been here to save your life." + +"Mother will be very grateful to you for being so kind," said Patricia. +"Poor mother! she'll be so frightened about me. And Tommy--how dreadful for +him to lose Snelgrove!" + +"Who's Tommy?" Gregory asked. + +"Tommy's my brother," said Patricia. "He's twelve. Aunt May gave Snelgrove +to him and Marshall to me last Christmas. They've never run away before. I +wish we had a caravan." + +"Caravans are very jolly," said Gregory. "Things are always happening, too." + +"I'd rather have a sweet grey pony than a caravan," said Hester, bringing a +cup of tea. + + + +CHAPTER 16 + +THE BLACK SPANIELS + +Gregory, who was looking out of the door and meditating an escape from so +much dampness, and a conversation on the whole matter with Kink, exclaimed +suddenly, "Hello, I guess this is your mother." + +"Yes, it is," cried Patricia, standing up and waving her handkerchief to a +lady seated in a milk-cart, which was being driven after them at a +tremendous pace. "I wondered who she'd get to bring her here, and it's +young Daniel Wilson. Tell your man to stop, please." + +Mrs. Mordan, whom Gregory thought both a nice and a pretty lady, leapt out +of the milk-cart and ran up the steps of the Slowcoach, and mother and +daughter hugged each other for quite two minutes, while Gregory looked at +young Daniel Wilson, and Patricia began to cry afresh-- this time because +she was happy. + +Mrs. Mordan was happy too. The grief she had felt for the accident and the +injury to poor Snelgrove, whom she had left in agony by the road, passed +away when she found her little daughter unhurt. + +She sat holding Patricia's hand, and asked Hester a number of questions, +and gave her a number of thanks all together. + +Gregory meanwhile had got out, and was asking young Daniel Wilson how +ponies are shot; and what he did about getting milk to the station when the +snow was two feet thick; and if the cows often kicked the buckets over. + +"It's not us," said Hester, "it's Kink who was so useful." + +"Who is Kink?" Mrs. Mordan asked. + +"Our gardener," said Hester, "but he drives the caravan for us;" and +gradually she told the whole Slowcoach story. + +By this time they were at Ashton, and, after giving instructions about +looking after the ponies,--sending for a veterinary surgeon and so +forth,--Mrs. Mordan showed Kink the way to Aunt May's house, which they +reached just before two. + +Aunt May was standing by the gate? with five black spaniels about her, +looking anxiously down the road--a tall lady with grey hair and top-boots, +and a little whip in her hand. + +"No," she said, as Kink stopped at the gate, "I don't want any chairs or +kettles mended, or, indeed, anything from you at all." + +Kink, however, said nothing, but went to the back of the caravan and helped +Mrs. Mordan and Patricia down. + +"My precious Lina!" exclaimed Aunt May, when she saw them. "Whatever has +happened?" + +"I'll tell you about it indoors," said Mrs. Mordan. "These kind people are +going to stop here for lunch, if you've got enough." + +"Of course there's enough," said Aunt May; "but I thought you were gipsies, +or tinkers, or something objectionable. You're not a tinker, are you?" she +said to Gregory. + +"No," he said, "but I'd like to be a gypsy." + +And so they reached the house, which was an old-fashioned one, all among +dark trees, with a very soft lawn in front of it. + +Aunt May told Kink to go round to the back and be sure not to let Diogenes +and the dogs fight, and then she began to call at the top of her voice for +Simpkins. + +After a while Simpkins appeared--an elderly bald man in a dress suit, who +was evidently the butler. + +"Simpkins," said Aunt May, "there will be two more to lunch, and there's a +caravan at the back belonging to this gentleman here,"--indicating Gregory, +who immediately grew three inches all over,--"and please give the driver a +good dinner." + +"Yes, my lady," said Simpkins; and Hester and Gregory at once began to look +at her with round eyes, for they had never before met anyone who was +titled--I mean to speak to, although they had seen the Lord Mayor (who is +of course a baronet) in his carriage only last November 9. + +"And, Simpkins," said Aunt May, "take Mr. What is your name?" she asked +Gregory. + +"Gregory Bruce Avory," said he. + +"Take Mr. Bruce Avory to the Pink Room, and get him some hot water." + +"Yes, my lady," said Simpkins, and Gregory grew another inch all over. + +And then Aunt May led the others upstairs. + +Gregory finished his washing first, and walked to the dining-room, which +opened on to the lawn, and was very bright and sweet-smelling. The walls +were covered with pictures, and there were roses in blue bowls wherever a +place could be found for them. + +By the wall, in a row, were five round baskets, and directly Aunt May came +in the five black spaniels, who were with her, went each to his basket, and +lay there quietly, with his head resting on the edge and his eyes fixed on +his mistress. Their names were Mars, Saturn, Orion, Mercury, and Jupiter; +and from time to time Aunt May called one to her and gave it a little piece +of food, while the others glittered with expectation. + +"Now," said Aunt May, "let's get on with our eatin', for I'm sure you're +all hungry, and I know I am. Patricia dear, do you think you can eat solid +things, or shall we get something else?" + +Patricia, however, declared that she could eat anything. + +"Mr. Bruce Avory," said Aunt May, "you're drinkin' nothing. Would you +rather have lemonade or barley-water?" + +Poor Gregory! he knew what he wanted--lemonade--but he didn't know whether +he ought to address Aunt May as "My Lady " or "Your Ladyship " or "Lady +Rusper." He had tried to get a moment with Hester to ask about it, but +without success. + +"If she was only our aunt!" he thought, and then said, without using any +name at all, that he would like lemonade. + +Lady Rusper made them tell her the story all through once again, "right +from the beginnin'," as she called it; and just as Hester had got to the +end of her part of it a boy arrived leading Marshall, and Patricia leaped +up and rushed across the lawn to fondle her pony. Then she dashed back for +a piece of sugar, and was off again. The boy said that the blacksmith, who +was also a farrier, had seen Marshall, and declared he was quite sound; but +Snelgrove was done for completely, and the trap was too badly smashed ever +to be much use. + +"Put Marshall in the stable," said Aunt May, "and have the trap brought here." + +At the news about Snelgrove Patricia began to cry again. + +"Well," said Aunt May, "we must see what can be done. I dare say there are +more ponies in the world. But I suppose we shall all be driven to motors +before long. It's a great shame. I spend most of my time detestin' the +things; but they've got to come. And now," she said to Hester, "tell me all +about your home and your caravan;" and Hester again told the story, saying +"Lady Rusper" with an ease that made Gregory gasp. + +After lunch they all went to the stables, where, in a loose-box, +beautifully snug in the straw, lay another black spaniel, Venus, with three +puppies ("Oh, the darlings!" cried Hester) snuggling to her. + +"Do you think your mother would let you keep a spaniel?" Aunt May asked. + +"Oh, yes, now we've got Diogenes as a start," she answered. + +"Very well, then," said Aunt May, "if you'd like one of these, you shall +have it directly it's old enough to be sent away--as a memory of to-day, +and as a thankofferin', too. Which would you like," she added, "Psyche, +Cicero, or Circe? This is Cicero, this is Circe, and this is Psyche." + +"Why do all their names begin with 'S'?" Gregory asked; and it was not till +he told Janet about it that he understood why it was that everyone had +laughed so. + +"And if you may keep two," Aunt May went on, speaking to Gregory, "I shall +send you one of the next litter. Vesta is going to have puppies soon. You +must write and let me know. And now, if your man has finished, I expect +you'd like to be gettin' on, or the others will be nervous about you." + +And so, after Hester had chosen Circe, they all said very affectionate +farewells, and the Slowcoach rumbled forth again. + +Meanwhile, what of Janet and Robert and Mary and Jack and Horace? They had +had no adventures at all--nothing but scenery and a pleasant picnic. + +Robert had been rightly told about the summit of Bredon Hill, for there the +grass is as short as on the South Downs, and there is a deep fosse in which +to shelter from the wind. + +The hill at this western point ends suddenly, at a kind of precipice, and +you look right over the valley of the Avon and the Severn to the Malverns. +Just below on the south-west is Tewkesbury, where the Severn and the Avon +meet, after that becoming the Severn only all the way to Bristol and the +sea. In the far south-west rises the point of the Sugar Loaf at +Abergavenny, and the blue distance is Wales-- the country of King Arthur +and Malory. + +To the north-west is the smoke of Worcester, and immediately beneath the +hill, winding shiningly about, is the Avon, running by Bredon village and +the Combertons and Pershore, past Cropthorne (where Mr. MacAngus was +perhaps even now painting) and Wood Norton (where the Duke of Orleans, who +ought, Hester held, to be King of France to-day, lives) to Evesham, and the +weir where they had rowed about, and so on to Stratford. + +Robert's maps, fortified by what he had picked up from the old man last +night, told them all these things, and told them also, more or less, what +the "coloured counties" were that they could see; for of course Mary wanted +to know that: Warwickshire, Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire, Worcestershire, +Herefordshire, Monmouthshire. After lunch Mary sang the beautiful Bredon +Hill song to them; and so they descended to the level ground and to Kink +and Hester and Gregory, little expecting to find them with such exciting +things to tell. + +>From Beckford to Oxenton the great story lasted, eked out with questions +and answers as it proceeded. Thus, Horace wanted to know why Kink had not +sprung to the horses' heads and checked them in their wild career. + +"We couldn't see them," said Gregory; "they were coming up behind, and we +were sitting in front." + +Horace was dissatisfied. + +"What frightened them?" Jack wanted to know; but Gregory could not say. +Patricia had not explained. + +"Fancy not knowing what frightened them!" said Jack. + +The fact was that both Jack and Horace were a little overtired, and perhaps +a little jealous of the eventfulness of the Slowcoach's day. + +They had been talking so hard that they had not noticed the sky; and the +splashing of raindrops was the first knowledge they had that a storm was +coming. It was nearly seven, and suddenly they all knew that they were very +tired and hungry and rather chilly. Kink stopped Moses and suggested +camping at once. + +"Where?" said Robert. + +"Here," said Kink. "Under these trees. There'll be a downpour soon: better +get your supper at once." + +They therefore did not make any effort to find a farm, but instantly +unpacked. Hitherto everything had gone smoothly, but this was a bad +evening. Nothing seemed to be in its place, and Hester, whose duty it was +to get enough dry wood, had forgotten all about it, and by the time a new +bundle could be brought it was damp. Then the matches blew out, and then, +when at last the fire was alight, the wind scattered the flames so that +there was no heat under the pot for more than a moment at a time. This +often happens when you