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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:17:32 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:17:32 -0700 |
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diff --git a/25496-h/25496-h.htm b/25496-h/25496-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7571566 --- /dev/null +++ b/25496-h/25496-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11788 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of New Treasure Seekers, by E. (Edith) Nesbit</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, New Treasure Seekers, by E. (Edith) Nesbit, +Illustrated by Gordon Browne and Lewis Baumer</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: New Treasure Seekers</p> +<p> or, The Bastable Children in Search of a Fortune</p> +<p>Author: E. (Edith) Nesbit</p> +<p>Release Date: May 16, 2008 [eBook #25496]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW TREASURE SEEKERS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Emmy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h1>NEW TREASURE SEEKERS</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;"> +<img src="images/gs01.png" width="243" height="400" alt="THE STAIR WAS OF STONE, ARCHED OVERHEAD LIKE CHURCHES." title="THE STAIR WAS OF STONE, ARCHED OVERHEAD LIKE CHURCHES." /> +<span class="caption">THE STAIR WAS OF STONE, ARCHED OVERHEAD LIKE CHURCHES.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>New<br /> +Treasure Seekers</h1> + +<h2>OR THE BASTABLE CHILDREN<br/> +IN SEARCH OF A FORTUNE</h2> + + +<h3>By</h3> + +<h2>E. NESBIT</h2> + +<div class='center'> +AUTHOR OF "THE TREASURE SEEKERS,"<br /> +"THE WOULD-BE-GOODS," ETC.<br /> +<br /> +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON<br /> +BROWNE AND LEWIS BAUMER<br /> +<br /><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 106px;"> +<img src="images/tp01.png" width="106" height="125" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> +<div class='center'><br /> +<br /> +<small>NEW YORK</small><br /> +FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY<br /> +<small>PUBLISHERS</small><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +TO<br /> +ARTHUR WATTS<br /> +<small>(OSWALD IN PARIS)</small><br /> +<small>FROM</small><br /> +E. NESBIT<br /> +<br /> +<i><small>Montparnasse, 1904.</small></i><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>NEW TREASURE<br /> +SEEKERS</h2> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE ROAD TO ROME; OR, THE SILLY STOWAWAY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE CONSCIENCE-PUDDING</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>ARCHIBALD THE UNPLEASANT</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>OVER THE WATER TO CHINA</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE YOUNG ANTIQUARIES</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE INTREPID EXPLORER AND HIS LIEUTENANT</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE TURK IN CHAINS; OR, RICHARD'S REVENGE</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE GOLDEN GONDOLA</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE FLYING LODGER</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE SMUGGLER'S REVENGE</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>ZAÏDA, THE MYSTERIOUS PROPHETESS OF THE GOLDEN ORIENT</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE LADY AND THE LICENSE; OR, FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE POOR AND NEEDY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE STAIR WAS OF STONE, ARCHED OVERHEAD LIKE CHURCHES</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>DORA DID SOME WHITE SEWING</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_20">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THEY LAUGHED EVER SO</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_35">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>AND HE WAS AWFULLY RUDE TO THE SERVANTS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_70">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE OTHERS CAME UP BY THE ROPE-LADDER</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_74">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>SO OSWALD OPENED THE TRAP-DOOR AND SQUINTED DOWN, AND THERE WAS THAT ARCHIBALD</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_76">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" HE ASKED. "NYANG, NYANG," JANE ANSWERED TAUNTINGLY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_84">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>WHEN FATHER CAME HOME THERE WAS AN AWFUL ROW</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_86">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>IT SEEMS THE SAILOR WAS ASLEEP, BUT OF COURSE WE DID NOT KNOW, OR WE SHOULD NOT HAVE DISTURBED HIM</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_95">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>WE WENT ROUND A CORNER RATHER FAST, AND CAME SLAP INTO THE LARGEST WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_100">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>IT WAS INDEED A CELESTIAL CHINAMAN IN DEEP DIFFICULTIES</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_104">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>ON THE SIDEBOARD WAS A BLUEY-WHITE CROCKERY IMAGE</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_104">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>OSWALD LISTENED AS CAREFULLY AS HE COULD, BUT DENNY ALWAYS BUZZES SO WHEN HE WHISPERS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_118">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>IT WAS NOT TILL NEXT DAY THAT HE OWNED THAT THE TYPEWRITER HAD BEEN A FIEND IN DISGUISE</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_124">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE STATIONMASTER AND PORTER LOOKED RESPECTFULLY AT US</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_128">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>HER VOICE WHEN SHE TOLD US WE WERE TRESPASSING WAS NOT SO FURIOUS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_132">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE LUNCH WAS A PERFECT DREAM OF A.1.-NESS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_138">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>OSWALD DID NOT STRIKE THE NEXT MATCH CAREFULLY ENOUGH</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_146">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>WITH SCISSORS AND GAS PLIERS THEY CUT EVERY FUSE</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_158">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"HI, BRIGANDS!" HE EXCLAIMED</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_168">167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>IT WAS RATHER DIFFICULT TO GET ANYTHING THE SHAPE OF A TURKEY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_174">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>WHEN THE DOOR WAS SHUT HE SAID, "I AIN'T GOT MUCH TO SAY, YOUNG GEMMEN"</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_180">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>THE FIVE OTHERS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_192">191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>OSWALD SAW THE DRIVER WINK AS HE PUT HIS BOOT ON THE STEP, AND THE PORTER WHO WAS OPENING THE CAB DOOR WINKED BACK</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_202">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>HE LOOKED AT OSWALD'S BOOTS</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_204">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>HE FETCHED DOWN HALF A DOZEN PLANKS AND THE WORKMAN</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_219">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"HOW MUCH?" SAID THE GENTLEMAN SHORTLY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_223">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"THEN I'LL MAKE YOU!" HE SAID, CATCHING HOLD OF OSWALD</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_233">232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>A COASTGUARD ORDERED US QUITE HARSHLY</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_245">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>SURE ENOUGH IT WAS SEA-WATER, AS THE UNAMIABLE ONE SAID WHEN HE HAD TASTED IT</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_260">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"I SAY, BEALIE DEAR, YOU'VE GOT A BOOK UP AT YOUR PLACE"</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_266">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>ALICE BEAT THE DONKEY FROM THE CART, THE REST SHOUTED</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_273">272</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"WE'VE GOT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS," SAID NOËL</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_281">280</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE ROAD TO ROME; OR, THE<br /> +SILLY STOWAWAY</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">We</span> Bastables have only two uncles, and +neither of them, are our own natural-born +relatives. One is a great-uncle, and the other +is the uncle from his birth of Albert, who used +to live next door to us in the Lewisham Road. +When we first got to know him (it was over +some baked potatoes, and is quite another +story) we called him Albert-next-door's-Uncle, +and then Albert's uncle for short. But +Albert's uncle and my father joined in taking +a jolly house in the country, called the Moat +House, and we stayed there for our summer +holidays; and it was there, through an accident +to a pilgrim with peas in his shoes—that's +another story too—that we found +Albert's uncle's long-lost love; and as she +was very old indeed—twenty-six next birthday—and +he was ever so much older in the +vale of years, he had to get married almost +directly, and it was fixed for about Christmas-time. +And when our holidays came the +whole six of us went down to the Moat +House with Father and Albert's uncle. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +never had a Christmas in the country before. +It was simply ripping. And the long-lost love—her +name was Miss Ashleigh, but we were +allowed to call her Aunt Margaret even before +the wedding made it really legal for us to do +so—she and her jolly clergyman brother used +to come over, and sometimes we went to the +Cedars, where they live, and we had games +and charades, and hide-and-seek, and Devil +in the Dark, which is a game girls pretend +to like, and very few do really, and crackers +and a Christmas-tree for the village children, +and everything you can jolly well think of.</div> + +<p>And all the time, whenever we went to the +Cedars, there was all sorts of silly fuss going +on about the beastly wedding; boxes coming +from London with hats and jackets in, and +wedding presents—all glassy and silvery, or +else brooches and chains—and clothes sent +down from London to choose from. I can't +think how a lady can want so many petticoats +and boots and things just because she's +going to be married. No man would think +of getting twenty-four shirts and twenty-four +waistcoats, and so on, just to be married +in.</p> + +<p>"It's because they're going to Rome, I +think," Alice said, when we talked it over +before the fire in the kitchen the day Mrs. +Pettigrew went to see her aunt, and we were +allowed to make toffee. "You see, in Rome +you can only buy Roman clothes, and I think +they're all stupid bright colours—at least I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +know the sashes are. You stir now, Oswald. +My face is all burnt black."</p> + +<p>Oswald took the spoon, though it was really +not his turn by three; but he is one whose +nature is so that he cannot make a fuss about +little things—and he knows he can make +toffee.</p> + +<p>"Lucky hounds," H.O. said, "to be going to +Rome. I wish I was."</p> + +<p>"Hounds isn't polite, H.O., dear," Dora said; +and H.O. said—</p> + +<p>"Well, lucky bargees, then."</p> + +<p>"It's the dream of my life to go to Rome," +Noël said. Noël is our poet brother. "Just +think of what the man says in the 'Roman +Road.' I wish they'd take me."</p> + +<p>"They won't," Dicky said. "It costs a +most awful lot. I heard Father saying so +only yesterday."</p> + +<p>"It would only be the fare," Noël answered; +"and I'd go third, or even in a cattle-truck, or +a luggage van. And when I got there I could +easily earn my own living. I'd make ballads +and sing them in the streets. The Italians +would give me lyres—that's the Italian kind +of shilling, they spell it with an <i>i</i>. It shows +how poetical they are out there, their calling +it that."</p> + +<p>"But you couldn't make Italian poetry," +H.O. said, staring at Noël with his mouth open.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know so much about that," +Noël said. "I could jolly soon learn anyway, +and just to begin with I'd do it in English.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +There are sure to be some people who would +understand. And if they didn't, don't you +think their warm Southern hearts would be +touched to see a pale, slender, foreign figure +singing plaintive ballads in an unknown +tongue? I do. Oh! they'd chuck along the +lyres fast enough—they're not hard and cold +like North people. Why, every one here is a +brewer, or a baker, or a banker, or a butcher, +or something dull. Over there they're all +bandits, or vineyardiners, or play the guitar, +or something, and they crush the red grapes +and dance and laugh in the sun—you know +jolly well they do."</p> + +<p>"This toffee's about done," said Oswald suddenly. +"H.O., shut your silly mouth and get +a cupful of cold water." And then, what +with dropping a little of the toffee into the +water to see if it was ready, and pouring some +on a plate that wasn't buttered and not being +able to get it off again when it was cold without +breaking the plate, and the warm row +there was about its being one of the best +dinner-service ones, the wild romances of +Noël's poetical intellect went out of our +heads altogether; and it was not till later, +and when deep in the waters of affliction, +that they were brought back to us.</p> + +<p>Next day H.O. said to Dora, "I want to +speak to you all by yourself and me." So they +went into the secret staircase that creaks and +hasn't been secret now for countless years; +and after that Dora did some white sewing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +she wouldn't let us look at, and H.O. helped +her.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 321px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.png" width="321" height="400" alt="DORA DID SOME WHITE SEWING." title="DORA DID SOME WHITE SEWING." /> +<span class="caption">DORA DID SOME WHITE SEWING.</span> +</div> + +<p>"It's another wedding present, you may +depend," Dicky said—"a beastly surprise, I +shouldn't wonder." And no more was said. +The rest of us were busy skating on the moat, +for it was now freezing hard. Dora never did +care for skating; she says it hurts her feet.</p> + +<p>And now Christmas and Boxing Day passed +like a radiating dream, and it was the wedding-day. +We all had to go to the bride's mother's +house before the wedding, so as to go to +church with the wedding party. The girls +had always wanted to be somebody's bridesmaids, +and now they were—in white cloth +coats like coachmen, with lots of little capes, +and white beaver bonnets. They didn't look +so bad, though rather as if they were in a +Christmas card; and their dresses were white +silk like pocket-handkerchiefs under the long +coats. And their shoes had real silver buckles +our great Indian uncle gave them. H.O. +went back just as the waggonette was starting, +and came out with a big brown-paper +parcel. We thought it was the secret surprise +present Dora had been making, and, indeed, +when I asked her she nodded. We little +recked what it really was, or how our young +brother was going to shove himself forward +once again. He <i>will</i> do it. Nothing you say +is of any lasting use.</p> + +<p>There were a great many people at the +wedding—quite crowds. There was lots to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +eat and drink, and though it was all cold, it +did not matter, because there were blazing +fires in every fireplace in the house, and the +place all decorated with holly and mistletoe +and things. Every one seemed to enjoy +themselves very much, except Albert's uncle +and his blushing bride; and they looked +desperate. Every one said how sweet she +looked, but Oswald thought she looked as if +she didn't like being married as much as she +expected. She was not at all a blushing bride +really; only the tip of her nose got pink, +because it was rather cold in the church. +But she is very jolly.</p> + +<p>Her reverend but nice brother read the +marriage service. He reads better than any +one I know, but he is not a bit of a prig +really, when you come to know him.</p> + +<p>When the rash act was done Albert's uncle +and his bride went home in a carriage all by +themselves, and then we had the lunch and +drank the health of the bride in real +champagne, though Father said we kids must +only have just a taste. I'm sure Oswald, for +one, did not want any more; one taste was +quite enough. Champagne is like soda-water +with medicine in it. The sherry we put sugar +in once was much more decent.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Ashleigh—I mean Mrs. Albert's +uncle—went away and took off her white +dress and came back looking much warmer. +Dora heard the housemaid say afterwards +that the cook had stopped the bride on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +stairs with "a basin of hot soup, that would +take no denial, because the bride, poor dear +young thing, not a bite or sup had passed her +lips that day." We understood then why she +had looked so unhappy. But Albert's uncle +had had a jolly good breakfast—fish and eggs +and bacon and three goes of marmalade. So +it was not hunger made him sad. Perhaps he +was thinking what a lot of money it cost to +be married and go to Rome.</p> + +<p>A little before the bride went to change, +H.O. got up and reached his brown-paper +parcel from under the sideboard and sneaked +out. We thought he might have let us see it +given, whatever it was. And Dora said she had +understood he meant to; but it was his secret.</p> + +<p>The bride went away looking quite comfy +in a furry cloak, and Albert's uncle cheered +up at the last and threw off the burden of his +cares and made a joke. I forget what it was; +it wasn't a very good one, but it showed he +was trying to make the best of things.</p> + +<p>Then the Bridal Sufferers drove away, with +the luggage on a cart—heaps and heaps of it, +and we all cheered and threw rice and +slippers. Mrs. Ashleigh and some other old +ladies cried.</p> + +<p>And then every one said, "What a pretty +wedding!" and began to go. And when our +waggonette came round we all began to get +in. And suddenly Father said—</p> + +<p>"Where's H.O.?" And we looked round. +He was in absence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fetch him along sharp—some of you," +Father said; "I don't want to keep the horses +standing here in the cold all day."</p> + +<p>So Oswald and Dicky went to fetch him +along. We thought he might have wandered +back to what was left of the lunch—for he is +young and he does not always know better. +But he was not there, and Oswald did not +even take a crystallised fruit in passing. He +might easily have done this, and no one would +have minded, so it would not have been +wrong. But it would have been ungentlemanly. +Dicky did not either. H.O. was not +there.</p> + +<p>We went into the other rooms, even the +one the old ladies were crying in, but of +course we begged their pardons. And at +last into the kitchen, where the servants +were smart with white bows and just sitting +down to their dinner, and Dicky said—</p> + +<p>"I say, cookie love, have you seen H.O.?"</p> + +<p>"Don't come here with your imperence!" +the cook said, but she was pleased with +Dicky's unmeaning compliment all the same.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> see him," said the housemaid. "He +was colloguing with the butcher in the yard +a bit since. He'd got a brown-paper parcel. +Perhaps he got a lift home."</p> + +<p>So we went and told Father, and about the +white present in the parcel.</p> + +<p>"I expect he was ashamed to give it after +all," Oswald said, "so he hooked off home +with it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>And we got into the wagonette.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't a present, though," Dora said; +"it was a different kind of surprise—but it +really is a secret."</p> + +<p>Our good Father did not command her to +betray her young brother.</p> + +<p>But when we got home H.O. wasn't there. +Mrs. Pettigrew hadn't seen him, and he was +nowhere about. Father biked back to the +Cedars to see if he'd turned up. No. Then +all the gentlemen turned out to look for him +through the length and breadth of the +land.</p> + +<p>"He's too old to be stolen by gipsies," Alice +said.</p> + +<p>"And too ugly," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"Oh <i>don't!</i>" said both the girls; "and now +when he's lost, too!"</p> + +<p>We had looked for a long time before Mrs. +Pettigrew came in with a parcel she said the +butcher had left. It was not addressed, but +we knew it was H.O.'s, because of the label +on the paper from the shop where Father gets +his shirts. Father opened it at once.</p> + +<p>Inside the parcel we found H.O.'s boots and +braces, his best hat and his chest-protector. +And Oswald felt as if we had found his +skeleton.</p> + +<p>"Any row with any of you?" Father asked. +But there hadn't been any.</p> + +<p>"Was he worried about anything? Done +anything wrong, and afraid to own up?"</p> + +<p>We turned cold, for we knew what he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +meant. That parcel was so horribly like the +lady's hat and gloves that she takes off on the +seashore and leaves with a letter saying it has +come to this.</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>, <i>no</i>, <span class="smcap">no</span>, NO!" we all said. "He was +perfectly jolly all the morning."</p> + +<p>Then suddenly Dicky leaned on the table +and one of H.O.'s boots toppled over, and +there was something white inside. It was a +letter. H.O. must have written it before we +left home. It said—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Father and Every One</span>,—I am +going to be a Clown. When I am rich and +reveared I will come back rolling.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"Your affectionate son,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Horace Octavius Bastable.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"Rolling?" Father said.</p> + +<p>"He means rolling in money," Alice said. +Oswald noticed that every one round the +table where H.O.'s boots were dignifiedly +respected as they lay, was a horrid pale +colour, like when the salt is thrown into +snapdragons.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" Dora cried, "that was it. He +asked me to make him a clown's dress and +keep it deeply secret. He said he wanted to +surprise Aunt Margaret and Albert's uncle. +And I didn't think it was wrong," said Dora, +screwing up her face; she then added, "Oh +dear, oh dear, oh, oh!" and with these concluding +remarks she began to howl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Father thumped her on the back in an +absent yet kind way.</p> + +<p>"But where's he gone?" he said, not to +any one in particular. "I saw the butcher; he +said H.O. asked him to take a parcel home +and went back round the Cedars."</p> + +<p>Here Dicky coughed and said—</p> + +<p>"I didn't think he meant anything, but the +day after Noël was talking about singing +ballads in Rome, and getting poet's lyres +given him, H.O. did say if Noël had been +really keen on the Roman lyres and things he +could easily have been a stowaway, and gone +unknown."</p> + +<p>"A stowaway!" said my Father, sitting +down suddenly and hard.</p> + +<p>"In Aunt Margaret's big dress basket—the +one she let him hide in when we had hide-and-seek +there. He talked a lot about it after +Noël had said that about the lyres—and the +Italians being so poetical, you know. You +remember that day we had toffee."</p> + +<p>My Father is prompt and decisive in action, +so is his eldest son.</p> + +<p>"I'm off to the Cedars," he said.</p> + +<p>"Do let me come, Father," said the decisive +son. "You may want to send a message."</p> + +<p>So in a moment Father was on his bike and +Oswald on the step—a dangerous but delightful +spot—and off to the Cedars.</p> + +<p>"Have your teas; and <i>don't</i> any more of +you get lost, and don't sit up if we're late," +Father howled to them as we rushed away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +How glad then the thoughtful Oswald was +that he was the eldest. It was very cold in +the dusk on the bicycle, but Oswald did not +complain.</p> + +<p>At the Cedars my father explained in a few +manly but well-chosen words, and the apartment +of the dear departed bride was searched.</p> + +<p>"Because," said my father, "if H.O. really +was little ass enough to get into that basket, +he must have turned out something to make +room for himself."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, when they came to look, there +was a great bundle rolled in a sheet under +the bed—all lace things and petticoats and +ribbons and dressing-gowns and ladies' +flummery.</p> + +<p>"If you will put the things in something +else, I'll catch the express to Dover and take +it with me," Father said to Mrs. Ashleigh; and +while she packed the things he explained to +some of the crying old ladies who had been +unable to leave off, how sorry he was that a +son of his—but you know the sort of thing.</p> + +<p>Oswald said: "Father, I wish you'd let me +come too. I won't be a bit of trouble."</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was partly because my Father +didn't want to let me walk home in the dark, +and he didn't want to worry the Ashleighs +any more by asking them to send me home. +He said this was why, but I hope it was his +loving wish to have his prompt son, so like +himself in his decisiveness, with him.</p> + +<p>We went.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was an anxious journey. We knew how +far from pleased the bride would be to find +no dressing-gowns and ribbons, but only H.O. +crying and cross and dirty, as likely as not, +when she opened the basket at the hotel at +Dover.</p> + +<p>Father smoked to pass the time, but Oswald +had not so much as a peppermint or a bit of +Spanish liquorice to help him through the +journey. Yet he bore up.</p> + +<p>When we got out at Dover there were Mr. +and Mrs. Albert's uncle on the platform.</p> + +<p>"Hullo," said Albert's uncle. "What's up? +Nothing wrong at home, I hope."</p> + +<p>"We've only lost H.O.," said my father. +"You don't happen to have him with you?"</p> + +<p>"No; but you're joking," said the bride. +"We've lost a dress-basket."</p> + +<p><i>Lost a dress-basket!</i> The words struck us +dumb, but my father recovered speech and +explained. The bride was very glad when we +said we had brought her ribbons and things, +but we stood in anxious gloom, for now H.O. +was indeed lost. The dress-basket might be +on its way to Liverpool, or rocking on the +Channel, and H.O. might never be found +again. Oswald did not say these things. It +is best to hold your jaw when you want to +see a thing out, and are liable to be sent to +bed at a strange hotel if any one happens to +remember you.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the station master came +with a telegram.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>It said: "A dress-basket without label at +Cannon Street detained for identification +suspicious sounds from inside detain +inquirers dynamite machine suspected."</p> + +<p>He did not show us this till my Father had +told him about H.O., which it took some time +for him to believe, and then he did and +laughed, and said he would wire them to get +the dynamite machine to speak, and if so, to +take it out and keep it till its Father called for +it.</p> + +<p>So back we went to London, with hearts a +little lighter, but not gay, for we were a very +long time from the last things we had had to +eat. And Oswald was almost sorry he had +not taken those crystallised fruits.</p> + +<p>It was quite late when we got to Cannon +Street, and we went straight into the cloakroom, +and there was the man in charge, a +very jolly chap, sitting on a stool. And there +was H.O., the guilty stowaway, dressed in a +red-and-white clown's dress, very dusty, and +his face as dirty as I have ever seen it, sitting +on some one else's tin box, with his feet on +some body else's portmanteau, eating bread +and cheese, and drinking ale out of a can.</p> + +<p>My Father claimed him at once, and Oswald +identified the basket. It was very large. +There was a tray on the top with hats in it, +and H.O. had this on top of him. We all +went to bed in Cannon Street Hotel. My +Father said nothing to H.O. that night. +When we were in bed I tried to get H.O. to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +tell me all about it, but he was too sleepy +and cross. It was the beer and the knocking +about in the basket, I suppose. Next day we +went back to the Moat House, where the raving +anxiousness of the others had been cooled +the night before by a telegram from Dover.</p> + +<p>My Father said he would speak to H.O. in +the evening. It is very horrid not to be +spoken to at once and get it over. But H.O. +certainly deserved something.</p> + +<p>It is hard to tell this tale, because so much +of it happened all at once but at different +places. But this is what H.O. said to us +about it. He said—</p> + +<p>"Don't bother—let me alone."</p> + +<p>But we were all kind and gentle, and at +last we got it out of him what had happened. +He doesn't tell a story right from the +beginning like Oswald and some of the +others do, but from his disjunctured words +the author has made the following narration. +This is called editing, I believe.</p> + +<p>"It was all Noël's fault," H.O. said; "what +did he want to go jawing about Rome for?—and +a clown's as good as a beastly poet, anyhow! +You remember that day we made toffee? Well, I +thought of it then."</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did. I half told Dicky. He never +said don't, or you'd better not, or gave me +any good advice or anything. It's his fault +as much as mine. Father ought to speak to +him to-night the same as me—and Noël, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>We bore with him just then because we +wanted to hear the story. And we made him +go on.</p> + +<p>"Well—so I thought if Noël's a cowardy +custard I'm not—and I wasn't afraid of being +in the basket, though it was quite dark till +I cut the air-holes with my knife in the +railway van. I think I cut the string off the +label. It fell off afterwards, and I saw it +through the hole, but of course I couldn't say +anything. I thought they'd look after their +silly luggage better than that. It was all +their fault I was lost."</p> + +<p>"Tell us how you did it, H.O. dear," Dora +said; "never mind about it being everybody +else's fault."</p> + +<p>"It's yours as much as any one's, if you +come to that," H.O. said. "You made me +the clown dress when I asked you. You never +said a word about not. So there!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, H.O., you <i>are</i> unkind!" Dora said. +"You know you said it was for a surprise for +the bridal pair."</p> + +<p>"So it would have been, if they'd found me +at Rome, and I'd popped up like what I meant +to—like a jack-in-the-box—and said, 'Here we +are again!' in my clown's clothes, at them. +But it's all spoiled, and father's going to speak +to me this evening." H.O. sniffed every time +he stopped speaking. But we did not correct +him then. We wanted to hear about everything.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me straight out what +you were going to do?" Dicky asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because you'd jolly well have shut me up. +You always do if I want to do anything you +haven't thought of yourself."</p> + +<p>"What did you take with you, H.O.?" +asked Alice in a hurry, for H.O. was now +sniffing far beyond a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd saved a lot of grub, only I forgot +it at the last. It's under the chest of drawers +in our room. And I had my knife—and I +changed into the clown's dress in the cupboard +at the Ashleighs—over my own things +because I thought it would be cold. And +then I emptied the rotten girl's clothes out +and hid them—and the top-hatted tray I just +put it on a chair near, and I got into the +basket, and I lifted the tray up over my head +and sat down and fitted it down over me—it's +got webbing bars, you know, across it. And +none of you would ever have thought of it, +let alone doing it."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not," Dora said, but H.O. +went on unhearing.</p> + +<p>"I began to think perhaps I wished I hadn't +directly they strapped up the basket. It was +beastly hot and stuffy—I had to cut an air-hole +in the cart, and I cut my thumb; it was +so bumpety. And they threw me about as if +I was coals—and wrong way up as often as +not. And the train was awful wobbly, and I +felt so sick, and if I'd had the grub I couldn't +have eaten it. I had a bottle of water. And +that was all right till I dropped the cork, and +I couldn't find it in the dark till the water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +got upset, and then I found the cork that +minute.</p> + +<p>"And when they dumped the basket on to +the platform I was so glad to sit still a minute +without being jogged I nearly went to sleep. +And then I looked out, and the label was off, +and lying close by. And then some one gave +the basket a kick—big brute, I'd like to kick +him!—and said, 'What's this here?' And I +daresay I did squeak—like a rabbit-noise, you +know—and then some one said, 'Sounds like +live-stock, don't it? No label.' And he was +standing on the label all the time. I saw the +string sticking out under his nasty boot. And +then they trundled me off somewhere, on a +wheelbarrow it felt like, and dumped me down +again in a dark place—and I couldn't see +anything more."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said the thoughtful Oswald, +"what made them think you were a dynamite +machine?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was awful!" H.O. said. "It was +my watch. I wound it up, just for something +to do. You know the row it makes since it +was broken, and I heard some one say, 'Shish! +what's that?' and then, 'Sounds like an infernal +machine'—don't go shoving me, Dora, +it was him said it, not me—and then, 'If I +was the inspector I'd dump it down in the +river, so I would. Any way, let's shift it.' +But the other said, 'Let well alone,' so I +wasn't dumped any more. And they fetched +another man, and there was a heap of jaw,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +and I heard them say 'Police,' so I let them +have it."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 471px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.png" width="471" height="400" alt="THEY LAUGHED EVER SO." title="THEY LAUGHED EVER SO." /> +<span class="caption">THEY LAUGHED EVER SO.</span> +</div> + +<p>"What <i>did</i> you do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I just kicked about in the basket, and +I heard them all start off, and I shouted, 'Hi, +here! let me out, can't you!'"</p> + +<p>"And did they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not for ever so long, I had to +jaw at them through the cracks of the basket. +And when they opened it there was quite a +crowd, and they laughed ever so, and gave me +bread and cheese, and said I was a plucky +youngster—and I am, and I do wish Father +wouldn't put things off so. He might just as +well have spoken to me this morning. And +I can't see I've done anything so awful—and +it's all your faults for not looking after me. +Aren't I your little brother? and it's your duty +to see I do what's right. You've told me so +often enough."</p> + +<p>These last words checked the severe reprimand +trembling on the hitherto patient +Oswald's lips. And then H.O. began to cry, +and Dora nursed him, though generally he is +much too big for this and knows it. And he +went to sleep on her lap, and said he didn't +want any dinner.</p> + +<p>When it came to Father's speaking to H.O. +that evening it never came off, because H.O. +was ill in bed, not sham, you know, but real, +send-for-the-doctor ill. The doctor said it was +fever from chill and excitement, but I think +myself it was very likely the things he ate at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +lunch, and the shaking up, and then the +bread and cheese, and the beer out of a can.</p> + +<p>He was ill a week. When he was better, +not much was said. My Father, who is the +justest man in England, said the boy had been +punished enough—and so he had, for he +missed going to the pantomime, and to +"Shock-Headed Peter" at the Garrick Theatre, +which is far and away the best play that ever +was done, and quite different from any other +acting I ever saw. They are exactly like real +boys; I think they must have been reading +about us. And he had to take a lot of the +filthiest medicine I ever tasted. I wonder if +Father told the doctor to make it nasty on +purpose? A woman would have directly, but +gentlemen are not generally so sly. Any way, +you live and learn. None of us would now +ever consent to be a stowaway, no matter who +wanted us to, and I don't think H.O.'s very +likely to do it again.</p> + +<p>The only <i>meant</i> punishment he had was +seeing the clown's dress burnt before his eyes +by Father. He had bought it all with his own +saved-up money, red trimmings and all.</p> + +<p>Of course, when he got well we soon taught +him not to say again that it was any of our +faults. As he owned himself, he <i>is</i> our little +brother, and we are not going to stand that +kind of cheek from <i>him</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE CONSCIENCE-PUDDING</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">It</span> was Christmas, nearly a year after Mother +died. I cannot write about Mother—but I +will just say one thing. If she had only been +away for a little while, and not for always, +we shouldn't have been so keen on having a +Christmas. I didn't understand this then, +but I am much older now, and I think it was +just because everything was so different and +horrid we felt we <i>must</i> do something; and +perhaps we were not particular enough <i>what</i>. +Things make you much more unhappy when +you loaf about than when you are doing +events.</div> + +<p>Father had to go away just about Christmas. +He had heard that his wicked partner, who +ran away with his money, was in France, +and he thought he could catch him, but +really he was in Spain, where catching criminals +is never practised. We did not know +this till afterwards.</p> + +<p>Before Father went away he took Dora +and Oswald into his study, and said—</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry I've got to go away, +but it is very serious business, and I must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +go. You'll be good while I'm away, kiddies, +won't you?"</p> + +<p>We promised faithfully. Then he said—</p> + +<p>"There are reasons—you wouldn't understand +if I tried to tell you—but you can't +have much of a Christmas this year. But +I've told Matilda to make you a good plain +pudding. Perhaps next Christmas will be +brighter."</p> + +<p>(It was; for the next Christmas saw us the +affluent nephews and nieces of an Indian +uncle—but that is quite another story, as +good old Kipling says.)</p> + +<p>When Father had been seen off at Lewisham +Station with his bags, and a plaid rug +in a strap, we came home again, and it was +horrid. There were papers and things littered +all over his room where he had packed. We +tidied the room up—it was the only thing we +could do for him. It was Dicky who accidentally +broke his shaving-glass, and H.O. +made a paper boat out of a letter we found +out afterwards Father particularly wanted to +keep. This took us some time, and when we +went into the nursery the fire was black out, +and we could not get it alight again, even with +the whole <i>Daily Chronicle</i>. Matilda, who was +our general then, was out, as well as the fire, +so we went and sat in the kitchen. There is +always a good fire in kitchens. The kitchen +hearthrug was not nice to sit on, so we spread +newspapers on it.</p> + +<p>It was sitting in the kitchen, I think, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +brought to our minds my Father's parting +words—about the pudding, I mean.</p> + +<p>Oswald said, "Father said we couldn't have +much of a Christmas for secret reasons, and +he said he had told Matilda to make us a plain +pudding."</p> + +<p>The plain pudding instantly cast its shadow +over the deepening gloom of our young +minds.</p> + +<p>"I wonder <i>how</i> plain she'll make it?" Dicky +said.</p> + +<p>"As plain as plain, you may depend," said +Oswald. "A here-am-I-where-are-you pudding—that's +her sort."</p> + +<p>The others groaned, and we gathered closer +round the fire till the newspapers rustled +madly.</p> + +<p>"I believe I could make a pudding that +<i>wasn't</i> plain, if I tried," Alice said. "Why +shouldn't we?"</p> + +<p>"No chink," said Oswald, with brief sadness.</p> + +<p>"How much would it cost?" <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Noel'">Noël</ins> asked, +and added that Dora had twopence and H.O. +had a French halfpenny.</p> + +<p>Dora got the cookery-book out of the dresser +drawer, where it lay doubled up among clothes-pegs, +dirty dusters, scallop shells, string, penny +novelettes, and the dining-room corkscrew. +The general we had then—it seemed as if she +did all the cooking on the cookery-book +instead of on the baking-board, there were +traces of so many bygone meals upon its +pages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It doesn't say Christmas pudding at all," +said Dora.</p> + +<p>"Try plum," the resourceful Oswald instantly +counselled.</p> + +<p>Dora turned the greasy pages anxiously.</p> + +<p>"'Plum-pudding, 518.</p> + +<p>"'A rich, with flour, 517.</p> + +<p>"'Christmas, 517.</p> + +<p>"'Cold brandy sauce for, 241.'</p> + +<p>"We shouldn't care about that, so it's no +use looking.</p> + +<p>"'Good without eggs, 518.</p> + +<p>"'Plain, 518.'</p> + +<p>"We don't want <i>that</i> anyhow. 'Christmas, +517'—that's the one."</p> + +<p>It took her a long time to find the page. +Oswald got a shovel of coals and made up the +fire. It blazed up like the devouring elephant +the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> always calls it. Then +Dora read—</p> + +<p>"'Christmas plum-pudding. Time six hours.'"</p> + +<p>"To eat it in?" said H.O.</p> + +<p>"No, silly! to make it."</p> + +<p>"Forge ahead, Dora," Dicky replied.</p> + +<p>Dora went on—</p> + +<p>"'2072. One pound and a half of raisins; +half a pound of currants; three quarters of a +pound of breadcrumbs; half a pound of flour; +three-quarters of a pound of beef suet; nine +eggs; one wine glassful of brandy; half a +pound of citron and orange peel; half a +nutmeg; and a little ground ginger.' I wonder +<i>how</i> little ground ginger."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A teacupful would be enough, I think," +Alice said; "we must not be extravagant."</p> + +<p>"We haven't got anything yet to be extravagant +<i>with</i>," said Oswald, who had toothache +that day. "What would you do with the +things if you'd got them?"</p> + +<p>"You'd 'chop the suet as fine as possible'—I +wonder how fine that is?" replied Dora and +the book together—"'and mix it with the +breadcrumbs and flour; add the currants +washed and dried.'"</p> + +<p>"Not starched, then," said Alice.</p> + +<p>"'The citron and orange peel cut into thin +slices'—I wonder what they call thin? +Matilda's thin bread-and-butter is quite +different from what I mean by it—'and the +raisins stoned and divided.' How many heaps +would you divide them into?"</p> + +<p>"Seven, I suppose," said Alice; "one for each +person and one for the pot—I mean pudding."</p> + +<p>"'Mix it all well together with the grated +nutmeg and ginger. Then stir in nine eggs +well beaten, and the brandy'—we'll leave that +out, I think—'and again mix it thoroughly +together that every ingredient may be +moistened; put it into a buttered mould, tie +over tightly, and boil for six hours. Serve it +ornamented with holly and brandy poured +over it.'"</p> + +<p>"I should think holly and brandy poured +over it would be simply beastly," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"I expect the book knows. I daresay holly +and water would do as well though. 'This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +pudding may be made a month before'—it's no +use reading about that though, because we've +only got four days to Christmas."</p> + +<p>"It's no use reading about any of it," +said Oswald, with thoughtful repeatedness, +"because we haven't got the things, and we +haven't got the coin to get them."</p> + +<p>"We might get the tin somehow," said +Dicky.</p> + +<p>"There must be lots of kind people who +would subscribe to a Christmas pudding for +poor children who hadn't any," Noël said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going skating at Penn's," said +Oswald. "It's no use thinking about puddings. +We must put up with it plain."</p> + +<p>So he went, and Dicky went with him.</p> + +<p>When they returned to their home in the +evening the fire had been lighted again in the +nursery, and the others were just having tea. +We toasted our bread-and-butter on the bare +side, and it gets a little warm among the +butter. This is called French toast. "I like +English better, but it is more expensive," +Alice said—</p> + +<p>"Matilda is in a frightful rage about your +putting those coals on the kitchen fire, Oswald. +She says we shan't have enough to last over +Christmas as it is. And Father gave her a +talking to before he went about them—asked +her if she ate them, she says—but I don't +believe he did. Anyway, she's locked the coal-cellar +door, and she's got the key in her pocket. +I don't see how we can boil the pudding."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What pudding?" said Oswald dreamily. +He was thinking of a chap he had seen at +Penn's who had cut the date 1899 on the ice +with four strokes.</p> + +<p>"<i>The</i> pudding," Alice said. "Oh, we've had +such a time, Oswald! First Dora and I went to +the shops to find out exactly what the pudding +would cost—it's only two and elevenpence +halfpenny, counting in the holly."</p> + +<p>"It's no good," Oswald repeated; he is very +patient and will say the same thing any number +of times. "It's no good. You know we've +got no tin."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Alice, "but Noël and I went out, +and we called at some of the houses in Granville +Park and Dartmouth Hill—and we got a +lot of sixpences and shillings, besides pennies, +and one old gentleman gave us half-a-crown. +He was so nice. Quite bald, with a knitted +red and blue waistcoat. We've got eight-and-sevenpence."</p> + +<p>Oswald did not feel quite sure Father would +like us to go asking for shillings and sixpences, +or even half-crowns from strangers, +but he did not say so. The money had been +asked for and got, and it couldn't be helped—and +perhaps he wanted the pudding—I am not +able to remember exactly why he did not speak +up and say, "This is wrong," but anyway he +didn't.</p> + +<p>Alice and Dora went out and bought the +things next morning. They bought double +quantities, so that it came to five shillings and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +elevenpence, and was enough to make a +noble pudding. There was a lot of holly left +over for decorations. We used very little for +the sauce. The money that was left we spent +very anxiously in other things to eat, such as +dates and figs and toffee.</p> + +<p>We did not tell Matilda about it. She was +a red-haired girl, and apt to turn shirty at the +least thing.</p> + +<p>Concealed under our jackets and overcoats +we carried the parcels up to the nursery, and +hid them in the treasure-chest we had there. +It was the bureau drawer. It was locked up +afterwards because the treacle got all over the +green baize and the little drawers inside it while +we were waiting to begin to make the pudding. +It was the grocer told us we ought to put +treacle in the pudding, and also about not so +much ginger as a teacupful.</p> + +<p>When Matilda had begun to pretend to +scrub the floor (she pretended this three times +a week so as to have an excuse not to let us +in the kitchen, but I know she used to read +novelettes most of the time, because Alice and +I had a squint through the window more than +once), we barricaded the nursery door and set +to work. We were very careful to be quite +clean. We washed our hands as well as the +currants. I have sometimes thought we did +not get all the soap off the currants. The +pudding smelt like a washing-day when +the time came to cut it open. And we +washed a corner of the table to chop the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +suet on. Chopping suet looks easy till you +try.</p> + +<p>Father's machine he weighs letters with +did to weigh out the things. We did this very +carefully, in case the grocer had not done +so. Everything was right except the raisins. +H.O. had carried them home. He was very +young then, and there was a hole in the +corner of the paper bag and his mouth was +sticky.</p> + +<p>Lots of people have been hanged to a +gibbet in chains on evidence no worse than +that, and we told H.O. so till he cried. This +was good for him. It was not unkindness to +H.O., but part of our duty.</p> + +<p>Chopping suet as fine as possible is much +harder than any one would think, as I said +before. So is crumbling bread—especially +if your loaf is new, like ours was. When +we had done them the breadcrumbs and the +suet were both very large and lumpy, and of +a dingy gray colour, something like pale slate +pencil.</p> + +<p>They looked a better colour when we had +mixed them with the flour. The girls had +washed the currants with Brown Windsor +soap and the sponge. Some of the currants +got inside the sponge and kept coming out +in the bath for days afterwards. I see now +that this was not quite nice. We cut the +candied peel as thin as we wish people would +cut our bread-and-butter. We tried to take +the stones out of the raisins, but they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +too sticky, so we just divided them up in +seven lots. Then we mixed the other things +in the wash-hand basin from the spare bedroom +that was always spare. We each put +in our own lot of raisins and turned it all +into a pudding-basin, and tied it up in one +of Alice's pinafores, which was the nearest +thing to a proper pudding-cloth we could +find—at any rate clean. What was left +sticking to the wash-hand basin did not taste +so bad.</p> + +<p>"It's a little bit soapy," Alice said, "but +perhaps that will boil out; like stains in +table-cloths."</p> + +<p>It was a difficult question how to boil the +pudding. Matilda proved furious when asked +to let us, just because some one had happened +to knock her hat off the scullery door and +Pincher had got it and done for it. However, +part of the embassy nicked a saucepan while +the others were being told what Matilda +thought about the hat, and we got hot water +out of the bath-room and made it boil over +our nursery fire. We put the pudding in—it +was now getting on towards the hour of +tea—and let it boil. With some exceptions—owing +to the fire going down, and Matilda not +hurrying up with coals—it boiled for an hour +and a quarter. Then Matilda came suddenly +in and said, "I'm not going to have you +messing about in here with my saucepans"; +and she tried to take it off the fire. You will +see that we couldn't stand this; it was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +likely. I do not remember who it was that +told her to mind her own business, and I +think I have forgotten who caught hold of +her first to make her chuck it. I am sure no +needless violence was used. Anyway, while +the struggle progressed, Alice and Dora took +the saucepan away and put it in the boot-cupboard +under the stairs and put the key in +their pocket.</p> + +<p>This sharp encounter made every one very +hot and cross. We got over it before Matilda +did, but we brought her round before bedtime. +Quarrels should always be made up +before bedtime. It says so in the Bible. If +this simple rule was followed there would not +be so many wars and martyrs and law suits +and inquisitions and bloody deaths at the +stake.</p> + +<p>All the house was still. The gas was out +all over the house except on the first landing, +when several darkly-shrouded figures might +have been observed creeping downstairs to +the kitchen.</p> + +<p>On the way, with superior precaution, we +got out our saucepan. The kitchen fire was +red, but low; the coal-cellar was locked, and +there was nothing in the scuttle but a little +coal-dust and the piece of brown paper that is +put in to keep the coals from tumbling out +through the bottom where the hole is. We +put the saucepan on the fire and plied it with +fuel—two <i>Chronicles</i>, a <i>Telegraph</i>, and two +<i>Family Herald</i> novelettes were burned in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +vain. I am almost sure the pudding did not +boil at all that night.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Alice said. "We can each +nick a piece of coal every time we go into the +kitchen to-morrow."</p> + +<p>This daring scheme was faithfully performed, +and by night we had nearly half a +waste-paper basket of coal, coke, and cinders. +And in the depth of night once more we +might have been observed, this time with our +collier-like waste-paper basket in our guarded +hands.</p> + +<p>There was more fire left in the grate that +night, and we fed it with the fuel we had +collected. This time the fire blazed up, and +the pudding boiled like mad. This was the +time it boiled two hours—at least I think it +was about that, but we dropped asleep on the +kitchen tables and dresser. You dare not be +lowly in the night in the kitchen, because of +the beetles. We were aroused by a horrible +smell. It was the pudding-cloth burning. All +the water had secretly boiled itself away. +We filled it up at once with cold, and the +saucepan cracked. So we cleaned it and put +it back on the shelf and took another and +went to bed. You see what a lot of trouble +we had over the pudding. Every evening till +Christmas, which had now become only the +day after to-morrow, we sneaked down in the +inky midnight and boiled that pudding for as +long as it would.</p> + +<p>On Christmas morning we chopped the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +holly for the sauce, but we put hot water +(instead of brandy) and moist sugar. Some +of them said it was not so bad. Oswald was +not one of these.</p> + +<p>Then came the moment when the plain +pudding Father had ordered smoked upon the +board. Matilda brought it in and went away +at once. She had a cousin out of Woolwich +Arsenal to see her that day, I remember. +Those far-off days are quite distinct in +memory's recollection still.</p> + +<p>Then we got out our own pudding from its +hiding-place and gave it one last hurried boil—only +seven minutes, because of the general +impatience which Oswald and Dora could not +cope with.</p> + +<p>We had found means to secrete a dish, and +we now tried to dish the pudding up, but it +stuck to the basin, and had to be dislodged +with the chisel. The pudding was horribly +pale. We poured the holly sauce over it, and +Dora took up the knife and was just cutting +it when a few simple words from H.O. turned +us from happy and triumphing cookery artists +to persons in despair.</p> + +<p>He said: "How pleased all those kind ladies +and gentlemen would be if they knew <i>we</i> were +the poor children they gave the shillings and +sixpences and things for!"</p> + +<p>We all said, "<i>What?</i>" It was no moment +for politeness.</p> + +<p>"I say," H.O. said, "they'd be glad if +they knew it was us was enjoying the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +pudding, and not dirty little, really poor +children."</p> + +<p>"You should say 'you were,' not 'you was,'" +said Dora, but it was as in a dream and only +from habit.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say"—Oswald spoke firmly, +yet not angrily—"that you and Alice went +and begged for money for poor children, and +then <i>kept</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"We didn't keep it," said H.O., "we +spent it."</p> + +<p>"We've kept the <i>things</i>, you little duffer!" +said Dicky, looking at the pudding sitting +alone and uncared for on its dish. "You +begged for money for poor children, and then +<i>kept</i> it. It's stealing, that's what it is. I +don't say so much about you—you're only a +silly kid—but Alice knew better. Why did +you do it?"</p> + +<p>He turned to Alice, but she was now too +deep in tears to get a word out.</p> + +<p>H.O. looked a bit frightened, but he +answered the question. We have taught +him this. He said—</p> + +<p>"I thought they'd give us more if I said +poor children than if I said just us."</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> cheating," said Dicky—"downright +beastly, mean, low cheating."</p> + +<p>"I'm not," said H.O.; "and you're another." +Then he began to cry too. I do not know +how the others felt, but I understand from +Oswald that he felt that now the honour of +the house of Bastable had been stamped on in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +the dust, and it didn't matter what happened. +He looked at the beastly holly that had been +left over from the sauce and was stuck up +over the pictures. It now appeared hollow +and disgusting, though it had got quite a lot +of berries, and some of it was the varied kind—green +and white. The figs and dates and +toffee were set out in the doll's dinner service. +The very sight of it all made Oswald blush +sickly. He owns he would have liked to cuff +H.O., and, if he did for a moment wish to +shake Alice, the author, for one, can make +allowances.</p> + +<p>Now Alice choked and spluttered, and wiped +her eyes fiercely, and said, "It's no use ragging +H.O. It's my fault. I'm older than he is."</p> + +<p>H.O. said, "It couldn't be Alice's fault. I +don't see as it was wrong."</p> + +<p>"That, not as," murmured Dora, putting her +arm round the sinner who had brought this +degrading blight upon our family tree, but +such is girls' undetermined and affectionate +silliness. "Tell sister all about it, H.O. dear. +Why couldn't it be Alice's fault?"</p> + +<p>H.O. cuddled up to Dora and said +snufflingly in his nose—</p> + +<p>"Because she hadn't got nothing to do with +it. I collected it all. She never went into +one of the houses. She didn't want to."</p> + +<p>"And then took all the credit of getting the +money," said Dicky savagely.</p> + +<p>Oswald said, "Not much <i>credit</i>," in scornful +tones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, you are <i>beastly</i>, the whole lot of you, +except Dora!" Alice said, stamping her foot in +rage and despair. "I tore my frock on a nail +going out, and I didn't want to go back, and I +got H.O. to go to the houses alone, and I +waited for him outside. And I asked him not +to say anything because I didn't want Dora to +know about the frock—it's my best. And I +don't know what he said inside. He never +told me. But I'll bet anything he didn't <i>mean</i> +to cheat."</p> + +<p>"You <i>said</i> lots of kind people would be +ready to give money to get pudding for poor +children. So I asked them to."</p> + +<p>Oswald, with his strong right hand, waved a +wave of passing things over.</p> + +<p>"We'll talk about that another time," he +said; "just now we've got weightier things to +deal with."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the pudding, which had +grown cold during the conversation to +which I have alluded. H.O. stopped crying, +but Alice went on with it. Oswald now +said—</p> + +<p>"We're a base and outcast family. Until +that pudding's out of the house we shan't be +able to look any one in the face. We must +see that that pudding goes to poor children—not +grisling, grumpy, whiney-piney, pretending +poor children—but real poor ones, just as +poor as they can stick."</p> + +<p>"And the figs too—and the dates," said Noël, +with regretting tones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Every fig," said Dicky sternly. "Oswald +is quite right."</p> + +<p>This honourable resolution made us feel a +bit better. We hastily put on our best things, +and washed ourselves a bit, and hurried out to +find some really poor people to give the pudding +to. We cut it in slices ready, and put it +in a basket with the figs and dates and toffee. +We would not let H.O. come with us at first +because he wanted to. And Alice would not +come because of him. So at last we had to let +him. The excitement of tearing into your +best things heals the hurt that wounded +honour feels, as the poetry writer said—or at +any rate it makes the hurt feel better.</p> + +<p>We went out into the streets. They were +pretty quiet—nearly everybody was eating its +Christmas dessert. But presently we met a +woman in an apron. Oswald said very +politely—</p> + +<p>"Please, are you a poor person?" And she +told us to get along with us.</p> + +<p>The next we met was a shabby man with a +hole in his left boot.</p> + +<p>Again Oswald said, "Please, are you a poor +person, and have you any poor little children?"</p> + +<p>The man told us not to come any of our +games with him, or we should laugh on the +wrong side of our faces. We went on sadly. +We had no heart to stop and explain to him +that we had no games to come.</p> + +<p>The next was a young man near the Obelisk. +Dora tried this time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>She said, "Oh, if you please we've got some +Christmas pudding in this basket, and if +you're a poor person you can have some."</p> + +<p>"Poor as Job," said the young man in a +hoarse voice, and he had to come up out of a +red comforter to say it.</p> + +<p>We gave him a slice of the pudding, and he +bit into it without thanks or delay. The next +minute he had thrown the pudding slap in +Dora's face, and was clutching Dicky by the +collar.</p> + +<p>"Blime if I don't chuck ye in the river, the +whole bloomin' lot of you!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The girls screamed, the boys shouted, and +though Oswald threw himself on the insulter +of his sister with all his manly vigour, yet but +for a friend of Oswald's, who is in the police, +passing at that instant, the author shudders +to think what might have happened, for he +was a strong young man, and Oswald is not +yet come to his full strength, and the Quaggy +runs all too near.</p> + +<p>Our policeman led our assailant aside, and +we waited anxiously, as he told us to. After +long uncertain moments the young man in +the comforter loafed off grumbling, and our +policeman turned to us.</p> + +<p>"Said you give him a dollop o' pudding, and +it tasted of soap and hair-oil."</p> + +<p>I suppose the hair-oil must have been the +Brown Windsoriness of the soap coming out. +We were sorry, but it was still our duty to get +rid of the pudding. The Quaggy was handy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +it is true, but when you have collected money +to feed poor children and spent it on pudding +it is not right to throw that pudding in the +river. People do not subscribe shillings and +sixpences and half-crowns to feed a hungry +flood with Christmas pudding.</p> + +<p>Yet we shrank from asking any more +people whether they were poor persons, or +about their families, and still more from +offering the pudding to chance people who +might bite into it and taste the soap before +we had time to get away.</p> + +<p>It was Alice, the most paralysed with +disgrace of all of us, who thought of the +best idea.</p> + +<p>She said, "Let's take it to the workhouse. +At any rate they're all poor people there, and +they mayn't go out without leave, so they +can't run after us to do anything to us after +the pudding. No one would give them leave +to go out to pursue people who had brought +them pudding, and wreck vengeance on them, +and at any rate we shall get rid of the conscience-pudding—it's +a sort of conscience-money, +you know—only it isn't money but +pudding."</p> + +<p>The workhouse is a good way, but we stuck +to it, though very cold, and hungrier than we +thought possible when we started, for we had +been so agitated we had not even stayed to +eat the plain pudding our good Father had so +kindly and thoughtfully ordered for our +Christmas dinner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>The big bell at the workhouse made a man +open the door to us, when we rang it. Oswald +said (and he spoke because he is next eldest to +Dora, and she had had jolly well enough of +saying anything about pudding)—he said—</p> + +<p>"Please we've brought some pudding for +the poor people."</p> + +<p>He looked us up and down, and he looked +at our basket, then he said: "You'd better see +the Matron."</p> + +<p>We waited in a hall, feeling more and more +uncomfy, and less and less like Christmas. +We were very cold indeed, especially our +hands and our noses. And we felt less and +less able to face the Matron if she was horrid, +and one of us at least wished we had chosen +the Quaggy for the pudding's long home, and +made it up to the robbed poor in some other +way afterwards.</p> + +<p>Just as Alice was saying earnestly in the +burning cold ear of Oswald, "Let's put down +the basket and make a bolt for it. Oh, Oswald, +<i>let's!</i>" a lady came along the passage. She +was very upright, and she had eyes that went +through you like blue gimlets. I should not +like to be obliged to thwart that lady if she +had any design, and mine was opposite. I am +glad this is not likely to occur.</p> + +<p>She said, "What's all this about a pudding?"</p> + +<p>H.O. said at once, before we could stop him, +"They say I've stolen the pudding, so we've +brought it here for the poor people."</p> + +<p>"No, we didn't!" "That wasn't why!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +"The money was given!" "It was meant +for the poor!" "Shut up, H.O.!" said the +rest of us all at once.</p> + +<p>Then there was an awful silence. The lady +gimleted us again one by one with her blue +eyes.</p> + +<p>Then she said: "Come into my room. You +all look frozen."</p> + +<p>She took us into a very jolly room with +velvet curtains and a big fire, and the gas +lighted, because now it was almost dark, even +out of doors. She gave us chairs, and Oswald +felt as if his was a dock, he felt so criminal, +and the lady looked so Judgular.</p> + +<p>Then she took the arm-chair by the fire +herself, and said, "Who's the eldest?"</p> + +<p>"I am," said Dora, looking more like a +frightened white rabbit than I've ever seen +her.</p> + +<p>"Then tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>Dora looked at Alice and began to cry. +That slab of pudding in the face had totally +unnerved the gentle girl. Alice's eyes were +red, and her face was puffy with crying; but +she spoke up for Dora and said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, please let Oswald tell. Dora can't. +She's tired with the long walk. And a young +man threw a piece of it in her face, and——"</p> + +<p>The lady nodded and Oswald began. He +told the story from the very beginning, as he +has always been taught to, though he hated +to lay bare the family honour's wound before +a stranger, however judgelike and gimlet-eyed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +He told all—not concealing the pudding-throwing, +nor what the young man said +about soap.</p> + +<p>"So," he ended, "we want to give the conscience-pudding +to you. It's like conscience-money—you +know what that is, don't you? +But if you really think it is soapy and not +just the young man's horridness, perhaps +you'd better not let them eat it. But the +figs and things are all right."</p> + +<p>When he had done the lady said, for most +of us were crying more or less—</p> + +<p>"Come, cheer up! It's Christmas-time, and +he's very little—your brother, I mean. And I +think the rest of you seem pretty well able +to take care of the honour of the family. +I'll take the conscience-pudding off your +minds. Where are you going now?"</p> + +<p>"Home, I suppose," Oswald said. And he +thought how nasty and dark and dull it +would be. The fire out most likely and +Father away.</p> + +<p>"And your Father's not at home, you say," +the blue-gimlet lady went on. "What do you +say to having tea with me, and then seeing +the entertainment we have got up for our +old people?"</p> + +<p>Then the lady smiled and the blue gimlets +looked quite merry.</p> + +<p>The room was so warm and comfortable +and the invitation was the last thing we +expected. It was jolly of her, I do think.</p> + +<p>No one thought quite at first of saying how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +pleased we should be to accept her kind +invitation. Instead we all just said "Oh!" +but in a tone which must have told her we +meant "Yes, please," very deeply.</p> + +<p>Oswald (this has more than once happened) +was the first to restore his manners. He +made a proper bow like he has been taught, +and said—</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much. We should like +it very much. It is very much nicer than +going home. Thank you very much."</p> + +<p>I need not tell the reader that Oswald could +have made up a much better speech if he had +had more time to make it up in, or if he had +not been so filled with mixed flusteredness +and furification by the shameful events of the +day.</p> + +<p>We washed our faces and hands and had a +first rate muffin and crumpet tea, with slices +of cold meats, and many nice jams and cakes. +A lot of other people were there, most of +them people who were giving the entertainment +to the aged poor.</p> + +<p>After tea it was the entertainment. Songs +and conjuring and a play called "Box and +Cox," very amusing, and a lot of throwing +things about in it—bacon and chops and +things—and nigger minstrels. We clapped +till our hands were sore.</p> + +<p>When it was over we said goodbye. In +between the songs and things Oswald had +had time to make up a speech of thanks to +the lady.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said—</p> + +<p>"We all thank you heartily for your goodness. +The entertainment was beautiful. We +shall never forget your kindness and hospitableness."</p> + +<p>The lady laughed, and said she had been +very pleased to have us. A fat gentleman +said—</p> + +<p>"And your teas? I hope you enjoyed those—eh?"</p> + +<p>Oswald had not had time to make up an +answer to that, so he answered straight from +the heart, and said—</p> + +<p>"Ra—<i>ther!</i>"</p> + +<p>And every one laughed and slapped us boys +on the back and kissed the girls, and the +gentleman who played the bones in the nigger +minstrels saw us home. We ate the cold pudding +that night, and H.O. dreamed that something +came to eat him, like it advises you to +in the advertisements on the hoardings. The +grown-ups said it was the pudding, but I don't +think it could have been that, because, as I +have said more than once, it was so very +plain.</p> + +<p>Some of H.O.'s brothers and sisters thought +it was a judgment on him for pretending +about who the poor children were he was +collecting the money for. Oswald does not +believe such a little boy as H.O. would have +a real judgment made just for him and nobody +else, whatever he did.</p> + +<p>But it certainly is odd. H.O. was the only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +one who had bad dreams, and he was also the +only one who got any of the things we bought +with that ill-gotten money, because, you remember, +he picked a hole in the raisin-paper +as he was bringing the parcel home. The rest of +us had nothing, unless you count the scrapings +of the pudding-basin, and those don't really +count at all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>ARCHIBALD THE UNPLEASANT</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> house of Bastable was once in poor, but +honest, circs. That was when it lived in a +semi-detached house in the Lewisham Road, +and looked for treasure. There were six +scions of the house who looked for it—in +fact there were seven, if you count Father. +I am sure he looked right enough, but he +did not do it the right way. And we did. +And so we found a treasure of a great-uncle, +and we and Father went to live with him in a +very affluent mansion on Blackheath—with +gardens and vineries and pineries and everything +jolly you can think of. And then, when +we were no longer so beastly short of pocket-money, +we tried to be good, and sometimes +it came out right, and sometimes it didn't. +Something like sums.</div> + +<p>And then it was the Christmas holidays—and +we had a bazaar and raffled the most +beautiful goat you ever saw, and we gave +the money to the poor and needy.</p> + +<p>And then we felt it was time to do something +new, because we were as rich as our worthy +relative, the uncle, and our Father—now also<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +wealthy, at least, compared to what he used to +be—thought right for us; and we were as +good as we could be without being good for +nothing and muffs, which I hope no one +calling itself a Bastable will ever stoop to.</p> + +<p>So then Oswald, so often the leader in +hazardous enterprises, thought long and +deeply in his interior self, and he saw that +something must be done, because, though +there was still the goat left over, unclaimed +by its fortunate winner at the Bazaar, +somehow no really fine idea seemed to come +out of it, and nothing else was happening. +Dora was getting a bit domineering, and +Alice was too much taken up with trying +to learn to knit. Dicky was bored and so +was Oswald, and Noël was writing far more +poetry than could be healthy for any poet, +however young, and H.O. was simply a +nuisance. His boots are always much louder +when he is not amused, and that gets the rest +of us into rows, because there are hardly any +grown-up persons who can tell the difference +between his boots and mine. Oswald decided +to call a council (because even if nothing comes +of a council it always means getting Alice to +drop knitting, and making Noël chuck the +poetical influences, that are no use and +only make him silly), and he went into +the room that is our room. It is called the +common-room, like in colleges, and it is very +different from the room that was ours when +we were poor, but honest. It is a jolly room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +with a big table and a big couch, that is most +useful for games, and a thick carpet because +of H.O.'s boots.</p> + +<p>Alice was knitting by the fire; it was for +Father, but I am sure his feet are not at all +that shape. He has a high and beautifully +formed instep like Oswald's. Noël was writing +poetry, of course.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"My dear sister sits<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And knits,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I hope to goodness the stocking fits,"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>was as far as he had got.</div> + +<p>"It ought to be 'my dearest sister' to sound +right," he said, "but that wouldn't be kind to +Dora."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Dora, "You needn't +trouble to be kind to me, if you don't +want to."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Dora!" said Dicky, "Noël didn't +mean anything."</p> + +<p>"He never does," said H.O., "nor yet his +poetry doesn't neither."</p> + +<p>"<i>And</i> his poetry doesn't <i>either</i>," Dora +corrected; "and besides, you oughtn't to say +that at all, it's unkind——"</p> + +<p>"You're too jolly down on the kid," said +Dicky.</p> + +<p>And Alice said, "Eighty-seven, eighty-eight—oh, +do be quiet half a sec.!—eighty-nine, +ninety—now I shall have to count the stitches +all over again!"</p> + +<p>Oswald alone was silent and not cross.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +I tell you this to show that the sort of +worryingness was among us that is catching, +like measles. Kipling calls it the cameelious +hump, and, as usual, that great and good +writer is quite correct.</p> + +<p>So Oswald said, "Look here, let's have a +council. It says in Kipling's book when +you've got the hump go and dig till you +gently perspire. Well, we can't do that, +because it's simply pouring, but——"</p> + +<p>The others all interrupted him, and said +they hadn't got the hump and they didn't +know what he meant. So he shrugged his +shoulders patiently (it is not his fault that +the others hate him to shrug his shoulders +patiently) and he said no more.</p> + +<p>Then Dora said, "Oh, don't be so disagreeable, +Oswald, for goodness' sake!"</p> + +<p>I assure you she did, though he had done +simply nothing.</p> + +<p>Matters were in this cryptical state when +the door opened and Father came in.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, kiddies!" he remarked kindly. +"Beastly wet day, isn't it? And dark too. +I can't think why the rain can't always come +in term time. It seems a poor arrangement +to have it in 'vac.,' doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>I think every one instantly felt better. I +know one of us did, and it was me.</p> + +<p>Father lit the gas, and sat down in the +armchair and took Alice on his knee.</p> + +<p>"First," he said, "here is a box of chocs." +It was an extra big and beautiful one and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +Fuller's best. "And besides the chocs., a +piece of good news! You're all asked to +a party at Mrs. Leslie's. She's going to +have all sorts of games and things, with +prizes for every one, and a conjurer and a +magic lantern."</p> + +<p>The shadow of doom seemed to be lifted +from each young brow, and we felt how +much fonder we were of each other than +any one would have thought. At least Oswald +felt this, and Dicky told me afterwards he felt +Dora wasn't such a bad sort after all.</p> + +<p>"It's on Tuesday week," said Father. "I see +the prospect pleases. Number three is that +your cousin Archibald has come here to stay +a week or two. His little sister has taken it +into her head to have whooping-cough. And +he's downstairs now, talking to your uncle."</p> + +<p>We asked what the young stranger was +like, but Father did not know, because he and +cousin Archibald's father had not seen much +of each other for some years. Father said +this, but we knew it was because Archibald's +father hadn't bothered to see ours when he +was poor and honest, but now he was the +wealthy sharer of the red-brick, beautiful +Blackheath house it was different. This +made us not like Uncle Archibald very much, +but we were too just to blame it on to young +Archibald. All the same we should have liked +him better if his father's previous career had +not been of such a worldly and stuck-up sort. +Besides, I do think Archibald is quite the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +rotten sort of name. We should have called +him Archie, of course, if he had been at all +decent.</p> + +<p>"You'll be as jolly to him as you can, I +know," Father said; "he's a bit older than +you, Oswald. He's not a bad-looking chap."</p> + +<p>Then Father went down and Oswald had to +go with him, and there was Archibald sitting +upright in a chair and talking to our Indian +uncle as if he was some beastly grown-up. +Our cousin proved to be dark and rather tall, +and though he was only fourteen he was +always stroking his lip to see if his moustache +had begun to come.</p> + +<p>Father introduced us to each other, and we +said, "How do you do?" and looked at each +other, and neither of us could think of anything +else to say. At least Oswald couldn't. +So then we went upstairs. Archibald shook +hands with the others, and every one was +silent except Dora, and she only whispered to +H.O. to keep his feet still.</p> + +<p>You cannot keep for ever in melancholy +silence however few things you have to say, +and presently some one said it was a wet day, +and this well-chosen remark made us able to +begin to talk.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to be injurious to anybody, +especially one who was a Bastable, by birth +at least if not according to the nobler attributes, +but I must say that Oswald never did +dislike a boy so much as he did that young +Archibald. He was as cocky as though he'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +done something to speak of—been captain of +his eleven, or passed a beastly exam., or something—but +we never could find that he had +done anything. He was always bragging +about the things he had at home, and the +things he was allowed to do, and all the +things he knew all about, but he was a most +untruthful chap. He laughed at Noël's being +a poet—a thing we never do, because it +makes him cry and crying makes him ill—and +of course Oswald and Dicky could not punch +his head in their own house because of the +laws of hospitableness, and Alice stopped it at +last by saying she didn't care if it was being a +sneak, she would tell Father the very next +time. I don't think she would have, because +we made a rule, when we were poor and +honest, not to bother Father if we could +possibly help it. And we keep it up still. +But Archibald didn't know that. Then this +cousin, who is, I fear, the black sheep of the +Bastables, and hardly worthy to be called one, +used to pull the girls' hair, and pinch them at +prayers when they could not call out or do +anything to him back.</p> + +<p>And he was awfully rude to the servants, +ordering them about, and playing tricks on +them, not amusing tricks like other Bastables +might have done—such as booby-traps and +mice under dish-covers, which seldom leaves +any lasting ill-feeling—but things no decent +boy would do—like hiding their letters and +not giving them to them for days, and then it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +was too late to meet the young man the letter +was from, and squirting ink on their aprons +when they were just going to open the door, +and once he put a fish-hook in the cook's +pocket when she wasn't looking. He did not +do anything to Oswald at that time. I suppose +he was afraid. I just tell you this to +show you that Oswald didn't cotton to him +for no selfish reason, but because Oswald has +been taught to feel for others.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 339px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.png" width="339" height="400" alt="AND HE WAS AWFULLY RUDE TO THE SERVANTS." title="AND HE WAS AWFULLY RUDE TO THE SERVANTS." /> +<span class="caption">AND HE WAS AWFULLY RUDE TO THE SERVANTS.</span> +</div> + +<p>He called us all kids—and he was that kind +of boy we knew at once it was no good trying +to start anything new and jolly—so Oswald, +ever discreet and wary, shut up entirely about +the council. We played games with him +sometimes, not really good ones, but Snap +and Beggar my Neighbour, and even then he +used to cheat. I hate to say it of one of our +blood, but I can hardly believe he was. I +think he must have been changed at nurse +like the heirs to monarchies and dukeries.</p> + +<p>Well, the days passed slowly. There was +Mrs. Leslie's party shining starrishly in the +mysteries of the future. Also we had another +thing to look forward to, and that was when +Archibald would have to go back to school. +But we could not enjoy that foreshadowing +so much because of us having to go back at +nearly the same time.</p> + +<p>Oswald always tries to be just, no matter +how far from easy, and so I will say that I am +not quite sure that it was Archibald that set +the pipes leaking, but we were all up in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +loft the day before, snatching a golden opportunity +to play a brief game of robbers in a +cave, while Archibald had gone down to the +village to get his silly hair cut. Another +thing about him that was not natural was his +being always looking in the glass and wanting +to talk about whether people were handsome +or not; and he made as much fuss about his +ties as though he had been a girl. So when +he was gone Alice said—</p> + +<p>"Hist! The golden moment. Let's be +robbers in the loft, and when he comes back +he won't know where we are."</p> + +<p>"He'll hear us," said Noël, biting his pencil.</p> + +<p>"No, he won't. We'll be the Whispering +Band of Weird Bandits. Come on, Noël; you +can finish the poetry up here."</p> + +<p>"It's about <i>him</i>," said Noël gloomily, "when +he's gone back to——" (Oswald will not give +the name of Archibald's school for the sake of +the other boys there, as they might not like +everybody who reads this to know about there +being a chap like him in their midst.) "I +shall do it up in an envelope and put a stamp +on it and post it to him, and——"</p> + +<p>"Haste!" cried Alice. "Bard of the Bandits, +haste while yet there's time."</p> + +<p>So we tore upstairs and put on our slippers +and socks over them, and we got the high-backed +chair out of the girls' bedroom, and +the others held it steady while Oswald agilitively +mounted upon its high back and +opened the trap-door and got up into the place +between the roof and the ceiling (the boys in +"Stalky & Co." found this out by accident, +and they were surprised and pleased, but we +have known all about it ever since we can +remember).</p> + +<p>Then the others put the chair back, and +Oswald let down the rope ladder that we +made out of bamboo and clothes-line after +uncle told us the story of the missionary lady +who was shut up in a rajah's palace, and +some one shot an arrow to her with a string +tied to it, and it might have killed her I should +have thought, but it didn't, and she hauled in +the string and there was a rope and a bamboo +ladder, and so she escaped, and we made one +like it on purpose for the loft. No one had +ever told us not to make ladders.</p> + +<p>The others came up by the rope-ladder (it +was partly bamboo, but rope-ladder does for +short) and we shut the trap-door down. It is +jolly up there. There are two big cisterns, +and one little window in a gable that gives +you just enough light. The floor is plaster +with wooden things going across, beams and +joists they are called. There are some planks +laid on top of these here and there. Of course +if you walk on the plaster you will go through +with your foot into the room below.</p> + +<p>We had a very jolly game, in whispers, and +Noël sat by the little window, and was quite +happy, being the bandit bard. The cisterns +are rocks you hide behind. But the jolliest +part was when we heard Archibald shouting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +out, "Hullo! kids, where are you?" and we all +stayed as still as mice, and heard Jane say she +thought we must have gone out. Jane was +the one that hadn't got her letter, as well as +having her apron inked all over.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 279px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.png" width="279" height="500" alt="THE OTHERS CAME UP BY THE ROPE-LADDER." title="THE OTHERS CAME UP BY THE ROPE-LADDER." /> +<span class="caption">THE OTHERS CAME UP BY THE ROPE-LADDER.</span> +</div> + +<p>Then we heard Archibald going all over the +house looking for us. Father was at business +and uncle was at his club. And we were +<i>there</i>. And so Archibald was all alone. And +we might have gone on for hours enjoying +the spectacle of his confusion and perplexedness, +but Noël happened to sneeze—the least +thing gives him cold and he sneezes louder +for his age than any one I know—just when +Archibald was on the landing underneath. +Then he stood there and said—</p> + +<p>"I know where you are. Let me come +up."</p> + +<p>We cautiously did not reply. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll go and get the step-ladder."</p> + +<p>We did not wish this. We had not been +told not to make rope-ladders, nor yet about +not playing in the loft; but if he fetched the +step-ladder Jane would know, and there are +some secrets you like to keep to yourself.</p> + +<p>So Oswald opened the trap-door and squinted +down, and there was that Archibald with his +beastly hair cut. Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"We'll let you up if you promise not to tell +you've been up here."</p> + +<p>So he promised, and we let down the rope-ladder. +And it will show you the kind of boy +he was that the instant he had got up by it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +he began to find fault with the way it was +made.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 282px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.png" width="282" height="500" alt="SO OSWALD OPENED THE TRAP-DOOR AND SQUINTED DOWN, AND THERE WAS THAT ARCHIBALD." title="SO OSWALD OPENED THE TRAP-DOOR AND SQUINTED DOWN, AND THERE WAS THAT ARCHIBALD." /> +<span class="caption">SO OSWALD OPENED THE TRAP-DOOR AND SQUINTED DOWN, AND THERE WAS THAT ARCHIBALD.</span> +</div> + +<p>Then he wanted to play with the ball-cock. +But Oswald knows it is better not to do this.</p> + +<p>"I daresay <i>you're</i> forbidden," Archibald said, +"little kids like you. But <i>I</i> know all about +plumbing."</p> + +<p>And Oswald could not prevent his fiddling +with the pipes and the ball-cock a little. Then +we went down. All chance of further banditry +was at an end. Next day was Sunday. +The leak was noticed then. It was slow, +but steady, and the plumber was sent for +on Monday morning.</p> + +<p>Oswald does not know whether it was Archibald +who made the leak, but he does know +about what came after.</p> + +<p>I think our displeasing cousin found that +piece of poetry that Noël was beginning +about him, and read it, because he is a +sneak. Instead of having it out with Noël +he sucked up to him and gave him a six-penny +fountain-pen which Noël liked, although +it is really no good for him to try to write +poetry with anything but a pencil, because +he always sucks whatever he writes with, and +ink is poisonous, I believe.</p> + +<p>Then in the afternoon he and Noël got quite +thick, and went off together. And afterwards +Noël seemed very peacocky about +something, but he would not say what, and +Archibald was grinning in a way Oswald +would have liked to pound his head for.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, quite suddenly, the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'peacable'">peaceable</ins> quietness +of that happy Blackheath home was brought +to a close by screams. Servants ran about +with brooms and pails, and the water was +coming through the ceiling of uncle's room +like mad, and Noël turned white and looked +at our unattractive cousin and said: "Send +him away."</p> + +<p>Alice put her arm round Noël and said: +"Do go, Archibald."</p> + +<p>But he wouldn't.</p> + +<p>So then Noël said he wished he had never +been born, and whatever would Father say.</p> + +<p>"Why, what is it, Noël?" Alice asked that. +"Just tell us, we'll all stand by you. What's +he been doing?"</p> + +<p>"You won't let him do anything to me if I +tell?"</p> + +<p>"Tell tale tit," said Archibald.</p> + +<p>"He got me to go up into the loft and he +said it was a secret, and would I promise not +to tell, and I won't tell; only I've done it, and +now the water's coming in."</p> + +<p>"You've done it? You young ass, I was +only kidding you!" said our detestable cousin. +And he laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said Oswald. "What +did you tell Noël?"