are on caravan excursions. + +Mary had arranged for a stew, but she soon discovered that there was no +chance of its being done for hours unless it could be moved into the +Slowcoach and cooked over the Beatrice stove; but when they got Beatrice +out, she was found to be empty, and no more oil was in the can. + +"Who is the Keeper of the Oil?" Mary asked severely. + +"I am," said Jack. + +"Then where is it?" they asked. + +"I had it filled at Stratford," said Jack. "Why," he exclaimed, "there's a +hole in it! It's all run away! How ghastly! It will be all over +everything." + +And so it was; and the worst of it was that it had leaked into the +biscuits, too. Janet came to the rescue. "We must make it a tongue and +banana meal," she said. + +"I hate bananas," said Gregory. + +"Now, Horace," said Janet, "where's the tin-opener?" + +How is it that everything goes wrong at once? Horace had to hunt for the +tinopener for twenty minutes, and turn the whole place upside down before +he could find it, and then it was too late. + +Meanwhile the rain was steadily falling, and Kink and Robert were busy +getting up the tents before the ground underneath was too wet. Robert was +the only happy one. A few difficulties seemed to him to make the expedition +more real. + +He came dripping into the Slowcoach and asked for his supper; but Horace +was still hunting for the tin-opener. + +"Never mind about it," said Robert. "I'll open the thing with the hammer +and a knife. But what you want, Horace, is system." + +"No; what I want is food," said Horace. "I'm dying." + +"So am I," said Gregory. + +"Well, eat a crust to go on with," said Janet. "There's the bread." + +"I hate crusts," said Gregory. + +"Surely crusts are better than dying of starvation," said Mary. + +"No," said Gregory, who was prepared to be thoroughly unpleasant. "No, I'd +much rather die. I think I shall go to bed." + +"Yes," said Robert, "do. People who can't stand a little hunger are no good +in caravans." + +"Janet," said Gregory, "how can I go to bed with my boots on?" + +"Then take them off," said Janet. + +"There's a knot," said Gregory. + +"Well, you must wait," said Janet. "I can't leave what I'm doing." + +"I hate waiting," said Gregory. + +Robert, however, became suddenly very stern. He advanced on Gregory with a +knife in his hand, and, swooping on the boot, cut both laces. "There," he +said, "get into bed, and you must buy some more laces at Cheltenham." + +"I hate Cheltenham," said Gregory. But he said no more; he saw that Robert +was cross. + +When, a little later, Janet took a plate of tongue over to his bunk, he was +fast asleep. The others had a dismal, grumpy meal, and they were glad when +the washing-up was done and it was bedtime. But no one had a good night. +The rain dropped from the trees on to the Slowcoach's roof with loud thuds, +and at midnight the thunder and lightning began, and Janet got up and +splashed out in the wet to the tent to ask Robert if they ought not to move +from under the trees. Robert had been lying awake thinking the same thing, +but Kink had gone off with Moses to the nearest farm, and the Slowcoach was +far too heavy to move without the horse. Diogenes whimpered on his chain. +If he could have spoken, he would have said, like Gregory, "I hate +thunder." + +"Perhaps it won't get very near us," said Robert. "We must chance it, anyway." + +But neither he nor Janet had any sleep until it was nearly time to get up, +when the sun began to shine again, and the miseries of the evening and +night before were forgotten. + +Hester, however, had slept all through it, and had dreamed that ponies were +running away with her towards a country entirely peopled by black spaniels +and governed by a grey queen in top-boots. + +As for Gregory, his dream was that he was Lord Bruce. + + + +CHAPTER 17 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST BABY + +They entered Cheltenham at about half-past eleven, and were having lunch on +the top of Leckhampton Hill, on the other side of it, by half-past one. +Robert had not allowed any stop in Cheltenham except for shopping. "We +don't want towns," he said, "except historic ones." + +"But this is historic," said Jack; "Jessop was at school here." + +The pull up Leckhampton Hill was very stiff, and they were all glad to take +lunch easily, and since Robert had arranged a short day--only three or four +miles more, to a very nice-looking spot on the other side of Birdlip--they +rested with clear consciences; and, as it happened, rested again in the +Birdlip Hotel, where they had tea in the garden overlooking the Severn +Valley on the top of just such a precipice as Bredon. + +It was half-past three before they started again on their next five miles, +and they had done about three of them, and had just passed Teddington, when +Gregory, who was walking with Kink beside Moses, suddenly dashed ahead +towards a bundle which was lying in the middle of the road. + +He bent down over it, and then began to shriek for the others to come too. + +"What is it?" cried Jack, as they raced up. + +"It's a baby!" Gregory said, wild with excitement. "A real baby!" + +Janet, who had been behind, sprang forward as she heard these remarkable +words, and easily reached the bundle first. + +"So it is," she exclaimed, picking it tenderly up and opening the wraps +round its face. + +It was a swarthy mite, very tightly bound into its clothes. + +"What an extraordinary thing!" said Mary. "Fancy finding a baby on the road!" + +"It has probably been abandoned," said Hester. "Very likely it is of noble +birth, and was stolen by gipsies and stained brown, and now they are afraid +of pursuit and have left it." + +"How could it be of noble birth?" Gregory asked. "Look how hideous it is!" + +"Looks have nothing to do with high lineage," said Hester. "There have been +very ugly kings." + +"It isn't hideous," said Janet. "It's a perfect darling. But what are we to +do with it?" + +"If it's a boy," said Gregory, "let's keep it and make it into a long-stop. +We want one badly." (Gregory, as I have said, hated fielding.) + +"Let's adopt it," said Hester. "Mother often says how she wishes we were +still babies." + +"Don't let's adopt it if it's a girl," said Gregory. + +"It doesn't matter what a baby is," said Hester,--"whether it's a boy or a +girl. The important thing is that it's a baby. When it gets too big, we can +let it go." + +"I'm dreadfully afraid," said Janet, "that we shall have to try to find out +whose it is and give it back now." + +"Well," said Mary, "we needn't try too hard, need we?" + +"How are you going to try, anyway?" Jack asked, with some scorn. "You can't +stop everyone you see and say, 'Have you lost a baby?' This old man just +coming along, for instance." + +"Wouldn't a good way," said Robert, "be to write a little placard: + +FOUND, A BABY. + +Inquire Within. + +and stick it on the caravan?" + +They liked that idea, but Janet suggested that it would be best to ask Kink +first. + +"There's only one thing to do," said Kink, "and that is to hand it over to +the police at the next place we come to." + +"Police again!" said Horace. "You're always talking of the police." + +"Well," said Kink, "that's what they're for. And if you think a moment or +two, you'll all see what a trouble a baby would be. We shall reach Oxenton +in a little while, and we can leave the baby there." + +But, as it happened, they had no need to, for there suddenly appeared +before them a caravan covered with baskets which was being urged towards +them by a young woman who tugged at the horse's head in a kind of frenzy. +As she drew nearer they could hear that she was wailing. + +"It must be her baby," said Janet, holding the bundle up; but the woman did +not see it, and Janet told Jack to run on quickly and meet her, and tell +her that they had the baby and it was not hurt. + +Jack did so, and the woman left the horse to be cared for by the man and +boy who walked behind, and ran to Janet, and seized the bundle from her, +and hugged it so tightly that the baby, for the first time, uttered a +little cry. + +"Where did you find it?" the gipsy woman asked; and Janet told her the story. + +"It must have rolled out of the van while I was in front with the horse," +said the gipsy. "We didn't miss it. We've had to come back three miles at +least." + +By this time the two caravans had met, and the man was brought up by the +woman and told the story, and they all expressed their gratitude to Janet +for nursing the child so kindly. + +"Bless your pretty heart!" the gipsy woman said again and again, while her +husband asked if there was anything that they could do for her and her +party. + +"I don't think so," said Janet. "We liked to take care of it, of course." + +The gipsy man asked a number of questions about the Slowcoach, and then +suggested that he should show them a good place to camp, and make their +fire for them, and he added: "I'll tell you what--you all come and have +supper with us. I'll bet you've talked about playing at gipsies often +enough; well, we'll get a real gipsy supper--a slap-up one. What's the +time?" + +He looked at the sun. "Nearly five. Well, we'll have supper at half-past +seven, and we'll do you proud. Will you come?" + +Janet considered. + +"Of course, Janet," said Robert. + +"Why don't you say yes?" said Gregory. + +Hester shrank a little towards the Slowcoach, and Janet went to talk to Kink. + +She came back and thanked the gipsy, but said that they would not all come, +but the boys would gladly do so. + +"I'm sorry you won't be there," said the man. "But we'll give the young +gents a square meal--and tasty, too! Something to relish! What do you say, +now," he asked Gregory, "to a hedgehog? I don't expect you've ever eaten +that." + +"Hedgehog!" said Gregory. "No, but I've always wanted to." And, in fact, he +had been thinking of nothing else for the last five minutes. + +"You shall have it," said the man. "Baked or stewed?" + +"Which is best?" Gregory asked. + +"Stewed," said the man. "But if you'd like it baked--Or, I'll tell you. +We'll have one of each. We got two to-day. This shall be a banquet." + +The gipsies really were very grateful folk. The boy got wood for them; the +man made their fire--much better than it had ever been made before--and lit +it without any paper, and with only one match. + +It was at last arranged that they should all share the same supper, +although the woman should sit with the girls and the boys with the man. And +so they did; and they found the hedgehog very good, especially the baked +one, which had been enclosed in a mould of clay and pushed right into the +middle of the fire. It tasted a little like pork, only more delicate. + +"When you invited us to come to supper," Robert said, "you asked what the +time was, and then looked at the sun and said it was nearly five. And it +was--almost exactly. How do you do that?" + +"Ah," said the gipsy, "I can't explain. There it is. I know by the sun, but +I can't teach you, because you must live out of doors and never have a +clock, or it's no good." + +"And can you tell it when there's no sun?" Robert asked. + +"Pretty well," said the man. + +"How lucky you are!" said Horace. + +"Well, I don't know," said the man. "What about rain? When it's raining +hard, and we're huddling in the van and can't +get any dry sticks for the fire, and our feet are soaked, what are you +doing? Why, you're all snug in your houses, with a real roof over you." + +"I'd much rather live in a caravan than a house," said Horace. + +The man laughed. "You're a young gent out for a spree," he said. "You don't +count. You wonder at me," he