</p> + +<p>"He can't tell you because he promised—and +I won't—unless you vow by the honour +of the house you talk so much about +that you'll never tell I had anything to do +with it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>That will show you what he was. We had +never mentioned the honour of the house +except once quite at the beginning, before we +knew how discapable he was of understanding +anything, and how far we were from +wanting to call him Archie.</p> + +<p>We had to promise, for Noël was getting +greener and more gurgly every minute, and at +any moment Father or uncle might burst in +foaming for an explanation, and none of us +would have one except Noël, and him in this +state of all-anyhow.</p> + +<p>So Dicky said—</p> + +<p>"We promise, you beast, you!" And we all +said the same.</p> + +<p>Then Archibald said, drawling his words +and feeling for the moustache that wasn't +there, and I hope he'll be quite old before he +gets one—</p> + +<p>"It's just what comes of trying to amuse +silly little kids. I told the foolish little animal +about people having arteries cut, and your +having to cut the whole thing to stop the +bleeding. And he said, 'Was that what the +plumber would do to the leaky pipe?' And +how pleased your governor would be to find +it mended. And then he went and did it."</p> + +<p>"You told me to," said Noël, turning greener +and greener.</p> + +<p>"Go along with Alice," said Oswald. "We'll +stand by you. And Noël, old chap, you must +keep your word and not sneak about that +sneaking hound."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alice took him away, and we were left with +the horrid Archibald.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Oswald, "I won't break my +word, no more will the rest of us. But we +won't speak another word to you as long as +we live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Oswald," said Dora, "what about the +sun going down?"</p> + +<p>"Let it jolly well go," said Dicky in furiousness. +"Oswald didn't say we'd go on being +angry for ever, but I'm with Oswald all the +way. I won't talk to cads—no, not even before +grown-ups. They can jolly well think what +they like."</p> + +<p>After this no one spoke to Archibald.</p> + +<p>Oswald rushed for a plumber, and such was +his fiery eloquence he really caught one and +brought him home. Then he and Dicky waited +for Father when he came in, and they got him +into the study, and Oswald said what they had +all agreed on. It was this:</p> + +<p>"Father, we are all most awfully sorry, but +one of us has cut the pipe in the loft, and if +you make us tell you any more it will not be +honourable, and we are very sorry. Please, +please don't ask who it was did it."</p> + +<p>Father bit his moustache and looked worried, +and Dicky went on—</p> + +<p>"Oswald has got a plumber and he is doing +it now."</p> + +<p>Then Father said, "How on earth did you +get into the loft?"</p> + +<p>And then of course the treasured secret of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +the rope-ladder had to be revealed. We had +never been told not to make rope-ladders and +go into the loft, but we did not try to soften +the anger of our Father by saying this. It +would not have been any good either. We +just had to stick it. And the punishment of +our crime was most awful. It was that we +weren't to go to Mrs. Leslie's party. And +Archibald was to go, because when Father +asked him if he was in it with the rest of +us, he said "No." I cannot think of any really +gentle, manly, and proper words to say what +I think about my unnatural cousin.</p> + +<p>We kept our word about not speaking to +him, and I think Father thought we were +jealous because he was going to that conjuring, +magic lantern party and we were not. +Noël was the most unhappy, because he knew +we were all being punished for what he had +done. He was very affectionate and tried to +write pieces of poetry to us all, but he was so +unhappy he couldn't even write, and he went +into the kitchen and sat on Jane's knee and +said his head ached.</p> + +<p>Next day it was the day of the party and +we were plunged in gloom. Archibald got +out his Etons and put his clean shirt ready, +and a pair of flashy silk socks with red spots, +and then he went into the bath-room.</p> + +<p>Noël and Jane were whispering on the +stairs. Jane came up and Noël went down, +Jane knocked at the bath-room door and +said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Here's the soap, Master Archerbald. I +didn't put none in to-day."</p> + +<p>He opened the door and put out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Half a moment," said Jane, "I've got +something else in my hand."</p> + +<p>As she spoke the gas all over the house +went down blue, and then went out. We +held our breaths heavily.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," she said; "I'll put it in your +hand. I'll go down and turn off the burners +and see about the gas. You'll be late, sir. If +I was you I should get on a bit with the washing +of myself in the dark. I daresay the gas'll +be five or ten minutes, and it's five o'clock +now."</p> + +<p>It wasn't, and of course she ought not to +have said it, but it was useful all the same.</p> + +<p>Noël came stumping up the stairs in the +dark. He fumbled about and then whispered, +"I've turned the little white china knob that +locks the bath-room door on the outside."</p> + +<p>The water was bubbling and hissing in the +pipes inside, and the darkness went on. +Father and uncle had not come in yet, which +was a fortunate blessing.</p> + +<p>"Do be quiet!" said Noël. "Just you +wait."</p> + +<p>We all sat on the stairs and waited. Noël +said—</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me yet—you'll see—you wait."</p> + +<p>And we waited, and the gas did not come +back.</p> + +<p>At last Archibald tried to come out—he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +thought he had washed himself clean, I suppose—and +of course the door was fastened. +He kicked and he hammered and he shouted, +and we were glad.</p> + +<p>At last Noël banged on the door and +screamed through the keyhole—</p> + +<p>"If we let you out will you let us off +our promise not to tell about you and the +pipes? We won't tell till you've gone back +to school."</p> + +<p>He wouldn't for a long time, but at last he +had to.</p> + +<p>"I shan't ever come to your beastly house +again," he bellowed through the keyhole, "so +I don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Turn off the gas-burners then," said Oswald, +ever thoughtful, though he was still +in ignorance of the beautiful truth.</p> + +<p>Then Noël sang out over the stairs, "Light +up!" and Jane went round with a taper, and +when the landing gas was lighted Noël turned +the knob of the bath-room, and Archibald exited +in his Indian red and yellow dressing-gown +that he thought so much of. Of course we +expected his face to be red with rage, or white +with passion, or purple with mixed emotions, +but you cannot think what our feelings were—indeed, +we hardly knew what they were +ourselves—when we saw that he was not red +or white or purple, but <i>black</i>. He looked like +an uneven sort of bluish nigger. His face and +hands were all black and blue in streaks, +and so were the bits of his feet that showed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +between his Indian dressing-gown and his +Turkish slippers.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 453px;"> +<img src="images/gs07.png" width="453" height="400" alt=""WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" HE ASKED. "NYANG, NYANG!" JANE ANSWERED TAUNTINGLY." title=""WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" HE ASKED. "NYANG, NYANG!" JANE ANSWERED TAUNTINGLY." /> +<span class="caption">"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" HE ASKED. "NYANG, NYANG!" JANE ANSWERED TAUNTINGLY.</span> +</div> + +<p>The word "Krikey" fell from more than +one lip.</p> + +<p>"What are you staring at?" he asked.</p> + +<p>We did not answer even then, though I +think it was less from keep-your-wordishness +than amazement. But Jane did.</p> + +<p>"Nyang, Nyang!" she uttered tauntingly. +"You thought it was soap I was giving you, +and all the time it was Maple's dark bright +navy-blue indelible dye—won't wash out." +She flashed a looking-glass in his face, and +he looked and saw the depth of his dark +bright navy-blueness.</p> + +<p>Now, you may think that we shouted with +laughing to see him done brown and dyed blue +like this, but we did not. There was a spellbound +silence. Oswald, I know, felt a quite +uncomfortable feeling inside him.</p> + +<p>When Archibald had had one good look at +himself he did not want any more. He ran to +his room and bolted himself in.</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> won't go to no parties," said Jane, and +she flounced downstairs.</p> + +<p>We never knew how much Noël had told +her. He is very young, and not so strong as +we are, and we thought it better not to ask.</p> + +<p>Oswald and Dicky and H.O.—particularly +H.O.—told each other it served him right, but +after a bit Dora asked Noël if he would mind +her trying to get some of it off our unloved +cousin, and he said "No."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 406px;"> +<img src="images/gs08.png" width="406" height="400" alt="WHEN FATHER CAME HOME THERE WAS AN AWFUL ROW." title="WHEN FATHER CAME HOME THERE WAS AN AWFUL ROW." /> +<span class="caption">WHEN FATHER CAME HOME THERE WAS AN AWFUL ROW.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>But nothing would get it off him; and when +Father came home there was an awful row. +And he said we had disgraced ourselves and +forgotten the duties of hospitality. We got it +pretty straight, I can tell you. And we bore +it all. I do not say we were martyrs to the +honour of our house and to our plighted word, +but I do say that we got it very straight +indeed, and we did not tell the provocativeness +we had had from our guest that drove the +poet Noël to this wild and desperate revenge.</p> + +<p>But some one told, and I have always +thought it was Jane, and that is why we did +not ask too many questions about what Noël +had told her, because late that night Father +came and said he now understood that we had +meant to do right, except perhaps the one +who cut the pipe with a chisel, and that must +have been more silliness than naughtiness; +and perhaps the being dyed blue served our +cousin rather right. And he gave Archibald +a few remarks in private, and when the dye +began to come off—it was not a fast dye, +though it said so on the paper it was wrapped +in—Archibald, now a light streaky blue, really +did seem to be making an effort to be something +like decent. And when, now merely a +pale grey, he had returned to school, he sent +us a letter. It said:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<i>My dear Cousins</i>,—<br /> +</p> + +<p>"<i>I think that I was beastlier than I meant to +be, but I am not accustomed to young kids.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +And I think uncle was right, and the way you +stand up for the honour of our house is not +all nonsense, like I said it was. If we ever meet +in the future life I hope you will not keep a +down on me about things. I don't think you +can expect me to say more. From your affectionate +cousin,</i></p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<i>Archibald Bastable.</i>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>So I suppose rays of remorse penetrated +that cold heart, and now perhaps he will be a +reformed Bastable. I am sure I hope so, but +I believe it is difficult, if not impossible, for a +leopard to change his skin.</p> + +<p>Still, I remember how indelibly black he +looked when he came out of the fatal bath-room; +and it nearly all wore off. And perhaps +spots on the honourable inside parts of +your soul come off with time. I hope so. +The dye never came off the inside of the +bath though. I think that was what annoyed +our good great-uncle the most.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>OVER THE WATER TO CHINA</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Oswald</span> is a very modest boy, I believe, but +even he would not deny that he has an active +brain. The author has heard both his Father +and Albert's uncle say so. And the most far-reaching +ideas often come to him quite +naturally—just as silly notions that aren't +any good might come to you. And he had +an idea which he meant to hold a council; +about with his brothers and sisters; but just +as he was going to unroll his idea to them our +Father occurred suddenly in our midst and +said a strange cousin was coming, and he +came, and he was strange indeed! And when +Fate had woven the threads of his dark +destiny and he had been dyed a dark bright +navy-blue, and had gone from our midst, +Oswald went back to the idea that he had +not forgotten. The words "tenacious of +purpose" mean sticking to things, and these +words always make me think of the character +of the young hero of these pages. At least +I suppose his brothers Dicky and Noël and +H.O. are heroes too, in a way, but somehow +the author of these lines knows more about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +Oswald's inside realness than he does about +the others. But I am getting too deep for +words.</div> + +<p>So Oswald went into the common-room. +Every one was busy. Noël and H.O. were +playing Halma. Dora was covering boxes +with silver paper to put sweets in for a school +treat, and Dicky was making a cardboard +model of a new screw he has invented for +ocean steamers. But Oswald did not mind +interrupting, because Dora ought not to work +too hard, and Halma always ends in a row, +and I would rather not say what I think of +Dicky's screw. So Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"I want a council. Where's Alice?"</p> + +<p>Every one said they didn't know, and they +made haste to say that we couldn't have a +council without her. But Oswald's determined +nature made him tell H.O. to chuck that +rotten game and go and look for her. H.O. +is our youngest brother, and it is right that +he should remember this and do as he was +told. But he happened to be winning the +beastly Halma game, and Oswald saw that there +was going to be trouble—"big trouble," as +Mr. Kipling says. And he was just bracing his +young nerves for the conflict with H.O., because +he was not going to stand any nonsense from +his young brother about his not fetching Alice +when he was jolly well told to, when the +missing maiden bounced into the room bearing +upon her brow the marks of ravaging agitatedness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have any of you seen Pincher?" she cried, +in haste.</p> + +<p>We all said, "No, not since last night."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, he's lost," Alice said, making +the ugly face that means you are going to +blub in half a minute.</p> + +<p>Every one had sprung to their feet. Even +Noël and H.O. saw at once what a doddering +game Halma is, and Dora and Dicky, whatever +their faults, care more for Pincher than for +boxes and screws. Because Pincher is our fox-terrier. +He is of noble race, and he was ours +when we were poor, lonely treasure-seekers +and lived in humble hard-upness in the +Lewisham Road.</p> + +<p>To the faithful heart of young Oswald the +Blackheath affluent mansion and all it contains, +even the stuffed fox eating a duck in the glass +case in the hall that he is so fond of, and even +the council he wanted to have, seemed to +matter much less than old Pincher.</p> + +<p>"I want you all to let's go out and look for +him," said Alice, carrying out the meaning of +the faces she had made and beginning to howl. +"Oh, Pincher, suppose something happens to +him; you might get my hat and coat, Dora. +Oh, oh, oh!"</p> + +<p>We all got our coats and hats, and by the +time we were ready Alice had conquered it to +only sniffing, or else, as Oswald told her kindly, +she wouldn't have been allowed to come.</p> + +<p>"Let's go on the Heath," Noël said. "The +dear departed dog used to like digging there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>So we went. And we said to every single +person we met—</p> + +<p>"Please have you seen a thorough-bred fox-terrier +dog with a black patch over one eye, +and another over his tail, and a tan patch on +his right shoulder?" And every one said, "No, +they hadn't," only some had more polite ways +of saying it than others. But after a bit we +met a policeman, and he said, "I see one when +I was on duty last night, like what you +describe, but it was at the end of a string. +There was a young lad at the other end. The +dog didn't seem to go exactly willing."</p> + +<p>He also told us the lad and the dog had +gone over Greenwich way. So we went down, +not quite so wretched in our insides, because +now it seemed that there was some chance, +though we wondered the policeman <i>could</i> have +let Pincher go when he saw he didn't want to, +but he said it wasn't his business. And now +we asked every one if they'd seen a lad and +a thoroughbred fox-terrier with a black patch, +and cetera.</p> + +<p>And one or two people said they had, and +we thought it must be the same the policeman +had seen, because they said, too, that the dog +didn't seem to care about going where he was +going.</p> + +<p>So we went on and through the Park and +past the Naval College, and we didn't even +stop to look at that life-sized firm ship in the +playground that the Naval Collegians have to +learn about ropes and spars on, and Oswald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +would willingly give a year of his young life +to have that ship for his very own.</p> + +<p>And we didn't go into the Painted Hall +either, because our fond hearts were with +Pincher, and we could not really have enjoyed +looking at Nelson's remains, of the shipwrecks +where the drowning people all look so dry, +or even the pictures where young heroes are +boarding pirates from Spain, just as Oswald +would do if he had half a chance, with the +pirates fighting in attitudes more twisted and +Spanish than the pirates of any nation could +manage even if they were not above it. It is +an odd thing, but all those pictures are awfully +bad weather—even the ones that are not shipwrecks. +And yet in books the skies are +usually a stainless blue and the sea is a liquid +gem when you are engaged in the avocation +of pirate-boarding.</p> + +<p>The author is sorry to see that he is not +going on with the story.</p> + +<p>We walked through Greenwich Hospital +and asked there if they have seen Pincher, +because I heard Father say once that dogs +are sometimes stolen and taken to hospitals +and never seen again. It is wrong to steal, +but I suppose the hospital doctors forget this +because they are so sorry for the poor ill +people, and like to give them dogs to play +with them and amuse them on their beds of +anguish. But no one had seen our Pincher, +who seemed to be becoming more dear to our +hearts every moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>When we got through the Hospital grounds—they +are big and the buildings are big, and I +like it all because there's so much room everywhere +and nothing niggling—we got down +to the terrace over the river, next to the +Trafalgar Hotel. And there was a sailor +leaning on the railings, and we asked him the +usual question. It seems that he was asleep, +but of course we did not know, or we would +not have disturbed him. He was very angry, +and he swore, and Oswald told the girls to +come away; but Alice pulled away from +Oswald and said,</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be so cross. Do tell us if you've +seen our dog? He is——" and she recited +Pincher's qualifications.</p> + +<p>"Ho yes," said the sailor—he had a red and +angry face. "I see 'im a hour ago 'long of a +Chinaman. 'E crossed the river in a open +boat. You'd best look slippy arter 'im." He +grinned and spat; he was a detestable +character, I think. "Chinamen puts puppy-dogs +in pies. If 'e catches you three young +chaps 'e'll 'ave a pie as'll need a big crust to +cover it. Get along with your cheek!"</p> + +<p>So we got along. Of course, we knew that +the Chinese are not cannibals, so we were not +frightened by that rot; but we knew, too, +that the Chinese do really eat dogs, as well as +rats and birds' nests and other disgraceful +forms of eating.</p> + + +<p>H.O. was very tired, and he said his boots +hurt him; and Noël was beginning to look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +like a young throstle—all eyes and beak. He +always does when he is tired. The others +were tired too, but their proud spirits would +never have owned it. So we went round to +the Trafalgar Hotel's boathouse, and there +was a man in slippers, and we said could we +have a boat, and he said he would send a +boatman, and would we walk in?</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 528px;"> +<img src="images/gs09.png" width="528" height="400" alt="IT SEEMS THE SAILOR WAS ASLEEP, BUT OF COURSE WE DID NOT KNOW, OR WE SHOULD NOT HAVE DISTURBED HIM." title="IT SEEMS THE SAILOR WAS ASLEEP, BUT OF COURSE WE DID NOT KNOW, OR WE SHOULD NOT HAVE DISTURBED HIM." /> +<span class="caption">IT SEEMS THE SAILOR WAS ASLEEP, BUT OF COURSE WE DID NOT KNOW, OR WE SHOULD NOT HAVE DISTURBED HIM.</span> +</div> + +<p>We did, and we went through a dark room +piled up to the ceiling with boats and out on +to a sort of thing half like a balcony and half +like a pier. And there were boats there too, +far more than you would think any one could +want; and then a boy came. We said we +wanted to go across the river, and he said, +"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"To where the Chinamen live," said Alice.</p> + +<p>"You can go to Millwall if you want to," he +said, beginning to put oars into the boat.</p> + +<p>"Are there any Chinese people there?" Alice +asked.</p> + +<p>And the boy replied, "I dunno." He added +that he supposed we could pay for the boat.</p> + +<p>By a fortunate accident—I think Father +had rather wanted to make up to us for our +martyr-like enduring when our cousin was +with us—we were fairly flush of chink. +Oswald and Dicky were proudly able to +produce handfuls of money; it was mostly +copper, but it did not fail of its effect.</p> + +<p>The boy seemed not to dislike us quite so +much as before, and he helped the girls into +the boat, which was now in the water at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +edge of a sort of floating, unsteady raft, with +openings in it that you could see the water +through. The water was very rough, just +like real sea, and not like a river at all. And +the boy rowed; he wouldn't let us, although I +can, quite well. The boat tumbled and tossed +just like a sea-boat. When we were about +half-way over, Noël pulled Alice's sleeve and +said—</p> + +<p>"Do I look very green?"</p> + +<p>"You do rather, dear," she said kindly.</p> + +<p>"I feel much greener than I look," said +Noël. And later on he was not at all well.</p> + +<p>The boy laughed, but we pretended not to +notice. I wish I could tell you half the things +we saw as our boat was pulled along through +the swishing, lumpy water that turned into +great waves after every steamer that went by. +Oswald was quite fit, but some of the others +were very silent. Dicky says he saw everything +that Oswald saw, but I am not sure. +There were wharves and engines, and great +rusty cranes swinging giant's handfuls of iron +rails about in the air, and once we passed a +ship that was being broken up. All the wood +was gone, and they were taking away her +plates, and the red rust was running from her +and colouring the water all round; it looked +as though she was bleeding to death. I +suppose it was silly to feel sorry for her, but +I did. I thought how beastly it was that she +would never go to sea again, where the waves +are clean and green, even if no rougher than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +the black waves now raging around our +staunch little bark. I never knew before +what lots of kinds of ships there can be, +and I think I could have gone on and on for +ever and ever looking at the shapes of things +and the colours they were, and dreaming +about being a pirate, and things like that, +but we had come some way; and now Alice +said—</p> + +<p>"Oswald, I think Noël will die if we don't +make land soon."</p> + +<p>And indeed he had been rather bad for +some time, only I thought it was kinder to +take no notice.</p> + +<p>So our ship was steered among other pirate +craft, and moored at a landing-place where +there were steps up.</p> + +<p>Noël was now so ill that we felt we could +not take him on a Chinese hunt, and H.O. had +sneaked his boots off in the boat, and he said +they hurt him too much to put them on again; +so it was arranged that those two should sit +on a dry corner of the steps and wait, and +Dora said she would stay with them.</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to go home," she said. +"I'm quite sure Father wouldn't like us being +in these wild, savage places. The police ought +to find Pincher."</p> + +<p>But the others weren't going to surrender +like that, especially as Dora had actually had +the sense to bring a bag of biscuits, which +all, except Noël, were now eating.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they ought, but they <i>won't</i>," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +Dicky. "I'm boiling hot. I'll leave you my +overcoat in case you're cold."</p> + +<p>Oswald had been just about to make the +same manly proposal, though he was not +extra warm. So they left their coats, and, +with Alice, who would come though told not +to, they climbed the steps, and went along a +narrow passage and started boldly on the +Chinese hunt. It was a strange sort of place +over the river; all the streets were narrow, +and the houses and the pavements and the +people's clothes and the mud in the road all +seemed the same sort of dull colour—a sort of +brown-grey it was.</p> + +<p>All the house doors were open, and you +could see that the insides of the houses were +the same colour as the outsides. Some of the +women had blue, or violet or red shawls, and +they sat on the doorsteps and combed their +children's hair, and shouted things to each +other across the street. They seemed very +much struck by the appearance of the three +travellers, and some of the things they said +were not pretty.</p> + +<p>That was the day when Oswald found out a +thing that has often been of use to him in +after-life. However rudely poor people stare +at you they become all right instantly if you +ask them something. I think they don't hate +you so much when they've done something for +you, if it's only to tell you the time or the +way.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 344px;"> +<img src="images/gs10.png" width="344" height="400" alt="WE WENT ROUND A CORNER RATHER FAST, AND CAME SLAP INTO THE LARGEST WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN." title="WE WENT ROUND A CORNER RATHER FAST, AND CAME SLAP INTO THE LARGEST WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN." /> +<span class="caption">WE WENT ROUND A CORNER RATHER FAST, AND CAME SLAP INTO THE LARGEST WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN.</span> +</div> + +<p>So we got on very well, but it does not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +make me comfortable to see people so poor +and we have such a jolly house. People in +books feel this, and I know it is right to feel +it, but I hate the feeling all the same. And it +is worse when the people are nice to you.</p> + +<p>And we asked and asked and asked, but +nobody had seen a dog or a Chinaman, and +I began to think all was indeed lost, and you +can't go on biscuits all day, when we went +round a corner rather fast, and came slap +into the largest woman I have ever seen. She +must have been yards and yards round, and +before she had time to be in the rage that +we saw she was getting into, Alice said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon! I <i>am</i> so sorry, but +we really didn't mean to! I <i>do</i> so hope we +didn't hurt you!"</p> + +<p>We saw the growing rage fade away, and +she said, as soon as she got her fat breath—</p> + +<p>"No 'arm done, my little dear. An' w'ere +are you off to in such a 'urry?"</p> + +<p>So we told her all about it. She was quite +friendly, although so stout, and she said we +oughtn't to be gallivanting about all on our +own. We told her we were all right, though +I own Oswald was glad that in the hurry of +departing Alice hadn't had time to find anything +smarter-looking to wear than her +garden coat and grey Tam, which had been +regretted by some earlier in the day.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the woman, "if you go along +this 'ere turning as far as ever you can go, +and then take the first to the right and bear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +round to the left, and take the second to the +right again, and go down the alley between +the stumps, you'll come to Rose Gardens. +There's often Chinamen about there. And if +you come along this way as you come back, +keep your eye open for me, and I'll arks +some young chaps as I know as is interested +like in dogs, and perhaps I'll have news for +you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," Alice said, and the +woman asked her to give her a kiss. Everybody +is always wanting to kiss Alice. I can't +think why. And we got her to tell us the +way again, and we noticed the name of the +street, and it was Nightingale Street, and +the stairs where we had left the others was +Bullamy's Causeway, because we have the +true explorer's instincts, and when you can't +blaze your way on trees with your axe, or lay +crossed twigs like the gypsies do, it is best to +remember the names of streets.</p> + +<p>So we said goodbye, and went on through +the grey-brown streets with hardly any +shops, and those only very small and common, +and we got to the alley all right. It was a +narrow place between high blank brown-grey +walls. I think by the smell it was gasworks +and tanneries. There was hardly any one +there, but when we got into it we heard feet +running ahead of us, and Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"Hullo, suppose that's some one with +Pincher, and they've recognized his long-lost +masters and they're making a bolt for it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>And we all started running as hard as ever +we could. There was a turn in the passage, +and when we got round it we saw that the +running was stopping. There were four or +five boys in a little crowd round some one in +blue—blue looked such a change after the +muddy colour of everything in that dead +Eastern domain—and when we got up, the +person the blue was on was a very wrinkled +old man, with a yellow wrinkled face and a +soft felt hat and blue blouse-like coat, and I +see that I ought not to conceal any longer +from the discerning reader that it was exactly +what we had been looking for. It was indeed +a Celestial Chinaman in deep difficulties with +these boys who were, as Alice said afterwards, +truly fiends in mortal shape. They were +laughing at the old Chinaman, and shouting +to each other, and their language was of that +kind that I was sorry we had got Alice with +us. But she told Oswald afterwards that she +was so angry she did not know what they +were saying.</p> + +<p>"Pull his bloomin' pigtail," said one of these +outcasts from decent conduct.</p> + +<p>The old man was trying to keep them off +with both hands, but the hands were very +wrinkled and trembly.</p> + +<p>Oswald is grateful to his good Father who +taught him and Dicky the proper way to put +their hands up. If it had not been for that, +Oswald does not know what on earth would +have happened, for the outcasts were five to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +our two, because no one could have expected +Alice to do what she did.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/gs11.png" width="458" height="400" alt="IT WAS INDEED A CELESTIAL CHINAMAN IN DEEP DIFFICULTIES." title="IT WAS INDEED A CELESTIAL CHINAMAN IN DEEP DIFFICULTIES." /> +<span class="caption">IT WAS INDEED A CELESTIAL CHINAMAN IN DEEP DIFFICULTIES.</span> +</div> + +<p>Before Oswald had even got his hands into +the position required by the noble art of self-defence, +she had slapped the largest boy on +the face as hard as ever she could—and she +can slap pretty hard, as Oswald knows but +too well—and she had taken the second-sized +boy and was shaking him before Dicky could +get his left in on the eye of the slapped +assailant of the aged denizen of the Flowery +East. The other three went for Oswald, but +three to one is nothing to one who has hopes +of being a pirate in his spare time when he +grows up.</p> + +<p>In an instant the five were on us. Dicky +and I got in some good ones, and though +Oswald cannot approve of my sister being in +a street fight, he must own she was very +quick and useful in pulling ears and twisting +arms and slapping and pinching. But she +had quite forgotten how to hit out from the +shoulder like I have often shown her.</p> + +<p>The battle raged, and Alice often turned the +tide of it by a well-timed shove or nip. The +aged Eastern leaned against the wall, panting +and holding his blue heart with his yellow +hand. Oswald had got a boy down, and was +kneeling on him, and Alice was trying to pull +off two other boys who had fallen on top of +the fray, while Dicky was letting the fifth +have it, when there was a flash of blue and +another Chinaman dashed into the tournament.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Fortunately this one was not old, and +with a few well-directed, if foreign looking, +blows he finished the work so ably begun by +the brave Bastables, and next moment the +five loathsome and youthful aggressors were +bolting down the passage. Oswald and Dicky +were trying to get their breath and find out +exactly where they were hurt and how much, +and Alice had burst out crying and was howling +as though she would never stop. That is +the worst of girls—they never can keep anything +up. Any brave act they may suddenly +do, when for a moment they forget that they +have not the honour to be boys, is almost +instantly made into contemptibility by a +sudden attack of crybabyishness. But I will +say no more: for she did strike the first blow, +after all, and it did turn out that the boys had +scratched her wrist and kicked her shins. +These things make girls cry.</p> + +<p>The venerable stranger from distant shores +said a good deal to the other in what I +suppose was the language used in China. It +all sounded like "hung" and "li" and "chi," +and then the other turned to us and said—</p> + +<p>"Nicee lilly girlee, same piecee flowelee, you +takee my head to walkee on. This is alle +samee my father first chop ancestor. Dirty +white devils makee him hurt. You come +alongee fightee ploper. Me likee you welly +muchee."</p> + +<p>Alice was crying too much to answer, +especially as she could not find her handkerchief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +I gave her mine, and then she was +able to say that she did not want to walk +on anybody's head, and she wanted to go +home.</p> + +<p>"This not nicee place for lillee whitee +girlee," said the young Chinaman. His pigtail +was thicker than his father's and black +right up to the top. The old man's was grey +at the beginning, but lower down it was black, +because that part of it was not hair at all, but +black threads and ribbons and odds and ends +of trimmings, and towards the end both pigtails +were greenish.</p> + +<p>"Me lun backee takee him safee," the +younger of the Eastern adventurers went on, +pointing to his father. "Then me makee +walkee all alonk you, takee you back same +placee you comee from. Little white devils +waitee for you on ce load. You comee with? +Not? Lillee girlee not cly. John givee her +one piecee pletty-pletty. Come makee talkee +with the House Lady."</p> + +<p>I believe this is about what he said, and we +understood that he wanted us to come and +see his mother, and that he would give Alice +something pretty, and then see us safe out of +the horrible brown-grey country.</p> + +<p>So we agreed to go with them, for we knew +those five boys would be waiting for us on the +way back, most likely with strong reinforcements. +Alice stopped crying the minute she +could—I must say she is better than Dora in +that way—and we followed the Chinamen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +who walked in single file like Indians, so +we did the same, and talked to each other +over our shoulders. Our grateful Oriental +friends led us through a good many streets, +and suddenly opened a door with a key, +pulled us in, and shut the door. Dick thought +of the kidnapping of Florence Dombey and +good Mrs. Brown, but Oswald had no such +unnoble thoughts.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 540px;"> +<img src="images/gs12.png" width="540" height="400" alt="ON THE SIDEBOARD WAS A BLUEY-WHITE CROCKERY IMAGE." title="ON THE SIDEBOARD WAS A BLUEY-WHITE CROCKERY IMAGE." /> +<span class="caption">ON THE SIDEBOARD WAS A BLUEY-WHITE CROCKERY IMAGE.</span> +</div> + +<p>The room was small, and very, very odd. +It was very dirty too, but perhaps it is not +polite to say that. There was a sort of sideboard +at one end of the room, with an +embroidered dirty cloth on it, and on the +cloth a bluey-white crockery image over a +foot high. It was very fat and army and +leggy, and I think it was an idol. The +minute we got inside the young man +lighted little brown sticks, and set them +to burn in front of it. I suppose it was +incense. There was a sort of long, wide, +low sofa, without any arms or legs, and a +table that was like a box, with another box +in front of it for you to sit down on when +you worked, and on the table were all sorts +of tiny little tools—awls and brads they +looked like—and pipe-stems and broken +bowls of pipes and mouthpieces, for our +rescued Chinaman was a pipe-mender by +trade. There wasn't much else in the room +except the smell, and that seemed to fill it +choke-full. The smell seemed to have all +sorts of things in it—glue and gunpowder,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +and white garden lilies and burnt fat, and it +was not so easy to breathe as plain air.</p> + +<p>Then a Chinese lady came in. She had +green-grey trousers, shiny like varnish, and +a blue gown, and her hair was pulled back +very tight, and twisted into a little knob at +the back.</p> + +<p>She wanted to go down on the floor before +Alice, but we wouldn't let her. Then she said +a great many things that we feel sure were +very nice, only they were in Chinese, so we +could not tell what they were.</p> + +<p>And the Chinaman said that his mother +also wanted Alice to walk on her head—not +Alice's own, of course, but the mother's.</p> + +<p>I wished we had stayed longer, and tried +harder to understand what they said, because +it was an adventure, take it how you +like, that we're not likely to look upon the +like of again. Only we were too flustered +to see this.</p> + +<p>We said, "Don't mention it," and things +like that; and when Dicky said, "I think we +ought to be going," Oswald said so too.</p> + +<p>Then they all began talking Chinese like +mad, and the Chinese lady came back and +suddenly gave Alice a parrot.</p> + +<p>It was red and green, with a very long tail, +and as tame as any pet fawn I ever read +about. It walked up her arm and round +her neck, and stroked her face with its +beak. And it did not bite Oswald or Alice, +or even Dicky, though they could not be sure +at first that it was not going to.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>We said all the polite things we could, and +the old lady made thousands of hurried +Chinese replies, and repeated many times, +"All litey, John," which seemed to be all +the English she knew.</p> + +<p>We never had so much fuss made over us +in all our lives. I think it was that that +upset our calmness, and seemed to put us +into a sort of silly dream that made us not +see what idiots we were to hurry off from +scenes we should never again behold. So we +went. And the youthful Celestial saw us +safely to the top of Bullamy's Stairs, and +left us there with the parrot and floods of +words that seemed all to end in double "e."</p> + +<p>We wanted to show him to the others, but +he would not come, so we rejoined our +anxious relations without him.</p> + +<p>The scene of rejoinder was painful, at first +because they were most frightfully sick at us +having been such an age away; but when we +let them look at the parrot, and told them +about the fight, they agreed that it was not +our fault, and we really had been unavoidably +detained.</p> + +<p>But Dora said, "Well, you may say I'm +always preaching, but I <i>don't</i> think Father +would like Alice to be fighting street boys +in Millwall."</p> + +<p>"I suppose <i>you'd</i> have run away and let the +old man be killed," said Dicky, and peace was +not restored till we were nearly at Greenwich +again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>We took the tram to Greenwich Station, +and then we took a cab home (and well worth +the money, which was all we now had got, +except fourpence-halfpenny), for we were all +dog-tired.</p> + +<p>And dog-tired reminds me that we hadn't +found Pincher, in spite of all our trouble.</p> + +<p>Miss Blake, who is our housekeeper, was +angrier than I have ever seen her. She had +been so anxious that she had sent the police +to look for us. But, of course, they had not +found us. You ought to make allowances for +what people do when they are anxious, so I +forgive her everything, even what she said +about Oswald being a disgrace to a respectable +house. He owns we were rather muddy, +owing to the fight.</p> + +<p>And when the jaw was over and we were +having tea—and there was meat to it, because +we were as near starving as I ever wish to +be—we all ate lots. Even the thought of +Pincher could not thwart our bold appetites, +though we kept saying, "Poor old Pincher!" +"I do wish we'd found him," and things like +that. The parrot walked about among the +tea-things as tame as tame. And just as +Alice was saying how we'd go out again +to-morrow and have another try for our +faithful hound there was a scratching at the +door, and we rushed—and there was Pincher, +perfectly well and mad with joy to see us.</p> + +<p>H.O. turned an abrupt beetroot colour.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>We said, "What? Out with it."</p> + +<p>And though he would much rather have +kept it a secret buried in his breast, we made +him own that he had shut Pincher up yesterday +in the empty rabbit-hutch when he was +playing Zoological Gardens and forgotten all +about it in the pleasures of our cousin having +left us.</p> + +<p>So we need not have gone over the water +at all. But though Oswald pities all dumb +animals, especially those helplessly shut in +rabbit-hutches at the bottoms of gardens, he +cannot be sorry that we had such a Celestial +adventure and got hold of such a parrot. +For Alice says that Oswald and Dicky and +she shall have the parrot between them.</p> + +<p>She is tremendously straight. I often +wonder why she was made a girl. She's a +jolly sight more of a gentleman than half +the boys at our school.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE YOUNG ANTIQUARIES</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">This</span> really happened before Christmas, but +many authors go back to bygone years for +whole chapters, and I don't see why I +shouldn't.</div> + +<p>It was one Sunday—the Somethingth +Sunday in Advent, I think—and Denny and +Daisy and their father and Albert's uncle +came to dinner, which is in the middle of the +day on that day of rest and the same things +to eat for grown-ups and us. It is nearly +always roast beef and Yorkshire, but the +puddings and vegetables are brightly variegated +and never the same two Sundays running.</p> + +<p>At dinner some one said something about +the coat-of-arms that is on the silver tankards +which once, when we were poor and honest, +used to stay at the shop having the dents +slowly taken out of them for months and +months. But now they are always at home +and are put at the four corners of the table +every day, and any grown-up who likes can +drink beer out of them.</p> + +<p>After some talk of the sort you don't listen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +to, in which bends and lioncels and gules and +things played a promising part, Albert's uncle +said that Mr. Turnbull had told him something +about that coat-of-arms being carved +on a bridge somewhere in Cambridgeshire, +and again the conversation wandered into +things like Albert's uncle had talked about +to the Maidstone Antiquarian Society the +day they came over to see his old house in +the country and we arranged the time-honoured +Roman remains for them to dig +up. So, hearing the words king-post and +mullion and moulding and underpin, Oswald +said might we go; and we went, and took +our dessert with us and had it in our own +common-room, where you can roast chestnuts +with a free heart and never mind what your +fingers get like.</p> + +<p>When first we knew Daisy we used to call +her the White Mouse, and her brother had +all the appearance of being one too, but you +know how untruthful appearances are, or else +it was that we taught him happier things, for +he certainly turned out quite different in the +end; and she was not a bad sort of kid, +though we never could quite cure her of +wanting to be "ladylike"—that is the beastliest +word there is, I think, and Albert's uncle +says so, too. He says if a girl can't be a lady +it's not worth while to be only like one—she'd +better let it alone and be a free and happy +bounder.</p> + +<p>But all this is not what I was going to say,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +only the author does think of so many things +besides the story, and sometimes he puts +them in. This is the case with Thackeray +and the Religious Tract Society and other +authors, as well as Mrs. Humphrey Ward. +Only I don't suppose you have ever heard of +her, though she writes books that some +people like very much. But perhaps they +are her friends. I did not like the one I +read about the Baronet. It was on a wet +Sunday at the seaside, and nothing else in +the house but Bradshaw and "Elsie; or like +a——" or I shouldn't have. But what really +happened to us before Christmas is strictly +the following narrative.</p> + +<p>"I say," remarked Denny, when he had +burned his fingers with a chestnut that +turned out a bad one after all—and such is +life—and he had finished sucking his fingers +and getting rid of the chestnut, "about these +antiquaries?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what about them?" said Oswald. +He always tries to be gentle and kind to +Denny, because he knows he helped to make +a man of the young Mouse.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think," said Denny, "that it +was so very difficult to be one."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Dicky. "You have to +read very dull books and an awful lot of them, +and remember what you read, what's more."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," said Alice. "That girl +who came with the antiquities—the one +Albert's uncle said was upholstered in red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +plush like furniture—<i>she</i> hadn't read anything, +you bet."</p> + +<p>Dora said, "You ought not to bet, especially +on Sunday," and Alice altered it to "You may +be sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, but what then?" Oswald asked +Denny. "Out with it," for he saw that his +youthful friend had got an idea and couldn't +get it out. You should always listen patiently +to the ideas of others, no matter how silly +you expect them to be.</p> + +<p>"I do wish you wouldn't hurry me so," said +Denny, snapping his fingers anxiously. And +we tried to be patient.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't we <i>be</i> them?" Denny said +at last.</p> + +<p>"He means antiquaries," said Oswald to the +bewildered others. "But there's nowhere to +go and nothing to do when we get there."</p> + +<p>The Dentist (so-called for short, his real +name being Denis) got red and white, and +drew Oswald aside to the window for a secret +discussion. Oswald listened as carefully as he +could, but Denny always buzzes so when he +whispers.</p> + +<p>"Right oh," he remarked, when the confidings +of the Dentist had got so that you +could understand what he was driving at. +"Though you're being shy with us now, after +all we went through together in the summer, +is simply skittles."</p> + +<p>Then he turned to the polite and attentive +others and said—</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/gs13.png" width="270" height="425" alt="OSWALD LISTENED AS CAREFULLY AS HE COULD, BUT DENNY ALWAYS BUZZES SO WHEN HE WHISPERS." title="OSWALD LISTENED AS CAREFULLY AS HE COULD, BUT DENNY ALWAYS BUZZES SO WHEN HE WHISPERS." /> +<span class="caption">OSWALD LISTENED AS CAREFULLY AS HE COULD, BUT DENNY ALWAYS BUZZES SO WHEN HE WHISPERS.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You remember that day we went to +Bexley Heath with Albert's uncle? Well, +there was a house, and Albert's uncle said a +clever writer lived there, and in more ancient +years that chap in history—Sir Thomas What's +his name; and Denny thinks he might let us +be antiquaries there. It looks a ripping place +from the railway."</p> + +<p>It really does. It's a fine big house, and +splendid gardens, and a lawn with a sundial, +and the tallest trees anywhere about here.</p> + +<p>"But what could we <i>do?</i>" said Dicky. "I +don't suppose <i>he'd</i> give <i>us</i> tea," though such, +indeed, had been our hospitable conduct to +the antiquaries who came to see Albert's +uncle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Alice. "We might +dress up for it, and wear spectacles, and we +could all read papers. It would be lovely—something +to fill up the Christmas holidays—the +part before the wedding, I mean. Do +let's."</p> + +<p>"All right, I don't mind. I suppose it would +be improving," said Dora. "We should have +to read a lot of history. You can settle it. +I'm going to show Daisy our bridesmaids' +dresses."</p> + +<p>It was, alas! too true. Albert's uncle was +to be married but shortly after, and it was +partly our faults, though that does not come +into this story.</p> + +<p>So the two D.'s went to look at the clothes—girls +like this—but Alice, who wishes she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +had never consented to be born a girl, stayed +with us, and we had a long and earnest +council about it.</p> + +<p>"One thing," said Oswald, "it can't possibly +be wrong—so perhaps it won't be amusing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Oswald!" said Alice, and she spoke +rather like Dora.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean what you mean," said Oswald +in lofty scorn. "What I mean to say is that +when a thing is quite sure to be right, it's not +so—well—I mean to say there it is, don't you +know; and if it might be wrong, and isn't, it's +a score to you; and if it might be wrong, and +is—as so often happens—well, you know yourself, +adventures sometimes turn out wrong +that you didn't think were going to, but +seldom, or never, the uninteresting kind, +and——"</p> + +<p>Dicky told Oswald to dry up—which, of +course, no one stands from a younger +brother, but though Oswald explained this +at the time, he felt in his heart that he +has sometimes said what he meant with +more clearness. When Oswald and Dicky +had finished, we went on and arranged +everything.</p> + +<p>Every one was to write a paper—and +read it.</p> + +<p>"If the papers are too long to read while +we're there," said Noël, "we can read them in +the long winter evenings when we are grouped +along the household hearthrug. I shall do +my paper in poetry—about Agincourt."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some of us thought Agincourt wasn't fair, +because no one could be sure about any knight +who took part in that well-known conflict +having lived in the Red House; but Alice got +us to agree, because she said it would be +precious dull if we all wrote about nothing +but Sir Thomas Whatdoyoucallhim—whose +real name in history Oswald said he would +find out, and then write his paper on that +world-renowned person, who is a household +word in all families. Denny said he would +write about Charles the First, because they +were just doing that part at his school.</p> + +<p>"I shall write about what happened in +1066," said H.O. "I know that."</p> + +<p>Alice said, "If I write a paper it will be +about Mary Queen of Scots."</p> + +<p>Dora and Daisy came in just as she said +this, and it transpired that this ill-fated but +good-looking lady was the only one they +either of them wanted to write about. So +Alice gave it up to them and settled to do +Magna Charta, and they could settle something +between themselves for the one who +would have to give up Mary Queen of Scots +in the end. We all agreed that the story of +that lamented wearer of pearls and black +velvet would not make enough for two +papers.</p> + +<p>Everything was beautifully arranged, when +suddenly H.O. said—</p> + +<p>"Supposing he doesn't let us?"</p> + +<p>"Who doesn't let us what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Red House man—read papers at his +Red House."</p> + +<p>This was, indeed, what nobody had thought +of—and even now we did not think any one +could be so lost to proper hospitableness as to +say no. Yet none of us liked to write and +ask. So we tossed up for it, only Dora had +feelings about tossing up on Sunday, so we +did it with a hymn-book instead of a penny.</p> + +<p>We all won except Noël, who lost, so he +said he would do it on Albert's uncle's typewriter, +which was on a visit to us at the time, +waiting for Mr. Remington to fetch it away to +mend the "M." We think it was broken +through Albert's uncle writing "Margaret" +so often, because it is the name of the lady +he was doomed to be married by.</p> + +<p>The girls had got the letter the Maidstone +Antiquarian Society and Field Clubs Secretary +had sent to Albert's uncle—H.O. said they +kept it for a momentum of the day—and we +altered the dates and names in blue chalk and +put in a piece about might we skate on the +moat, and gave it to Noël, who had already +begun to make up his poetry about Agincourt, +and so had to be shaken before he would +attend. And that evening, when Father and +our Indian uncle and Albert's uncle were +seeing the others on the way to Forest Hill, +Noël's poetry and pencil were taken away +from him and he was shut up in Father's room +with the Remington typewriter, which we +had never been forbidden to touch. And I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +don't think he hurt it much, except quite at +the beginning, when he jammed the "S" and +the "J" and the thing that means per cent. so +that they stuck—and Dicky soon put that +right with a screwdriver.</p> + +<p>He did not get on very well, but kept on +writing MOR7E HOAS5 or MORD6M HOVCE +on new pieces of paper and then beginning +again, till the floor was strewn with his +remains; so we left him at it, and went and +played Celebrated Painters—a game even +Dora cannot say anything about on Sunday, +considering the Bible kind of pictures most of +them painted. And much later, the library +door having banged once and the front door +twice, Noël came in and said he had posted it, +and already he was deep in poetry again, +and had to be roused when requisite for +bed.</p> + +<p>It was not till next day that he owned that +the typewriter had been a fiend in disguise, +and that the letter had come out so odd that +he could hardly read it himself.</p> + +<p>"The hateful engine of destruction wouldn't +answer to the bit in the least," he said, "and +I'd used nearly a wastepaper basket of Father's +best paper, and I thought he might come in +and say something, so I just finished it as well +as I could, and I corrected it with the blue +chalk—because you'd bagged that B.B. of +mine—and I didn't notice what name I'd +signed till after I'd licked the stamp."</p> + +<p>The hearts of his kind brothers and sisters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +sank low. But they kept them up as well as +they could, and said—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 530px;"> +<img src="images/gs14.png" width="530" height="400" alt="IT WAS NOT TILL NEXT DAY THAT HE OWNED THAT THE TYPEWRITER HAD BEEN A FIEND IN DISGUISE." title="IT WAS NOT TILL NEXT DAY THAT HE OWNED THAT THE TYPEWRITER HAD BEEN A FIEND IN DISGUISE." /> +<span class="caption">IT WAS NOT TILL NEXT DAY THAT HE OWNED THAT THE TYPEWRITER HAD BEEN A FIEND IN DISGUISE.</span> +</div> + +<p>"What name <i>did</i> you sign?"</p> + +<p>And Noël said, "Why, Edward Turnbull, +of course—like at the end of the real letter. +You never crossed it out like you did his +address."</p> + +<p>"No," said Oswald witheringly. "You see, +I did think, whatever else you didn't know, +I did think you knew your own silly name."</p> + +<p>Then Alice said Oswald was unkind, though +you see he was not, and she kissed Noël and +said she and he would take turns to watch +for the postman, so as to get the answer +(which of course would be subscribed on the +envelope with the name of Turnbull instead +of Bastable) before the servant could tell +the postman that the name was a stranger +to her.</p> + +<p>And next evening it came, and it was very +polite and grown-up—and said we should be +welcome, and that we might read our papers +and skate on the moat. The Red House has +a moat, like the Moat House in the country, +but not so wild and dangerous. Only we +never skated on it because the frost gave out +the minute we had got leave to. Such is life, +as the sparks fly upwards. (The last above is +called a moral reflection.)</p> + +<p>So now, having got leave from Mr. Red House +(I won't give his name because he is a writer +of worldly fame and he might not like it), we +set about writing our papers. It was not bad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +fun, only rather difficult because Dora said +she never knew which Encyclo. volume she +might be wanting, as she was using Edinburgh, +Mary, Scotland, Bothwell, Holywell, and +France, and many others, and Oswald never +knew which he might want, owing to his not +being able exactly to remember the distinguished +and deathless other appellation of +Sir Thomas Thingummy, who had lived in +the Red House.</p> + +<p>Noël was up to the ears in Agincourt, yet +that made but little difference to our destiny. +He is always plunged in poetry of one sort or +another, and if it hadn't been that, it would +have been something else. This, at least, we +insisted on having kept a secret, so he could +not read it to us.</p> + +<p>H.O. got very inky the first half-holiday, +and then he got some sealing-wax and a big +envelope from Father, and put something in +and fastened it up, and said he had done his.</p> + +<p>Dicky would not tell us what his paper was +going to be about, but he said it would not +be like ours, and he let H.O. help him by +looking on while he invented more patent +screws for ships.</p> + +<p>The spectacles were difficult. We got three +pairs of the uncle's, and one that had belonged +to the housekeeper's grandfather, but nine +pairs were needed, because Albert-next-door +mouched in one half-holiday and wanted to +join, and said if we'd let him he'd write a +paper on the Constitutions of Clarendon, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +we thought he couldn't do it, so we let him. +And then, after all, he did.</p> + +<p>So at last Alice went down to Bennett's in +the village, that we are such good customers +of, because when our watches stop we take +them there, and he lent us a lot of empty +frames on the instinctive understanding that +we would pay for them if we broke them or +let them get rusty.</p> + +<p>And so all was ready. And the fatal day +approached; and it was the holidays. For +us, that is, but not for Father, for his business +never seems to rest by day and night, except +at Christmas and times like that. So we did +not need to ask him if we might go. Oswald +thought it would be more amusing for Father +if we told it all to him in the form of an +entertaining anecdote, afterwards.</p> + +<p>Denny and Daisy and Albert came to spend +the day.</p> + +<p>We told Mrs. Blake Mr. Red House had +asked us, and she let the girls put on their +second-best things, which are coats with capes +and red Tam-o'shanters. These capacious +coats are very good for playing highwaymen +in.</p> + +<p>We made ourselves quite clean and tidy. +At the very last we found that H.O. had +been making marks on his face with burnt +matches, to imitate wrinkles, but really it +only imitated dirt, so we made him wash it +off. Then he wanted to paint himself red +like a clown, but we had decided that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +spectacles were to be our only disguise, and +even those were not to be assumed till Oswald +gave the word.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 434px;"> +<img src="images/gs15.png" width="434" height="400" alt="THE STATIONMASTER AND PORTER LOOKED RESPECTFULLY AT US." title="THE STATIONMASTER AND PORTER LOOKED RESPECTFULLY AT US." /> +<span class="caption">THE STATIONMASTER AND PORTER LOOKED RESPECTFULLY AT US.</span> +</div> + +<p>No casuist observer could have thought +that the nine apparently light-headed and +careless party who now wended their way to +Blackheath Station, looking as if they were +not up to anything in particular, were really +an Antiquarian Society of the deepest dye. +We got an empty carriage to ourselves, and +halfway between Blackheath and the other +station Oswald gave the word, and we all put +on the spectacles. We had our antiquarian +papers of lore and researched history in +exercise-books, rolled up and tied with +string.</p> + +<p>The stationmaster and porter, of each of +which the station boasted but one specimen, +looked respectfully at us as we got out of the +train, and we went straight out of the station, +under the railway arch, and down to the +green gate of the Red House. It has a lodge, +but there is no one in it. We peeped in at +the window, and there was nothing in the +room but an old beehive and a broken leather +strap.</p> + +<p>We waited in the front for a bit, so that +Mr. Red House could come out and welcome +us like Albert's uncle did the other antiquaries, +but no one came, so we went round +the garden. It was very brown and wet, but +full of things you didn't see every day. Furze +summer-houses, for instance, and a red wall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +all round it, with holes in it that you might +have walled heretics up in in the olden times. +Some of the holes were quite big enough to +have taken a very small heretic. There was +a broken swing, and a fish-pond—but we were +on business, and Oswald insisted on reading +the papers.</p> + +<p>He said, "Let's go to the sundial. It looks +dryer there, my feet are like ice-houses."</p> + +<p>It was dryer because there was a soaking +wet green lawn round it, and round that a +sloping path made of little squares of red and +white marble. This was quite waterless, and +the sun shone on it, so that it was warm to +the hands, though not to the feet, because of +boots. Oswald called on Albert to read first. +Albert is not a clever boy. He is not one of +us, and Oswald wanted to get over the Constitutions. +For Albert is hardly ever amusing, +even in fun, and when he tries to show off it +is sometimes hard to bear. He read—</p> + +<div class='center'>"<span class="smcap">The Constitutions of Clarendon.</span></div> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Clarendon (sometimes called Clarence) had +only one constitution. It must have been a +very bad one, because he was killed by a butt +of Malmsey. If he had had more constitutions +or better ones he would have lived to be +very old. This is a warning to everybody."</p></div> + +<p>To this day none of us know how he could, +and whether his uncle helped him.</p> + +<p>We clapped, of course, but not with our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +hearts, which were hissing inside us, and then +Oswald began to read his paper. He had not +had a chance to ask Albert's uncle what the +other name of the world-famous Sir Thomas +was, so he had to put him in as Sir Thomas +Blank, and make it up by being very strong +on scenes that could be better imagined than +described, and, as we knew that the garden +was five hundred years old, of course he could +bring in any eventful things since the year +1400.</p> + +<p>He was just reading the part about the +sundial, which he had noticed from the train +when we went to Bexley Heath. It was +rather a nice piece, I think.</p> + +<p>"Most likely this sundial told the time +when Charles the First was beheaded, and +recorded the death-devouring progress of the +Great Plague and the Fire of London. There +is no doubt that the sun often shone even in +these devastating occasions, so that we may +picture Sir Thomas Blank telling the time +here and remarking—O crikey!"</p> + +<p>These last words are what Oswald himself +remarked. Of course a person in history +would never have said them.</p> + +<p>The reader of the paper had suddenly heard +a fierce, woodeny sound, like giant singlesticks, +terrifyingly close behind him, and +looking hastily round, he saw a most angry +lady, in a bright blue dress with fur on it, like +a picture, and very large wooden shoes, which +had made the singlestick noise. Her eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +were very fierce, and her mouth tight shut. +She did not look hideous, but more like an +avenging sprite or angel, though of course we +knew she was only mortal, so we took off our +caps. A gentleman also bounded towards us +over some vegetables, and acted as reserve +support to the lady.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 470px;"> +<img src="images/gs16.png" width="470" height="400" alt="HER VOICE WHEN SHE TOLD US WE WERE TRESPASSING WAS NOT SO FURIOUS." title="HER VOICE WHEN SHE TOLD US WE WERE TRESPASSING WAS NOT SO FURIOUS." /> +<span class="caption">HER VOICE WHEN SHE TOLD US WE WERE TRESPASSING WAS NOT SO FURIOUS.</span> +</div> + +<p>Her voice when she told us we were trespassing +and it was a private garden was not +so furious as Oswald had expected from her +face, but it <i>was</i> angry. H.O. at once said it +wasn't her garden, was it? But, of course, +we could see it <i>was</i>, because of her not having +any hat or jacket or gloves, and wearing +those wooden shoes to keep her feet dry, +which no one would do in the street.</p> + +<p>So then Oswald said we had leave, and +showed her Mr. Red House's letter.</p> + +<p>"But that was written to Mr. Turnbull," +said she, "and how did <i>you</i> get it?"</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Red House wearily begged us to +explain, so Oswald did, in that clear, straightforward +way some people think he has, and +that no one can suspect for an instant. And +he ended by saying how far from comfortable +it would be to have Mr. Turnbull coming with +his thin mouth and his tight legs, and that +we were Bastables, and much nicer than the +tight-legged one, whatever she might think.</p> + +<p>And she listened, and then she quite suddenly +gave a most jolly grin and asked us to go on +reading our papers.</p> + +<p>It was plain that all disagreeableness was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +at an end, and, to show this even to the +stupidest, she instantly asked us to lunch. +Before we could politely accept H.O. shoved +his oar in as usual and said <i>he</i> would stop +no matter how little there was for lunch +because he liked her very much.</p> + +<p>So she laughed, and Mr. Red House laughed, +and she said they wouldn't interfere with the +papers, and they went away and left us.</p> + +<p>Of course Oswald and Dicky insisted on +going on with the papers; though the girls +wanted to talk about Mrs. Red House, and +how nice she was, and the way her dress was +made. Oswald finished his paper, but later +he was sorry he had been in such a hurry, +because after a bit Mrs. Red House came +out, and said she wanted to play too. She +pretended to be a very ancient antiquary, and +was most jolly, so that the others read their +papers to her, and Oswald knows she would +have liked his paper best, because it <i>was</i> the +best, though I say it.</p> + +<p>Dicky's turned out to be all about that +patent screw, and how Nelson would not +have been killed if his ship had been built +with one.</p> + +<p>Daisy's paper was about Lady Jane Grey, +and hers and Dora's were exactly alike, the +dullest by far, because they had got theirs out +of books.</p> + +<p>Alice had not written hers because she had +been helping Noël to copy his.</p> + +<p>Denny's was about King Charles, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +was very grown-up and fervent about this +ill-fated monarch and white roses.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Red House took us into the summer-houses, +where it was warmer, and such is the +wonderful architecture of the Red House +gardens that there was a fresh summer-house +for each paper, except Noël's and H.O.'s, which +were read in the stable. There were no horses +there.</p> + +<p>Noël's was very long, and it began—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"This is the story of Agincourt.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">If you don't know it you jolly well ought.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">It was a famous battle fair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And all your ancestors fought there</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That is if you come of a family old.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The Bastables do; they were always very bold.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">And at Agincourt</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">They fought</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">As they ought;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So we have been taught."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And so on and so on, till some of us +wondered why poetry was ever invented. +But Mrs. Red House said she liked it awfully, +so Noël said—</p> + +<p>"You may have it to keep. I've got +another one of it at home."</p> + +<p>"I'll put it next my heart, Noël," she said. +And she did, under the blue stuff and fur.</p> + +<p>H.O.'s was last, but when we let him read it +he wouldn't, so Dora opened his envelope and +it was thick inside with blotting-paper, and +in the middle there was a page with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +"<span class="smcap">1066 William the Conqueror</span>,"<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>and nothing else.</div> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I said I'd write all I knew +about 1066, and that's it. I can't write more +than I know, can I?" The girls said he +couldn't, but Oswald thought he might +have tried.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't worth blacking your face all +over just for that," he said. But Mrs. Red +House laughed very much and said it was +a lovely paper, and told <i>her</i> all she wanted +to know about 1066.</p> + +<p>Then we went into the garden again and +ran races, and Mrs. Red House held all our +spectacles for us and cheered us on. She +said she was the Patent Automatic Cheering +Winning-post. We do like her.</p> + +<p>Lunch was the glorious end of the Morden +House Antiquarian Society and Field Club's +Field Day. But after lunch was the beginning +of a real adventure such as real antiquarians +hardly ever get. This will be unrolled later. +I will finish with some French out of a +newspaper. Albert's uncle told it me, so I +know it is right. Any of your own grown-ups +will tell you what it means.</p> + +<p><i>Au prochain numéro je vous promets des +émotions.</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>PS.—In case your grown-ups can't be +bothered, "<i>émotions</i>" mean sensation, I +believe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE INTREPID EXPLORER AND<br /> +HIS LIEUTENANT</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">We</span> had spectacles to play antiquaries in, +and the rims were vaselined to prevent rust, +and it came off on our faces with other kinds +of dirt, and when the antiquary game was +over, Mrs. Red House helped us to wash it off +with all the thoroughness of aunts, and far +more gentleness.</div> + +<p>Then, clean and with our hairs brushed, we +were led from the bath-room to the banqueting +hall or dining-room.</p> + +<p>It is a very beautiful house. The girls +thought it was bare, but Oswald likes bareness +because it leaves more room for games. +All the furniture was of agreeable shapes +and colours, and so were all the things on +the table—glasses and dishes and everything. +Oswald politely said how nice everything was.</p> + +<p>The lunch was a blissful dream of perfect +A.1.-ness. Tongue, and nuts, and apples, and +oranges, and candied fruits, and ginger-wine +in tiny glasses that Noël said were fairy +goblets. Everybody drank everybody else's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +health—and Noël told Mrs. Red House just +how lovely she was, and he would have paper +and pencil and write her a poem for her very +own. I will not put it in here, because Mr. +Red House is an author himself, and he might +want to use it in some of his books. And the +writer of these pages has been taught to think +of others, and besides I expect you are jolly +well sick of Noël's poetry.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 553px;"> +<img src="images/gs17.png" width="553" height="400" alt="THE LUNCH WAS A BLISSFUL DREAM OF A.1.-NESS." title="THE LUNCH WAS A BLISSFUL DREAM OF A.1.-NESS." /> +<span class="caption">THE LUNCH WAS A BLISSFUL DREAM OF A.1.-NESS.</span> +</div> + +<p>There was no restrainingness about that +lunch. As far as a married lady can possibly +be a regular brick, Mrs. Red House is one. +And Mr. Red House is not half bad, and +knows how to talk about interesting things +like sieges, and cricket, and foreign postage +stamps.</p> + +<p>Even poets think of things sometimes, and +it was Noël who said directly he had finished +his poetry,</p> + +<p>"Have you got a secret staircase? And +have you explored your house properly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—we have," said that well-behaved +and unusual lady—Mrs. Red House, "but +<i>you</i> haven't. You may if you like. Go +anywhere," she added with the unexpected +magnificence of a really noble heart. "Look +at everything—only don't make hay. Off +with you!" or words to that effect.</p> + +<p>And the whole of us, with proper thanks, +offed with us instantly, in case she should +change her mind.</p> + +<p>I will not describe the Red House to you—because +perhaps you do not care about a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +house having three staircases and more cupboards +and odd corners than we'd ever seen +before, and great attics with beams, and +enormous drawers on rollers, let into the +wall—and half the rooms not furnished, +and those that were all with old-looking, +interesting furniture. There was something +about that furniture that even the present +author can't describe—as though any of it +might have secret drawers or panels—even +the chairs. It was all beautiful, and mysterious +in the deepest degree.</p> + +<p>When we had been all over the house +several times, we thought about the cellars. +There was only one servant in the kitchen (so +we saw Mr. and Mrs. Red House must be poor +but honest, like we used to be), and we said to +her—</p> + +<p>"How do you do? We've got leave to +go wherever we like, and please where are +the cellars, and may we go in?"</p> + +<p>She was quite nice, though she seemed to +think there was an awful lot of us. People +often think this. She said:</p> + +<p>"Lor, love a duck—yes, I suppose so," in not +ungentle tones, and showed us.</p> + +<p>I don't think we should ever have found +the way from the house into the cellar by +ourselves. There was a wide shelf in the +scullery with a row of gentlemanly boots on +it that had been cleaned, and on the floor +in front a piece of wood. The general servant—for +such indeed she proved to be—lifted up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +the wood and opened a little door under the +shelf. And there was the beginning of steps, +and the entrance to them was half trap-door, +and half the upright kind—a thing none of +us had seen before.</p> + +<p>She gave us a candle-end, and we pressed +forward to the dark unknown. The stair was +of stone, arched overhead like churches—and +it twisted most unlike other cellar stairs. +And when we got down it was all arched +like vaults, very cobwebby.</p> + +<p>"Just the place for crimes," said Dicky. +There was a beer cellar, and a wine cellar +with bins, and a keeping cellar with hooks +in the ceiling and stone shelves—just right +for venison pasties and haunches of the same +swift animal.</p> + +<p>Then we opened a door and there was a +cellar with a well in it.</p> + +<p>"To throw bodies down, no doubt," Oswald +explained.</p> + +<p>They were cellars full of glory, and passages +leading from one to the other like the Inquisition, +and I wish ours at home were like them.</p> + +<p>There was a pile of beer barrels in the +largest cellar, and it was H.O. who said, +"Why not play 'King of the Castle?'"</p> + +<p>So we did. We had a most refreshing +game. It was exactly like Denny to be the +one who slipped down behind the barrels, +and did not break a single one of all his legs +or arms.</p> + +<p>"No," he cried, in answer to our anxious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +inquiries. "I'm not hurt a bit, but the wall +here feels soft—at least not soft—but it +doesn't scratch your nails like stone does, +so perhaps it's the door of a secret dungeon +or something like that."</p> + +<p>"Good old Dentist!" replied Oswald, who +always likes Denny to have ideas of his own, +because it was us who taught him the folly of +white-mousishness.</p> + +<p>"It might be," he went on, "but these barrels +are as heavy as lead, and much more awkward +to collar hold of."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we get in some other way?" Alice +said. "There ought to be a subterranean +passage. I expect there is if we only knew."</p> + +<p>Oswald has an enormous geographical +bump in his head. He said—</p> + +<p>"Look here! That far cellar, where the +wall doesn't go quite up to the roof—that +space we made out was under the dining-room—I +could creep under there. I believe +it leads into behind this door."</p> + +<p>"Get me out! Oh do, do get me out, and +let me come!" shouted the barrel-imprisoned +Dentist from the unseen regions near the +door.</p> + +<p>So we got him out by Oswald lying flat on +his front on the top barrel, and the Dentist +clawed himself up by Oswald's hands while +the others kept hold of the boots of the representative +of the house of Bastable, which, +of course, Oswald is, whenever Father is not +there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on," cried Oswald, when Denny +was at last able to appear, very cobwebby +and black. "Give us what's left of the +matches!"</p> + +<p>The others agreed to stand by the barrels +and answer our knocking on the door if we +ever got there.</p> + +<p>"But I daresay we shall perish on the way," +said Oswald hopefully.</p> + +<p>So we started. The other cellar was easily +found by the ingenious and geography-bump-headed +Oswald. It opened straight on to the +moat, and we think it was a boathouse in +middle-aged times.</p> + +<p>Denny made a back for Oswald, who led +the way, and then he turned round and +hauled up his inexperienced, but rapidly +improving, follower on to the top of the wall +that did not go quite up to the roof.</p> + +<p>"It is like coal mines," he said, beginning to +crawl on hands and knees over what felt like +very prickly beach, "only we've no picks or +shovels."</p> + +<p>"And no Sir Humphry Davy safety lamps," +said Denny in sadness.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't be any good," said Oswald; +"they're only to protect the hard-working +mining men against fire-damp and choke-damp. +And there's none of those kinds +here."</p> + +<p>"No," said Denny, "the damp here is only +just the common kind."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Oswald, and they crawled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +a bit further still on their furtive and unassuming +stomachs.</p> + +<p>"This is a very glorious adventure. It is, +isn't it?" inquired the Dentist in breathlessness, +when the young stomachs of the young +explorers had bitten the dust for some yards +further.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Oswald, encouraging the boy, +"and it's <i>your</i> find, too," he added, with +admirable fairness and justice, unusual in +one so young. "I only hope we shan't find +a mouldering skeleton buried alive behind +that door when we get to it. Come on. +What are you stopping for now?" he added +kindly.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's only cobwebs in my throat," +Denny remarked, and he came on, though +slower than before.</p> + +<p>Oswald, with his customary intrepid caution, +was leading the way, and he paused every now +and then to strike a match because it was +pitch dark, and at any moment the courageous +leader might have tumbled into a well or a +dungeon, or knocked his dauntless nose +against something in the dark.</p> + +<p>"It's all right for you," he said to Denny, +when he had happened to kick his follower +in the eye. "You've nothing to fear except +my boots, and whatever they do is accidental, +and so it doesn't count, but <i>I</i> may be going +straight into some trap that has been yawning +for me for countless ages."</p> + +<p>"I won't come on so fast, thank you," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +the Dentist. "I don't think you've kicked +my eye out yet."</p> + +<p>So they went on and on, crampedly crawling +on what I have mentioned before, and at last +Oswald did not strike the next match carefully +enough, and with the suddenness of a +falling star his hands, which, with his knees, +he was crawling on, went over the edge into +infinite space, and his chest alone, catching +sharply on the edge of the precipice, saved +him from being hurled to the bottom of it.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" he cried, as soon as he had any +breath again. But, alas! it was too late! +The Dentist's nose had been too rapid, and +had caught up the boot-heel of the daring +leader. This was very annoying to Oswald, +and was not in the least his fault.</p> + +<p>"Do keep your nose off my boots half a +sec.," he remarked, but not crossly. "I'll +strike a match."</p> + +<p>And he did, and by its weird and unscrutatious +light looked down into the precipice.</p> + +<p>Its bottom transpired to be not much more +than six feet below, so Oswald turned the +other end of himself first, hung by his hands, +and dropped with fearless promptness, uninjured, +in another cellar. He then helped +Denny down. The cornery thing Denny +happened to fall on could not have hurt +him so much as he said.</p> + +<p>The light of the torch, I mean match, now +revealed to the two bold and youthful youths +another cellar, with <i>things</i> in it—very dirty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +indeed, but of thrilling interest and unusual +shapes, but the match went out before we +could see exactly what the things were.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 541px;"> +<img src="images/gs18.png" width="541" height="300" alt="OSWALD DID NOT STRIKE THE NEXT MATCH CAREFULLY ENOUGH." title="OSWALD DID NOT STRIKE THE NEXT MATCH CAREFULLY ENOUGH." /> +<span class="caption">OSWALD DID NOT STRIKE THE NEXT MATCH CAREFULLY ENOUGH.</span> +</div> + +<p>The next match was the last but one, but +Oswald was undismayed, whatever Denny +may have been. He lighted it and looked +hastily round. There was a door.</p> + +<p>"Bang on that door—over there, silly!" he +cried, in cheering accents, to his trusty +lieutenant; "behind that thing that looks +like a <i>chevaux de frize</i>."</p> + +<p>Denny had never been to Woolwich, and +while Oswald was explaining what a <i>chevaux +de frize</i> is, the match burnt his fingers almost +to the bone, and he had to feel his way to the +door and hammer on it yourself.</p> + +<p>The blows of the others from the other side +were deafening.</p> + +<p>All was saved.</p> + +<p>It was the right door.</p> + +<p>"Go and ask for candles and matches," +shouted the brave Oswald. "Tell them there +are all sorts of things in here—a <i>chevaux de +frize</i> of chair-legs, and——"</p> + +<p>"A shovel of <i>what?</i>" asked Dicky's voice +hollowly from the other side of the door.</p> + +<p>"Freeze," shouted Denny. "I don't know +what it means, but do get a candle and make +them unbarricade the door. I don't want to +go back the way we came." He said something +about Oswald's boots that he was sorry +for afterwards, so I will not repeat it, and I +don't think the others heard, because of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +noise the barrels made while they were being +climbed over.</p> + +<p>This noise, however, was like balmy zephyrs +compared to the noise the barrels insisted on +making when Dicky had collected some +grown-ups and the barrels were being rolled +away. During this thunder-like interval +Denny and Oswald were all the time in the +pitch dark. They had lighted their last match, +and by its flickering gleam we saw a long, +large mangle.</p> + +<p>"It's like a double coffin," said Oswald, as +the match went out. "You can take my arm +if you like, Dentist."</p> + +<p>The Dentist did—and then afterwards he +said he only did it because he thought Oswald +was frightened of the dark.</p> + +<p>"It's only for a little while," said Oswald in +the pauses of the barrel-thunder, "and I once +read about two brothers confined for life in a +cage so constructed that the unfortunate +prisoners could neither sit, lie, nor stand in +comfort. We can do all those things."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Denny; "but I'd rather keep on +standing if it's the same to you, Oswald. I +don't like spiders—not much, that is."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Oswald with affable +gentleness; "and there might be toads perhaps +in a vault like this—or serpents guarding the +treasure like in the Cold Lairs. But of course +they couldn't have cobras in England. They'd +have to put up with vipers, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Denny shivered, and Oswald could feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +him stand first on one leg and then on the +other.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could stand on neither of my legs +for a bit," he said, but Oswald answered firmly +that this could not be.</p> + +<p>And then the door opened with a crack-crash, +and we saw lights and faces through it, +and something fell from the top of the door that +Oswald really did think for one awful instant +was a hideous mass of writhing serpents put +there to guard the entrance.</p> + +<p>"Like a sort of live booby-trap," he +explained; "just the sort of thing a magician +or a witch would have thought of doing."</p> + +<p>But it was only dust and cobwebs—a thick, +damp mat of them.</p> + +<p>Then the others surged in, in light-hearted +misunderstanding of the perils Oswald had +led Denny into—I mean through, with Mr. +Red House and another gentleman, and loud +voices and candles that dripped all over everybody's +hands, as well as their clothes, and the +solitary confinement of the gallant Oswald +was at an end. Denny's solitary confinement +was at an end, too—and he was now able to +stand on both legs and to let go the arm of +his leader who was so full of fortitude.</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> a find," said the pleased voice of +Mr. Red House. "Do you know, we've been +in this house six whole months and a bit, +and <i>we</i> never thought of there being a door +here."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you don't often play 'King of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +Castle,'" said Dora politely; "it <i>is</i> rather a +rough game, I always think."</p> + +<p>"Well, curiously enough, we never have," +said Mr. Red House, beginning to lift out the +chairs, in which avocation we all helped, of +course.</p> + +<p>"Nansen is nothing to you! You ought to +have a medal for daring explorations," said +the other gentleman, but nobody gave us one, +and, of course, we did not want any reward +for doing our duty, however tight and cobwebby.</p> + +<p>The cellars proved to be well stocked with +spiders and old furniture, but no toads or +snakes, which few, if any, regretted. Snakes +are outcasts from human affection. Oswald +pities them, of course.</p> + +<p>There was a great lumpish thing in four +parts that Mr. Red House said was a press, +and a ripping settle—besides the chairs, and +some carved wood that Mr. Red House and +his friend made out to be part of an old four-post +bed. There was also a wooden thing like +a box with another box on it at one end, and +H.O. said—</p> + +<p>"You could make a ripping rabbit-hutch +out of that."</p> + +<p>Oswald thought so himself. But Mr. Red +House said he had other uses for it, and +would bring it up later.</p> + +<p>It took us all that was left of the afternoon +to get the things up the stairs into the kitchen. +It was hard work, but we know all about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +dignity of labour. The general hated the +things we had so enterprisingly discovered. +I suppose she knew who would have to clean +them, but Mrs. Red House was awfully pleased +and said we were dears.</p> + +<p>We were not very clean dears by the time +our work was done, and when the other +gentleman said, "Won't you all take a dish +of tea under my humble roof?" the words +"Like this?" were formed by more than one +youthful voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you would be happier in a +partially cleansed state?" said Mr. Red House. +And Mrs. Red House, who is my idea of a +feudal lady in a castle, said, "Oh, come along, +let's go and partially clean ourselves. I'm +dirtier than anybody, though I haven't +explored a bit. I've often noticed that the +more you admire things the more they come +off on you!"</p> + +<p>So we all washed as much as we cared to, +and went to tea at the gentleman's house, +which was only a cottage, but very beautiful. +He had been a war correspondent, and he +knew a great many things, besides having +books and books of pictures.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid party.</p> + +<p>We thanked Mrs. R.H. and everybody when +it was time to go, and she kissed the girls and +the little boys, and then she put her head on +one side and looked at Oswald and said, "I +suppose you're too old?"</p> + +<p>Oswald did not like to say he was not. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +kissed at all he would prefer it being for some +other reason than his being not too old for it. +So he did not know what to say. But Noël +chipped in with—</p> + +<p>"<i>You'll</i> never be too old for it," to Mrs. Red +House—which seemed to Oswald most silly +and unmeaning, because she was already much +too old to be kissed by people unless she chose +to begin it. But every one seemed to think +Noël had said something clever. And Oswald +felt like a young ass. But Mrs. R.H. looked +at him so kindly and held out her hand so +queenily that, before he knew he meant to, he +had kissed it like you do the Queen's. Then, +of course, Denny and Dicky went and did the +same. Oswald wishes that the word "kiss" +might never be spoken again in this world. +Not that he minded kissing Mrs. Red House's +hand in the least, especially as she seemed to +think it was nice of him to—but the whole +thing is such contemptible piffle.