continued, "being able to tell the time by the +skies. But I dare say there's one, at any rate, of you who can find a train +in that thing they call Bradshaw, isn't there?" + +"I can," said Robert. + +"Well, there you are," said the gipsy. "What's luck? Nothing. Everyone's +got a little. No one's got much." + +"Oh, but the millionaires?" said Horace. + +"Millionaires!" said the gipsy. "Why, you don't think they're lucky, do you?" + +"I always have done so," said Horace. + +"Go on!" said the gipsy. "Why, we're luckier than what they are. We've got +enough to eat and drink,--and no one wants more,--and along with it no rent +and taxes, no servants, no tall hats, no offices, no motor-cars, no fear of +thieves. Millionaires have no rest at all. No sitting under a tree by the +fire smoking a pipe." + +"And no hedgehogs," said Gregory. + +"No--no hedgehogs. Nothing but butcher's meat that costs its weight in +gold. Take my advice, young gents," said the gipsy, "and never envy +anybody." + +Meanwhile the others were very happy by the Slowcoach fire. The gipsy +woman, hugging her baby, kept as close to Janet as if she were a spaniel. +Their name was Lee, she said, and they made baskets. They lived at Reading +in the winter and were on the road all the rest of the year. The young boy +was her brother. His name was Keziah. Her husband's name was Jasper. The +baby's was Rhoda. + +Hester was very anxious to ask questions about kidnapping, but she did not +quite like to, and was, in fact, silent. + +The gipsy woman noticed it after a while, and remarked upon it. "That +little dark one there," she said; "why doesn't she speak?" + +Janet said something about Hester being naturally quiet and thoughtful. + +"Oh, no," said the woman, "I know what it is: she's frightened of me. She's +heard stories about the gipsies stealing children and staining their faces +with walnut juice; haven't you, dearie?" + +Hester admitted it. + +"There," said the woman, laughing triumphantly. "But don't be frightened, +dearie," she added. "That's only stories. And even if it ever did happen, +it couldn't again, what with railway trains and telegraphs and telephones +and motor-cars and newspapers. How could we help being found out? Why," she +continued, "so far from stealing children, there was a boy running away +from school once who offered us a pound to let him join our caravan and +stain his face and go with us to Bristol, where he could get on to a ship +as a stowaway, as he called it; but Jasper wouldn't let him. I wanted to; +but Jasper was dead against it. 'No,' he said, 'gipsies have a bad enough +time as it is, without getting into trouble helping boys to run away from +school.' That shows what we are, dearie," she added to Hester, with a +smile. + +"And don't you ever tell fortunes?" Hester asked. + +"I won't say I've never done that," the gypsy said. + +"Won't you tell mine?" Hester asked. "I've got a sixpence." + +"Just cross my hand with it," said the woman, "but don't give it to me. I +couldn't take money from any of you." + +So Hester, with her heart beating very fast, crossed the gipsy's hand with +the sixpence, and the gipsy held both hers and peered at them very hard +while Janet nursed the baby. + +"This," said the gipsy at last, "is a very remarkable hand. I see stories +and people reading them. I see a dark gentleman and a gentleman of middling +colour." + +"Yes," said Hester. "Can't you tell me anything more about them?" + +"Well," said the gipsy, "I can't, because they are only little boys just +now. But I see a beautiful wedding. White satin. Flowers. Bridesmaids." + +The gipsy stopped, and Hester drew her hand back. It was terribly romantic +and exciting. + +Before the woman said good night and went to her caravan, Hester took her +sixpence to Kink and asked him to bore a hole in it. And then she threaded +it on a piece of string and tied it round the baby's neck. + +The gipsy woman was very grateful. "A beautiful wedding," she said again. +"Such flowers! Music, too." + +"Wasn't it wonderful?" Hester said to Janet before they went to sleep. + +"What?" Janet asked. + +"The gipsy knowing I was fond of writing." + +"No," said Janet, "it wasn't wonderful at all. There was a great ink stain +on your finger." + + + +CHAPTER 18 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE OLD IRISHWOMAN + +When they awoke the next morning the gipsies had gone--nothing remained of +them but the burnt circle on the ground which any encampment makes and a +little rubbish; but at the mouth of the boys' tent lay a bundle of sticks +and two rabbits. + +Kink looked at the rabbits with a narrow eye. "Better hurry up and get them +eaten," he said, "or one of those policemen that Master Campbell is so fond +of may be asking awkward questions. And it wouldn't be a bad thing," Kink +added, "to have a good look round and see if there's anything missing." + +"Oh, Kink," said Janet, "how horrid you are to be so suspicious! And after +all their gratitude, too!" + +"Yes," said Kink; "but gipsies is gipsies. They were gipsies before they +were grateful, and I reckon they'll be gipsies after." + +But in spite of his examination he found no signs of any theft. + +They were away soon after breakfast, which seemed a little flat at first +after the excitement of last night. But they soon lost that feeling in +hunger. It was a very windy day, with showers now and then; but it was +bracing too, especially on this very high road, hundreds of feet above the +sea-level. + +Robert pointed out how straight it was, and told them it was made by the +Romans eighteen hundred years ago, and it ran right through Cirencester +(which they called Corinium) to Speen (which they called Spinae). Its name +was then Ermin Street. And it amused the children to imagine they too were +Romans clanking along this fine highway. + +It was after lunch that they came upon an old woman--sitting beside the +road just beyond Tredington. Long before they reached her they heard her +moaning and groaning. + +"What is it?" Janet asked. + +The old woman moaned and groaned. + +"Are you ill?" Janet asked. + +The old woman groaned and moaned. + +"Kinky," said Janet, "come and see if we can help her." + +Kink murmured to himself and came to her. + +"What's up, missis?" he asked. + +"It's my poor heart," said the old woman with an Irish brogue. "I'm very +queer. It's near death I am. For the love of Heaven give me a ride in the +beautiful caravan." + +"Where do you want to go?" Kink growled at her. + +"To Alverminster," she said. "To see my daughter. She lives there. She's +been married these five years to a carpenter, and she's just had another +baby, bless it's wee face! But me poor heart's that bad I can't go another +step." + +Kink drew Janet aside. "She's an old humbug," he said, "and she smells of +gin. Better let her be." + +"Oh, Kinky," said Janet, "how can we! The poor old thing, and her daughter +waiting to see her!" + +"Daughter!" Kink snorted. "She's got no daughter. She's trying it on." + +"How horrid you are!" Janet said. "I mean to give her a lift, anyway." + +"It's against my advice," said Kink. "Anyway, promise me you won't give her +any money." + +"Very well," said Janet, and she invited the old woman to sit on a chair at +the back of the caravan. + +"The saints protect you for your kindness!" said the old woman, getting to +her feet and making her way up the steps with more ease than Janet had +dared to expect. "The saints protect you all--all except that suspicious +ould gossoon wid the whip," she added, glowering at Kink, who was by no +means backward in glowering at her in reply. + +"If you had such a thing as a drop of spirits," said the old woman to +Janet, who had taken a seat beside her, "I should be all right. The doctor +says that there's nothing like a little stimulant for such flutterings and +spasms as worry me." + +"I'm afraid we haven't," said Janet; "but I could make you a cup of tea." + +"There's a darlin'," said the old woman. "It's not so helpful as spirits, +but there's comfort in it too." + +Her sharp little eyes followed Janet as she moved about and brought +together all the tea requisites. + +"You're a handy young lady," she said, "and may Heaven send you a fine +husband when the time comes! Ah, it's myself as a girl you remind me of, +with your quick, pretty ways." + +"Where did you live when you were a girl?" Janet asked. + +"In a little village called Kilbeggy," said the old woman. "My father was a +farmer there until the trouble came upon him. But it's little enough +happiness we had after that, and niver a piece of meat passed our lips for +years. Nothing but potatoes and bread. And you're eating meat twice a day, +I'm thinking, all of you. Ah, it's a strange world, and a very gay one when +you're rich. I was rich once, me darlin'." + +"Were you?" Janet asked in surprise. + +"Oh, yes," said the old woman, "I was rich once. Me husband was a licensed +victualler in Harrow, and we kept our own wagonette. Many's the time I've +driven it meself into London, to a stable in the Edgeware Road, where I +left it to do me shopping. It was an elegant carriage, and a white horse +not so unlike your own, only smaller." + +Janet handed her the tea. + +"Thank you, me darlin'," said the old woman. "I'm feeling better already. +That's a beautiful locket you're wearing-- it is the very image of one that +belonged to me poor little Clara that died." + +The old woman began to cry. Janet was greatly distressed. "I can't help +it," said the old woman. "Me poor little Clara! I kept it for years and +years, and then it was taken from me by my landlady's son, a +good-for-nothing blackguard, in lodgings off the Pentonville Road." She +sobbed afresh. "I've never been happy since," she said. + +"Oh," Janet exclaimed, "do take this. I don't want it, I'm sure, if it +would make you happy." + +"But it's robbing you of it I am," said the old woman, as her hand closed +on it. + +"I'd much rather you had it," Janet replied. + +"Heaven bless your kind heart!" said the old woman. + +They jogged on, and she continued to look around her and to ask questions. +She asked all about Janet's home and parents. + +"Could you," she said at last, "lend me a shilling, my dear? It's to buy +the little baby some mittens, his poor hands get that cold. I don't want +you to give it, but couldn't you lend it me only for to-day? I'll post you +a beautiful postal order to-night, which my daughter's husband will get for +me, or a beautiful row of stamps, if you'll give me the address of the +grand house you'll be staying in at Stratford." + +But Janet was firm; she had promised Kink. + +"Not for the poor little mite's cold hands?" said the old woman. + +It was very hard, but Janet had to say no. + +The old woman said no more for some time. Then suddenly, "Did you ever see +the late King, God bless him?" she asked. + +"Yes," said Janet, "I saw him once. It was at the opening of Parliament." + +"Then you can tell me," said the old woman, "something I want to know; for +I was arguing it with my daughter's husband the last time I was here, and I +want to convince him. He says--my daughter's husband, that is--that the +King had thick hair on the top of his head, God bless him! and I say he +hadn't. What I say is, he'd got all the hair he needed. So if you ever saw +him, you could tell me." + +"Oh, no, I can't," Janet said. "When I saw him he was in a carriage." + +"What a pity!" said the old woman. "But haven't you a portrait of him +anywhere?" + +"No, I'm sure we haven't," said Janet. "Perhaps we ought to have! It would +be more loyal, wouldn't it?" + +"Never mind," said the old woman; "only it would put my mind at rest." And +then suddenly she began to laugh. "Why," she said, "how silly we are! Of +course you've got portraits of him--lashin's of them, darlin'." + +"Where?" Janet exclaimed. + +"In your purse," said the old woman. "On the blessed money. On the +shillings and sixpences, my dear." + +"Of. course," said Janet, laughing too; and she drew out her purse and +looked at the money it contained. There was half a sovereign and half a +crown and some smaller coins; but none were new ones: all were of +Victoria's reign. + +"What a pity!" said the old woman again--perhaps one of your brothers or +sisters has some more. Not the old blackguard driving, of course." + +"Yes," said Janet; "I'll see;" and descended the steps, and soon after +returned with an Edward shilling. + +The old woman took it and examined head. "I was right," she said, "God +bless him! He was as thin on the top as my own poor father was, rest his +soul! Well, dear, and now I'll say good-bye," she added soon after, as she +rose to her feet and gave the shilling back. "If you'll make that spalpeen +stop, I'll get down, for me daughter's cottage is just over there, across +fields. Thank you very kindly for the tea and your sweet company. Good-bye, +good bye," she called, "and the saints protect you all!" and she hobbled +off through a gate +in the hedge. + +At Alverminster Gregory insisted upon buying some acid-drops, and went to +Janet for a penny. But when she came to feel for her purse it was not to be +found. She hunted everywhere in the caravan, but in vain. + +"When did you have it last?" Kink asked. "You haven't bought anything to-day." + +"No," said Janet, "but I had it out when the old Irishwoman was there." + +"I guessed she'd get some money out of you," said Kink. + +"Oh, Kink!" said Janet; "she didn't. And after I had promised, too! All she +wanted to see was King Edward's head on a coin." + +"What for?" Kink asked. + +"To see if he was bald on the top or not," said Janet. "She had had an +argument with her daughter's husband about it. Which just proves that you +were wrong in thinking she had no daughter." + +Kink smiled an annoying smile. "Well," he said, "what then?" + +"We found a coin." said Janet. "and found that the King was bald on the +top. That's all." + +"And shortly afterwards she got out?" Kink asked. + +"Yes, soon afterwards." + +Kink laughed very heartily. "Well," he said, "I could see she was an old +fraud, but I didn't think she would steal anything, or I wouldn't have let +her in the caravan at all." + +"Steal!" Janet cried. "Why, do you think she stole it? It's very horrid and +unjust of you." + +"Then where is it?" Kink asked. "That stuff about the King's head was a +trick. It's a clear case. We must go to the constable's house." + +"Oh, no," said Janet, "we won't. She was a poor old thing, and her heart +was bad, and she was very unhappy, and I don't mind about the money." + +"She's an old vagabond," said Kink. + +"and her heart's as sound as mine. She wants locking up." + +"I won't have it," said Janet again. "If she did steal it, it was very +wrong; but she has had very bad luck. Don't let's think any more about it, +but pay for the sweets and get on." + +Poor Janet! no wonder she wanted the matter dropped, for there was her +locket to be explained if any of the others noticed it and asked questions. +She was very silent for some time, and walked alone, thinking hard. This +was her first experience of theft, and it hurt her. + +The children, as it happened, never did notice the absence of the locket, +but they kept the memory of the old woman very green. Nothing after that +could be missed without some reference to her. + +"Where's the corkscrew?" Robert would say. "I suppose Kathleen Mavourneen's +got it." + +"It's no use," Jack would remark, "I can't find the salt. Erin go bragh!" + + + +CHAPTER 19 + +THE LETTERS TO X. + +They reached Cirencester at five o'clock, and at once turned to the left to +the Fairford road, intending to camp just outside the town till Monday; and +it was here that Gregory had his first rebuff in his capacity as Requester +of Camping Grounds. He brought it upon himself by refusing to let Mary +accompany him, and, indeed, refusing advice altogether. + +He marched off to the farmhouse, which could be seen in the distance across +the meadows, full of assurance; but misfortunes began at once. No sooner +was he well in the first meadow than a flock of geese suddenly appeared +from nowhere and approached him. There is something very horrid about the +approach of a flock of geese. They are not really dangerous, but they lower +their heads and hiss and come on so steadily and are so impossible to deal +with. A dog can be hit with a stick; but you can't hit a goose. There were +no stones to throw, and the stupid, angry birds came every moment nearer. + +Gregory did not wish to go back, and did not want to appear frightened in +the eyes of the others, who were very likely watching, and he therefore had +nothing to do but run as fast as he could for the farther gate and scramble +over it. + +Here he paused for a moment, to be in no way reassured by the sight, much +too near the path, of a number of bullocks. In the ordinary way Gregory did +not mind bullocks --did not, in fact, think about them--but just now he was +flustered and rather nervous. However, he walked steadily forward and got +safely past the first. Then, with his face kept straight and brave, but his +eye anxiously peering through the back of his head to see what the first +was doing, he approached the second and got past that all right. But the +third gave him a wild and, as it seemed, furious look, and this turned him +cold; and then he was perfectly certain that he could feel the others close +behind him breathing hot on his neck, and once again he broke into a +terrified run, and so gained the next gate, over which he may be said to +have fallen rather than climbed. + +On the other and safe side he paused again, and again looked for the enemy. +Seeing none, he once more started forward. + +This was the last meadow, and the farm was at the end of it, and Gregory +was quite close to the farm, when suddenly there appeared, right in his +path, with a challenging tail in air, a large dog--a collie. + +Gregory stopped and the collie stopped, and the two looked at each other +carefully. + +Gregory remembered all that he had ever heard about collies being +treacherous and fierce. + +He advanced a step; the collie did not move. + +He advanced another step; and then, to his horror, the collie began to +advance too, lifting his feet high and dangerously. + +Gregory forced himself to say, "Good dog! " but the collie still advanced. + +Gregory said, "Poor fellow, then!" and the collie at once did something +perfectly awful: he growled. + +Gregory had no courage left. His tongue and lips refused to obey him. He +felt his knees turning to water. + +How he wished he had let Mary come too! Dogs always liked her. Why was it +that dogs liked some people and not others? he asked himself. Ridiculous! +No one liked dogs better than he, if this ass of a collie only knew it. + +Meanwhile, the collie, still growling, drew nearer, and Gregory felt +himself pricking all over. Where would it bite him first? he wondered. + +But just as he had given up all hope, a voice called out sharply, "Caesar, +come here!" and the collie turned and ran to where a tall, red-faced man +was standing. + +"What do you want?" the man then said to Gregory, with equal sharpness. +"You're trespassing." + +Gregory was frankly crying now--with relief; but he pulled himself together +and said he wanted to see the farmer. + +"I'm the farmer," said the man. "What is it?" + +Gregory explained what he had come for. + +"No," said the farmer, "not on my land." + +Gregory said that other farmers had said yes. + +"I don't care," said the farmer, "I say NO." + +Gregory longed to ask if there was another way back, but he had not the +courage, and he turned and made again for the gate of the bullock meadow. + +The bullocks were still near the path, so he climbed softly over the gate, +as he feared they might hear him, and crept round by the hedge to the next +gate without attracting any notice. + +Had he only known, he might have gone safely by the path, for one bullock +was saying to another: "There's that little duffer going all that long way +out of his course just for fear of us. What do you say to trotting down to +the gate and giving him another scare?" + +"No," said the other. "It's not worth while. He's very small, too, and +these horns, you know--they are a bit startling. Besides, there are all +those flies by the gate." + +"True," said the other; "but it makes me smile, all the same." + +So Gregory got out safely, and, performing the same manoeuvre with the +geese, he reached the caravan and Janet's arms without further misfortune. + +The others were of course disappointed at the result of his mission, and +walked on another half-mile, much farther from Cirencester than they had +wished to be, to the next farm. + +There Mary and Hester made the request, which was at once granted; and the +farmer and his wife were so much interested that they both walked down to +the Slowcoach and examined it, and the farmer advised its being taken into +a yard where there was a great empty barn and backed against that; so that +they had the whole of the barn as a kind of anteroom, and a most enchanting +smell of hay everywhere. + +"All I ask," he said, "is that you don't burn the place down with your +cooking." + +The pot was then filled and placed on the fire. Kink skinned the rabbits +and Janet and Mary put them in, while Jack and Robert and Horace walked +into Cirencester to buy eatables and picture postcards and send off the +telegram. + +That evening after supper Janet suggested that it might be the best +opportunity they would have to write the letters to X. of which they had +often talked; so they made themselves comfortable in the caravan and on the +barn floor, and each wrote something, not after the style of the Snarker's +game at Oxford, but quite separately. + +Janet wrote: + + +"Saturday Evening, July 8, + +"In a Barn near Cirencester. + +DEAR X., + +"We thank you very much for the caravan, which is much the most beautiful +present that anyone can ever have had. We have now been in it nearly ten +days, and we like it more every day. We have called it the Slowcoach. The +party is seven, and Kink, who drives. We have with us Mary and Jack +Rotheram and Horace Campbell; but whether you know who they are or not, of +course I don't know. I hope some day you will tell us who you are. + +"I am, +"Yours sincerely, + +JANET AVORY. + + +Mary Rotheram wrote: + +DEAR MR. X. + + +Then she crossed out the "Mr." because, as she said, it might be a lady, +and began again: + +DEAR X., + +"I am not one of the Avories, and the caravan was therefore not given to +me, but my brother and I have been so happy in it that I want to say thank +you for it quite as if I were an Avory all the time. We live near them at +Chiswick, you know. It has been a supreme holiday, with hardly any rain and +no real troubles, although even the strongest people must sometimes get a +little tired of walking on dusty roads and having to wait for meals. We +each have a special duty, and I am the head cook, but Janet is really +better at it than I am. Our only real disappointment is that caravaning +makes you so tired that there is no chance of cricket, for we brought +cricket things with us, but have never been able to use them. We might have +done so at Salford, perhaps, but the river was so very tempting