</p> + +<p>We were seen home by the gentleman who +wasn't Mr. Red House, and he stood a glorious +cab with a white horse who had a rolling eye, +from Blackheath Station, and so ended one of +the most adventuring times we ever got out +of a play-beginning.</p> + +<p>The <i>time</i> ended as the author has pointed +out, but not its resultingness. Thus we ever +find it in life—the most unharmful things, +thoroughly approved even by grown-ups, but +too often lead to something quite different, +and that no one can possibly approve of, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +even yourself when you come to think it over +afterwards, like Noël and H.O. had to.</p> + +<p>It was but natural that the hearts of the +young explorers should have dwelt fondly on +everything underground, even drains, which +was what made us read a book by Mr. Hugo, +all the next day. It is called "The Miserables," +in French, and the man in it, who is a splendid +hero, though a convict and a robber and +various other professions, escapes into a drain +with great rats in it, and is miraculously +restored to the light of day, unharmed by the +kindly rodents. (N.B.—Rodents mean rats.)</p> + +<p>When we had finished all the part about +drains it was nearly dinner-time, and Noël +said quite suddenly in the middle of a bite +of mutton—</p> + +<p>"The Red House isn't nearly so red as ours +is outside. Why should the cellars be so much +cellarier? Shut up H.O.!" For H.O. was trying +to speak.</p> + +<p>Dora explained to him how we don't all +have exactly the same blessings, but he didn't +seem to see it.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem like the way things happen +in books," he said, "In Walter Scott it +wouldn't be like that, nor yet in Anthony +Hope. I should think the rule would be the +redder the cellarier. If I was putting it into +poetry I should make our cellars have something +much wonderfuller in them than just +wooden things. H.O., if you don't shut up I'll +never let you be in anything again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's that door you go down steps to," +said Dicky; "we've never been in there. If +Dora and I weren't going with Miss Blake to +be fitted for boots we might try that."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I was coming to. (Stow +it, H.O.!) I felt just like cellars to-day, while +you other chaps were washing your hands for +din.—and it was very cold; but I made H.O. +feel the same, and we went down, and—that +door <i>isn't shut now</i>."</p> + +<p>The intelligible reader may easily guess that +we finished our dinner as quickly as we could, +and we put on our outers, sympathising with +Dicky and Dora, who, owing to boots, were +out of it, and we went into the garden. There +are five steps down to that door. They were +red brick when they began, but now they are +green with age and mysteriousness and not +being walked on. And at the bottom of them +the door was, as Noël said, not fastened. We +went in.</p> + +<p>"It isn't beery, winey cellars at all," Alice +said; "it's more like a robber's store-house. +Look there."</p> + +<p>We had got to the inner cellar, and there +were heaps of carrots and other vegetables.</p> + +<p>"Halt, my men!" cried Oswald, "advance +not an inch further! The bandits may lurk +not a yard from you!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose they jump out on us?" said H.O.</p> + +<p>"They will not rashly leap into the light," +said the discerning Oswald. And he went to +fetch a new dark-lantern of his that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +not had any chance of really using before. +But some one had taken Oswald's secret +matches, and then the beastly lantern wouldn't +light for ever so long. But he thought it +didn't matter his being rather a long time +gone, because the others could pass the time +in wondering whether anything would jump +out on them, and if so, what and when.</p> + +<p>So when he got back to the red steps and +the open door and flashed his glorious bull's-eye +round it was rather an annoying thing +for there not to be a single other eye for it +to flash into. Every one had vanished.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" cried Oswald, and if his gallant +voice trembled he is not ashamed of it, because +he knows about wells in cellars, and, for an +instant, even he did not know what had +happened.</p> + +<p>But an answering hullo came from beyond, +and he hastened after the others.</p> + +<p>"Look out," said Alice; "don't tumble over +that heap of bones."</p> + +<p>Oswald did look out—of course, he would +not wish to walk on any one's bones. But he +did not jump back with a scream, whatever +Noël may say when he is in a temper.</p> + +<p>The heap really did look very like bones, +partly covered with earth. Oswald was glad +to learn that they were only parsnips.</p> + +<p>"We waited as long as we could," said +Alice, "but we thought perhaps you'd been +collared for some little thing you'd forgotten +all about doing, and wouldn't be able to come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +back, but we found Noël had, fortunately, got +your matches. I'm so glad you weren't collared, +Oswald dear."</p> + +<p>Some boys would have let Noël know about +the matches, but Oswald didn't. The heaps +of carrots and turnips and parsnips and things +were not very interesting when you knew +that they were not bleeding warriors' or +pilgrims' bones, and it was too cold to pretend +for long with any comfort to the young +Pretenders. So Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"Let's go out on the Heath and play something +warm. You can't warm yourself with +matches, even if they're not your own."</p> + +<p>That was all he said. A great hero would +not stoop to argue about matches.</p> + +<p>And Alice said, "All right," and she and +Oswald went out and played pretending golf +with some walking-sticks of Father's. But +Noël and H.O. preferred to sit stuffily over the +common-room fire. So that Oswald and Alice, +as well as Dora and Dicky, who were being +measured for boots, were entirely out of the +rest of what happened, and the author can +only imagine the events that now occurred.</p> + +<p>When Noël and H.O. had roasted their +legs by the fire till they were so hot that their +stockings quite hurt them, one of them must +have said to the other—I never knew which:</p> + +<p>"Let's go and have another look at that +cellar."</p> + +<p>The other—whoever it was—foolishly consented. +So they went, and they took Oswald's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +dark-lantern in his absence and without his +leave.</p> + +<p>They found a hitherto unnoticed door behind +the other one, and Noël says he said, "We'd +better not go in." H.O. says he said so too. +But any way, they <i>did</i> go in.</p> + +<p>They found themselves in a small vaulted +place that we found out afterwards had been +used for mushrooms. But it was long since +any fair bud of a mushroom had blossomed in +that dark retreat. The place had been cleaned +and new shelves put up, and when Noël and +H.O. saw what was on these shelves the +author is sure they turned pale, though they +say not.</p> + +<p>For what they saw was coils, and pots, and +wires; and one of them said, in a voice that +must have trembled—</p> + +<p>"It is dynamite, I am certain of it; what +shall we do?"</p> + +<p>I am certain the other said, "This is to +blow up Father because he took part in the +Lewisham Election, and his side won."</p> + +<p>The reply no doubt was, "There is no time +for delay; we must act. We must cut the +fuse—all the fuses; there are dozens."</p> + +<p>Oswald thinks it was not half bad business, +those two kids—for Noël is little more than +one, owing to his poetry and his bronchitis—standing +in the abode of dynamite and not +screeching, or running off to tell Miss Blake, +or the servants, or any one—but just doing +<i>the right thing</i> without any fuss.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 276px;"> +<img src="images/gs19.png" width="276" height="500" alt="WITH SCISSORS AND GAS PLIERS THEY CUT EVERY FUSE." title="WITH SCISSORS AND GAS PLIERS THEY CUT EVERY FUSE." /> +<span class="caption">WITH SCISSORS AND GAS PLIERS THEY CUT EVERY FUSE.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>I need hardly say it did not prove to be the +right thing—but they thought it was. And +Oswald cannot think that you are really doing +wrong if you really think you are doing right. +I hope you will understand this.</p> + +<p>I believe the kids tried cutting the fuses +with Dick's pocket-knife that was in the +pocket of his other clothes. But the fuses +would not—no matter how little you trembled +when you touched them.</p> + +<p>But at last, with scissors and the gas pliers, +they cut every fuse. The fuses were long, +twisty, wire things covered with green wool, +like blind-cords.</p> + +<p>Then Noël and H.O. (and Oswald for one +thinks it showed a goodish bit of pluck, and +policemen have been made heroes for less) got +cans and cans of water from the tap by the +greenhouse and poured sluicing showers of +the icy fluid in among the internal machinery +of the dynamite arrangement—for so they +believed it to be.</p> + +<p>Then, very wet, but feeling that they had +saved their Father and the house, they went +and changed their clothes. I think they were +a little stuck-up about it, believing it to be an +act unrivalled in devotedness, and they were +most tiresome all the afternoon, talking about +their secret, and not letting us know what +it was.</p> + +<p>But when Father came home, early, as it +happened, those swollen-headed, but, in +Oswald's opinion, quite-to-be-excused, kiddies +learned the terrible truth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course Oswald and Dicky would have +known at once; if Noël and H.O. hadn't been +so cocky about not telling us, we could have +exposed the truth to them in all its uninteresting +nature.</p> + +<p>I hope the reader will now prepare himself +for a shock. In a wild whirl of darkness, and +the gas being cut off, and not being able to get +any light, and Father saying all sorts of things, +it all came out.</p> + +<p>Those coils and jars and wires in that cellar +were not an infernal machine at all. It was—I +know you will be very much surprised—it +was the electric lights and bells that Father +had had put in while we were at the Red +House the day before.</p> + +<p>H.O. and Noël caught it very fully; and +Oswald thinks this was one of the few occasions +when my Father was not as just as he +meant to be. My uncle was not just either, +but then it is much longer since he was a boy, +so we must make excuses for him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We sent Mrs. Red House a Christmas card +each. In spite of the trouble that her cellars +had lured him into, Noël sent her a homemade +one with an endless piece of his everlasting +poetry on it, and next May she wrote +and asked us to come and see her. <i>We</i> try to +be just, and we saw that it was not really her +fault that Noël and H.O. had cut those electric +wires, so we all went; but we did not take +Albert Morrison, because he was fortunately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +away with an aged god-parent of his mother's +who writes tracts at Tunbridge Wells.</p> + +<p>The garden was all flowery and green, and +Mr. and Mrs. Red House were nice and jolly, +and we had a distinguished and first-class +time.</p> + +<p>But would you believe it?—that boxish thing +in the cellar, that H.O. wanted them to make +a rabbit-hutch of—well, Mr. Red House had +cleaned it and mended it, and Mrs. Red House +took us up to the room where it was, to let us +look at it again. And, unbelievable to relate, +it turned out to have rockers, and some one in +dark, bygone ages seems, for reasons unknown +to the present writer, to have wasted no end +of carpentry and carving on it, just to make +it into a <i>Cradle</i>. And what is more, since we +were there last Mr. and Mrs. Red House had +succeeded in obtaining a small but quite alive +baby to put in it.</p> + +<p>I suppose they thought it was wilful waste +to have a cradle and no baby to use it. But it +could so easily have been used for something +else. It would have made a ripping rabbit-hutch, +and babies are far more trouble than +rabbits to keep, and not nearly so profitable, I +believe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE TURK IN CHAINS; OR,<br /> +RICHARD'S REVENGE</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> morning dawned in cloudless splendour. +The sky was a pale cobalt colour, as in +pictures of Swiss scenery. The sun shone +brightly, and all the green things in the +garden sparkled in the bewitching rays of the +monarch of the skies.</div> + +<p>The author of this does not like to read +much about the weather in books, but he is +obliged to put this piece in because it is true; +and it is a thing that does not very often +happen in the middle of January. In fact, I +never remember the weather being at all like +that in the winter except on that one day.</p> + +<p>Of course we all went into the garden +directly after brekker. (PS.—I have said +green things: perhaps you think that is a +<i>lapsus lazuli</i>, or slip of the tongue, and that +there are not any green things in the winter. +But there are. And not just evergreens +either. Wallflowers and pansies and snapdragons +and primroses, and lots of things, +keep green all the year unless it's too frosty. +Live and learn.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>And it was so warm we were able to sit in +the summer-house. The birds were singing +like mad. Perhaps they thought it was +springtime. Or perhaps they <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'alway'">always</ins> sing +when they see the sun, without paying attention +to dates.</p> + +<p>And now, when all his brothers and sisters +were sitting on the rustic seats in the summer-house, +the far-sighted Oswald suddenly saw +that now was the moment for him to hold +that council he had been wanting to hold for +some time.</p> + +<p>So he stood in the door of the summer-house, +in case any of the others should +suddenly remember that they wanted to be in +some other place. And he said—</p> + +<p>"I say. About that council I want to hold."</p> + +<p>And Dicky replied: "Well, what about it?"</p> + +<p>So then Oswald explained all over again +that we had been Treasure Seekers, and we +had been Would-be-Goods, and he thought it +was time we were something else.</p> + +<p>"Being something else makes you think of +things," he said at the end of all the other +things he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said H.O., yawning, without putting +up his hand, which is not manners, and we +told him so. "But <i>I</i> can think of things without +being other things. Look how I thought +about being a clown, and going to Rome."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think you would want us to +remember <i>that</i>," said Dora. And indeed +Father had not been pleased with H.O. about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +that affair. But Oswald never encourages +Dora to nag, so he said patiently—</p> + +<p>"Yes, you think of things you'd much better +not have thought of. Now my idea is let's +each say what sort of a society we shall make +ourselves into—like we did when we were +Treasure Seekers—about the different ways +to look for it, I mean. Let's hold our tongues +(no, not with your dirty fingers, H.O., old chap; +hold it with your teeth if you must hold it +with something)—let's hold our tongues for a +bit, and then all say what we've thought of—in +ages," the thoughtful boy added hastily, so +that every one should not speak at once when +we had done holding our tongues.</p> + +<p>So we were all silent, and the birds sang +industriously among the leafless trees of our +large sunny garden in beautiful Blackheath. +(The author is sorry to see he is getting +poetical. It shall not happen again, and it +<i>was</i> an extra fine day, really, and the birds +did sing, a fair treat.)</p> + +<p>When three long minutes had elapsed +themselves by the hands of Oswald's watch, +which always keeps perfect time for three or +four days after he has had it mended, he +closed the watch and observed—</p> + +<p>"Time! Go ahead, Dora."</p> + +<p>Dora went ahead in the following remarks:</p> + +<p>"I've thought as hard as I can, and nothing +will come into my head except—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever.'<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></div> + +<div class='unindent'>Don't you think we might try to find some +new ways to be good in?"</div> + +<p>"No, you don't!" "I bar that!" came at +once from the mouths of Dicky and Oswald.</p> + +<p>"You don't come that over us twice," Dicky +added. And Oswald eloquently said, "No +more Would-be-Goods, thank you, Dora."</p> + +<p>Dora said, well, she couldn't think of anything +else. And she didn't expect Oswald had +thought of anything better.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," replied her brother. "What +I think is that we don't <i>know</i> half enough."</p> + +<p>"If you mean extra swat," said Alice; +"I've more homers than I care for already, +thank you."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean swat," rejoined the experienced +Oswald. "I want to know all +about real things, not booky things. If you +kids had known about electric bells you +wouldn't have——" Oswald stopped, and +then said, "I won't say any more, because +Father says a gentleman does not support his +arguments with personal illusions to other +people's faults and follies."</p> + +<p>"Faults and follies yourself," said H.O. The +girls restored peace, and Oswald went on—</p> + +<p>"Let us seek to grow wiser, and to teach +each other."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> bar that," said H.O. "I don't want +Oswald and Dicky always on to me and call +it teaching."</p> + +<p>"We might call the society the Would-be-Wisers," +said Oswald hastily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's not so dusty," said Dicky; "let's go on +to the others before we decide."</p> + +<p>"You're next yourself," said Alice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, so I am," remarked Dicky, trying to +look surprised. "Well, my idea is let's be +a sort of Industrious Society of Beavers, and +make a solemn vow and covenant to make +something every day. We might call it the +Would-be-Clevers."</p> + +<p>"It would be the Too-clever-by-half's before +we'd done with it," said Oswald.</p> + +<p>And Alice said, "We couldn't always make +things that would be any good, and then we +should have to do something that wasn't any +good, and that would be rot. Yes, I know +it's my turn—H.O., you'll kick the table to +pieces if you go on like that. Do, for goodness' +sake, keep your feet still. The only thing +I can think of is a society called the Would-be-Boys."</p> + +<p>"With you and Dora for members."</p> + +<p>"And Noël—poets aren't boys exactly," said +H.O.</p> + +<p>"If you don't shut up you shan't be in it +at all," said Alice, putting her arm round Noël. +"No; I meant us all to be in it—only you +boys are not to keep saying we're only girls, +and let us do everything the same as you +boys do."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be a boy, thank you," said +Dora, "not when I see how they behave. +H.O., <i>do</i> stop sniffing and use your handkerchief. +Well, take mine, then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was now Noël's turn to disclose his idea, +which proved most awful.</p> + +<p>"Let's be Would-be-Poets," he said, "and +solemnly vow and convenient to write one +piece of poetry a day as long as we live."</p> + +<p>Most of us were dumb at the dreadful +thought. But Alice said—</p> + +<p>"That would never do, Noël dear, because +you're the only one of us who's clever enough +to do it."</p> + +<p>So Noël's detestable and degrading idea was +shelved without Oswald having to say anything +that would have made the youthful +poet weep.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you don't mean me to say what +I thought of," said H.O., "but I shall. I +think you ought all to be in a Would-be-Kind +Society, and vow solemn convents and things +not to be down on your younger brother."</p> + +<p>We explained to him at once that <i>he</i> +couldn't be in that, because he hadn't got a +younger brother.</p> + +<p>"And you may think yourself lucky you +haven't," Dicky added.</p> + +<p>The ingenious and felicitous Oswald was +just going to begin about the council all over +again, when the portable form of our Indian +uncle came stoutly stumping down the garden +path under the cedars.</p> + +<p>"Hi, brigands!" he cried in his cheerful +unclish manner. "Who's on for the Hippodrome +this bright day?"</p> + +<p>And instantly we all were. Even Oswald—because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +after all you can have a council any +day, but Hippodromes are not like that.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 363px;"> +<img src="images/gs20.png" width="363" height="500" alt=""HI, BRIGANDS!" HE CRIED." title=""HI, BRIGANDS!" HE CRIED." /> +<span class="caption">"HI, BRIGANDS!" HE CRIED.</span> +</div> + +<p>We got ready like the whirlwind of the +desert for quickness, and started off with our +kind uncle, who has lived so long in India +that he is much more warm-hearted than you +would think to look at him.</p> + +<p>Half-way to the station Dicky remembered +his patent screw for working ships with. He +had been messing with it in the bath while he +was waiting for Oswald to have done plunging +cleanly in the basin. And in the desert-whirlwinding +he had forgotten to take it out. +So now he ran back, because he knew how its +cardboardiness would turn to pulp if it was +left.</p> + +<p>"I'll catch you up," he cried.</p> + +<p>The uncle took the tickets and the train +came in and still Dicky had not caught +us up.</p> + +<p>"Tiresome boy!" said the uncle; "you don't +want to miss the beginning—eh, what? Ah, +here he comes!" The uncle got in, and so did +we, but Dicky did not see the uncle's newspaper +which Oswald waved, and he went +running up and down the train looking for us +instead of just getting in anywhere sensibly, +as Oswald would have done. When the train +began to move he did try to open a carriage +door but it stuck, and the train went faster, +and just as he got it open a large heavy +porter caught him by the collar and pulled +him off the train, saying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Now, young shaver, no susansides on this +ere line, if <i>you</i> please."</p> + +<p>Dicky hit the porter, but his fury was vain. +Next moment the train had passed away, and +us in it. Dicky had no money, and the uncle +had all the tickets in the pocket of his fur +coat.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I am not going to tell you anything about +the Hippodrome because the author feels that +it was a trifle beastly of us to have enjoyed it +as much as we did considering Dicky. We +tried not to talk about it before him when we +got home, but it was very difficult—especially +the elephants.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I suppose he spent an afternoon of bitter +thoughts after he had told that porter what +he thought of him, which took some time, and +the station-master interfered in the end.</p> + +<p>When we got home he was all right with +us. He had had time to see it was not our +faults, whatever he thought at the time.</p> + +<p>He refused to talk about it. Only he said—</p> + +<p>"I'm going to take it out of that porter. +You leave me alone. I shall think of something +presently."</p> + +<p>"Revenge is very wrong," said Dora; but +even Alice asked her kindly to dry up. We +all felt that it was simply piffle to talk +copy-book to one so disappointed as our +unfortunate brother.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> wrong, though," said Dora.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wrong be blowed!" said Dicky, snorting; +"who began it I should like to know! The +station's a beastly awkward place to take it +out of any one in. I wish I knew where he +lived."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> know <i>that</i>," said Noël. "I've known it +a long time—before Christmas, when we were +going to the Moat House."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it, then?" asked Dicky +savagely.</p> + +<p>"Don't bite his head off," remarked Alice. +"Tell us about it, Noël. How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"It was when you were weighing yourselves +on the weighing machine. I didn't because +my weight isn't worth being weighed for. +And there was a heap of hampers and turkeys +and hares and things, and there was a label +on a turkey and brown-paper parcel; and +that porter that you hate so said to the other +porter——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hurry up, do!" said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you at all if you bully me," +said Noël, and Alice had to coax him before he +would go on.</p> + +<p>"Well, he looked at the label and said, +'Little mistake here, Bill—wrong address; +ought to be 3, Abel Place, eh?'</p> + +<p>"And the other one looked, and he said, +'Yes; it's got your name right enough. Fine +turkey, too, and his chains in the parcel. +Pity they ain't more careful about addressing +things, eh?' So when they had done laughing +about it I looked at the label and it said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +'James Johnson, 8, Granville Park.' So I +knew it was 3, Abel Place, he lived at, and +his name was James Johnson."</p> + +<p>"Good old Sherlock Holmes!" said Oswald.</p> + +<p>"You won't really <i>hurt</i> him," said Noël, +"will you? Not Corsican revenge with knives, +or poisoned bowls? I wouldn't do more than +a good booby-trap, if I was you."</p> + +<p>When Noël said the word "booby-trap," +we all saw a strange, happy look come over +Dicky's face. It is called a far-away look, I +believe, and you can see it in the picture of a +woman cuddling a photograph-album with +her hair down, that is in all the shops, and +they call it "The Soul's Awakening."</p> + +<p>Directly Dicky's soul had finished waking +up he shut his teeth together with a click. +Then he said, "I've got it."</p> + +<p>Of course we all knew that.</p> + +<p>"Any one who thinks revenge is wrong is +asked to leave <i>now</i>."</p> + +<p>Dora said he was very unkind, and did he +really want to turn her out?</p> + +<p>"There's a jolly good fire in Father's study," +he said. "No, I'm not waxy with you, but +I'm going to have my revenge, and I don't +want you to do anything you thought wrong. +You'd only make no end of a fuss afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>is</i> wrong, so I'll go," said Dora. +"Don't say I didn't warn you, that's all!"</p> + +<p>And she went.</p> + +<p>Then Dicky said, "Now, any more conscious +objectors?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>And when no one replied he went on: "It +was you saying 'Booby-trap' gave me the idea. +His name's James Johnson, is it? And he +said the things were addressed wrong, did he? +Well, <i>I'll</i> send him a Turkey-and-chains."</p> + +<p>"A Turk in chains," said Noël, growing +owley-eyed at the thought—"a <i>live</i> Turk—or—no, +not a dead one, Dicky?"</p> + +<p>"The Turk I'm going to send won't be a live +one nor yet a dead one."</p> + +<p>"How horrible! <i>Half</i> dead. That's worse +than anything," and Noël became so green in +the face that Alice told Dicky to stop playing +the goat, and tell us what his idea really was.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see <i>yet?</i>" he cried; "<i>I</i> saw it +directly."</p> + +<p>"I daresay," said Oswald; "it's easy to see +your own idea. Drive ahead."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to get a hamper and pack +it full of parcels and put a list of them on +the top—beginning Turk-and-chains, and send +it to Mister James Johnson, and when he +opens the parcels there'll be nothing inside."</p> + +<p>"There must be something, you know," said +H.O., "or the parcels won't be any shape +except flatness."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there'll be <i>something</i> right enough," +was the bitter reply of the one who had not +been to the Hippodrome, "but it won't be the +sort of something he'll expect it to be. Let's +do it now. I'll get a hamper."</p> + + +<p>He got a big one out of the cellar and four +empty bottles with their straw cases. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +filled the bottles with black ink and water, +and red ink and water, and soapy water, and +water plain. And we put them down on the +list—</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 421px;"> +<img src="images/gs21.png" width="421" height="400" alt="IT WAS RATHER DIFFICULT TO GET ANYTHING THE SHAPE OF A TURKEY." title="IT WAS RATHER DIFFICULT TO GET ANYTHING THE SHAPE OF A TURKEY." /> +<span class="caption">IT WAS RATHER DIFFICULT TO GET ANYTHING THE SHAPE OF A TURKEY.</span> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +1 bottle of port wine.<br /> +1 bottle of sherry wine.<br /> +1 bottle of sparkling champagne.<br /> +1 bottle of rum.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The rest of the things we put on the list +were—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +1 turkey-and-chains.<br /> +2 pounds of chains.<br /> +1 plum-pudding.<br /> +4 pounds of mince-pies.<br /> +2 pounds of almonds and raisins.<br /> +1 box of figs.<br /> +1 bottle of French plums.<br /> +1 large cake.<br /> +</div> + +<p>And we made up parcels to look outside +as if their inside was full of the delicious +attributes described in the list. It was rather +difficult to get anything the shape of a turkey +but with coals and crushed newspapers and +firewood we did it, and when it was done +up with lots of string and the paper artfully +squeezed tight to the firewood to look like +the Turk's legs it really was almost lifelike +in its deceivingness. The chains, or sausages, +we did with dusters—and not clean ones—rolled +tight, and the paper moulded gently to +their forms. The plum-pudding was a newspaper +ball. The mince-pies were newspapers +too, and so were the almonds and raisins. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +box of figs was a real fig-box with cinders and +ashes in it damped to keep them from rattling +about. The French-plum bottle was real too. +It had newspaper soaked in ink in it, and +the cake was half a muff-box of Dora's done +up very carefully and put at the bottom of +the hamper. Inside the muff-box we put a +paper with—</p> + +<p>"Revenge is not wrong when the other +people begin. It was you began, and now you +are jolly well served out."</p> + +<p>We packed all the bottles and parcels into +the hamper, and put the list on the very top, +pinned to the paper that covered the false +breast of the imitation Turk.</p> + +<p>Dicky wanted to write—"From an unknown +friend," but we did not think that was fair, +considering how Dicky felt.</p> + +<p>So at last we put—"From one who does not +wish to sign his name."</p> + +<p>And that was true, at any rate.</p> + +<p>Dicky and Oswald lugged the hamper down +to the shop that has Carter Paterson's board +outside.</p> + +<p>"I vote we don't pay the carriage," said +Dicky, but that was perhaps because he was +still so very angry about being pulled off the +train. Oswald had not had it done to him, +so he said that we ought to pay the carriage. +And he was jolly glad afterwards that this +honourable feeling had arisen in his young +bosom, and that he had jolly well made Dicky +let it rise in his.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>We paid the carriage. It was one-and-five-pence, +but Dicky said it was cheap for a high-class +revenge like this, and after all it was his +money the carriage was paid with.</p> + +<p>So then we went home and had another go +in of grub—because tea had been rather upset +by Dicky's revenge.</p> + +<p>The people where we left the hamper told +us that it would be delivered next day. So +next morning we gloated over the thought +of the sell that porter was in for, and Dicky +was more deeply gloating than any one.</p> + +<p>"I expect it's got there by now," he said +at dinner-time; "it's a first class booby-trap; +what a sell for him! He'll read the list and +then he'll take out one parcel after another +till he comes to the cake. It <i>was</i> a ripping +idea! I'm glad I thought of it!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not," said Noël suddenly. "I wish +you hadn't—I wish we hadn't. I know just +exactly what he feels like now. He feels +as if he'd like to <i>kill</i> you for it, and I daresay +he would if you hadn't been a craven, +white-feathered skulker and not signed your +name."</p> + +<p>It was a thunderbolt in our midst Noël +behaving like this. It made Oswald feel a +sick inside feeling that perhaps Dora had +been right. She sometimes is—and Oswald +hates this feeling.</p> + +<p>Dicky was so surprised at the unheard-of +cheek of his young brother that for a moment +he was speechless, and before he got over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +his speechlessness Noël was crying and +wouldn't have any more dinner. Alice spoke +in the eloquent language of the human eye +and begged Dicky to look over it this once. +And he replied by means of the same useful +organ that he didn't care what a silly kid +thought. So no more was said. When Noël +had done crying he began to write a piece +of poetry and kept at it all the afternoon. +Oswald only saw just the beginning. It was +called</p> + +<div class='center'> +"THE DISAPPOINTED PORTER'S FURY<br /> +<br /> +<i>Supposed to be by the Porter himself</i>,"<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>and it began:—</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"When first I opened the hamper fair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And saw the parcel inside there</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">My heart rejoiced like dry gardens when</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">It rains—but soon I changed and then</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I seized my trusty knife and bowl</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of poison, and said 'Upon the whole</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I will have the life of the man</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Or woman who thought of this wicked plan</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To deceive a trusting porter so.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">No noble heart would have thought of it. No.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>There were pages and pages of it. Of +course it was all nonsense—the poetry, I +mean. And yet . . . . . . (I have seen +that put in books when the author does +not want to let out all he thought at the +time.)</p> + +<p>That evening at tea-time Jane came and +said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Master Dicky, there's an old aged man +at the door inquiring if you live here."</p> + +<p>So Dicky thought it was the bootmaker +perhaps; so he went out, and Oswald went +with him, because he wanted to ask for a +bit of cobbler's wax.</p> + +<p>But it was not the shoemaker. It was an +old man, pale in the face and white in the +hair, and he was so old that we asked him +into Father's study by the fire, as soon as +we had found out it was really Dicky he +wanted to see.</p> + +<p>When we got him there he said—</p> + +<p>"Might I trouble you to shut the door?"</p> + +<p>This is the way a burglar or a murderer +might behave, but we did not think he was +one. He looked too old for these professions.</p> + +<p>When the door was shut, he said—</p> + +<p>"I ain't got much to say, young gemmen. +It's only to ask was it you sent this?"</p> + +<p>He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, +and it was our list. Oswald and Dicky looked +at each other.</p> + +<p>"Did you send it?" said the old man +again.</p> + +<p>So then Dicky shrugged his shoulders and +said, "Yes."</p> + +<p>Oswald said, "How did you know and who +are you?"</p> + +<p>The old man got whiter than ever. He +pulled out a piece of paper—it was the +greenish-grey piece we'd wrapped the Turk +and chains in. And it had a label on it that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +we hadn't noticed, with Dicky's name and +address on it. The new bat he got at +Christmas had come in it.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/gs22.png" width="350" height="425" alt="WHEN THE DOOR WAS SHUT HE SAID, "I AIN'T GOT MUCH TO SAY, YOUNG GEMMEN."" title="WHEN THE DOOR WAS SHUT HE SAID, "I AIN'T GOT MUCH TO SAY, YOUNG GEMMEN."" /> +<span class="caption">WHEN THE DOOR WAS SHUT HE SAID, "I AIN'T GOT MUCH TO SAY, YOUNG GEMMEN."</span> +</div> + +<p>"That's how I know," said the old man. +"Ah, be sure your sin will find you out."</p> + +<p>"But who are you, anyway!" asked Oswald +again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> ain't nobody in particular," he said. +"I'm only the father of the pore gell as you +took in with your cruel, deceitful, lying tricks. +Oh, you may look uppish, young sir, but I'm +here to speak my mind, and I'll speak it if +I die for it. So now!"</p> + +<p>"But we didn't send it to a girl," said +Dicky. "We wouldn't do such a thing. +We sent it for a—for a——" I think he +tried to say for a joke, but he couldn't +with the fiery way the old man looked at +him—"for a sell, to pay a porter out for +stopping me getting into a train when it was +just starting, and I missed going to the +Circus with the others." Oswald was glad +Dicky was not too proud to explain to the +old man. He was rather afraid he might +be.</p> + +<p>"I never sent it to a girl," he said again.</p> + +<p>"Ho," said the aged one. "An' who told +you that there porter was a single man? +It was his wife—my pore gell—as opened +your low parcel, and she sees your lying +list written out so plain on top, and, sez she +to me, 'Father,' says she, 'ere's a friend in +need! All these good things for us, and no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +name signed, so that we can't even say thank +you. I suppose it's some one knows how +short we are just now, and hardly enough to +eat with coals the price they are,' says she +to me. 'I do call that kind and Christian,' +says she, 'and I won't open not one of them +lovely parcels till Jim comes 'ome,' she says, +'and we'll enjoy the pleasures of it together, +all three of us,' says she. And when he came +home—we opened of them lovely parcels. +She's a cryin' her eyes out at home now, and +Jim, he only swore once, and I don't blame +him for that one—though never an evil +speaker myself—and then he set himself +down on a chair and puts his elbows on it +to hide his face like—and 'Emmie,' says he, +'so help me. I didn't know I'd got an enemy +in the world. I always thought we'd got +nothing but good friends,' says he. An' I +says nothing, but I picks up the paper, and +comes here to your fine house to tell you +what I think of you. It's a mean, low-down, +dirty, nasty trick, and no gentleman wouldn't +a-done it. So that's all—and it's off my chest, +and good-night to you gentlemen both!"</p> + +<p>He turned to go out. I shall not tell you +what Oswald felt, except that he did hope +Dicky felt the same, and would behave +accordingly. And Dicky did, and Oswald was +both pleased and surprised.</p> + +<p>Dicky said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, stop a minute. I didn't think +of your poor girl."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And her youngest but a bare three weeks +old," said the old man angrily.</p> + +<p>"I didn't, on my honour I didn't think of +anything but paying the porter out."</p> + +<p>"He was only a doing of his duty," the old +man said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I beg your pardon and his," said +Dicky; "it was ungentlemanly, and I'm very +sorry. And I'll try to make it up somehow. +Please make it up. I can't do more than own +I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't—there!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the old man slowly, "we'll +leave it at that. Next time p'r'aps you'll +think a bit who it's going to be as'll get the +benefit of your payings out."</p> + +<p>Dicky made him shake hands, and Oswald +did the same.</p> + +<p>Then we had to go back to the others and +tell them. It was hard. But it was ginger-ale +and seed-cake compared to having to tell +Father, which was what it came to in the +end. For we all saw, though Noël happened +to be the one to say it first, that the only +way we could really make it up to James +Johnson and his poor girl and his poor girl's +father, and the baby that was only three +weeks old, was to send them a hamper with +all the things in it—<i>real</i> things, that we had +put on the list in the revengeful hamper. +And as we had only six-and-sevenpence +among us we had to tell Father. Besides, +you feel better inside when you have. He +talked to us about it a bit, but he is a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +Father and does not jaw unduly. He advanced +our pocket-money to buy a real large +Turk-and-chains. And he gave us six bottles +of port wine, because he thought that would +be better for the poor girl who had the baby +than rum or sherry or even sparkling champagne.</p> + +<p>We were afraid to send the hamper by +Carter Pat. for fear they should think +it was another Avenging Take-in. And that +was one reason why we took it ourselves in +a cab. The other reason was that we wanted +to see them open the hamper, and another +was that we wanted—at least Dicky wanted—to +have it out man to man with the porter +and his wife, and tell them himself how sorry +he was.</p> + +<p>So we got our gardener to find out secretly +when that porter was off duty, and when we +knew the times we went to his house at one +of them.</p> + +<p>Then Dicky got out of the cab and went +in and said what he had to say. And then +we took in the hamper.</p> + +<p>And the old man and his daughter and the +porter were most awfully decent to us, and +the porter's wife said, "Lor! let bygones be +bygones is what <i>I</i> say! Why, we wouldn't +never have had this handsome present but +for the other. Say no more about it, sir, +and thank you kindly, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>And we have been friends with them ever +since.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>We were short of pocket-money for some +time, but Oswald does not complain, though +the Turk was Dicky's idea entirely. Yet +Oswald is just, and he owns that he helped as +much as he could in packing the Hamper of +the Avenger. Dora paid her share, too, +though she wasn't in it. The author does not +shrink from owning that this was very decent +of Dora.</p> + +<p>This is all the story of—</p> + +<div class='center'> +THE TURK IN CHAINS; or,<br /> +RICHARD'S REVENGE.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>(His name is really Richard, the same as +Father's. We only call him Dicky for short.)</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE GOLDEN GONDOLA</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Albert's</span> uncle is tremendously clever, and +he writes books. I have told how he fled to +Southern shores with a lady who is rather +nice. His having to marry her was partly +our fault, but we did not mean to do it, and +we were very sorry for what we had done. +But afterwards we thought perhaps it was +all for the best, because if left alone he might +have married widows, or old German governesses, +or Murdstone aunts, like Daisy and +Denny have, instead of the fortunate lady +that we were the cause of his being married +by.</div> + +<p>The wedding was just before Christmas, +and we were all there. And then they went +to Rome for a period of time that is spoken +of in books as the honeymoon. You know +that H.O., my youngest brother, tried to go +too, disguised as the contents of a dress-basket—but +was betrayed and brought back.</p> + +<p>Conversation often takes place about the +things you like, and we often spoke of Albert's +uncle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>One day we had a ripping game of hide-and-seek-all-over-the-house-and-all-the-lights-out, +sometimes called devil-in-the-dark, and +never to be played except when your father +and uncle are out, because of the screams +which the strongest cannot suppress when +caught by "he" in unexpectedness and total +darkness. The girls do not like this game so +much as we do. But it is only fair for them +to play it. We have more than once played +doll's tea-parties to please them.</p> + +<p>Well, when the game was over we were +panting like dogs on the hearthrug in front of +the common-room fire, and H.O. said—</p> + +<p>"I wish Albert's uncle had been here; he +does enjoy it so."</p> + +<p>Oswald has sometimes thought Albert's +uncle only played to please us. But H.O. may +be right.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if they often play it in Rome," +H.O. went on. "That post-card he sent us +with the Colly-whats-its-name-on—you know, +the round place with the arches. They could +have ripping games there——"</p> + +<p>"It's not much fun with only two," said +Dicky.</p> + +<p>"Besides," Dora said, "when people are +first married they always sit in balconies +and look at the moon, or else at each other's +eyes."</p> + +<p>"They ought to know what their eyes look +like by this time," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"I believe they sit and write poetry about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +their eyes all day, and only look at each other +when they can't think of the rhymes," said +Noël.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she knows how, but I'm +certain they read aloud to each other out of +the poetry books we gave them for wedding +presents," Alice said.</p> + +<p>"It would be beastly ungrateful if they +didn't, especially with their backs all covered +with gold like they are," said H.O.</p> + +<p>"About those books," said Oswald slowly, +now for the first time joining in what was +being said; "of course it was jolly decent of +Father to get such ripping presents for us to +give them. But I've sometimes wished we'd +given Albert's uncle a really truly present +that we'd chosen ourselves and bought with +our own chink."</p> + +<p>"I wish we could have <i>done</i> something for +him," Noël said; "I'd have killed a dragon for +him as soon as look at it, and Mrs. Albert's +uncle could have been the Princess, and +I would have let him have her."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dicky; "and we just gave rotten +books. But it's no use grizzling over it now. +It's all over, and he won't get married again +while she's alive."</p> + +<p>This was true, for we live in England which +is a morganatic empire where more than one +wife at a time is not allowed. In the glorious +East he might have married again and again +and we could have made it all right about the +wedding present.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish he was a Turk for some things," +said Oswald, and explained why.</p> + +<p>"I don't think <i>she</i> would like it," said +Dora.</p> + +<p>Oswald explained that if he was a Turk, she +would be a Turquoise (I think that is the +feminine Turk), and so would be used to lots +of wives and be lonely without them.</p> + +<p>And just then . . . You know what they +say about talking of angels, and hearing their +wings? (There is another way of saying this, +but it is not polite, as the present author +knows.)</p> + +<p>Well, just then the postman came, and of +course we rushed out, and among Father's +dull letters we found one addressed to "The +Bastables Junior." It had an Italian stamp—not +at all a rare one, and it was a poor +specimen too, and the post-mark was <i>Roma</i>.</p> + +<p>That is what the Italians have got into the +habit of calling Rome. I have been told that +they put the "a" instead of the "e" because +they like to open their mouths as much as +possible in that sunny and agreeable climate.</p> + +<p>The letter was jolly—it was just like hearing +him talk (I mean reading, not hearing, of +course, but reading him talk is not grammar, +and if you can't be both sensible and grammarical, +it is better to be senseless).</p> + +<p>"Well, kiddies," it began, and it went on +to tell us about things he had seen, not dull +pictures and beastly old buildings, but +amusing incidents of comic nature. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +Italians must be extreme Jugginses for the +kind of things he described to be of such +everyday occurring. Indeed, Oswald could +hardly believe about the soda-water label +that the Italian translated for the English +traveller so that it said, "To distrust of the +Mineral Waters too fountain-like foaming. +They spread the shape."</p> + +<p>Near the end of the letter came this:—</p> + +<p>"You remember the chapter of 'The +Golden Gondola' that I wrote for the +<i>People's Pageant</i> just before I had the +honour to lead to the altar, &c. I mean the +one that ends in the subterranean passage, +with Geraldine's hair down, and her last hope +gone, and the three villains stealing upon +her with Venetian subtlety in their hearts +and Toledo daggers (specially imported) in +their garters? I didn't care much for it myself, +you remember. I think I must have been +thinking of other things when I wrote it. +But you, I recollect, consoled me by refusing +to regard it as other than 'ripping.' 'Clinking' +was, as I recall it, Oswald's consolatory +epithet. You'll weep with me, I feel confident, +when you hear that my Editor does +not share your sentiments. He writes me +that it is not up to my usual form. He fears +that the public, &c., and he trusts that in the +next chapter, &c. Let us hope that the +public will, in this matter, take your views, +and not his. Oh! for a really discerning +public, just like you—you amiable critics!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +Albert's new aunt is leaning over my shoulder. +I can't break her of the distracting habit. +How on earth am I ever to write another +line? Greetings to all from</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Albert's Uncle and Aunt</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<p>"PS.—She insists on having her name put +to this, but of course she didn't write it. I +am trying to teach her to spell."</p> + +<p>"PSS.—Italian spelling, of course."</p> + +<p>"And now," cried Oswald, "I see it all!"</p> + +<p>The others didn't. They often don't when +Oswald does.</p> + +<p>"Why, don't you see!" he patiently explained, +for he knows that it is vain to be +angry with people because they are not so +clever as—as other people. "It's the direct +aspiration of Fate. He wants it, does he? +Well, he shall have it!"</p> + +<p>"What?" said everybody.</p> + +<p>"We'll be it."</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>" was the not very polite remark +now repeated by all.</p> + +<p>"Why, his discerning public."</p> + +<p>And still they all remained quite blind to +what was so clear to Oswald, the astute and +discernful.</p> + +<p>"It will be much more useful than killing +dragons," Oswald went on, "especially as +there aren't any; and it will be a really truly +wedding present—just what we were wishing +we'd given him."</p> + +<p>The five others now fell on Oswald and +rolled him under the table and sat on his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +head so that he had to speak loudly and +plainly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/gs23.png" width="600" height="311" alt="THE FIVE OTHERS" title="THE FIVE OTHERS" /> +<span class="caption">THE FIVE OTHERS</span> +</div> + +<p>"All right! I'll tell you—in words of one +syllable if you like. Let go, I say!" And +when he had rolled out with the others and +the tablecloth that caught on H.O.'s boots and +the books and Dora's workbox, and the glass +of paint-water that came down with it, he +said—</p> + +<p>"We will <i>be</i> the public. We will all write +to the editor of the <i>People's Pageant</i> and +tell him what we think about the Geraldine +chapter. Do mop up that water, Dora; it's +running all under where I'm sitting."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think," said Dora, devoting her +handkerchief and Alice's in the obedient way +she does not always use, "that six letters, all +signed 'Bastable,' and all coming from the +same house, would be rather—rather——"</p> + +<p>"A bit too thick? Yes," said Alice; "but +of course we'd have all different names and +addresses."</p> + +<p>"We might as well do it thoroughly," said +Dicky, "and send three or four different letters +each."</p> + +<p>"And have them posted in different parts +of London. Right oh!" remarked Oswald.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> shall write a piece of poetry for mine," +said Noël.</p> + +<p>"They ought all to be on different kinds of +paper," said Oswald. "Let's go out and get +the paper directly after tea."</p> + +<p>We did, but we could only get fifteen different<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +kinds of paper and envelopes, though we +went to every shop in the village.</p> + +<p>At the first shop, when we said, "Please we +want a penn'orth of paper and envelopes of +each of all the different kinds you keep," the +lady of the shop looked at us thinly over blue-rimmed +spectacles and said, "What for?"</p> + +<p>And H.O. said, "To write unonymous +letters."</p> + +<p>"Anonymous letters are very wrong," the +lady said, and she wouldn't sell us any paper +at all.</p> + +<p>But at the other places we did not say what +it was for, and they sold it us. There were +bluey and yellowy and grey and white kinds, +and some was violetish with violets on it, and +some pink, with roses. The girls took the +florivorous ones, which Oswald thinks are +unmanly for any but girls, but you excuse +their using it. It seems natural to them to +mess about like that.</p> + +<p>We wrote the fifteen letters, disguising our +handwritings as much as we could. It was +not easy. Oswald tried to write one of them +with his left hand, but the consequences were +almost totally unreadable. Besides, if any +one could have read it, they would only have +thought it was written in an asylum for the +insane, the writing was so delirious. So he +chucked it.</p> + +<p>Noël was only allowed to write one poem. +It began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, Geraldine! Oh, Geraldine!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You are the loveliest heroine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I never read about one before</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That made me want to write more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Poetry. And your Venetian eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">They must have been an awful size;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And black and blue, and like your hair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And your nose and chin were a perfect pair."</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>and so on for ages.</div> + +<p>The other letters were all saying what a +beautiful chapter "Beneath the Doge's Home" +was, and how we liked it better than the +other chapters before, and how we hoped the +next would be like it. We found out when all +too late that H.O. had called it the "Dog's +Home." But we hoped this would pass unnoticed +among all the others. We read the +reviews of books in the old <i>Spectators</i> and +<i>Athenæums</i>, and put in the words they say +there about other people's books. We said we +thought that chapter about Geraldine and +the garters was "subtle" and "masterly" +and "inevitable"—that it had an "old-world +charm," and was "redolent of the soil." We +said, too, that we had "read it with breathless +interest from cover to cover," and that it had +"poignant pathos and a convincing realism," +and the "fine flower of delicate sentiment," +besides much other rot that the author can't +remember.</p> + +<p>When all the letters were done we addressed +them and stamped them and licked +them down, and then we got different people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +to post them. Our under-gardener, who lives +in Greenwich, and the other under-gardener, +who lives in Lewisham, and the servants on +their evenings out, which they spend in +distant spots like Plaistow and Grove Park—each +had a letter to post. The piano-tuner +was a great catch—he lived in Highgate; and +the electric-bell man was Lambeth. So we +got rid of all the letters, and watched the post +for a reply. We watched for a week, but no +answer came.</p> + +<p>You think, perhaps, that we were duffers to +watch for a reply when we had signed all the +letters with fancy names like Daisy Dolman, +Everard St. Maur, and Sir Cholmondely Marjoribanks, +and put fancy addresses on them, +like Chatsworth House, Loampit Vale, and +The Bungalow, Eaton Square. But we were +not such idiots as you think, dear reader, and +you are not so extra clever as you think, +either. We had written <i>one</i> letter (it had +the grandest <i>Spectator</i> words in it) on our +own letter-paper, with the address on the +top and the uncle's coat-of-arms outside the +envelope. Oswald's real own name was signed +to this letter, and this was the one we looked +for the answer to. See?</p> + +<p>But that answer did not come. And when +three long days had passed away we all felt +most awfully stale about it. Knowing the +great good we had done for Albert's uncle +made our interior feelings very little better, +if at all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>And on the fourth day Oswald spoke up +and said what was in everybody's inside +heart. He said—</p> + +<p>"This is futile rot. I vote we write and ask +that editor why he doesn't answer letters."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't answer that one any more +than he did the other," said Noël. "Why +should he? He knows you can't do anything +to him for not."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't we go and ask him?" H.O. +said. "He couldn't not answer us if we was +all there, staring him in the face."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose he'd see you," said Dora; +"and it's 'were,' not 'was.'"</p> + +<p>"The other editor did when I got the guinea +for my beautiful poems," Noël reminded us.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the thoughtful Oswald; "but +then it doesn't matter how young you are +when you're just a poetry-seller. But we're +the discerning public now, and he'd think we +ought to be grown up. I say, Dora, suppose +you rigged yourself up in old Blakie's things. +You'd look quite twenty or thirty."</p> + +<p>Dora looked frightened, and said she +thought we'd better not.</p> + +<p>But Alice said, "Well, I will, then. I don't +care. I'm as tall as Dora. But I won't go +alone. Oswald, you'll have to dress up old +and come too. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Its'">It's</ins> not much to do for +Albert's uncle's sake."</p> + +<p>"You know you'll enjoy it," said Dora, and +she may have wished that she did not so often +think that we had better not. However, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +dye was now cast, and the remainder of this +adventure was doomed to be coloured by the +dye we now prepared. (This is an allegory. +It means we had burned our boats. And that +is another.)</p> + +<p>We decided to do the deed next day, and +during the evening Dicky and Oswald went +out and bought a grey beard and moustache, +which was the only thing we could think of +to disguise the manly and youthful form of +the bold Oswald into the mature shape of a +grown-up and discerning public character.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the girls made tiptoe and +brigand-like excursions into Miss Blake's +room (she is the housekeeper) and got +several things. Among others, a sort of +undecided thing like part of a wig, which +Miss Blake wears on Sundays. Jane, our +housemaid, says it is called a "transformation," +and that duchesses wear them.</p> + +<p>We had to be very secret about the dressing-up +that night, and to put Blakie's things all +back when they had been tried on.</p> + +<p>Dora did Alice's hair. She twisted up what +little hair Alice has got by natural means, +and tied on a long tail of hair that was Miss +Blake's too. Then she twisted that up, bun-like, +with many hairpins. Then the wiglet, +or transformation, was plastered over the +front part, and Miss Blake's Sunday hat, +which is of a very brisk character, with half +a blue bird in it, was placed on top of +everything. There were several petticoats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +used, and a brown dress and some stockings +and hankies to stuff it out where it was too +big. A black jacket and crimson tie completed +the picture. We thought Alice would +do.</p> + +<p>Then Oswald went out of the room and +secretly assumed his dark disguise. But +when he came in with the beard on, and a hat +of Father's, the others were not struck with +admiration and respect, like he meant them +to be. They rolled about, roaring with +laughter, and when he crept into Miss +Blake's room and turned up the gas a bit, +and looked in her long glass, he owned that +they were right and that it was no go. He +is tall for his age, but that beard made him +look like some horrible dwarf; and his hair +being so short added to everything. Any +idiot could have seen that the beard had not +originally flourished where it now was, but +had been transplanted from some other place +of growth.</p> + +<p>And when he laughed, which now became +necessary, he really did look most awful. He +has read of beards wagging, but he never saw +it before.</p> + +<p>While he was looking at himself the girls +had thought of a new idea.</p> + +<p>But Oswald had an inside presentiment +that made it some time before he could even +consent to listen to it. But at last, when the +others reminded him that it was a noble act, +and for the good of Albert's uncle, he let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +them explain the horrid scheme in all its +lurid parts.</p> + +<p>It was this: That Oswald should consent to +be disguised in women's raiments and go +with Alice to see the Editor.</p> + +<p>No man ever wants to be a woman, and it +was a bitter thing for Oswald's pride, but at +last he consented. He is glad he is not a girl. +You have no idea what it is like to wear +petticoats, especially long ones. I wonder +that ladies continue to endure their miserable +existences. The top parts of the clothes, too, +seemed to be too tight and too loose in +the wrong places. Oswald's head, also, was +terribly in the way. He had no wandering +hairs to fasten transformations on to, even if +Miss Blake had had another one, which was +not the case. But the girls remembered a +governess they had once witnessed whose +hair was brief as any boy's, so they put a +large hat, with a very tight elastic behind, on +to Oswald's head, just as it was, and then +with a tickly, pussyish, featherish thing round +his neck, hanging wobblily down in long ends, +he looked more young-lady-like than he will +ever feel.</p> + +<p>Some courage was needed for the start next +day. Things look so different in the daylight.</p> + +<p>"Remember Lord Nithsdale coming out of +the Tower," said Alice. "Think of the great +cause and be brave," and she tied his neck up.</p> + +<p>"I'm brave all right," said Oswald, "only +I do feel such an ass."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I feel rather an ape myself," Alice owned, +"but I've got three-penn'orth of peppermints +to inspire us with bravery. It is called Dutch +courage, I believe."</p> + +<p>Owing to our telling Jane we managed to +get out unseen by Blakie.</p> + +<p>All the others would come, too, in their +natural appearance, except that we made +them wash their hands and faces. We happened +to be flush of chink, so we let them +come.</p> + +<p>"But if you do," Oswald said, "you must +surround us in a hollow square of four."</p> + +<p>So they did. And we got down to the +station all right. But in the train there were +two ladies who stared, and porters and people +like that came round the window far more +than there could be any need for. Oswald's +boots must have shown as he got in. He had +forgotten to borrow a pair of Jane's, as he +had meant to, and the ones he had on were +his largest. His ears got hotter and hotter, +and it got more and more difficult to manage +his feet and hands. He failed to suck any +courage, of any nation, from the peppermints.</p> + + +<p>Owing to the state Oswald's ears were now +in, we agreed to take a cab at Cannon Street. +We all crammed in somehow, but Oswald saw +the driver wink as he put his boot on the step, +and the porter who was opening the cab door +winked back, and I am sorry to say Oswald +forgot that he was a high-born lady, and he +told the porter that he had better jolly well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +stow his cheek. Then several bystanders +began to try and be funny, and Oswald knew +exactly what particular sort of fool he was +being.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 481px;"> +<img src="images/gs24.png" width="481" height="400" alt="OSWALD SAW THE DRIVER WINK AS HE PUT HIS BOOT ON THE STEP, AND THE PORTER WHO WAS OPENING THE CAB DOOR WINKED BACK." title="OSWALD SAW THE DRIVER WINK AS HE PUT HIS BOOT ON THE STEP, AND THE PORTER WHO WAS OPENING THE CAB DOOR WINKED BACK." /> +<span class="caption">OSWALD SAW THE DRIVER WINK AS HE PUT HIS BOOT ON THE STEP, AND THE PORTER WHO WAS OPENING THE CAB DOOR WINKED BACK.</span> +</div> + +<p>But he bravely silenced the fierce warnings +of his ears, and when we got to the Editor's +address we sent Dick up with a large card +that we had written on,</p> + +<div class='center'> +"<span class="smcap">Miss Daisy Dolman</span><br /> +and<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Right Honourable Miss<br /> +Etheltruda Bustler</span>.<br /> +On urgent business."<br /> +</div> + +<p>and Oswald kept himself and Alice concealed +in the cab till the return of the messenger.</p> + +<p>"All right; you're to go up," Dicky came +back and said; "but the boy grinned who told +me so. You'd better be jolly careful."</p> + +<p>We bolted like rabbits across the pavement +and up the Editor's stairs.</p> + +<p>He was very polite. He asked us to sit +down, and Oswald did. But first he tumbled +over the front of his dress because it would +get under his boots, and he was afraid to hold +it up, not having practised doing this.</p> + +<p>"I think I have had letters from you?" said +the Editor.</p> + + +<p>Alice, who looked terrible with the transformation +leaning right-ear-ward, said yes, +and that we had come to say what a fine, bold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +conception we thought the Doge's chapter +was. This was what we had settled to say, +but she needn't have burst out with it like +that. I suppose she forgot herself. Oswald, +in the agitation of his clothes, could say +nothing. The elastic of the hat seemed to be +very slowly slipping up the back of his head, +and he knew that, if it once passed the bump +that backs of heads are made with, the hat +would spring from his head like an arrow +from a bow. And all would be frustrated.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 543px;"> +<img src="images/gs25.png" width="543" height="400" alt="HE LOOKED AT OSWALD'S BOOTS." title="HE LOOKED AT OSWALD'S BOOTS." /> +<span class="caption">HE LOOKED AT OSWALD'S BOOTS.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Yes," said the Editor; "that chapter seems +to have had a great success—a wonderful +success. I had no fewer than sixteen letters +about it, all praising it in unmeasured terms." +He looked at Oswald's boots, which Oswald +had neglected to cover over with his petticoats. +He now did this.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> a nice story, you know," said Alice +timidly.</p> + +<p>"So it seems," the gentleman went on. +"Fourteen of the sixteen letters bear the +Blackheath postmark. The enthusiasm for +the chapter would seem to be mainly local."</p> + +<p>Oswald would not look at Alice. He could +not trust himself, with her looking like she +did. He knew at once that only the piano-tuner +and the electric bell man had been +faithful to their trust. The others had all +posted their letters in the pillar-box just outside +our gate. They wanted to get rid of +them as quickly as they could, I suppose. +Selfishness is a vile quality.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>The author cannot deny that Oswald now +wished he hadn't. The elastic was certainly +moving, slowly, but too surely. Oswald tried +to check its career by swelling out the bump +on the back of his head, but he could not +think of the right way to do this.</p> + +<p>"I am very pleased to see you," the Editor +went on slowly, and there was something +about the way he spoke that made Oswald +think of a cat playing with a mouse. "Perhaps +you can tell me. Are there many +spiritualists in Blackheath? Many clairvoyants?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said Alice, forgetting that that is +not the way to behave.</p> + +<p>"People who foretell the future?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," said Alice. "Why?"</p> + +<p>His eye twinkled. Oswald saw he had +wanted her to ask this.</p> + +<p>"Because," said the Editor, more slowly +than ever, "I think there must be. How +otherwise can we account for that chapter +about the 'Doge's Home' being read and +admired by sixteen different people before it +is even printed. That chapter has not been +printed, it has not been published; it will not +be published till the May number of the +<i>People's Pageant</i>. Yet in Blackheath sixteen +people already appreciate its subtlety and its +realism and all the rest of it. How do you +account for this, Miss Daisy Dolman?"</p> + +<p>"I am the Right Honourable Etheltruda,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +said Alice. "At least—oh, it's no use going +on. We are not what we seem."</p> + +<p>"Oddly enough, I inferred that at the very +beginning of our interview," said the Editor.</p> + +<p>Then the elastic finished slipping up Oswald's +head at the back, and the hat leapt from his +head exactly as he had known it would. He +fielded it deftly, however, and it did not touch +the ground.</p> + +<p>"Concealment," said Oswald, "is at an +end."</p> + +<p>"So it appears," said the Editor. "Well, +I hope next time the author of the 'Golden +Gondola' will choose his instruments more +carefully."</p> + +<p>"He didn't! We aren't!" cried Alice, and +she instantly told the Editor everything.</p> + +<p>Concealment being at an end, Oswald was +able to get at his trousers pocket—it did not +matter now how many boots he showed—and +to get out Albert's uncle's letter.</p> + +<p>Alice was quite eloquent, especially when +the Editor had made her take off the hat +with the blue bird, and the transformation +and the tail, so that he could see what she +really looked like. He was quite decent +when he really understood how Albert's +uncle's threatened marriage must have upset +his brain while he was writing that +chapter, and pondering on the dark future.</p> + +<p>He began to laugh then, and kept it up till +the hour of parting.</p> + +<p>He advised Alice not to put on the transformation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +and the tail again to go home in, +and she didn't.</p> + +<p>Then he said to me: "Are you in a finished +state under Miss Daisy Dolman?" and when +Oswald said, "Yes," the Editor helped him to +take off all the womanly accoutrements, and +to do them up in brown paper. And he lent +him a cap to go home in.</p> + +<p>I never saw a man laugh more. He is an +excellent sort.</p> + +<p>But no slow passage of years, however +many, can ever weaken Oswald's memory +of what those petticoats were like to walk +in, and how ripping it was to get out of them, +and have your own natural legs again.</p> + +<p>We parted from that Editor without a +strain on anybody's character.</p> + +<p>He must have written to Albert's uncle, +and told him all, for we got a letter next +week. It said—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Kiddies</span>,—Art cannot be forced. +Nor can Fame. May I beg you for the +future to confine your exertions to blowing +my trumpet—or Fame's—with your natural +voices? Editors may be led, but they won't +be druv. The Right Honourable Miss Etheltruda +Bustler seems to have aroused a deep +pity for me in my Editor's heart. Let that +suffice. And for the future permit me, as +firmly as affectionately, to reiterate the +assurance and the advice which I have so +often breathed in your long young ears, '<i>I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +am not ungrateful; but I do wish you would +mind your own business.</i>'"</p></div> + +<p>"That's just because we were found out," +said Alice. "If we'd succeeded he'd have +been sitting on the top of the pinnacle of +Fame, and he would have owed it all to us. +That would have been making him something +like a wedding present."</p> + +<p>What we had really done was to make +something very like——but the author is +sure he has said enough.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE FLYING LODGER</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Father</span> knows a man called Eustace Sandal. +I do not know how to express his inside soul, +but I have heard Father say he means well. +He is a vegetarian and a Primitive Social +Something, and an all-wooler, and things like +that, and he is really as good as he can stick, +only most awfully dull. I believe he eats +bread and milk from choice. Well, he has +great magnificent dreams about all the things +you can do for other people, and he wants to +distill cultivatedness into the sort of people +who live in Model Workmen's Dwellings, and +teach them to live up to better things. This +is what he says. So he gives concerts in +Camberwell, and places like that, and curates +come from far and near, to sing about Bold +Bandaleros and the Song of the Bow, and +people who have escaped being curates give +comic recitings, and he is sure that it does +every one good, and "gives them glimpses of +the Life Beautiful." He said that. Oswald +heard him with his own trustworthy ears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +Anyway the people enjoy the concerts no +end, and that's the great thing.</div> + +<p>Well, he came one night, with a lot of +tickets he wanted to sell, and Father bought +some for the servants, and Dora happened to +go in to get the gum for a kite we were +making, and Mr. Sandal said, "Well, my little +maiden, would you not like to come on Thursday +evening, and share in the task of raising +our poor brothers and sisters to the higher +levels of culture?" So of course Dora said +she would, very much. Then he explained +about the concert, calling her "My little one," +and "dear child," which Alice never would +have borne, but Dora is not of a sensitive +nature, and hardly minds what she is called, +so long as it is not names, which she does not +deem "dear child" and cetera to be, though +Oswald would.</p> + +<p>Dora was quite excited about it, and the +stranger so worked upon her feelings that she +accepted the deep responsibility of selling +tickets, and for a week there was no bearing +her. I believe she did sell nine, to people in +Lewisham and New Cross who knew no +better. And Father bought tickets for all of +us, and when the eventful evening dawned we +went to Camberwell by train and tram <i>viâ</i> +Miss Blake (that means we shouldn't have +been allowed to go without her).</p> + +<p>The tram ride was rather jolly, but when +we got out and walked we felt like "Alone in +London," or "Jessica's First Prayer," because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +Camberwell is a devastating region that makes +you think of rickety attics with the wind +whistling through them, or miserable cellars +where forsaken children do wonders by pawning +their relations' clothes and looking after +the baby. It was a dampish night, and we +walked on greasy mud. And as we walked +along Alice kicked against something on the +pavement, and it chinked, and when she +picked it up it was five bob rolled up in newspaper.</p> + +<p>"I expect it's somebody's little all," said +Alice, "and the cup was dashed from their +lips just when they were going to joyfully +spend it. We ought to give it to the police."</p> + +<p>But Miss Blake said no, and that we were +late already, so we went on, and Alice held +the packet in her muff throughout the concert +which ensued. I will not tell you anything +about the concert except that it was quite +fairly jolly—you must have been to these Self-Raising +Concerts in the course of your young +lives.</p> + +<p>When it was over we reasoned with Miss +Blake, and she let us go through the light +blue paper door beside the stage and find Mr. +Sandal. We thought he might happen to +hear who had lost the five bob, and return it +to its sorrowing family. He was in a great +hurry, but he took the chink and said he'd let +us know if anything happened. Then we +went home very cheerful, singing bits of the +comic songs a bishop's son had done in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +concert, and little thinking what we were +taking home with us.</p> + +<p>It was only a few days after this, or perhaps +a week, that we all began to be rather +cross. Alice, usually as near a brick as a girl +can go, was the worst of the lot, and if you +said what you thought of her she instantly +began to snivel. And we all had awful colds, +and our handkerchiefs gave out, and then our +heads ached. Oswald's head was particularly +hot, I remember, and he wanted to rest it on +the backs of chairs or on tables—or anything +steady.</p> + +<p>But why prolong the painful narrative? +What we had brought home from Camberwell +was the measles, and as soon as the grown-ups +recognised the Grim Intruder for the fell +disease it is we all went to bed, and there was +an end of active adventure for some time.</p> + +<p>Of course, when you begin to get better +there are grapes and other luxuries not of +everyday occurrences, but while you're sniffling +and fevering in bed, as red as a lobster +and blazing hot, you are inclined to think it is +a heavy price to pay for any concert, however +raising.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sandal came to see Father the very day +we all marched Bedward. He had found the +owner of the five shillings. It was a doctor's +fee, about to be paid by the parent of a +thoroughly measly family. And if we had +taken it to the police at once Alice would not +have held it in her hand all through the concert—but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +I will not blame Blakie. She was a +jolly good nurse, and read aloud to us with +unfatiguable industry while we were getting +better.</p> + +<p>Our having fallen victims to this disgusting +complaint ended in our being sent to the seaside. +Father could not take us himself, so we +went to stay with a sister of Mr. Sandal's. +She was like him, only more so in every way.</p> + +<p>The journey was very joyous. Father saw +us off at Cannon Street, and we had a carriage +to ourselves all the way, and we passed the +station where Oswald would not like to be a +porter. Rude boys at this station put their +heads out of the window and shout, "Who's +a duffer?" and things like that, and the porters +<i>have</i> to shout "I am!" because Higham is the +name of the station, and porters have seldom +any H's with which to protect themselves +from this cruel joke.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious moment when the train +swooped out of a tunnel and we looked over +the downs and saw the grey-blue line that +was the sea. We had not seen the sea since +before Mother died. I believe we older ones +all thought of that, and it made us quieter +than the younger ones were. I do not want +to forget anything, but it makes you feel +empty and stupid when you remember some +things.</p> + +<p>There was a good drive in a waggonette +after we got to our station. There were +primroses under some of the hedges, and lots<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +of dog-violets. And at last we got to Miss +Sandal's house. It is before you come to the +village, and it is a little square white house. +There is a big old windmill at the back of it. +It is not used any more for grinding corn, but +fishermen keep their nets in it.</p> + +<p>Miss Sandal came out of the green gate to +meet us. She had a soft, drab dress and a +long thin neck, and her hair was drab too, +and it was screwed up tight.</p> + +<p>She said, "Welcome, one and all!" in a +kind voice, but it was too much like Mr. +Sandal's for me. And we went in. She +showed us the sitting-rooms, and the rooms +where we were to sleep, and then she left us +to wash our hands and faces. When we were +alone we burst open the doors of our rooms +with one consent, and met on the landing with +a rush like the great rivers of America.</p> + +<p>"<i>Well!</i>" said Oswald, and the others said +the same.</p> + +<p>"Of all the rummy cribs!" remarked Dicky.</p> + +<p>"It's like a workhouse or a hospital," said +Dora. "I think I like it."</p> + +<p>"It makes me think of bald-headed gentlemen," +said H.O., "it is so bare."</p> + +<p>It was. All the walls were white plaster, +the furniture was white deal—what there was +of it, which was precious little. There were +no carpets—only white matting. And there +was not a single ornament in a single room! +There was a clock on the dining-room mantel-piece, +but that could not be counted as an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +ornament because of the useful side of its +character. There were only about six pictures—all +of a brownish colour. One was the blind +girl sitting on an orange with a broken fiddle. +It is called Hope.</p> + +<p>When we were clean Miss Sandal gave us +tea. As we sat down she said, "The motto +of our little household is 'Plain living and +high thinking.'"</p> + +<p>And some of us feared for an instant that +this might mean not enough to eat. But +fortunately this was not the case. There was +plenty, but all of a milky, bunny, fruity, +vegetable sort. We soon got used to it, and +liked it all right.</p> + +<p>Miss Sandal was very kind. She offered to +read aloud to us after tea, and, exchanging +glances of despair, some of us said that we +should like it very much.</p> + +<p>It was Oswald who found the manly courage +to say very politely—</p> + +<p>"Would it be all the same to you if we +went and looked at the sea first? Because——"</p> + +<p>And she said, "Not at all," adding something +about "Nature, the dear old nurse, taking +somebody on her knee," and let us go.</p> + +<p>We asked her which way, and we tore up +the road and through the village and on to +the sea-wall, and then with six joyous bounds +we leaped down on to the sand.</p> + +<p>The author will not bother you with a +description of the mighty billows of ocean, +which you must have read about, if not seen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'But'">but</ins> he will just say what perhaps you are not +aware of—that seagulls eat clams and mussels +and cockles, and crack the shells with their +beaks. The author has seen this done.</p> + +<p>You also know, I suppose, that you can dig +in the sand (if you have a spade) and make +sand castles, and stay in them till the tide +washes you out.</p> + +<p>I will say no more, except that when we +gazed upon the sea and the sand we felt we +did not care tuppence how highly Miss Sandal +might think of us or how plainly she might +make us live, so long as we had got the briny +deep to go down to.</p> + +<p>It was too early in the year and too late in +the day to bathe, but we paddled, which +comes to much the same thing, and you +almost always have to change everything +afterwards.</p> + +<p>When it got dark we had to go back to the +White House, and there was supper, and then +we found that Miss Sandal did not keep a +servant, so of course we offered to help wash +up. H.O. only broke two plates.</p> + +<p>Nothing worth telling about happened till +we had been there over a week, and had got +to know the coastguards and a lot of the +village people quite well. I do like coastguards. +They seem to know everything you want +to hear about. Miss Sandal used to read +to us out of poetry books, and about a chap +called Thoreau, who could tickle fish, and they +liked it, and let him. She was kind, but rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +like her house—there was something bare and +bald about her inside mind, I believe. She +was very, very calm, and said that people who +lost their tempers were not living the higher +life. But one day a telegram came, and then +she was not calm at all. She got quite like +other people, and quite shoved H.O. for +getting in her way when she was looking +for her purse to pay for the answer to the +telegram.</p> + +<p>Then she said to Dora—and she was pale +and her eyes red, just like people who live the +lower or ordinary life—"My dears, it's dreadful! +My poor brother! He's had a fall. I must go +to him at <i>once</i>." And she sent Oswald to order +the fly from the Old Ship Hotel, and the girls +to see if Mrs. Beale would come and take care +of us while she was away. Then she kissed +us all and went off very unhappy. We heard +afterwards that poor, worthy Mr. Sandal had +climbed a scaffolding to give a workman a +tract about drink, and he didn't know the +proper part of the scaffolding to stand on (the +workman did, of course) so he fetched down +half a dozen planks and the workman, and if +a dust-cart hadn't happened to be passing just +under so that they fell into it their lives +would not have been spared. As it was Mr. +Sandal broke his arm and his head. The +workman escaped unscathed but furious. +The workman was a teetotaler.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Beale came, and the first thing she did +was to buy a leg of mutton and cook it. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +was the first meat we had had since arriving +at Lymchurch.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/gs26.png" width="380" height="500" alt="HE FETCHED DOWN HALF A DOZEN PLANKS AND THE WORKMAN." title="HE FETCHED DOWN HALF A DOZEN PLANKS AND THE WORKMAN." /> +<span class="caption">HE FETCHED DOWN HALF A DOZEN PLANKS AND THE WORKMAN.</span> +</div> + +<p>"I 'spect she can't afford good butcher's +meat," said Mrs. Beale; "but your pa, I expect +he pays for you, and I lay he'd like you to +have your fill of something as'll lay acrost +your chesties." So she made a Yorkshire +pudding as well. It was good.</p> + +<p>After dinner we sat on the sea-wall, feeling +more like after dinner than we had felt for +days, and Dora said—</p> + +<p>"Poor Miss Sandal! I never thought about +her being hard-up, somehow. I wish we could +do something to help her."</p> + +<p>"We might go out street-singing," Noël said. +But that was no good, because there is only +one street in the village, and the people there +are much too poor for one to be able to ask +them for anything. And all round it is fields +with only sheep, who have nothing to give +except their wool, and when it comes to +taking that, they are never asked.</p> + +<p>Dora thought we might get Father to give +her money, but Oswald knew this would never +do.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a thought struck some one—I +will not say who—and that some one +said—</p> + +<p>"She ought to let lodgings, like all the other +people do in Lymchurch."</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of it. The end—for +that day—was our getting the top of a +cardboard box and printing on it the following<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +lines in as many different coloured chalks as +we happened to have with us.</p> + +<div class='center'> +LODGINGS TO LET.<br /> +<br /> +ENQUIRE INSIDE.<br /> +</div> + +<p>We ruled spaces for the letters to go in, and +did it very neatly. When we went to bed we +stuck it in our bedroom window with stamp-paper.</p> + +<p>In the morning when Oswald drew up his +blind there was quite a crowd of kids looking +at the card. Mrs. Beale came out and shoo-ed +them away as if they were hens. And we did +not have to explain the card to her at all. +She never said anything about it. I never +knew such a woman as Mrs. Beale for minding +her own business. She said afterwards she +supposed Miss Sandal had told us to put up +the card.</p> + +<p>Well, two or three days went by, and +nothing happened, only we had a letter +from Miss Sandal, telling us how the poor +sufferer was groaning, and one from Father +telling us to be good children, and not get +into scrapes. And people who drove by used +to look at the card and laugh.</p> + +<p>And then one day a carriage came driving +up with a gentleman in it, and he saw the +rainbow beauty of our chalked card, and he +got out and came up the path. He had a +pale face, and white hair and very bright eyes +that moved about quickly like a <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'birds'">bird's</ins>, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +was dressed in a quite new tweed suit that +did not fit him very well.</p> + +<p>Dora and Alice answered the door before +any one had time to knock, and the author +has reason to believe their hearts were beating +wildly.</p> + +<p>"How much?" said the gentleman shortly.</p> + +<p>Alice and Dora were so surprised by his +suddenness that they could only reply—</p> + +<p>"Er—er——"</p> + +<p>"Just so," said the gentleman briskly as +Oswald stepped modestly forward and said—</p> + +<p>"Won't you come inside?"</p> + +<p>"The very thing," said he, and came in.</p> + +<p>We showed him into the dining-room and +asked him to excuse us a minute, and then +held a breathless council outside the door.</p> + +<p>"It depends how many rooms he wants," +said Dora.</p> + +<p>"Let's say so much a room," said Dicky, +"and extra if he wants Mrs. Beale to wait on +him."</p> + +<p>So we decided to do this. We thought a +pound a room seemed fair.</p> + +<p>And we went back.</p> + +<p>"How many rooms do you want?" Oswald +asked.</p> + +<p>"All the room there is," said the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"They are a pound each," said Oswald, "and +extra for Mrs. Beale."</p> + +<p>"How much altogether?"</p> + +<p>Oswald thought a minute and then said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +"Nine rooms is nine pounds, and two pounds +a week for Mrs. Beale, because she is a widow."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 305px;"> +<img src="images/gs27.png" width="305" height="400" alt=""HOW MUCH?" SAID THE GENTLEMAN SHORTLY." title=""HOW MUCH?" SAID THE GENTLEMAN SHORTLY." /> +<span class="caption">"HOW MUCH?" SAID THE GENTLEMAN SHORTLY.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Done!" said the gentleman. "I'll go and +fetch my portmanteaus."</p> + +<p>He bounced up and out and got into his +carriage and drove away. It was not till he +was finally gone quite beyond recall that Alice +suddenly said—</p> + +<p>"But if he has all the rooms where are <i>we</i> +to sleep?"</p> + +<p>"He must be awfully rich," said H.O., +"wanting all those rooms."</p> + +<p>"Well, he can't sleep in more than one at +once," said Dicky, "however rich he is. We +might wait till he was bedded down and then +sleep in the rooms he didn't want."</p> + +<p>But Oswald was firm. He knew that if the +man paid for the rooms he must have them to +himself.</p> + +<p>"He won't sleep in the kitchen," said Dora; +"couldn't we sleep there?"</p> + +<p>But we all said we couldn't and wouldn't.</p> + +<p>Then Alice suddenly said—</p> + +<p>"I know! The Mill. There are heaps and +heaps of fishing-nets there, and we could each +take a blanket like Indians and creep over +under cover of the night after the Beale has +gone, and get back before she comes in the +morning."</p> + +<p>It seemed a sporting thing to do, and we +agreed. Only Dora said she thought it would +be draughty.</p> + +<p>Of course we went over to the Mill at once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +to lay our plans and prepare for the silent +watches of the night.