that we +rowed about instead. + +"Yours sincerely and gratefully, + +MARY ROTHERAM. + + +Jack Rotheram wrote: + +DEAR X., + +"My sister Mary has said who I am, but she has not explained how it is I am +here. It is because my brother William and I tossed up for it; He called +'Heads,' and it was tails, so I won at once. And then he said 'Threes,' +which means the best out of three, and this time he called 'Tails' and it +was heads, so that settled the thing absolutely. He was, of course, most +frightfully sick about it, but the next time the Avories go out in the +caravan they are going to ask him and not me, which will put the thing +right. It is a ripping caravan, and I am sure I thank you very much, +although it's not mine. + +"Yours truly, + +"JOHN ILFORD ROTHERAM. + + +Robert, who was not a sprightly writer, merely described the course they +had followed, which we all know. The only news he had to give was at the +end: "So far, up to the time of writing, my pedometer registers fifty-six +miles; which is, of course, only what I have walked, and not what we have +done, for we all take turns to ride for fear of getting too tired and being +seedy. The caravan has done altogether one hundred and forty miles, and +since we were in it ninety miles exactly." + + +Horace, after great difficulty, wrote: + +DEAR X., + +"I am having a top-hole holiday in the caravan you gave the Avories. I am +the Keeper of the Tin-opener. + +"Yours truly, + +HORACE CAMPBELL. + + +Hester wrote: + +DEAR X., + +"I have long wanted to write to you and tell you that we adore the +Slowcoach, which is the name we have given your caravan, and think you were +awfully clever to think of it and to make it so complete. + +We have not had to buy anything, and the only thing you forgot was the +license; but Uncle Christopher remembered. I love walking behind the +Slowcoach and seeing the world pass by. But the evenings are the most +alluring, and I like to wake up at night and hear the birds and animals +just outside the window, although on the first night I was frightened. We +had one evening with real gipsies, but Janet would not allow me to go +inside their caravan, because of fleas and things. But I could see through +the door that it was not so attractive as the Slowcoach. I wish this +journey would never end, but I fear it has to do so on Tuesday, which draws +nearer every moment. + +"I am, + +"Your grateful and admiring friend, + +HESTER MARGARET AVORY. + +"P.S.--I hope we shall never know who you are, because anonymous things are +so much more exciting. + +"P.S. 2.--We have met many motors, and they are always coming up behind us +and making us jump and blinding us with dust, but we have never envied +them." + + +Gregory wrote painfully: + +DEAR X., + +"Thank you most awfully for the Slowcoach. It is very good and suitable. I +am the Keeper of the Corkscrew, and also the Requester of Camping-Grounds. + +"Your affectionate + +GREGORY BRUCE AVORY. + + + +CHAPTER 20 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE LINE OF POETRY + +ON the next morning, which was Sunday, Jack hurried through his dressing +and washing at a great pace and instantly disappeared. The others were just +beginning breakfast when he came rushing up in a state of wild excitement, +calling, "Kink! Kink!" + +"What is it?" said that leisurely man. + +"It's a rabbit!" cried Jack. "I've caught it, and I don't know how to kill +it." + +"Oh, Jack," said Mary, running up, "don't kill it! Why should it be killed?" + +"For supper, of course," said Jack. "Come on, Kink! Quick, or it will get +away!" + +They all left their breakfast and followed Jack, and when they came up to +him he was kneeling over a kicking object. + +"Oh, Kink," he said, "do hold it and kill it! How do you do it? The gipsy +boy didn't show me properly." + +"The gipsy boy?" said Mary. + +"Yes, he gave me a wire. See, it's round its neck. That's how I caught him. +Do kill him, Kink!" + +"Please don't do anything of the kind," said Janet. "We don't want to eat +rabbits we catch like that." + +"No," said Hester, "please don't kill it. Please let it go." + +"What mollycoddles you are!" said Jack. How do you suppose rabbits are +killed, anyway? You eat them all right when they're cooked." + +"I couldn't eat a rabbit that I had seen struggling alive," said Janet. + +"No," said Mary. "Oh, Jack, please let him go! You've caught him, and +that's the great thing; and now be merciful." + +Kink still held the struggling creature. + +"I vote he's let loose again," said Robert. "I don't want any of him." + +"No, and I'm sure I don't," said Gregory; "but wouldn't it be fun to keep +him in a hutch?" + +"Wild rabbits are no good in hutches," said Kink. + +Jack was very sullen. "It's awful rot," he said. "You all ought to be +vegetarians if you talk like that. But we'll let him go," and he loosened +the wire and the rabbit dashed away. + +"A nice return to the gipsy for his kindness," Jack muttered. + +Kink watched the rabbit till it was out of sight. "Whose rabbit do you +suppose that was?" he asked. + +"Mine," said Jack. + +"What about the farmer?" said Kink. + +"A nice return for a night's lodging-- poaching his rabbits." + +"Poaching!" cried Horace. "Is that poaching? Is Jack a poacher? Oh, how +splendid! Jack's a poacher! Jack's a poacher! I wish I was." + +"I'd never thought of it as poaching," said Jack, who was not a little +proud of his new character. + +"When did you set the wire?" Horace asked him. + +"Late last night," said Jack. "After you had turned in." + +"Wasn't it pitch dark?" Horace asked. + +"There was a moon," said Jack, feeling twice his ordinary size. + +"But what did you do?" Horace asked. + +"Well," said Jack, "I had noticed some rabbits in that field on our way +back from Cirencester, so I just crept off in the dark and found a hole, +and took a strong stick and drove that into the ground, and then fixed the +wire to it with the noose open, like this, so that the rabbit would run +right into it when it came out. And it did! Poaching's frightfully simple." + +"Yes," said Horace, "but it wants courage." + +"Oh, yes," said Jack lightly. "Of course one mustn't be a fool or a coward." + +It was arranged that Janet and Jack and Robert and Hester should go to +church, and Mary and the others stay behind to cook. The boys walked, but +Janet and Hester were driven in by the farmer in his chaise. Janet had a +rather uncomfortable moment at the beginning of the sermon, for the text +was taken from Matthew xxii, where the piece of money is produced, and the +question asked, "Whose is this image and superscription?" Of course they +all thought simultaneously of the old Irishwoman, and gave Janet a quick +glance. She was very glad that Kink (who was a Dissenter) was not with them +to fix his old laughing eye upon her. + +Mary had worked very hard over the Sunday dinner, and a great surprise was +waiting for the four church-goers--nothing less than a beefsteak pudding +with the most perfect soft crust and heaps of juice; and afterwards +pancakes. The farmer's wife sent down some strawberries and cream, so that +it was a real feast. The only one of them that was not hungry was Mary, who +was too hot and tired of cooking to be able to eat much. + +In spite of this huge and momentous dinner, all the children went out on +Sunday afternoon to explore the neighbourhood, except Hester, who said she +had something very important to do and begged to be allowed to remain alone +in the Slowcoach. Kink said that he would stay there, too. + +On the other side of Cirencester is a very beautiful park, with a broad +avenue through it from the gates right in the town itself. The farmer's +wife had told them of its attractions, and also of a ruined house known as +Alfred's Hall, and a point called the Seven Ways where seven green avenues +met, and a canal that ran through a tunnel, and, all within the +possibilities of good walkers, the source of the Thames itself. "And," said +she, "after you have seen that--the tiny spring which makes that wonderful +river that runs right through London--oh, I've been to London in my time!-- +you can come back to Cirencester by the Fosse Way--the Roman road to Bath." +They could not, of course, see all these +things, but they went to the ruined house, which was very romantic and +exactly the place for Hester had she only been with them; and they roamed +about the park, which was very vast and wonderful. + +They had a little adventure, too, for as they were walking along, on the +way back--coming back, of course, by a different way, for Robert could not +bear the thought of not doing so--Mary chanced to say, with reference to +the plans for the future which Robert was describing: + +"To-morrow to fresh fields and pastures new," + +that being her idea of the last line of Milton's "Lycidas," which they had +all learned quite recently. + +"Not 'fresh fields,'" Janet corrected, + +"'fresh woods.'" + +"'Fields,'" said Mary. + +"'Woods,'" said Janet. + +"I'm sure it's 'fields,'" said Mary. + +"But it's silly," said Janet, "to say 'fresh fields and pastures new,' +because they mean the same thing. 'Fresh woods' would mean something +different." + +"I can't help it," said Mary; "that's Milton's affair. 'Fresh fields.'" + +Janet called to Robert. "Is it 'fresh fields and pastures new,' or 'fresh +woods and pastures new'?" she asked him. + +"'Fresh fields,'" he said. + +Janet asked Jack. "I don't know," he said, "but 'fresh woods' sounds more +sensible." + +"Oh, dear," said Janet, "I wish we had a Milton!" + +"Well, we haven't," said Robert, " and you're not likely to find one at +Cirencester to-day, unless, of course, the vicar has one." + +"Oh, yes," said Janet, "of course--the vicar. He's certain to have one." + +"But who'll ask him?" said Horace. + +"Janet will," said Mary. + +"Oh, no," said Janet. + +"Well, it's your affair," said Robert. + +"Not more than Mary's," said Janet. "Mary, will you ask him?" + +"No," said Mary, "I don't think I could. Not the vicar. I might be willing +to ask the curate." + +"What a ripping idea!" said Jack. "Of course the curate would be much +easier. We'll ask where he lives." + +They did so at a small tobacconist's that was open, and found that the +curate had rooms at Myrtle Villa, quite close by. + +They therefore marched towards Myrtle Villa, but first arranged to draw +lots to see who should ring the bell and make the inquiry. They tore up +paper of different sizes, and it was agreed that the holders of the longest +and the shortest pieces should go--the longest to put the question, the +shortest to ring and lend support. The result was that Mary drew the +longest and Gregory the smallest. + +Gregory was furious. "I don't even know what it's all about," he complained. + +They told him. + +"How rotten!" he said. "What's it matter?" + +Mary, however, led him off to the house, and he rang the bell with vigour. + +A smiling girl opened the door and asked what they wanted. + +"Is the curate at home?" Mary asked. + +The girl said that he was. + +"Will you ask him if he will speak to us for a moment?" said Mary. + +"What about?" asked the girl. "He has a friend with him." + +"I don't think you'd understand if we told you," said Mary. + +"I must know what it's about," said the girl. "He doesn't like to be +disturbed on Sunday afternoons." + +"Has he got a lot of books--poetry books?" Gregory asked. + +"Yes," said the girl, "heaps." + +"Then it's about Milton," said Mary. + +"Milton the baker!" exclaimed the girl. "He's not dead, is he?" + +"Milton the poet," said Mary. + +"I'm all in a maze," said the girl. "I don't know what you're talking +about. But I suppose I'd better tell him." + +The girl left them on the mat and knocked at a door just inside. + +"Come in," said a man's voice. + +"Please, sir," said the girl, "there are two children asking about someone +named Milton." + +The owner of the voice laughed. "Are they?" he said. "Well, they've come to +the right shop." And then the door opened wider and a tall and handsome +young man came out, dressed in a cricket blazer over a clergyman's +waistcoat and collar, and smoking a large pipe. + +"What's all this about Milton?" he said cheerily. "What Milton? Not the poet?" + +"Yes," said Mary. + +"Oh, I say, this is too good," said the young clergyman. "Vernon," he +called out, "come here and see a deputation from Milton." + +Another young man joined him, equally pleasant looking, and they all shook +hands. + +"Come inside," said the young clergyman. + +"There are four others waiting in the road," said Gregory. "Then fetch them +in too," said the young clergyman. And Janet and Robert and Jack and Horace +were brought in. + +"Now," said the young clergyman, "have some tea." And he rang the bell and +ordered enough tea for eight. + +When the girl had gone, he asked for full particulars, and then gave his +verdict. + +"'Fresh woods and pastures new.'" + +"Oh, rubbish!" said Vernon. "I've always learned 'fresh fields and pastures +new.'" + +"That's what I say," said Mary. + +"And so do I," said Robert and Horace. + +"I think YOU'RE right," said Janet to the young clergyman. + +"Well," he said, "I'll look it up." And he began to hunt for Milton on his +shelves. + +"Oh, not yet!" said Vernon. "Let's have some fun first. Let's see who are +the 'fielders' and who are the 'wooders.' All 'fielders' this way." + +Mary, Robert, and Horace ranged themselves beside him, leaving Janet and +Jack with the young clergyman, whom Vernon called Rod. + +Gregory looked at both sides, and did not move. + +"Haven't you any views about it?" asked Vernon. + +"No," said Gregory; "I never heard the thing before. What does it matter?" + +"Very well, then," said Rod; "here's the tea. You pour it out for us. I +like three lumps of sugar in mine. Now," he continued, "the rout of the +'fielders' is about to begin. Of course it's 'woods.' Why, I can see the +word now in Milton's own handwriting, as I used to see it in the Library at +Trinity." + +"I'm so sure it's 'fields,'" said Vernon, that I declare myself willing to +go without cake for tea if it isn't." + +"Will you put half a crown in the plate next Sunday if it's 'woods'?" said +Rod. + +"Oh, I say, that's a bit stiff," said Vernon. Half a crown?" + +"Very well, then," said Rod, "two bob. Will you put two bob in the plate +next Sunday if it's 'woods'?" + +"Yes, I will," said Vernon. "But if it's 'fields,' what will you do? You +mayn't take a shilling out?" + +"No," said Rod; "if it's 'fields' I'll eat my best hat." + +"I hope it's fields,'" said Gregory. + +"Horrid little boy!" said Rod. "But now we'll see." + +He opened Milton slowly, and turned over the pages of "Lycidas." "Ha! ha!" +he said; "no cake for Charles Vernon, Esquire, and two bob for Mother +Church. And my best hat saved. Listen: + +"'At last he rose and twitch'd his mantle blue: +To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.'" + +"No cake!" groaned Vernon. "Repulsive children!" he continued tragically. +"Why did you knock at this unhappy door and ask your foolish question here? +Are there no other houses in Cirencester? No cake! No cake!" + +They screamed with laughter. + +"I like them," said Rod. "They're nice children. I hope they'll come again. +And now for a large tea, with plenty of cake for all but one of us." + +They would have liked to stay a long time, for Rod and Vernon were very +kind and amusing, but Janet had Hester on her mind, left alone in the +Slowcoach; and so directly tea was finished they said good-bye. + +When Hester was told about their adventure, she said: "How silly you all are!" + +"Why?" they asked indignantly. + +"For two reasons," said Hester. "One is that it is, of course, 'fresh +woods.' Anyone ought to know that. And the other is that we've got the +'Blue Poetry Book' with it in, here in the caravan." + +"That doesn't matter," said Gregory. "We met a jolly decent clergyman." + +What Hester's great business had been Janet soon learned, for as soon as +they were alone Hester slipped some sheets of paper into Janet's hand and +asked her to read them very privately. Janet retired to the boudoir end of +the caravan and read. It was a poem entitled: + +ODE TO THE REV. FRANCIS GASTREEE + +(Dedicated to Mr. Nicholas Imber) + +O thou most base, +Who hadst possession of the dwelling-place +Of William Shakespeare, Stratford's loveliest son, +What is it thou hast done? +Thou shouldst have treasur'd it, as in a case +We keep a diamond or other jewel. +Instead of which thou didst it quite erase, +O wicked man, O fool! +What should be done to thee? +Hang'ed upon a tree? +Or in the pillory +Placed for all to pelt with eggs and bitter zest? +Aye, that were best. +Would that thou wert i' th' pillory this moment +And Stratford all in foment, +Thou knave, thou cad, +Thou everything that's bad! + +HESTER MARGARET AVORY. + +Janet said it was splendid, after you had got hold of the difficult rhyming +idea. + +"That's because it's an ode," said Hester. "Odes go like that. All jumpy. +And you mustn't say 'you' in an ode. You must say 'thou."' + +"But what shall you do with it?" Janet asked. + +"I want to send it to Mr. Imber," said Hester. "He said something ought to +be done. He gave me his address; do you think we could post it this +evening?" + +Janet said they could, and they walked to the post-office and sent it off, +together with a letter to Mrs. Avory, and picture postcards for Runcie and +Collins. The budget for X. they kept, as they had not brought his address +with them. + + + +CHAPTER 21 + +COLLINS'S PEOPLE + +They resumed their journey the next morning, a little depressed in spirits, +for the end was so near. It was now Monday, and they had to be home +again--that is to say, in their home without wheels--to-morrow night, and +the thought was not exhilarating. Moreover, as Robert's compass only too +plainly showed, they were now for the first time since they started moving +due east, or towards Chiswick, instead of away from it, as theretofore. + +Holidays of a fortnight always go faster in the second week than the first; +but the last two days absolutely fly. + +They were now bound for Faringdon through Fairford; and the night--the last +night--was to be spent, if possible, on the farm of Collins's brother, near +Lechlade. + +At Fairford they had their lunch and explored the church, which is one of +the most remarkable in England. It was built, they learned from Robert's +"Road Book," by a rich merchant in the reign of Henry VII. named John Tame. +Being something of a privateer too, he had the good fortune to capture a +vessel on its way from Belgium to Italy laden with stained glass, and, +having secured this booty, he erected the church in order to make use of +it. + +Horace admired this story immensely, and set John Tame with his other +heroes--Raffles and Robin Hood--forthwith. + +Then came the hunt for Lycett's Farm, where Collins's people now lived, of +which they knew no more than that Lechlade was the postal address. It might +be this side of Lechlade, and it might be far on the other. Collins had had +the map placed before her, but could make nothing of it. (Cooks never can +read maps.) + +After about two miles out of Fairford Robert began to ask. There were no +people on the road--indeed, one of the things that they had noticed +throughout their travels was how few persons were to be met; and they had +therefore to knock at a door here and there, or approach labourers in the +fields. Their ignorance of the name either of Lycett's or of Collins was +amazing. + +"Never heard tell of such a place," said one. + +"Not hereabouts," said another. + +"Collins?" said a third. "There's a stone-mason of that name over at +Highworth; but I don't know of no farmer." + +"Maybe you're thinking of Sadler's," another suggested. + +Robert, who was getting testy, asked why. "Sadler's doesn't sound a bit +either like Collins or Lycett's," he said. + +"No," the man agreed, "it doesn't." + +But at last a butcher's boy on a bicycle came along, and Janet stopped him. + +"Lycett's?" he said. Then he brightened. "Lickets, perhaps you mean. That's +up the next turning to the left. I don't know who's got it, because I'm a +stranger here, but I've heard that Lickets lies that way." + +So Robert was recalled from a distant meadow where he had seen a man +working, and they hurried on. + +The turning was not a main road, but a long lane, which was so narrow that +nothing else could possibly have passed by had they met anything; and for a +while nothing did come. And then suddenly at a bend there was a fat farmer +driving a dogcart straight at them. + +He pulled up at once, and roared out: "Where be you coming to, then? We +don't want no gipsies here." + +Kink stopped too, and the farmer and he glared at each other. + +"You must back down to the next gate," said the farmer. + +"Back yourself," said Kink. "Your load's lighter than mine." + +"But it's my land you're on," said the farmer. + +"It's a public road," said Kink. + +It looked as though they might stay there for ever, but suddenly the farmer +began to laugh. "Why, you're not gipsies," he said. "I believe you're +Avories." + +"That's so," said Kink. + +"Well, I'm blessed!" the farmer cried. "And to think we should be falling +out when I've been waiting to see you these many days! My name's Pescod. My +halfsister's your cook." + +Mr. Pescod climbed out of his cart and shook hands with all the children. +"Now I'll turn," he said, with a smile to Kink, and he led his horse up the +lane, talking all the while, while the Slowcoach followed. They told him +about their difficulty in finding any trace of him, and he called Collins a +donkey for not directing them better, and forgetting to say that her name +and his were different. + +"Never mind," he said; "here you are at last. We've been looking out for +you for a long time. My missis never hears wheels nowadays but what she +runs to the door to see if it's you." + +Lycett's farm was a long, low, white house with a yew hedge leading from +the garden gate to the front door. This hedge, of which Collins had told +them, was famous in the neighbourhood; for it was enormously old, and as +thick almost as masonry, and it was kept so carefully clipped that it was +as smooth also as a wall. At the gate itself the yews were cut into tall +pillars with a pheasant at the top of each, and then there were smaller +pillars at intervals all the way up the path, about twenty yards, with a +thick joining band of yew between them. They were so massive that very +little light could get into the front windows or the doorway; but, as Mr. +Pescod said. "anyone can have light, few yew hedges like that in the +world." + +Mrs. Pescod was a comfortable, smiling woman whose one idea was that +everyone must either be hungry or in need of feeding up. All of the +children in turn she looked at anxiously, saying that she was sure that +they had not had enough to eat. As a matter of fact, they had not perhaps +eaten as much as they would have done at Chiswick, and they had, of course, +worked harder; but they were all very well, and said so. But it made no +difference to Mrs. Pescod. + +"Ah, my dear," she said to Janet, "you're pale. I shouldn't like you to go +back to your ma looking like that. No, while you're here you must have +three good meals. A good tea, and a good supper, and a good breakfast. I +wish you'd stay longer, and let me have a real go at you; but if you can't, +you can't, and there's an end of it." + +Mrs. Pescod's notion of a good tea was terrific. Eggs for everyone to begin +with (to Gregory's great pleasure, for an egg with his tea was almost his +favourite treat). Freshly baked hot cakes soaking in butter. Hot toast. +Three kinds of jam. Bread and butter. Watercress. Mustard and cress. This +was at five o'clock, and as supper was at half-past eight, Janet urged the +others to explore as much as possible, or they would have no appetite, and +then Mrs. Pescod would be miserable. + +It was a delightful farm. There was everything that one wants in a farm,--a +pond with ducks; a haystack half cut, so that one might jump about on it; +straw ricks on stone posts; cowsheds smelling so warm and friendly, with +swallows darting in and out of the doorway to their nests in the roof; +stables with gentle horses who ate the green stuff you gave them without +biting you; guinea-pigs, the property of Master Walter Pescod, who was a +weekly boarder at Cirencester; fantail pigeons; bantams; ferrets, very +frightening to everyone but Kink, who knew just how to hold them; and a +turnip-slicer, which Gregory turned for some time, munching turnip all the +while. + +Mrs. Pescod led the girls round with her on an egg-hunt, which is always +one of the most interesting expeditions in life; and Mr. Pescod, as the +evening drew on, allowed the boys to accompany him with his gun to get a +rabbit or two under the hedge, and he permitted Jack to fire it off. +Nothing happened except that Jack was nearly knocked backwards by the +"kick"; but he was very proud of the bruise, and when he returned to +Chiswick showed it to his father and to William in triumph. + +It was getting purple then, with green edges, and Dr. Rotheram pronounced +it one of the best bruises he had ever seen. "Good enough," he said, "to +have killed a lion with." + +"Yes," said William, "instead of missing a rabbit." + +Mrs. Pescod, of course, wanted the children to sleep indoors, but they +would not. "It is our very last night in the caravan," said Janet, "and we +couldn't give it up." So Mrs. Pescod instead made them promise to come to +breakfast, and gave them each a large cake of her own making in case they +felt hungry in the night. + + +CHAPTER 22 + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE GIANT + +After receiving a thousand messages for Collins, both affectionate and +jocular--one from Mr. Pescod being on no account to forget to tell her to +try anti-fat--they said good-bye to these kind folk and marched into +Faringdon the next morning, very sorry it was the last, but determined to +make a brave show. Through watery Lechdale they went, over the Isis (as the +Thames is called here), and past Buscot. + +It was just after leaving Buscot that Gregory, who had been ahead alone, +suddenly rushed back in a wild state of excitement. + +"What do you think I've seen?" he panted. "A giant! A real live giant!" + +"Don't be an ass!" said Jack + +"But I have," he protested--"I have. He's there in that wood, kneeling by +the stream, washing his face. I watched him walk to it. He's enormous! He's +as tall as this caravan nearly. Do come and peep at him." + +They all very readily accompanied Gregory into the wood, and there, sure +enough, was a giant, combing his hair. + +He heard them coming, and looked round. They stopped, open-eyed and +openmouthed. + +"Here, I say," the giant said at last, "this won't do. You mustn't look at +me like that--free. It's a penny each, you know." + +He had a broad Yorkshire accent and a kind face. + +"Where do you come from?" he asked. + +"We come from London," said Janet. "We are on a caravan journey." + +"A caravan journey," said the giant. "So am I. I always am, in fact." + +"Are you?" said Gregory. "How splendid!" + +"Splendid!" said the giant. "Do you think so? I'd give a good deal to sleep +in a bed in a house. Excuse me if I sit down," he added. "My legs aren't +very strong." + +He sat down, but even then he was taller than any of the children. + +"Where is your caravan?" Janet asked. + +"Just over there," the giant said. "They're waiting for me. I came here to +make my toilet. Where are you going?" + +"We're going to Faringdon," said Robert. + +"That's where we've come from," said the giant. "There's been a fair there. +We're going to Cirencester." + +"What a shame!" said Horace. "That means we've missed you." + +"But you're seeing me now," said the giant, adding again, with his +Yorkshire laugh, "free." + +"I know," said Jack,. "but that's not the same as at a fair. The naphtha +lamps, you know." + +The giant shuddered. "I like to be away from them," he said. + +"Who else is there with you?" asked Gregory. + +"The King," said the giant. + +"The King!" they all exclaimed. + +"Yes, King Pip. He's a dwarf. We travel together, but we show separately. A +penny each." + +"Might we see him if we paid a penny?" Janet asked. + +"I shouldn't if I were you," said the giant. + +"Why not?" said Gregory. "Isn't he nice?" + +"No," said the giant very firmly. "He's not; he's nasty." + +"I'm so sorry," said Janet. + +"So am I," said the giant. + +"I've always liked giants best," said Mary. + +"But why don't you leave him?" said Jack. + +"I can't," said the giant. "We don't belong to ourselves. We belong to Mr. +Kite. Mr. Kite is the showman." + +"And did you sell yourself to him like a slave?" Hester asked. + +The giant laughed. "Very much like a slave," he said. "You see, there's +nothing else to do when you're big like me and have no money. I'm too weak +to work, and it's ridiculous, too. No one ought to be so big. So I must do +what I can." + +"What's the matter with King Pip?" Robert asked. + +"He's selfish and bad-tempered," said the giant. "He thinks it's a fine +thing to be so small." + +"And you think it a fine thing to be so big, don't you?" said Robert. + +The giant opened his blue eyes. "I! Not me. I'd give everything I ever +possessed to be five feet seven instead of seven feet five. It's never done +me any good." + +"But it's rather grand to be as big as that," Robert suggested. + +"Grand! You may have the grandeur. It's worse than being a criminal. I +can't walk out unless it's pitch dark or very early morning, because if I +did the people would see me free--as you are doing--I have to live in a +narrow stuffy carriage. I'm ill, too. Giants are always ill." + +Janet was full of sympathy. "We're so sorry," she said. "And here's our +money--it isn't fair to be seeing you free." And she held out sixpence. + +"Oh, no," said the giant. "I didn't mean that. I like to see you and talk. +There's too few people to talk to naturally. Most of them ask silly +questions all the time, especially the doctors. If you want to pay to see +me, you must come to the fair. I shall be on view to-night." + +"But we're going the other way," said Robert. + +"I'm very sorry," said the giant. "I should have looked forward to seeing +you." + +"What's your name?" Gregory asked. + +"My real name is William Steward," said the giant, "but they call me the +Human Colossus." + +"Is there anything we could do for you?" + +Janet asked. "We have some papers; would you like them?" + +"No," said the giant; "I don't read much. There is one thing I'd like, but +I don't suppose you have it. A little tobacco. I'm clean out of it, and I'd +like a smoke." + +"We've got tobacco all right," said Robert. "You know," he added to Janet, +"in that tin labelled 'For --'" + +But Janet stopped him in time, and drew him aside. "Run and get it," she +said; "but be sure to scrape the label off. He wouldn't like to see 'For +Tramps and Gipsies' on it." + +Robert was quickly back, and handed the tin to the giant, who was delighted. + +He was just beginning his thanks when a shrill whistle sounded, and he said +good-bye instead. + +"That's His Majesty," he explained. "He thinks I've been long enough. And I +am long enough," he added, making his only joke--"too long. Well, good-bye. +I'm glad to have met you. Don't forget to look for the Human Colossus +whenever you come to a fair. It's easy to remember the Human Colossus. +Good-bye." + +And he shambled off through the trees to the road. + +They had their last lunch with Kink just outside Faringdon's red town, and +then sped him on his solitary way home, promising, however, to come and +meet him somewhere outside London in three or four days' time; and so they +stood in a group in the middle of the road until the Slowcoach and its +driver and its black guardian were out of sight. And if some of their eyes +were not quite dry, I am sure you don't blame them. + +"Now," said Robert, as he made a note of what his pedometer +said--sixty-seven miles and a quarter, for he considered this the end of +the real walk--"now for the station." + +First, however, a telegram had to go, and Hester insisted on sending it, as +she had an idea, and this is what she sent: + +"Avory, The Gables, Chiswick. Alas! alack! we're coming back." + +They caught a train on the funny little branch-line which turned them out +at Uffington, and, armed with Mr. Scott's present, "The Scouring of the +White Horse," which Mary carried and occasionally read scraps from as they +walked along, they made for the green hills and the famous animal cut on +their side. To reach it was impossible, for the London train left at 6.24, +and it was now nearly three, and there was tea to be eaten; but they came +near enough to see it distinctly, and to marvel that the name of horse +should ever have been given to it. As Gregory said, "It's no more like a +horse than Shakespeare is like a swan." + +And then they had tea at a nice inn at Uffington, in a parlour full of +photograph frames, and returned to the station. + +As the train left, they leaned back in their seats, a great deal more tired +than they had ever been in the Slowcoach. + +"What a hateful rate this train goes at!" said Robert. "I prefer two miles +an hour." + +"Oh, yes," they said. + +At Paddington they found Collins and Eliza Pollard, with a station omnibus, +and they rattled down to Chiswick, pouring out the news, especially that +from Lycett's farm. + +And so, after dropping Mary and Jack and Horace at their homes, they came +once again to "The Gables." A cold supper was waiting for them--one of +those nice late meals after a journey--and Mrs. Avory and Runcie sat with +them while they ate it. + +"You must be glad to be back," Runcie said, " and to sleep in nice beds +once more." + +"Oh, Runcie," said Hester, "you don't really understand anything." + +"I understand what King Edward's head is like on a shilling," said Runcie, +with a little twinkle at Janet. + +Janet blushed. + +"What a shame," she said, "to tell that story! Hester, I suppose that was +you, in one of your letters." + +"Yes," said Hester; "but, Janet darling, you told me always to tell all the +news." + + + +CHAPTER 23 + +THE MOST SURPRISING ADVENTURE OF ALL + +The children had been back two or three days, and Kink was still on the +road, when one morning a telegram came from him saying that he had reached +Hounslow, and Robert asked if they might all walk out to meet him, and so +return home triumphantly in a body. Mrs. Avory agreed, and they trooped +off, after the briefest lunch, taking Horace Campbell and the Rotherams +with them. + +They had been gone two or three hours, and Mrs. Avory was sitting talking +with Runcie, when Eliza Pollard brought a card on the brass tray that Janet +had repoussed for her mother's last Christmas present. It