</p> + +<p>There are three stories to a windmill, +besides the ground-floor. The first floor is +pretty empty; the next is nearly full of millstones +and machinery, and the one above is +where the corn runs down from on to the +millstones.</p> + +<p>We settled to let the girls have the first +floor, which was covered with heaps of nets, +and we would pig in with the millstones on +the floor above.</p> + +<p>We had just secretly got out the last of the +six blankets from the house and got it into +the Mill disguised in a clothes-basket, when +we heard wheels, and there was the gentleman +back again. He had only got one portmanteau +after all, and that was a very little one.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Beale was bobbing at him in the doorway +when we got up. Of course we had told +her he had rented rooms, but we had not said +how many, for fear she should ask where we +were going to sleep, and we had a feeling that +but few grown-ups would like our sleeping in +a mill, however much we were living the +higher life by sacrificing ourselves to get +money for Miss Sandal.</p> + +<p>The gentleman ordered sheep's-head and +trotters for dinner, and when he found he +could not have that he said—</p> + +<p>"Gammon and spinach!"</p> + +<p>But there was not any spinach in the village, +so he had to fall back on eggs and bacon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +Mrs. Beale cooked it, and when he had fallen +back on it she washed up and went home. +And we were left. We could hear the gentleman +singing to himself, something about woulding +he was a bird that he might fly to thee.</p> + +<p>Then we got the lanterns that you take +when you go "up street" on a dark night, +and we crept over to the Mill. It was much +darker than we expected.</p> + +<p>We decided to keep our clothes on, partly +for warmness and partly in case of any sudden +alarm or the fishermen wanting their nets in +the middle of the night, which sometimes +happens if the tide is favourable.</p> + +<p>We let the girls keep the lantern, and we +went up with a bit of candle Dicky had saved, +and tried to get comfortable among the millstones +and machinery, but it was not easy, +and Oswald, for one, was not sorry when he +heard the voice of Dora calling in trembling +tones from the floor below.</p> + +<p>"Oswald! Dicky!" said the voice, "I wish +one of you would come down a sec."</p> + +<p>Oswald flew to the assistance of his distressed +sister.</p> + +<p>"It's only that we're a little bit uncomfortable," +she whispered. "I didn't want to yell +it out because of Noël and H.O. I don't want +to frighten them, but I can't help feeling that +if anything popped out of the dark at us I +should die. Can't you all come down here? +The nets are quite comfortable, and I do wish +you would."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alice said she was not frightened, but +suppose there were rats, which are said to +infest old buildings, especially mills?</p> + +<p>So we consented to come down, and we told +Noël and H.O. to come down because it was +more comfy, and it is easier to settle yourself +for the night among fishing-nets than among +machinery. There <i>was</i> a rustling now and +then among the heap of broken chairs and +jack-planes and baskets and spades and hoes +and bits of the spars of ships at the far end +of our sleeping apartment, but Dicky and +Oswald resolutely said it was the wind or +else jackdaws making their nests, though, +of course, they knew this is not done at night.</p> + +<p>Sleeping in a mill was not nearly the fun +we had thought it would be—somehow. For +one thing, it was horrid not having a pillow, +and the fishing-nets were so stiff you could +not bunch them up properly to make one. +And unless you have been born and bred a +Red Indian you do not know how to manage +your blanket so as to make it keep out the +draughts. And when we had put out the +light Oswald more than once felt as though +earwigs and spiders were walking on his face +in the dark, but when we struck a match +there was nothing there.</p> + +<p>And empty mills do creak and rustle and +move about in a very odd way. Oswald was +not afraid, but he did think we might as well +have slept in the kitchen, because the gentleman +could not have wanted to use that when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +he was asleep. You see, we thought then +that he would sleep all night like other +people.</p> + +<p>We got to sleep at last, and in the night +the girls edged up to their bold brothers, so +that when the morning sun "shone in bars of +dusty gold through the chinks of the aged +edifice" and woke us up we were all lying in +a snuggly heap like a litter of puppies.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>am</i> so stiff!" said Alice, stretching. +"I never slept in my clothes before. It makes +me feel as if I had been starched and ironed +like a boy's collar."</p> + +<p>We all felt pretty much the same. And our +faces were tired too, and stiff, which was +rum, and the author cannot account for it, +unless it really was spiders that walked on us. +I believe the ancient Greeks considered them +to be venomous, and perhaps that's how their +venom influences their victims.</p> + +<p>"I think mills are merely beastly," remarked +H.O. when we had woke him up. "You can't +wash yourself or brush your hair or anything."</p> + +<p>"You aren't always so jolly particular about +your hair," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so disagreeable," said Dora.</p> + +<p>And Dicky rejoined, "Disagreeable yourself!"</p> + +<p>There is certainly something about sleeping +in your clothes that makes you feel not so +kind and polite as usual. I expect this is why +tramps are so fierce and knock people down +in lonely roads and kick them. Oswald knows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +he felt just like kicking any one if they had +happened to cheek him the least little bit. +But by a fortunate accident nobody did.</p> + +<p>The author believes there is a picture called +"Hopeless Dawn." We felt exactly like that. +Nothing seemed the least bit of good.</p> + +<p>It was a pitiful band with hands and faces +dirtier than any one would believe who had +not slept in a mill or witnessed others who +had done so, that crossed the wet, green grass +between the Mill and the white house.</p> + +<p>"I shan't ever put morning dew into my +poetry again," Noël said; "it is not nearly so +poetical as people make out, and it is as cold +as ice, right through your boots."</p> + +<p>We felt rather better when we had had a +good splash in the brick-paved back kitchen +that Miss Sandal calls the bath-room. And +Alice made a fire and boiled a kettle and we +had some tea and eggs. Then we looked at +the clock and it was half-past five. So we +hastened to get into another part of the +house before Mrs. Beale came.</p> + +<p>"I wish we'd tried to live the higher life +some less beastly way," said Dicky as we went +along the passage.</p> + +<p>"Living the higher life always hurts at the +beginning," Alice said. "I expect it's like new +boots, only when you've got used to it you're +glad you bore it at first. Let's listen at the +doors till we find out where he isn't sleeping."</p> + +<p>So we listened at all the bedroom doors, but +not a snore was heard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps he was a burglar," said H.O., +"and only pretended to want lodgings so as +to get in and bone all the valuables."</p> + +<p>"There aren't any valuables," said Noël, and +this was quite true, for Miss Sandal had no +silver or jewellery except a brooch of pewter, +and the very teaspoons were of wood—very +hard to keep clean and having to be scraped.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he sleeps without snoring," said +Oswald, "some people do."</p> + +<p>"Not old gentlemen," said Noël; "think of +our Indian uncle—H.O. used to think it was +bears at first."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he rises with the lark," said Alice, +"and is wondering why brekker isn't ready."</p> + +<p>So then we listened at the sitting-room +doors, and through the keyhole of the parlour +we heard a noise of some one moving, and +then in a soft whistle the tune of the "Would +I were a bird" song.</p> + +<p>So then we went into the dining-room to +sit down. But when we opened the door we +almost fell in a heap on the matting, and no +one had breath for a word—not even for +"Krikey," which was what we all thought.</p> + +<p>I have read of people who could not believe +their eyes; and I have always thought it such +rot of them, but now, as the author gazed on +the scene, he really could not be quite sure +that he was not in a dream, and that the +gentleman and the night in the Mill weren't +dreams too.</p> + +<p>"Pull back the curtains," Alice said, and we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +did. I wish I could make the reader feel as +astonished as we did.</p> + +<p>The last time we had seen the room the +walls had been bare and white. Now they +were covered with the most splendid drawings +you can think of, all done in coloured chalk—I +don't mean mixed up, like we do with our +chalks—but one picture was done in green, +and another in brown, and another in red, and +so on. And the chalk must have been of +some fat radiant kind quite unknown to us, +for some of the lines were over an inch thick.</p> + +<p>"How perfectly <i>lovely!</i>" Alice said; "he +must have sat up all night to do it. He <i>is</i> +good. I expect he's trying to live the higher +life, too—just going about doing secretly, and +spending his time making other people's +houses pretty."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he'd have done if the room +had had a large pattern of brown roses on it, +like Mrs. Beale's," said Noël. "I say, <i>look</i> at +that angel! Isn't it poetical? It makes me +feel I must write something about it."</p> + +<p>It <i>was</i> a good angel—all drawn in grey, that +was—with very wide wings going right across +the room, and a whole bundle of lilies in his +arms. Then there were seagulls and ravens, +and butterflies, and ballet girls with butterflies' +wings, and a man with artificial wings being +fastened on, and you could see he was just going +to jump off a rock. And there were fairies, +and bats, and flying-foxes, and flying-fish. +And one glorious winged horse done in red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +chalk—and his wings went from one side of +the room to the other, and crossed the angel's. +There were dozens and dozens of birds—all +done in just a few lines—but exactly right. +You couldn't make any mistake about what +anything was meant for.</p> + +<p>And all the things, whatever they were, +had wings to them. How Oswald wishes that +those pictures had been done in his house!</p> + +<p>While we stood gazing, the door of the +other room opened, and the gentleman stood +before us, more covered with different-coloured +chalks than I should have thought +he could have got, even with all those drawings, +and he had a thing made of wire and +paper in his hand, and he said—</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like to fly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said every one.</p> + +<p>"Well then," he said, "I've got a nice little +flying-machine here. I'll fit it on to one of +you, and then you jump out of the attic +window. You don't know what it's like to +fly."</p> + +<p>We said we would rather not.</p> + +<p>"But I insist," said the gentleman. "I have +your real interest at heart, my children—I +can't allow you in your ignorance to reject +the chance of a lifetime."</p> + +<p>We still said "No, thank you," and we began +to feel very uncomfy, for the gentleman's +eyes were now rolling wildly.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll <i>make</i> you!" he said, catching +hold of Oswald.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You jolly well won't," cried Dicky, catching +hold of the arm of the gentleman.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 503px;"> +<img src="images/gs28.png" width="503" height="400" alt=""THEN I'LL MAKE YOU!" HE SAID, CATCHING HOLD OF OSWALD." title=""THEN I'LL MAKE YOU!" HE SAID, CATCHING HOLD OF OSWALD." /> +<span class="caption">"THEN I'LL MAKE YOU!" HE SAID, CATCHING HOLD OF OSWALD.</span> +</div> +<p>Then Dora said very primly and speaking +rather slowly, and she was very pale—</p> + +<p>"I think it would be lovely to fly. Will +you just show me how the flying-machine +looks when it is unfolded?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman dropped Oswald, and Dora +made "Go! go" with her lips without speaking, +while he began to unfold the flying-machine. +We others went, Oswald lingering last, and +then in an instant Dora had nipped out of +the room and banged the door and locked it.</p> + +<p>"To the Mill!" she cried, and we ran like +mad, and got in and barred the big door, and +went up to the first floor, and looked out of +the big window to warn off Mrs. Beale.</p> + +<p>And we thumped Dora on the back, and +Dicky called her a Sherlock Holmes, and +Noël said she was a heroine.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't anything," Dora said, just before +she began to cry, "only I remember reading +that you must pretend to humour them, and +then get away, for of course I saw at once +he was a lunatic. Oh, how awful it might +have been! He could have made us all jump +out of the attic window, and there would have +been no one left to tell Father. Oh! oh!" +and then the crying began.</p> + +<p>But we were proud of Dora, and I am sorry +we make fun of her sometimes, but it is +difficult not to.</p> + +<p>We decided to signal the first person that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +passed, and we got Alice to take off her red +flannel petticoat for a signal.</p> + +<p>The first people who came were two men in a +dog-cart. We waved the signalising petticoat +and they pulled up, and one got out and came +up to the Mill.</p> + +<p>We explained about the lunatic and the +wanting us to jump out of the windows.</p> + +<p>"Right oh!" cried the man to the one still +in the cart; "got him." And the other hitched +the horse to the gate and came over, and the +other went to the house.</p> + +<p>"Come along down, young ladies and gentlemen," +said the second man when he had been +told. "He's as gentle as a lamb. He does not +think it hurts to jump out of windows. He +thinks it really is flying. He'll be like an +angel when he sees the doctor."</p> + +<p>We asked if he had been mad before, +because we had thought he might have suddenly +gone so.</p> + +<p>"Certainly he has!" replied the man; "he +has never been, so to say, himself since tumbling +out of a flying-machine he went up in +with a friend. He was an artist previous to +that—an excellent one, I believe. But now he +only draws objects with wings—and now and +then he wants to make people fly—perfect +strangers sometimes, like yourselves. Yes, +miss, I am his attendant, and his pictures +often amuse me by the half-hours together, +poor gentleman."</p> + +<p>"How did he get away?" Alice asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, miss, the poor gentleman's brother +got hurt and Mr. Sidney—that's him inside—seemed +wonderfully put out and hung over +the body in a way pitiful to see. But +really he was extracting the cash from the +sufferer's pockets. Then, while all of us +were occupied with Mr. Eustace, Mr. Sidney +just packs his portmanteau and out he goes +by the back door. When we missed him +we sent for Dr. Baker, but by the time he +came it was too late to get here. Dr. Baker +said at once he'd revert to his boyhood's home. +And the doctor has proved correct."</p> + +<p>We had all come out of the Mill, and with +this polite person we went to the gate, and +saw the lunatic get into the carriage, very +gentle and gay.</p> + +<p>"But, Doctor," Oswald said, "he did say +he'd give nine pounds a week for the rooms. +Oughtn't he to pay?"</p> + +<p>"You might have known he was mad to say +that," said the doctor. "No. Why should +he, when it's his own sister's house? Gee +up!"</p> + +<p>And he left us.</p> + +<p>It was sad to find the gentleman was not +a Higher Life after all, but only mad. And I +was more sorry than ever for poor Miss +Sandal. As Oswald pointed out to the girls +they are much more blessed in their brothers +than Miss Sandal is, and they ought to be +more grateful than they are.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE SMUGGLER'S REVENGE</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> days went on and Miss Sandal did not +return. We went on being very sorry about +Miss Sandal being so poor, and it was not +our fault that when we tried to let the house +in lodgings, the first lodger proved to be a +lunatic of the deepest dye. Miss Sandal must +have been a fairly decent sort, because she +seems not to have written to Father about it. +At any rate he didn't give it us in any of our +letters, about our good intentions and their +ending in a maniac.</div> + +<p>Oswald does not like giving up a thing just +because it has once been muffed. The muffage +of a plan is a thing that often happens at +first to heroes—like Bruce and the spider, and +other great characters. Beside, grown-ups +always say—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"If at first you don't succeed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Try, try, try again!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>And if this is the rule for Euclid and rule-of-three +and all the things you would rather not +do, think how much more it must be the rule +when what you are after is your own idea, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +not just the rotten notion of that beast Euclid, +or the unknown but equally unnecessary +author who composed the multiplication table. +So we often talked about what we could do +to make Miss Sandal rich. It gave us something +to jaw about when we happened to +want to sit down for a bit, in between all the +glorious wet sandy games that happen by the +sea.</div> + +<p>Of course if we wanted real improving conversation +we used to go up to the boat-house +and talk to the coastguards. I do think +coastguards are A1. They are just the same +as sailors, having been so in their youth, and +you can get at them to talk to, which is not +the case with sailors who are at sea (or even +in harbours) on ships. Even if you had the +luck to get on to a man-of-war, you would +very likely not be able to climb to the top-gallants +to talk to the man there. Though in +books the young hero always seems able to +climb to the mast-head the moment he is told +to. The coastguards told us tales of Southern +ports, and of shipwrecks, and officers they +had <i>not</i> cottoned to, and messmates that +they <i>had</i>, but when we asked them about +smuggling they said there wasn't any to speak +of nowadays.</p> + +<p>"I expect they think they oughtn't to talk +about such dark crimes before innocent kids +like us," said Dicky afterwards, and he grinned +as he said it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alice; "they don't know how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +much we know about smugglers, and bandits, +and highwaymen, and burglars, and coiners," +and she sighed, and we all felt sad to think +that we had not now any chance to play at +being these things.</p> + +<p>"We might play smugglers," said Oswald.</p> + +<p>But he did not speak hopefully. The worst +of growing up is that you seem to want more +and more to have a bit of the real thing in +your games. Oswald could not now be content +to play at bandits and just capture +Albert next door, as once, in happier days, he +was pleased and proud to do.</p> + +<p>It was not a coastguard that told us about +the smugglers. It was a very old man that +we met two or three miles along the beach. +He was leaning against a boat that was wrong +way up on the shingle, and smoking the +strongest tobacco Oswald's young nose has +ever met. I think it must have been Black +Jack. We said, "How do you do?" and Alice +said, "Do you mind if we sit down near +you?"</p> + +<p>"Not me," replied the aged seafarer. We +could see directly that he was this by his +jersey and his sea-boots.</p> + +<p>The girls sat down on the beach, but we +boys leaned against the boat like the seafaring +one. We hoped he would join in conversation, +but at first he seemed too proud. +And there was something dignified about him, +bearded and like a Viking, that made it hard +for us to begin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last he took his pipe out of his mouth +and said—</p> + +<p>"Here's a precious Quakers' meeting! You +didn't set down here just for to look at me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you look very nice," Dora said.</p> + +<p>"Same to you, miss, I'm sure," was the +polite reply.</p> + +<p>"We want to talk to you awfully," said +Alice, "if you don't mind?"</p> + +<p>"Talk away," said he.</p> + +<p>And then, as so often happens, no one could +think of anything to say.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Noël said, "<i>I</i> think you look nice +too, but I think you look as though you had +a secret history. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"Not me," replied the Viking-looking +stranger. "I ain't got no history, nor jog-graphy +neither. They didn't give us that +much schooling when I was a lad."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" replied Noël; "but what I really +meant was, were you ever a pirate or anything?"</p> + +<p>"Never in all my born," replied the stranger, +now thoroughly roused; "I'd scorn the haction. +I was in the navy, I was, till I lost the sight +of my eye, looking too close at gunpowder. +Pirates is snakes, and they ought to be killed +as such."</p> + +<p>We felt rather sorry, for though of course +it is very wrong to be a pirate, it is very +interesting too. Things are often like this. +That is one of the reasons why it is so hard +to be truly good.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dora was the only one who was pleased. +She said—</p> + +<p>"Yes, pirates <i>are</i> very wrong. And so are +highwaymen and smugglers."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about highwaymen," the old +man replied; "they went out afore my time, +worse luck; but my father's great-uncle by the +mother's side, he see one hanged once. A fine +upstanding fellow he was, and made a speech +while they was a-fitting of the rope. All the +women was snivelling and sniffing and throwing +bokays at him."</p> + +<p>"Did any of the bouquets reach him?" +asked the interested Alice.</p> + +<p>"Not likely," said the old man. "Women +can't never shy straight. But I shouldn't +wonder but what them posies heartened the +chap up a bit. An afterwards they was all +a-fightin' to get a bit of the rope he was +hung with, for luck."</p> + +<p>"Do tell us some more about him," said all +of us but Dora.</p> + +<p>"I don't know no more about him. He was +just hung—that's all. They was precious fond +o' hangin' in them old far-away times."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know a smuggler?" asked +H.O.—"to speak to, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's tellings," said the old man, and +he winked at us all.</p> + +<p>So then we instantly knew that the coastguards +had been mistaken when they said there +were no more smugglers now, and that this +brave old man would not betray his comrades,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +even to friendly strangers like us. But of +course he could not know exactly how friendly +we were. So we told him.</p> + +<p>Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"We <i>love</i> smugglers. We wouldn't even +tell a word about it if you would only tell us."</p> + +<p>"There used to be lots of smuggling on +these here coasts when my father was a boy," +he said; "my own father's cousin, his father +took to the smuggling, and he was a doin' so +well at it, that what does he do, but goes and +gets married, and the Preventives they goes +and nabs him on his wedding-day, and walks +him straight off from the church door, and +claps him in Dover Jail."</p> + +<p>"Oh, his poor wife," said Alice, "whatever +did she do?"</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> didn't do nothing," said the old man. +"It's a woman's place not to do nothing till she's +told to. He'd done so well at the smuggling, +he'd saved enough by his honest toil to take +a little public. So she sets there awaitin' and +attendin' to customers—for well she knowed +him, as he wasn't the chap to let a bit of a +jail stand in the way of his station in life. +Well, it was three weeks to a day after the +wedding, there comes a dusty chap to the +'Peal of Bells' door. That was the sign over +the public, you understand."</p> + +<p>We said we did, and breathlessly added, +"Go on!"</p> + +<p>"A dusty chap he was; got a beard and a +patch over one eye, and he come of a afternoon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +when there was no one about the place +but her.</p> + +<p>"'Hullo, missis,' says he; 'got a room for a +quiet chap?'</p> + +<p>"'I don't take in no men-folks,' says she; +'can't be bothered with 'em.'</p> + +<p>"'You'll be bothered with <i>me</i>, if I'm not +mistaken,' says he.</p> + +<p>"'Bothered if I will,' says she.</p> + +<p>"'Bothered if you won't,' says he, and with +that he ups with his hand and off comes the +black patch, and he pulls off the beard and +gives her a kiss and a smack on the shoulder. +She always said she nearly died when she see +it was her new-made bridegroom under the +beard.</p> + +<p>"So she took her own man in as a lodger, +and he went to work up at Upton's Farm +with his beard on, and of nights he kept up +the smuggling business. And for a year or +more no one knowd as it was him. But they +got him at last."</p> + +<p>"What became of him?" We all asked it.</p> + +<p>"He's dead," said the old man. "But, Lord +love you, so's everybody as lived in them far-off +old ancient days—all dead—Preventives +too—and smugglers and gentry: all gone +under the daisies."</p> + +<p>We felt quite sad. Oswald hastily asked if +there wasn't any smuggling now.</p> + +<p>"Not hereabouts," the old man answered, +rather quickly for him. "Don't you go for +to think it. But I did know a young chap—quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +young he is with blue eyes—up Sunderland +way it was. He'd got a goodish bit o' +baccy and stuff done up in a ole shirt. And +as he was a-goin' up off of the beach a coastguard +jumps out at him, and he says to himself, +'All u. p. this time,' says he. But out +loud he says, 'Hullo, Jack, that you? I +thought you was a tramp,' says he.</p> + +<p>"'What you got in that bundle?' says the +coastguard.</p> + +<p>"'My washing,' says he, 'and a couple pairs +of old boots.'</p> + +<p>"Then the coastguard he says, 'Shall I give +you a lift with it?' thinking in himself the +other chap wouldn't part if it was anything it +oughtn't to be. But that young chap was too +sharp. He says to himself, 'If I don't he'll +nail me, and if I do—well, there's just a +chance.'</p> + +<p>"So he hands over the bundle, and the +coastguard he thinks it must be all right, and +he carries it all the way up to his mother's for +him, feeling sorry for the mean suspicions +he'd had about the poor old chap. But that +didn't happen near here. No, no."</p> + +<p>I think Dora was going to say, "<i>Old</i> chap—but +I thought he was young with blue eyes?" +but just at that minute a coastguard came +along and ordered us quite harshly not to +lean on the boat. He was quite disagreeable +about it—how different from our own coastguards! +He was from a different station to +theirs. The old man got off very slowly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +And all the time he was arranging his long +legs so as to stand on them, the coastguard +went on being disagreeable as hard as he +could, in a loud voice.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/gs29.png" width="600" height="368" alt="A COASTGUARD ORDERED US QUITE HARSHLY NOT TO LEAN ON THE BOAT." title="A COASTGUARD ORDERED US QUITE HARSHLY NOT TO LEAN ON THE BOAT." /> +<span class="caption">A COASTGUARD ORDERED US QUITE HARSHLY NOT TO LEAN ON THE BOAT.</span> +</div> + +<p>When our old man had told the coastguard +that no one ever lost anything by keeping a +civil tongue in his head, we all went away +feeling very angry.</p> + +<p>Alice took the old man's hand as we went +back to the village, and asked him why the +coastguard was so horrid.</p> + +<p>"They gets notions into their heads," replied +the old man; "the most innocentest people +they comes to think things about. It's along +of there being no smuggling in these ere parts +now. The coastguards ain't got nothing to +do except think things about honest people."</p> + +<p>We parted from the old man very warmly, +all shaking hands. He lives at a cottage not +quite in the village, and keeps pigs. We +did not say goodbye till we had seen all +the pigs.</p> + +<p>I daresay we should not have gone on disliking +that disagreeable coastguard so much if +he had not come along one day when we were +talking to our own coastguards, and asked +why they allowed a pack of young shavers +in the boat-house. We went away in silent +dignity, but we did not forget, and when we +were in bed that night Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it would be a good thing +if the coastguards had something to do?"</p> + +<p>Dicky yawned and said he didn't know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should like to be a smuggler," said +Oswald. "Oh, yes, go to sleep if you like; +but I've got an idea, and if you'd rather be +out of it I'll have Alice instead."</p> + +<p>"Fire away!" said Dicky, now full of attention, +and leaning on his elbow.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Oswald, "I think we +<i>might</i> be smugglers."</p> + +<p>"We've played all those things so jolly +often," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"But I don't mean play," said Oswald. "I +mean the real thing. Of course we should +have to begin in quite a small way. But we +should get on in time. And we might make +quite a lot for poor Miss Sandal."</p> + +<p>"Things that you smuggle are expensive," +said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"Well, we've got the chink the Indian uncle +sent us on Saturday. I'm certain we could do +it. We'd get some one to take us out at night +in one of the fishing-boats—just tear across to +France and buy a keg or a bale or something, +and rush back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and get nabbed and put in prison. +Not me," said Dicky. "Besides, who'd take +us?"</p> + +<p>"That old Viking man would," said Oswald; +"but of course, if you funk it!"</p> + +<p>"I don't funk anything," said Dicky, "bar +making an ape of myself. Keep your hair on, +Oswald. Look here. Suppose we get a keg +with nothing in it—or just water. We should +have all the fun, and if we <i>were</i> collared we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +should have the laugh of that coastguard +brute."</p> + +<p>Oswald agreed, but he made it a condition +that we should call it the keg of brandy, +whatever was in it, and Dicky consented.</p> + +<p>Smuggling is a manly sport, and girls are +not fitted for it by nature. At least Dora is +not; and if we had told Alice she would have +insisted on dressing as a boy and going too, +and we knew Father would not like this. +And we thought Noël and H.O. were too young +to be smugglers with any hope of success. +So Dicky and I kept the idea to ourselves.</p> + +<p>We went to see the Viking man the next +day. It took us some time to make him +understand what we wanted, but when he +did understand he slapped his leg many times, +and very hard, and declared that we were +chips of the old block.</p> + +<p>"But I can't go for to let you," he said; "if +you was nailed it's the stone jug, bless your +hearts."</p> + +<p>So then we explained about the keg really +having only water in, and he slapped his leg +again harder than ever, so that it would really +have been painful to any but the hardened leg +of an old sea-dog. But the water made his +refusals weaker, and at last he said—</p> + +<p>"Well, see here, Benenden, him as owns +the <i>Mary Sarah</i>, he's often took out a youngster +or two for the night's fishing, when their +pa's and ma's hadn't no objection. You write +your pa, and ask if you mayn't go for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +night's fishing, or you get Mr. Charteris to +write. He knows it's all right, and often +done by visitors' kids, if boys. And if your +pa says yes, I'll make it all right with +Benenden. But mind, it's just a night's +fishing. No need to name no kegs. That's +just betwixt ourselves."</p> + +<p>So we did exactly as he said. Mr. Charteris +is the clergyman. He was quite nice about +it, and wrote for us, and Father said "Yes, +but be very careful, and don't take the girls +or the little ones."</p> + +<p>We showed the girls the letter, and that +removed the trifling ill-feeling that had grown +up through Dick and me having so much +secret talk about kegs and not telling the +others what was up.</p> + +<p>Of course we never breathed a word about +kegs in public, and only to each other in bated +breaths.</p> + +<p>What Father said about not taking the +girls or the little ones of course settled any +wild ideas Alice might have had of going as a +cabin-girl.</p> + +<p>The old Viking man, now completely interested +in our scheme, laid all the plans in the +deepest-laid way you can think. He chose a +very dark night—fortunately there was one +just coming on. He chose the right time of +the tide for starting, and just in the greyness +of the evening when the sun is gone down, +and the sea somehow looks wetter than at +any other time, we put on our thick undershirts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +and then our thickest suits and football +jerseys over everything, because we had been +told it would be very cold. Then we said +goodbye to our sisters and the little ones, +and it was exactly like a picture of the "Tar's +Farewell," because we had bundles, with things +to eat tied up in blue checked handkerchiefs, +and we said goodbye to them at the gate, and +they would kiss us.</p> + +<p>Dora said, "Goodbye, I <i>know</i> you'll be +drowned. I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, +I'm sure!"</p> + +<p>Alice said, "I do think it's perfectly beastly. +You might just as well have asked for me to +go with you; or you might let us come and +see you start."</p> + +<p>"Men must work, and women must weep," +replied Oswald with grim sadness, "and the +Viking said he wouldn't have us at all unless +we could get on board in a concealed manner, +like stowaways. He said a lot of others +would want to go too if they saw us."</p> + +<p>We made our way to the beach, and we +tried to conceal ourselves as much as possible, +but several people did see us.</p> + +<p>When we got to the boat we found she was +manned by our Viking and Benenden, and a +boy with red hair, and they were running her +down to the beach on rollers. Of course +Dicky and I lent a hand, shoving at the +stern of the boat when the men said, "Yo, +ho! Heave ho, my merry boys all!" It +wasn't exactly that that they said, but it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +meant the same thing, and we heaved like +anything.</p> + +<p>It was a proud moment when her nose +touched the water, and prouder still when +only a small part of her stern remained on +the beach and Mr. Benenden remarked—</p> + +<p>"All aboard!"</p> + +<p>The red boy gave a "leg up" to Dicky and +me and clambered up himself. Then the two +men gave the last shoves to the boat, already +cradled almost entirely on the bosom of the +deep, and as the very end of the keel grated +off the pebbles into the water, they leaped for +the gunwale and hung on it with their high +sea-boots waving in the evening air.</p> + +<p>By the time they had brought their legs on +board and coiled a rope or two, we chanced to +look back, and already the beach seemed quite +a long way off.</p> + +<p>We were really afloat. Our smuggling +expedition was no longer a dream, but a +real realness. Oswald felt almost too excited +at first to be able to enjoy himself. I +hope you will understand this and not think +the author is trying to express, by roundabout +means, that the sea did not agree with Oswald. +This is not the case. He was perfectly well +the whole time. It was Dicky who was not. +But he said it was the smell of the cabin, and +not the sea, and I am sure he thought what +he said was true.</p> + +<p>In fact, that cabin was a bit stiff altogether, +and was almost the means of upsetting even +Oswald.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was about six feet square, with bunks +and an oil stove, and heaps of old coats and +tarpaulins and sou'-westers and things, and it +smelt of tar, and fish, and paraffin-smoke, and +machinery oil, and of rooms where no one +ever opens the window.</p> + +<p>Oswald just put his nose in, and that was +all. He had to go down later, when some +fish was cooked and eaten, but by that time +he had got what they call your sea-legs; but +Oswald felt more as if he had got a sea-waistcoat, +rather as if he had got rid of a +land-waistcoat that was too heavy and too +tight.</p> + +<p>I will not weary the reader by telling about +how the nets are paid out and dragged in, or +about the tumbling, shining heaps of fish that +come up all alive over the side of the boat, and +it tips up with their weight till you think it is +going over. It was a very good catch that +night, and Oswald is glad he saw it, for it was +very glorious. Dicky was asleep in the cabin +at the time and missed it. It was deemed best +not to rouse him to fresh sufferings.</p> + +<p>It was getting latish, and Oswald, though +thrilled in every marrow, was getting rather +sleepy, when old Benenden said, "There +she is!"</p> + +<p>Oswald could see nothing at first, but +presently he saw a dark form on the +smooth sea. It turned out to be another +boat.</p> + +<p>She crept quietly up till she was alongside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +ours, and then a keg was hastily hoisted from +her to us.</p> + +<p>A few words in low voices were exchanged. +Oswald only heard—</p> + +<p>"Sure you ain't give us the wrong un?"</p> + +<p>And several people laughed hoarsely.</p> + +<p>On first going on board Oswald and Dicky +had mentioned kegs, and had been ordered to +"Stow that!" so that Oswald had begun to +fear that after all it <i>was</i> only a night's fishing, +and that his glorious idea had been abandoned.</p> + +<p>But now he saw the keg his trembling +heart was reassured.</p> + +<p>It got colder and colder. Dicky, in the +cabin, was covered with several coats richly +scented with fish, and Oswald was glad to +accept an oilskin and sou'-wester, and to sit +down on some spare nets.</p> + +<p>Until you are out on the sea at night you +can never have any idea how big the world +really is. The sky looks higher up, and the +stars look further off, and even if you know it +is only the English Channel, yet it is just as +good for feeling small on as the most trackless +Atlantic or Pacific. Even the fish help to show +the largeness of the world, because you think +of the deep deepness of the dark sea they +come up out of in such rich profusion. The +hold was full of fish after the second haul.</p> + +<p>Oswald sat leaning against the precious keg, +and perhaps the bigness and quietness of +everything had really rendered him unconscious. +But he did not know he was asleep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +until the Viking man woke him up by kindly +shaking him and saying—</p> + +<p>"Here, look alive! Was ye thinking to beach +her with that there precious keg of yours all +above board, and crying out to be broached?"</p> + +<p>So then Oswald roused himself, and the keg +was rolled on to the fish where they lay filling +the hold, and armfuls of fish thrown over it.</p> + +<p>"Is it <i>really</i> only water?" asked Oswald. +"There's an awfully odd smell." And indeed, +in spite of the many different smells that are +natural to a fishing-boat, Oswald began to +notice a strong scent of railway refreshment-rooms.</p> + +<p>"In course it's only water," said the Viking. +"What else would it be likely to be?" and +Oswald thinks he winked in the dark.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Oswald fell asleep again after this. +It was either that or deep thought. Any +way, he was aroused from it by a bump, +and a soft grating sound, and he thought +at first the boat was being wrecked on a +coral reef or something.</p> + +<p>But almost directly he knew that the boat +had merely come ashore in the proper +manner, so he jumped up.</p> + +<p>You cannot push a boat out of the water +like you push it in. It has to be hauled up +by a capstan. If you don't know what that is +the author is unable to explain, but there is +a picture of one.</p> + +<p>When the boat was hauled up we got out, +and it was very odd to stretch your legs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +on land again. It felt shakier than being +on sea. The red-haired boy went off to get +a cart to take the shining fish to market, and +Oswald decided to face the mixed-up smells of +that cabin and wake Dicky.</p> + +<p>Dicky was not grateful to Oswald for his +thoughtful kindness in letting him sleep +through the perils of the deep and his own +uncomfortableness.</p> + +<p>He said, "I do think you might have waked +a chap. I've simply been out of everything."</p> + +<p>Oswald did not answer back. His is a +proud and self-restraining nature. He just +said—</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry up, now, and see them cart +the fish away."</p> + +<p>So we hurried up, and as Oswald came out +of the cabin he heard strange voices, and his +heart leaped up like the persons who "behold +a rainbow in the sky," for one of the voices +was the voice of that inferior and unsailorlike +coastguard from Longbeach, who had gone +out of his way to be disagreeable to Oswald +and his brothers and sisters on at least two +occasions. And now Oswald felt almost sure +that his disagreeablenesses, though not exactly +curses, were coming home to roost just as +though they had been.</p> + +<p>"You're missing your beauty sleep, Stokes," +we heard our Viking remark.</p> + +<p>"I'm not missing anything else, though," +replied the coastguard.</p> + +<p>"Like half a dozen mackerel for your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +breakfast?" inquired Mr. Benenden in kindly +accents.</p> + +<p>"I've no stomach for fish, thank you all the +same," replied Mr. Stokes coldly.</p> + +<p>He walked up and down on the beach, +clapping his arms to keep himself warm.</p> + +<p>"Going to see us unload her?" asked Mr. +Benenden.</p> + +<p>"If it's all the same to you," answered the +disagreeable coastguard.</p> + +<p>He had to wait a long time, for the cart did +not come, and did not come, and kept on not +coming for ages and ages. When it did the +men unloaded the boat, carrying the fish by +basketfuls to the cart.</p> + +<p>Every one played up jolly well. They took +the fish from the side of the hold where the +keg wasn't till there was quite a deep hole +there, and the other side, where the keg +really was, looked like a mountain in comparison.</p> + +<p>This could be plainly seen by the detested +coastguard, and by three of his companions +who had now joined him.</p> + +<p>It was beginning to be light, not daylight, +but a sort of ghost-light that you could hardly +believe was the beginning of sunshine, and the +sky being blue again instead of black.</p> + +<p>The hated coastguard got impatient. He +said—</p> + +<p>"You'd best own up. It'll be the better for +you. It's bound to come out, along of the fish. +I know it's there. We've had private information<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +up at the station. The game's up this +time, so don't you make no mistake."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benenden and the Viking and the boy +looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"An' what might your precious private +information have been about?" asked Mr. +Benenden.</p> + +<p>"Brandy," replied the coastguard Stokes, +and he went and got on to the gunwale. +"And what's more, I can smell it from +here."</p> + +<p>Oswald and Dicky drew near, and the +refreshment-room smell was stronger than +ever. And a brown corner of the keg was +peeping out.</p> + +<p>"There you are!" cried the Loathed One. +"Let's have that gentleman out, if you please, +and then you'll all just come alonger me."</p> + +<p>Remarking, with a shrug of the shoulders, +that he supposed it was all up, our Viking +scattered the fish that hid the barrel, and +hoisted it out from its scaly bed.</p> + +<p>"That's about the size of it," said the +coastguard we did not like. "Where's the +rest?"</p> + +<p>"That's all," said Mr. Benenden. "We're +poor men, and we has to act according to +our means."</p> + +<p>"We'll see the boat clear to her last timber, +if you've no objections," said the Detestable +One.</p> + +<p>I could see that our gallant crew were prepared +to go through with the business. More<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +and more of the coastguards were collecting, +and I understood that what the crew wanted +was to go up to the coastguard station with +that keg of pretending brandy, and involve +the whole of the coastguards of Longbeach +in one complete and perfect sell.</p> + +<p>But Dicky was sick of the entire business. +He really has not the proper soul for adventures, +and what soul he has had been damped +by what he had gone through.</p> + +<p>So he said, "Look here, there's nothing in +that keg but water."</p> + +<p>Oswald could have kicked him, though he is +his brother.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" replied the Unloved One, "d'you +think I haven't got a nose? Why, it's oozing +out of the bunghole now as strong as Samson."</p> + +<p>"Open it and see," said Dicky, disregarding +Oswald's whispered instructions to him to +shut up. "It <i>is</i> water."