ran: + +MR. HENRY AMORY + +The Red House, + +Chiswick, W. + +"I don't know him," said Mrs. Avory. "What is he like?" + +"Well, mum," said Eliza Pollard, "he's a short gentleman with a red face +and two boys, and he seems very angry." + +"Ask him what he wants to see me about," said Mrs. Avory. + +"I did," said Eliza Pollard, "and he said he could not tell me, but the +matter was of the highest importance." + +Mrs. Avory took the card and descended to the drawing-room, where the +visitors were waiting for her. + +Mr. Amory bowed. "Pardon me, madam," he said, "but I have come to know what +you have done with my caravan." + +"Your caravan!" + +"Yes, madam, my caravan. A caravan was sent as a present to my sons some +three weeks or a month ago, and your family, I am creditably informed, +seized and detained it." + +"Excuse me," said Mrs. Avory, "but we did nothing of the sort. A caravan +was sent here for my children as a present, and we have simply made use of +it. They have been away in it for a fortnight. It returns to-day!" + +"Ha!" said Mr. Amory. "Perhaps you will have the goodness to inform me who +gave it to you?" + +"That," said Mrs. Avory, "I can't do--" + +"Ha!" said Mr. Amory. + +"--because," Mrs. Avory continued, "I don't know. We have never discovered. +The giver wished to be anonymous." + +Mr. Amory looked surprised, and became a shade less fierce. + +"You took no steps to find out?" he asked. + +"How could I? There was no clue to go upon." + +"I see, I see," said Mr. Amory. "There has been a huge mistake. Perhaps you +will allow me to read you a letter which we received a day or so ago: + +"'DEAR CHILDREN, + +"'I have just come back, much sooner than I expected; but, finding no +letter from you, I have made some inquiries as to what you have done with +the caravan, and, to my amazement, cannot discover that it has ever reached +you at all; and since, if it has not, this letter must be all Greek to you, +I may now say that on the 23rd of June a caravan fully furnished for a +journey should have arrived at your house with a letter saying it was from +your friend X., as it amused me to call myself. I have been to the man whom +I employed to take it to you, but he is in hospital. His wife, however, is +convinced that he did take it to Chiswick all right. Please ask your father +to try to discover to what house it was sent. Tomorrow evening I shall come +to see you all. + +"'Your affectionate + +UNCLE EUSTACE. + +"There," said Mr. Amory, "you see. Not, however, that I should have let my +sons go away in it--at any rate, without me"--the two little boys +winced--"but different people have different ideas. Well," he continued, "I +have been investigating, and of course I soon discovered that the caravan +had come here, and that your children had gone off in it. I will admit that +we have only just come to Chiswick, and that you were better known here; +but the fact remains that the letter was addressed, not to the name of +Avory, but Amory." + +Mrs. Avory was bewildered. "It is all very unexpected," she said. "I really +cannot remember reading the address on the envelope at all. It was handed +to me as mine, and I opened it. It may have been Amory. If you care to see +the letter, I have it." + +"Please," said Mr. Amory; and Mrs. Avory went to her desk. + +"Now, boys, listen to me," said Mr. Amory to his two sons. "Let this be a +lesson to you. Never give anonymous presents. It is foolish, and it leads +to trouble; and very likely the wrong person will be thanked." + +Mrs. Avory handed him the letter, and he read it. + +"Quite clear," he said, "but not what I call a sensible way of doing +things. Your explanation satisfies me." + +Mrs. Avory expressed her regret that the mistake had occurred. "But," she +added, "you must allow that we had no other course than to accept the +present as though it really belonged to us. We have for so many years been +the only Avories here." + +"But have you so many friends," Mr. Amory inquired, "who would be likely to +give you anonymously so handsome a gift? + +It did not strike you as strange?" + +"Certainly not," said Mrs. Avory. + +Mr. Amory again said "Ha!" + +"The caravan," Mrs. Avory resumed, rising to her feet, "shall be put in +order directly it returns, and sent to your address. Anything that has been +taken from it or broken shall be replaced. I can say no more than that. +Good afternoon." + +It was not, however, the end of the visit, for at that instant the sound of +heavy wheels was heard, and cheers in the street, and, looking out of the +window, Mrs. Avory saw that the Slowcoach had already arrived, escorted (as +it had left) by all the children of Chiswick, and a moment later Janet +burst into the room, crying, "Mother, do come and see!" + +She pulled up stiff on observing the strangers. + +"Janet, dear," said Mrs. Avory, "there has been a serious mistake. The +Slowcoach is not ours at all. It belongs to this gentleman's children." + +Janet gasped. "But it was sent to us," she said at last. + +"No," said Mr. Amory; "I beg your pardon, young lady, but it was sent to +us. It came to you in error." + +Janet looked questioningly at her mother, and Mrs. Avory nodded yes. Hester +and Gregory now entered the room to insist on their mother either coming +out or giving leave for some of the street children to be allowed to go +inside the caravan. But Mr. Amory interposed. "No," he said. "I prefer not. +They are rarely clean." + +Gregory looked at him in dismay. + +"Mother!" he exclaimed. + +"Janet," whispered Mrs. Avory, who knew her youngest son, "take Gregory +away, and keep him out of sight till they go." + +"But we," Mr. Amory resumed, "will examine the caravan. I suppose there was +no inventory." + +"No," said Mrs. Avory. + +"Very unfortunate," he muttered, "and very unsystematic. However, we must +hope for the best;" and so saying he led the way toward the yard, with his +meek little sons, who had said not a word, but appeared to wish themselves +well out of the affair, behind him. + +Kink had already unharnessed Moses, and the Slowcoach stood at rest. Mr. +Amory first went to examine a place on the wheel where a gate-post had +removed some of the paint, and he then put a foot on the step; but Diogenes +sprang up and growled so seriously that he withdrew. + +"Please remove the dog," he said. + +While this was being done, and the father and his two sons were inside, +Janet explained the situation to the others. They refused at first to +believe it. + +"Do you mean to say," Robert exclaimed, "that the Slowcoach isn't ours at +all?" + +"Yes," said Janet. + +"It belongs to those measly pip-squeaks?" said Robert. + +"Yes," said Janet. + +Robert held his head in a kind of stupor. + + + +CHAPTER 24 + +THE END + +They had a very solemn tea. Everyone was depressed and mortified. + +"We couldn't help it, could we, mother?" Janet said several times. + +"Of course not," said Mrs. Avory. "It's no one's fault except the foolish +man who brought the caravan here. What has Kink said about it?" But as no +one had asked him, he was called to the cedar-tree, beneath which tea was +laid on fine days. + +"Here's a go, mum," he said. + +"What did the man say who brought the caravan?" Mrs. Avory said. + +"As near as I can remember he showed me the letter, and said, Is that all +right?' I looked at it, and read, 'To be given to +Mrs. Avory' on it, so I said, 'Yes,' Then he said, 'I've got a caravan for +your lot, cockie,' and backed it into the yard." + +"How splendid!" said Robert. "Then it was you who did it, Kinky?" + +"Did what, Master Robert?" + +"Got us the Slowcoach; because the address wasn't Mrs. Avory at all; it was +Mrs. Amory." + +"Oh, I don't take much count about m's or v's," said Kink. "It began with a +big 'A,' and it ended in 'ory,' and that was good enough for me." + +"Kink," said Janet, "you're a dear. You've given us the most beautiful +holiday." + +Hester suddenly turned pale. "Mother!" she exclaimed, "what about the +twenty-five sovereigns?" + +"Yes," said Robert, "that's awful!" + +"It is rather bad," said Mrs. Avory, "because, of course, it will have to +be given back, and at once too, and I'm not at all rich just now. I'm not +even sure that we have any right to go to Sea View, and the twenty-five +pounds will just spoil everything." + +"Why should we give it back?" said Gregory. + +"Because it's not ours," said Mrs. Avory. "There's no question at all." + +"I think Kinky ought to pay it," said Gregory. "He's got heaps of money in +the Post-Office, and it's his fault, too." + +"The best thing to do," said Mrs. Avory, "is to telephone to Uncle +Christopher and tell him all about it, and ask him to come over to-night +and give us his advice. He always knows best." + +"And Mr. Scott and Mr. Lenox, too," said Robert. + +"Very well," said Mrs. Avory. "They were all here at the beginning, and +they had better be here at the end." + +Mr. Lenox, who came first, was immensely tickled. "Who stole the caravan?" +he asked at intervals through the evening. ; + +Mr. Scott took it more practically. "We must have another," he said, "and +have it built to our own design. Let the Slowcoach provide the ground-plan, +so to speak, and then improve on it by the light of your experience. You +must by this time each know of certain little defects in the Slowcoach that +could easily be done away with." + +"Of course," said Robert. "Blisters." + +"Don't rot," said Gregory. "I know of something, Mr. Scott. The roof. It +ought to have a felt covering, so as to soften the rain." + +"Exactly," said Mr. Scott. "And you, Janet?" + +"I used to wonder," said Janet, "if there could not be some poles, such as +those that you raise carriage-wheels with when you wash them, to lift the +caravan above its springs at night. As it is, every movement makes it shake +or rock. They could be carried underneath quite easily." + +"Very good," said Mr. Scott. "And you, + +"I heard about a caravan yesterday," said Mary, "that had two little swings +at the back for small children when they were tired." + +"That's a good idea," said Mr. Lenox. + +For Gregory, for instance." + +"I'm not a small child," said Gregory, "and I don't get tired." + +"Oh," said Janet, "what about those times when you said you couldn't walk +at all?" + +"Shut up," said Gregory. + +"Very well, then," said Mr. Scott; "if you really are still keen on +caravaning, I'll give you a new one, with proper title-deeds, in case any +new Mr. Amory turns up, and we will all superintend its building." + +"Hurrah!" cried the children. + +"And we'll call it Slowcoach the Second." It was at this point that Uncle +Christopher came in. + +"This is very sad," he said. "To think of my nephews and nieces running off +with another person's caravan!" + +"But what shall we do?" Mrs. Avory asked. + +"There's nothing to do," said Uncle Christopher, "but to have it cleaned up +and put in order as soon as possible, and sent round to its real owner." + +"The dreadful thing," said Janet, "is the twenty-five pounds." + +"Yes, I know," said Uncle Christopher; "but I believe there's a way out of +even that difficulty. I told your aunt all about it when I got back from +the office, and she wished me to tell you that she would like to refund the +twenty-five pounds herself." + +There was a long pause. + +"O dear," said Janet at last, as she hid her face in her mother's arms, +"everybody is much too kind." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Slowcoach, by E. V. Lucas + diff --git a/old/slwch10.zip b/old/slwch10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..33aea5b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/slwch10.zip |