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose I suppose you want +to get water from the other side for, you +young duffer!" replied the brutal official. +"There's plenty water and to spare this side."</p> + +<p>"It's—it's <i>French</i> water," replied Dicky +madly; "it's ours, my brother's and mine. +We asked these sailors to get it for us."</p> + +<p>"Sailors, indeed!" said the hateful coastguard. +"You come along with me."</p> + +<p>And our Viking said he was something or +othered. But Benenden whispered to him in +a low voice that it was all right—time was up. +No one heard this but me and the Viking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I want to go home," said Dicky. "I don't +want to come along with you."</p> + +<p>"What did you want water for?" was +asked. "To try it?"</p> + +<p>"To stand you a drink next time you +ordered us off your beastly boat," said Dicky. +And Oswald rejoiced to hear the roar of +laughter that responded to this fortunate +piece of cheek.</p> + +<p>I suppose Dicky's face was so angel-like, +innocent-looking, like stowaways in books, +that they <i>had</i> to believe him. Oswald told +him so afterwards, and Dicky hit out.</p> + +<p>Any way, the keg was broached, and sure +enough it was water, and sea-water at that, +as the Unamiable One said when he had +tasted it out of a tin cup, for nothing else +would convince him. "But I smell brandy +still," he said, wiping his mouth after the +sea-water.</p> + +<p>Our Viking slowly drew a good-sized flat +labelled bottle out of the front of his jersey.</p> + +<p>"From the 'Old Ship,'" he said gently. +"I may have spilt a drop or two here or +there over the keg, my hand not being very +steady, as is well known, owing to spells of +marsh fever as comes over me every six weeks +to the day."</p> + +<p>The coastguard that we never could bear +said, "Marsh fever be something or othered," +and his comrades said the same. But they all +blamed <i>him</i>, and we were glad.</p> + +<p>We went home sleepy, but rejoicing. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +whole thing was as complete a sell as ever +I wish to see.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 487px;"> +<img src="images/gs30.png" width="487" height="400" alt="SURE ENOUGH IT WAS SEA-WATER, AS THE UNAMIABLE ONE SAID WHEN HE HAD TASTED IT." title="SURE ENOUGH IT WAS SEA-WATER, AS THE UNAMIABLE ONE SAID WHEN HE HAD TASTED IT." /> +<span class="caption">SURE ENOUGH IT WAS SEA-WATER, AS THE UNAMIABLE ONE SAID WHEN HE HAD TASTED IT.</span> +</div> + +<p>Of course we told our own dear and respected +Lymchurch coastguards, and I think +they may be trusted not to let it down on +the Longbeach coastguards for many a good +day. If their memories get bad I think there +will always be plenty of people along that +coast to remind them!</p> + +<p>So <i>that's</i> all right.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When we had told the girls all, and borne +their reproaches for not telling them before, +we decided to give the Viking five bob for the +game way he had played up.</p> + +<p>So we did. He would not take it at first, +but when we said, "Do—you might buy a pig +with it, and call it Stokes after that coastguard," +he could no longer resist, and accepted +our friendly gift.</p> + +<p>We talked with him for a bit, and when +we were going we thanked him for being so +jolly, and helping us to plant out the repulsive +coastguard so thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Then he said, "Don't mention it. Did you +tell your little gells what you was up to?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Oswald, "not till afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>can</i> hold your tongues. Well, +since you've acted so handsome about that +there pig, what's to be named for Stokes, I +don't mind if I tells you something. Only +mum's the word."</p> + +<p>We said we were quite sure it was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, then," said he, leaning over the pig-stye +wall, and rubbing the spotted pig's back +with his stick. "It's an ill wind that blows +no good to nobody. You see, that night +there was a little bird went an' whispered to +'em up at Longbeach about our little bit of a +keg. So when we landed they was there."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Oswald.</p> + +<p>"Well, if they was there they couldn't be +somewheres else, could they?"</p> + +<p>We owned they could not.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder," he went on, "but +what a bit of a cargo was run that night +further up the beach: something as <i>wasn't</i> +sea-water. I don't say it was so, mind—and +mind you don't go for to say it."</p> + +<p>Then we understood that there is a little +smuggling done still, and that we had helped +in it, though quite without knowing.</p> + +<p>We were jolly glad. Afterwards, when we +had had that talk with Father, when he told +us that the laws are made by the English +people, and it is dishonourable for an Englishman +not to stick to them, we saw that +smuggling must be wrong.</p> + +<p>But we have never been able to feel really +sorry. I do not know why this is.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>ZAÏDA, THE MYSTERIOUS PROPHETESS<br /> +OF THE GOLDEN<br /> +ORIENT</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">This</span> is the story of how we were gipsies and +wandering minstrels. And, like everything +else we did about that time, it was done to +make money for Miss Sandal, whose poorness +kept on, making our kind hearts ache.</div> + +<p>It is rather difficult to get up any good game +in a house like Miss Sandal's, where there is +nothing lying about, except your own things, +and where everything is so neat and necessary. +Your own clothes are seldom interesting, and +even if you change hats with your sisters it +is not a complete disguise.</p> + +<p>The idea of being gipsies was due to Alice. +She had not at all liked being entirely out of +the smuggling affray, though Oswald explained +to her that it was her own fault for +having been born a girl. And, of course, +after the event, Dicky and I had some things +to talk about that the girls hadn't, and we +had a couple of wet days.</p> + +<p>You have no idea how dull you can be in +a house like that, unless you happen to know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +the sort of house I mean. A house that is +meant for plain living and high thinking, like +Miss Sandal told us, may be very nice for the +high thinkers, but if you are not accustomed +to thinking high there is only the plain living +left, and it is like boiled rice for every meal +to any young mind, however much beef and +Yorkshire there may be for the young insides. +Mrs. Beale saw to our having plenty of nice +things to eat, but, alas! it is not always dinner-time, +and in between meals the cold rice-pudding +feeling is very chilling. Of course we +had the splendid drawings of winged things +made by our Flying Lodger, but you cannot +look at pictures all day long, however many +coloured chalks they are drawn with, and +however fond you may be of them.</p> + +<p>Miss Sandal's was the kind of house that +makes you wander all round it and say, +"What shall we do next?" And when it +rains the little ones get cross.</p> + +<p>It was the second wet day when we were +wandering round the house to the sad music +of our boots on the clean, bare boards that +Alice said—</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Beale has got a book at her house +called 'Napoleon's book of Fate.' You might +ask her to let you go and get it, Oswald. She +likes you best."</p> + +<p>Oswald is as modest as any one I know, but +the truth is the truth.</p> + +<p>"We could tell our fortunes, and read the +dark future," Alice went on. "It would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +better than high thinking without anything +particular to think about."</p> + +<p>So Oswald went down to Mrs. Beale and +said—</p> + +<p>"I say, Bealie dear, you've got a book up at +your place. I wish you'd lend it to us to +read."</p> + +<p>"If it's the Holy Book you mean, sir," replied +Mrs. Beale, going on with peeling the +potatoes that were to be a radiant vision +later on, all brown and crisp in company with +a leg of mutton—"if it's the Holy Book you +want there's one up on Miss Sandal's chest of +drawerses."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Oswald. He knew every +book in the house. The backs of them were +beautiful—leather and gold—but inside they +were like whited sepulchres, full of poetry +and improving reading. "No—we didn't want +that book just now. It is a book called +'Napoleon's book of Fate.' Would you mind +if I ran up to your place and got it?"</p> + +<p>"There's no one at home," said Mrs. Beale; +"wait a bit till I go along to the bakus with +the meat, and I'll fetch it along."</p> + +<p>"You might let me go," said Oswald, whose +high spirit is always ill-attuned to waiting a +bit. "I wouldn't touch anything else, and I +know where you keep the key."</p> + +<p>"There's precious little as ye don't know, it +seems to me," said Mrs. Beale. "There, run +along do. It's on top of the mantelshelf +alongside the picture tea-tin. It's a red book.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +Don't go taking the 'Wesleyan Conference +Reports' by mistake, the two is both together +on the mantel."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 474px;"> +<img src="images/gs31.png" width="474" height="400" alt=""I SAY, BEALIE DEAR, YOU'VE GOT A BOOK UP AT YOUR PLACE."" title=""I SAY, BEALIE DEAR, YOU'VE GOT A BOOK UP AT YOUR PLACE."" /> +<span class="caption">"I SAY, BEALIE DEAR, YOU'VE GOT A BOOK UP AT YOUR PLACE."</span> +</div> + +<p>Oswald in his macker splashed through the +mud to Mrs. Beale's, found the key under the +loose tile behind the water-butt, and got the +book without adventure. He had promised +not to touch anything else, so he could not +make even the gentlest booby-trap as a +little surprise for Mrs. Beale when she got +back.</p> + +<p>And most of that day we were telling our +fortunes by the ingenious means invented by +the great Emperor, or by cards, which it is +hard to remember the rules for, or by our +dreams. The only blights were that the +others all wanted to have the book all the +time, and that Noël's dreams were so long and +mixed that we got tired of hearing about +them before he did. But he said he was quite +sure he had dreamed every single bit of every +one of them. And the author hopes this was +the truth.</p> + +<p>We all went to bed hoping we should dream +something that we could look up in the +dream book, but none of us did.</p> + +<p>And in the morning it was still raining and +Alice said—</p> + +<p>"Look here, if it ever clears up again let's +dress up and be gipsies. We can go about in +the distant villages telling people's fortunes. +If you'll let me have the book all to-day I can +learn up quite enough to tell them mysteriously<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +and darkly. And gipsies always get +their hands crossed with silver."</p> + +<p>Dicky said that was one way of keeping the +book to herself, but Oswald said—</p> + +<p>"Let her try. She shall have it for an +hour, and then we'll have an exam. to see +how much she knows."</p> + +<p>This was done, but while she was swatting +the thing up with her fingers in her ears we +began to talk about how gipsies should be +dressed.</p> + +<p>And when we all went out of the room to +see if we could find anything in that tidy +house to dress up in, she came after us to see +what was up. So there was no exam.</p> + +<p>We peeped into the cupboards and drawers +in Miss Sandal's room, but everything was +grey or brown, not at all the sort of thing to +dress up for children of the Sunny South in. +The plain living was shown in all her clothes; +and besides, grey shows every little spot you +may happen to get on it.</p> + +<p>We were almost in despair. We looked in +all the drawers in all the rooms, but found +only sheets and tablecloths and more grey +and brown clothing.</p> + +<p>We tried the attic, with fainting hearts. +Servants' clothes are always good for dressing-up +with; they have so many different colours. +But Miss Sandal had no servant. Still, she +might have had one once, and the servant +might have left something behind her. Dora +suggested this and added<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"If you don't find anything in the attic +you'll know it's Fate, and you're not to do it. +Besides, I'm almost sure you can be put in +prison for telling fortunes."</p> + +<p>"Not if you're a gipsy you can't," said Noël; +"they have licences to tell fortunes, I believe, +and judges can't do anything to them."</p> + +<p>So we went up to the attic. And it was as +bare and tidy as the rest of the house. But +there were some boxes and we looked in them. +The smallest was full of old letters, so we shut +it again at once. Another had books in it, +and the last had a clean towel spread over +what was inside. So we took off the towel, +and then every one said "Oh!"</p> + +<p>In right on the top was a scarlet thing, +embroidered heavily with gold. It proved, on +unfolding, to be a sort of coat, like a Chinaman's. +We lifted it out and laid it on the +towel on the floor. And then the full glories +of that box were revealed. There were cloaks +and dresses and skirts and scarves, of all the +colours of a well-chosen rainbow, and all +made of the most beautiful silks and stuffs, +with things worked on them with silk, as well +as chains of beads and many lovely ornaments. +We think Miss Sandal must have been very +fond of pretty things when she was young, or +when she was better off.</p> + +<p>"Well, there won't be any gipsies near by to +come up to <i>us</i>," said Oswald joyously.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we ought to take them, +without asking?" said Dora.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Oswald witheringly; +"we ought to write to her and say, 'Please, +Miss Sandal, we know how poor you are, and +may we borrow your things to be gipsies in +so as we get money for you—— All right! +You go and write the letter, Dora."</p> + +<p>"I only just asked," said Dora.</p> + +<p>We tried the things on. Some of them +were so ladylike that they were no good—evening +dresses, and things like that. But +there were enough useful things to go round. +Oswald, in white shirt and flannel knee-breeches, +tied a brick-coloured silk scarf +round his middle part, and a green one round +his head for a turban. The turban was +fastened with a sparkling brooch with pink +stones in it. He looked like a Moorish +toreador. Dicky had the scarlet and gold +coat, which was the right length when Dora +had run a tuck in it.</p> + +<p>Alice had a blue skirt with embroidery of +peacock's feathers on it, and a gold and black +jacket very short with no sleeves, and a +yellow silk handkerchief on her head like +Italian peasants, and another handkie round +her neck. Dora's skirt was green and her +handkerchiefs purple and pink.</p> + +<p>Noël insisted on having his two scarves, +one green and one yellow, twisted on his legs +like putties, and a red scarf wound round +his middle-part, and he stuck a long ostrich +feather in his own bicycle cap and said he +was a troubadour bard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>H.O. was able to wear a lady's blouse +of mouse-coloured silk, embroidered with +poppies. It came down to his knees and a +jewelled belt kept it in place.</p> + +<p>We made up our costumes into bundles, +and Alice thoughtfully bought a pennyworth +of pins. Of course it was idle to suppose that +we could go through the village in our gipsy +clothes without exciting <i>some</i> remark.</p> + +<p>The more we thought of it the more it +seemed as if it would be a good thing to get +some way from our village before we began +our gipsy career.</p> + +<p>The woman at the sweet shop where Alice +got the pins has a donkey and cart, and for +two shillings she consented to lend us this, +so that some of us could walk while some of +us would always be resting in the cart.</p> + +<p>And next morning the weather was bright +and blue as ever, and we started. We were +beautifully clean, but all our hairs had been +arranged with the brush solely, because at +the last moment nobody could find it's comb. +Mrs. Beale had packed up a jolly sandwichy +and apply lunch for us. We told her we were +going to gather bluebells in the woods, and of +course we meant to do that too.</p> + +<p>The donkey-cart drew up at the door and +we started. It was found impossible to get +every one into the cart at once, so we agreed +to cast lots for who should run behind, and +to take it in turns, mile and mile. The lot +fell on Dora and H.O., but there was precious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +little running about it. Anything slower +than that donkey Oswald has never known, +and when it came to passing its own front +door the donkey simply would not. It ended +in Oswald getting down and going to the +animal's head, and having it out with him, +man to man. The donkey was small, but of +enormous strength. He set all his four feet +firm and leant back—and Oswald set his two +feet firm and leant back—so that Oswald +and the front part of the donkey formed an +angry and contentious letter V. And Oswald +gazed in the donkey's eyes in a dauntless +manner, and the donkey looked at Oswald +as though it thought he was hay or thistles.</p> + +<p>Alice beat the donkey from the cart with +a stick that had been given us for the purpose. +The rest shouted. But all was in vain. And +four people in a motor car stopped it to see +the heroic struggle, and laughed till I thought +they would have upset their hateful motor. +However, it was all for the best, though +Oswald did not see it at the time. When +they had had enough of laughing they started +their machine again, and the noise it made +penetrated the donkey's dull intelligence, and +he started off without a word—I mean without +any warning, and Oswald has only just +time to throw himself clear of the wheels +before he fell on the ground and rolled over, +biting the dust.</p> + +<p>The motor car people behaved as you would +expect. But accidents happen even to motor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +cars, when people laugh too long and too +unfeelingly. The driver turned round to laugh, +and the motor instantly took the bit between +its teeth and bolted into the stone wall of the +churchyard. No one was hurt except the +motor, but that had to spend the day at the +blacksmith's, we heard afterwards. Thus +was the outraged Oswald avenged by Fate.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/gs32.png" width="600" height="334" alt="ALICE BEAT THE DONKEY FROM THE CART. THE REST SHOUTED." title="ALICE BEAT THE DONKEY FROM THE CART. THE REST SHOUTED." /> +<span class="caption">ALICE BEAT THE DONKEY FROM THE CART. THE REST SHOUTED.</span> +</div> + +<p>He was not hurt either—though much the +motor people would have cared if he had +been—and he caught up with the others at the +end of the village, for the donkey's pace had +been too good to last, and the triumphal +progress was resumed.</p> + +<p>It was some time before we found a wood +sufficiently lurking-looking for our secret +purposes. There are no woods close to the +village. But at last, up by Bonnington, we +found one, and tying our noble steed to the +sign-post that says how many miles it is to +Ashford, we cast a hasty glance round, and +finding no one in sight disappeared in the +wood with our bundles.</p> + +<p>We went in just ordinary creatures. We +came out gipsies of the deepest dye, for we +had got a pennorth of walnut stain from +Mr. Jameson the builder, and mixed with +water—the water we had brought in a +medicine-bottle—it was a prime disguise. +And we knew it would wash off, unlike the +Condy's fluid we once stained ourselves with +during a never-to-be-forgotten game of +Jungle-Book.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>We had put on all the glorious things we +had bagged from Miss Sandal's attic treasures, +but still Alice had a small bundle unopened.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Dora asked.</p> + +<p>"I meant to keep it as a reserve force in +case the fortune-telling didn't turn out all +our fancy painted it," said Alice; "but I +don't mind telling you now."</p> + +<p>She opened the bundle, and there was a +tambourine, some black lace, a packet of +cigarette papers, and our missing combs.</p> + +<p>"What ever on earth——" Dicky was +beginning, but Oswald saw it all. He has a +wonderfully keen nose. And he said—</p> + +<p>"Bully for you, Alice. I wish I'd thought +it myself."</p> + +<p>Alice was much pleased by this handsome +speech.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said; "perhaps really it would +be best to begin with it. It would attract +the public's attention, and then we could tell +the fortunes. You see," she kindly explained +to Dicky and H.O. and Dora, who had not +seen it yet—though Noël had, almost as soon +as I did—"you see, we'll all play on the +combs with the veils over our faces, so that +no one can see what our instruments are. +Why, they might be mouth-organs for anything +any one will know, or some costly +instruments from the far-off East, like they +play to sultans in zenanas. Let's just try +a tune or two before we go on, to be sure that +all the combs work right. Dora's has such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +big teeth, I shouldn't wonder if it wouldn't +act at all."</p> + +<p>So we all papered our combs and did +"Heroes," but that sounded awful. "The Girl +I Left Behind Me" went better, and so did +"Bonnie Dundee." But we thought "See the +Conquering" or "The Death of Nelson" +would be the best to begin with.</p> + +<p>It was beastly hot doing it under the veils, +but when Oswald had done one tune without +the veil to see how the others looked he could +not help owning that the veils did give a +hidden mystery that was a stranger to simple +combs.</p> + +<p>We were all a bit puffed when we had +played for awhile, so we decided that as the +donkey seemed calm and was eating grass +and resting, we might as well follow his +example.</p> + +<p>"We ought not to be too proud to take +pattern by the brute creation," said Dora.</p> + +<p>So we had our lunch in the wood. We +lighted a little fire of sticks and fir-cones, +so as to be as gipsyish as we could, and we +sat round the fire. We made a charming +picture in our bright clothes, among what +would have been our native surroundings if +we had been real gipsies, and we knew how +nice we looked, and stayed there though the +smoke got in our eyes, and everything we ate +tasted of it.</p> + +<p>The woods were a little damp, and that was +why the fire smoked so. There were the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +jackets we had cast off when we dressed up, +to sit on, and there was a horse-cloth in the +cart intended for the donkey's wear, but we +decided that our need was greater than <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'it's'">its</ins>, +so we took the blanket to recline on.</p> + +<p>It was as jolly a lunch as ever I remember, +and we lingered over that and looking romantic +till we could not bear the smoke any +more.</p> + +<p>Then we got a lot of bluebells and we +trampled out the fire most carefully, because +we know about not setting woods and places +alight, rolled up our clothes in bundles, and +went out of the shadowy woodland into the +bright sunlight, as sparkling looking a crew +of gipsies as any one need wish for.</p> + +<p>Last time we had seen the road it had been +quite white and bare of persons walking on +it, but now there were several. And not +only walkers, but people in carts. And some +carriages passed us too.</p> + +<p>Every one stared at us, but they did not +seem so astonished as we had every right +to expect, and though interested they were +not rude, and this is very rare among English +people—and not only poor people either—when +they see anything at all out of the +way.</p> + +<p>We asked one man, who was very Sunday-best +indeed in black clothes and a blue tie, +where every one was going, for every one +was going the same way, and every one +looked as if it was going to church, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +was unlikely, it being but Thursday. He +said—</p> + +<p>"Same place wot you're going to I expect."</p> + +<p>And when we said where was that we were +requested by him to get along with us. +Which we did.</p> + +<p>An old woman in the heaviest bonnet I +have ever seen and the highest—it was like a +black church—revealed the secret to us, and +we learned that there was a Primrose <i>fête</i> +going on in Sir Willoughby Blockson's +grounds.</p> + +<p>We instantly decided to go to the <i>fête</i>.</p> + +<p>"I've been to a Primrose <i>fête</i>, and so have +you, Dora," Oswald remarked, "and people +are so dull at them, they'd gladly give gold +to see the dark future. And, besides, the +villages will be unpopulated, and no one at +home but idiots and babies and their keepers."</p> + +<p>So we went to the <i>fête</i>.</p> + +<p>The people got thicker and thicker, and +when we got to Sir Willoughby's lodge gates, +which have sprawling lions on the gate-posts, +we were told to take the donkey cart round +to the stable-yard.</p> + +<p>This we did, and proud was the moment +when a stiff groom had to bend his proud +stomach to go to the head of Bates's donkey.</p> + +<p>"This is something like," said Alice, and +Noël added:</p> + +<p>"The foreign princes are well received at +this palace."</p> + +<p>"We aren't princes, we're gipsies," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +Dora, tucking his scarf in. It would keep +on getting loose.</p> + +<p>"There <i>are</i> gipsy princes, though," said +Noël, "because there are gipsy kings."</p> + +<p>"You aren't always a prince first," said Dora; +"don't wriggle so or I can't fix you. Sometimes +being made a king just happens to +some one who isn't any one in particular."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," said Noël; "you have +to be a prince before you're a king, just as +you have to be a kitten before you're a cat, +or a puppy before you're a dog, or a worm +before you're a serpent, or——"</p> + +<p>"What about the King of Sweden?" Dora +was beginning, when a very nice tall, thin +man, with white flowers in his buttonhole +like for a wedding, came strolling up and +said—</p> + +<p>"And whose show is this? Eh, what?"</p> + +<p>We said it was ours.</p> + +<p>"Are you expected?" he asked.</p> + +<p>We said we thought not, but we hoped he +didn't mind.</p> + +<p>"What are you? Acrobats? Tight-rope? +That's a ripping Burmese coat you've got +there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. No we aren't," said Alice, with +dignity. "I am Zaïda, the mysterious +prophetess of the golden Orient, and the +others are mysterious too, but we haven't +fixed on their names yet."</p> + +<p>"By jove!" said the gentleman; "but who +are you really?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Our names are our secret," said Oswald, +with dignity, but Alice said, "Oh, but we +don't mind telling <i>you</i>, because I'm sure you're +nice. We're really the Bastables, and we +want to get some money for some one we +know that's rather poor—of course I can't +tell you <i>her</i> name. And we've learnt how +to tell fortunes—really we have. Do you +think they'll let us tell them at the <i>fête</i>. +People are often dull at <i>fêtes</i>, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" said the gentleman again—"by +Jove, they are!"</p> + +<p>He plunged for a moment in deep reflection.</p> + +<p>"We've got co—musical instruments," +said Noël; "shall we play to you a little?"</p> + +<p>"Not here," said the gentleman; "follow +me."</p> + +<p>He led the way by the backs of shrubberies +to an old summer-house, and we asked him +to wait outside.</p> + +<p>Then we put on our veils and tuned up. +"See, see the conquering——"</p> + +<p>But he did not let us finish the tune; he +burst in upon us, crying—</p> + +<p>"Ripping—oh, ripping! And now tell me +my fortune."</p> + +<p>Alice took off her veil and looked at his +hand.</p> + +<p>"You will travel in distant lands," she said; +"you will have great wealth and honour; +you will marry a beautiful lady—a very fine +woman, it says in the book, but I think a +beautiful lady sounds nicer, don't you?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 407px;"> +<img src="images/gs33.png" width="407" height="400" alt=""WE'VE GOT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS," SAID NOËL." title=""WE'VE GOT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS," SAID NOËL." /> +<span class="caption">"WE'VE GOT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS," SAID NOËL.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Much; but I shouldn't mention the book +when you're telling the fortune."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't, except to you," said Alice, +"and she'll have lots of money and a very +sweet disposition. Trials and troubles beset +your path, but do but be brave and fearless +and you will overcome all your enemies. +Beware of a dark woman—most likely a +widow."</p> + +<p>"I will," said he, for Alice had stopped for +breath. "Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"No. Beware of a dark woman and shun +the society of drunkards and gamblers. Be +very cautious in your choice of acquaintances, +or you will make a false friend who will be +your ruin. That's all, except that you will +be married very soon and live to a green old +age with the beloved wife of your bosom, and +have twelve sons and——"</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop!" said the gentleman; "twelve +sons are as many as I can bring up +handsomely on my present income. Now, +look here. You did that jolly well, only go +slower, and pretend to look for things in +the hand before you say them. Everything's +free at the <i>fête</i>, so you'll get no money for +your fortune-telling."</p> + +<p>Gloom was on each young brow.</p> + +<p>"It's like this," he went on, "there is a lady +fortune-teller in a tent in the park."</p> + +<p>"Then we may as well get along home," +said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said our new friend, for such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +he was now about to prove himself to be; +"that lady does not want to tell fortunes +to-day. She has a headache. Now, if you'll +really stick to it, and tell the people's fortunes +as well as you told mine, I'll stand you—let's +see—two quid for the afternoon. Will that +do? What?"</p> + +<p>We said we should just jolly well think it +would.</p> + +<p>"I've got some Eau de Cologne in a medicine-bottle," +Dora said; "my brother Noël has +headaches sometimes, but I think he's going +to be all right to-day. Do take it, it will do +the lady's head good."</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of her head," he said, laughing, +but he took the bottle and said, "Thank you."</p> + +<p>Then he told us to stay where we were +while he made final arrangements, and we +were left with palpitating breasts to look +wildly through the Book of Fate, so as to +have the things ready. But it turned out to +be time thrown away, for when he came +back he said to Alice—</p> + +<p>"It'll have to be only you and your sister, +please, for I see they've stuck up a card with +'Esmeralda, the gipsy Princess, reads the hand +and foretells the future' on it. So you boys +will have to be mum. You can be attendants—mutes, +by jove!—yes that's it. And, I say, +kiddies, you will jolly well play up, won't +you? Don't stand any cheek. Stick it on, +you know. I can't tell you how important +it is about——about the lady's headache."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should think this would be a cool place +for a headache to be quiet in," said Dora; +and it was, for it was quite hidden in the +shrubbery and no path to it.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he remarked yet once again, +"so it would. You're right!"</p> + +<p>He led us out of the shrubbery and across +the park. There were people dotted all about +and they stared, but they touched their hats +to the gentleman, and he returned their salute +with stern politeness.</p> + +<p>Inside the tent with "Esmeralda, &c.," outside +there was a lady in a hat and dust-cloak. +But we could see her spangles under the +cloak.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the gentleman to Dicky, "you +stand at the door and let people in, one at a +time. You others can just play a few bars on +your instruments for each new person—only +a very little, because you do get out of tune, +though that's barbaric certainly. Now, here's +the two quid. And you stick to the show till +five; you'll hear the stable clock chime."</p> + +<p>The lady was very pale with black marks +under her eyes, and her eyes looked red, +Oswald thought. She seemed about to speak, +but the gentleman said—</p> + +<p>"Do trust me, Ella. I'll explain everything +directly. Just go to the old summer-house—<i>you</i> +know—and I'll be there directly. I'll take +a couple of pegs out of the back and you can +slip away among the trees. Hold your cloak +close over your gown. Goodbye, kiddies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +Stay, give me your address, and I'll write and +tell you if my fortune comes true."</p> + +<p>So he shook hands with us and went. And +we did stick to it, though it is far less fun +than you would think telling fortunes all the +afternoon in a stuffy tent, while outside you +know there are things to eat and people +enjoying themselves. But there were the two +gold quid, and we were determined to earn +them. It is very hard to tell a different +fortune for each person, and there were a +great many. The girls took it in turns, and +Oswald wonders why their hairs did not go +gray. Though of course it was much better +fun for them than for us, because we had just +to be mutes when we weren't playing on the +combs.</p> + +<p>The people we told fortunes to at first +laughed rather, and said we were too young +to know anything. But Oswald said in a +hollow voice that we were as old as the +Pyramids, and after that Alice took the tucks +out of Dicky's red coat and put it on and +turbaned herself, and looked much older.</p> + +<p>The stable clock had chimed the quarter to +five some little time, when an elderly gentleman +with whiskers, who afterwards proved to +be Sir Willoughby, burst into the tent.</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Blockson?" he said, and we +answered truthfully that we did not know.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been here?" he +furiously asked.</p> + +<p>"Ever since two," said Alice wearily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said a word that I should have thought +a baronet would have been above using.</p> + +<p>"Who brought you here?"</p> + +<p>We described the gentleman who had done +this, and again the baronet said things we +should never be allowed to say. "That confounded +Carew!" he added, with more words.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" asked Dora—"can +we do anything? We'll stay on longer if you +like—if you can't find the lady who was doing +Esmeralda before we came."</p> + +<p>"I'm not very likely to find her," he said +ferociously. "Stay longer indeed! Get away +out of my sight before I have you locked up +for vagrants and vagabonds."</p> + +<p>He left the scene in bounding and mad fury. +We thought it best to do as he said, and went +round the back way to the stables so as to +avoid exciting his ungoverned rage by meeting +him again. We found our cart and went +home. We had got two quid and something +to talk about.</p> + +<p>But none of us—not even Oswald the discerning—understood +exactly what we had +been mixed up in, till the pink satin box with +three large bottles of A1 scent in it, and +postmarks of foreign lands, came to Dora. +And there was a letter. It said—</p> + +<p>"My dear Gipsies,—I beg to return the Eau +de Cologne you so kindly lent me. The lady +did use a little of it, but I found that foreign +travel was what she really wanted to make +her quite happy. So we caught the 4.15 to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +town, and now we are married, and intend to +live to a green old age, &c., as you foretold. +But for your help my fortune couldn't have +come true, because my wife's father, Sir +Willoughby, thought I was not rich enough +to marry. But you see I was. And my wife +and I both thank you heartily for your kind +help. I hope it was not an awful swat. I +had to say five because of the train. Good +luck to you, and thanks awfully.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 5em;">"Yours faithfully,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Carisbrook Carew</span>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>If Oswald had known beforehand we should +never have made that two quid for Miss +Sandal.</p> + +<p>For Oswald does not approve of marriages +and would never, if he knew it, be the means +of assisting one to occur.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE LADY AND THE LICENSE;<br /> +OR, FRIENDSHIP'S GARLAND</i></h2> + + +<div class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">My dear Kiddies</span>,—Miss Sandal's married +sister has just come home from Australia, and +she feels very tired. No wonder, you will say, +after such a long journey. So she is going to +Lymchurch to rest. Now I want you all to be +very quiet, because when you are in your usual +form you aren't exactly restful, are you? If +this weather lasts you will be able to be out +most of the time, and when you are indoors +for goodness' sake control your lungs and your +boots, especially H.O.'s. Mrs. Bax has travelled +about a good deal, and once was nearly eaten +by cannibals. But I hope you won't bother +her to tell you stories. She is coming on +Friday. I am glad to hear from Alice's letter +that you enjoyed the Primrose Fête. Tell +Noël that 'poetticle' is not the usual way of +spelling the word he wants. I send you ten +shillings for pocket-money, and again implore +you to let Mrs. Bax have a little rest and +peace.<br /> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"Your loving</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Father</span>."<br /></div> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> + +<p>"PS.—If you want anything sent down, tell +me, and I will get Mrs. Bax to bring it. I met +your friend Mr. Red House the other day at +lunch."</p></div> + +<p>When the letter had been read aloud, and +we had each read it to ourselves, a sad silence +took place.</p> + +<p>Dicky was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> rather beastly, I grant you," he said, +"but it might be worse."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how," said H.O. "I do wish +Father would jolly well learn to leave my +boots alone."</p> + +<p>"It might be worse, I tell you," said Dicky. +"Suppose instead of telling us to keep out of +doors it had been the other way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alice, "suppose it had been, +'Poor Mrs. Bax requires to be cheered up. +Do not leave her side day or night. Take it +in turns to make jokes for her. Let not a +moment pass without some merry jest'? Oh +yes, it might be much, much worse."</p> + +<p>"Being able to get out all day makes it all +right about trying to make that two pounds +increase and multiply," remarked Oswald. +"Now who's going to meet her at the station? +Because after all it's her sister's house, and +we've got to be polite to visitors even if we're +in a house we aren't related to."</p> + +<p>This was seen to be so, but no one was +keen on going to the station. At last +Oswald, ever ready for forlorn hopes, consented +to go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + +<p>We told Mrs. Beale, and she got the best +room ready, scrubbing everything till it smelt +deliciously of wet wood and mottled soap. +And then we decorated the room as well as +we could.</p> + +<p>"She'll want some pretty things," said Alice, +"coming from the land of parrots and opossums +and gum-trees and things."</p> + +<p>We did think of borrowing the stuffed wild-cat +that is in the bar at the "Ship," but we +decided that our decorations must be very +quiet—and the wild-cat, even in its stuffed +state, was anything but; so we borrowed a +stuffed roach in a glass box and stood it on +the chest of drawers. It looked very calm. +Sea-shells are quiet things when they are +vacant, and Mrs. Beale let us have the four +big ones off her chiffonnier.</p> + +<p>The girls got flowers—bluebells and white +wood-<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'anenomes'">anemones</ins>. We might have had poppies +or buttercups, but we thought the colours +might be too loud. We took some books up +for Mrs. Bax to read in the night. And we +took the quietest ones we could find.</p> + +<p>"Sonnets on Sleep," "Confessions of an +Opium Eater," "Twilight of the Gods," "Diary +of a Dreamer," and "By Still Waters," were +some of them. The girls covered them with +grey paper, because some of the bindings were +rather gay.</p> + +<p>The girls hemmed grey calico covers for the +drawers and the dressing-table, and we drew +the blinds half-down, and when all was done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +the room looked as quiet as a roosting wood-pigeon.</p> + +<p>We put in a clock, but we did not wind +it up.</p> + +<p>"She can do that herself," said Dora, "if +she feels she can bear to hear it ticking."</p> + +<p>Oswald went to the station to meet her. +He rode on the box beside the driver. When +the others saw him mount there I think they +were sorry they had not been polite and gone +to meet her themselves. Oswald had a jolly +ride. We got to the station just as the train +came in. Only one lady got out of it, so +Oswald knew it must be Mrs. Bax. If he had +not been told how quiet she wanted to be he +would have thought she looked rather jolly. +She had short hair and gold spectacles. Her +skirts were short, and she carried a parrot-cage +in her hand. It contained our parrot, +and when we wrote to tell Father that it and +Pincher were the only things we wanted sent +we never thought she would have brought +either.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bax, I believe," was the only break +Oswald made in the polite silence that he took +the parrot-cage and her bag from her in.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" she said very briskly for +a tired lady; and Oswald thought it was noble +of her to make the effort to smile. "Are you +Oswald or Dicky?"</p> + +<p>Oswald told her in one calm word which +he was, and then Pincher rolled madly out +of a dog-box almost into his arms. Pincher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +would not be quiet. Of course he did not +understand the need for it. Oswald conversed +with Pincher in low, restraining whispers as +he led the way to the "Ship's" fly. He put the +parrot-cage on the inside seat of the carriage, +held the door open for Mrs. Bax with silent +politeness, closed it as quietly as possible, and +prepared to mount on the box.</p> + +<p>"Oh, won't you come inside?" asked Mrs. +Bax. "Do!"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said Oswald in calm and +mouse-like tones; and to avoid any more jaw +he got at once on to the box with Pincher.</p> + +<p>So that Mrs. Bax was perfectly quiet for the +whole six miles—unless you count the rattle +and shake-up-and-down of the fly. On the +box Oswald and Pincher "tasted the sweets of +a blissful re-union," like it says in novels. +And the man from the "Ship" looked on +and said how well bred Pincher was. It +was a happy drive.</p> + +<p>There was something almost awful about the +sleek, quiet tidiness of the others, who were +all standing in a row outside the cottage to +welcome Mrs. Bax. They all said, "How do +you do?" in hushed voices, and all looked as if +butter would not melt in any of their young +mouths. I never saw a more soothing-looking +lot of kids.</p> + +<p>She went to her room, and we did not see +her again till tea-time.</p> + +<p>Then, still exquisitely brushed and combed, +we sat round the board—in silence. We had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +left the tea-tray place for Mrs. Bax, of course. +But she said to Dora—</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like to pour out?"</p> + +<p>And Dora replied in low, soft tones, "If you +wish me to, Mrs. Bax. I usually do." And +she did.</p> + +<p>We passed each other bread-and-butter and +jam and honey with silent courteousness. +And of course we saw that she had enough +to eat.</p> + +<p>"Do you manage to amuse yourself pretty +well here?" she asked presently.</p> + +<p>We said, "Yes, thank you," in hushed +tones.</p> + +<p>"What do you do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>We did not wish to excite her by telling her +what we did, so Dicky murmured—</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular," at the same moment +that Alice said—</p> + +<p>"All sorts of things."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about them," said Mrs. Bax +invitingly.</p> + +<p>We replied by a deep silence. She sighed, +and passed her cup for more tea.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever feel shy," she asked suddenly. +"I do, dreadfully, with new people."</p> + +<p>We liked her for saying that, and Alice +replied that she hoped she would not feel shy +with us.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," she said. "Do you know, +there was such a funny woman in the train? +She had seventeen different parcels, and she +kept counting them, and one of them was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +kitten, and it was always under the seat +when she began to count, so she always got +the number wrong."</p> + +<p>We should have liked to hear about that +kitten—especially what colour it was and +how old—but Oswald felt that Mrs. Bax was +only trying to talk for our sakes, so that we +shouldn't feel shy, so he simply said, "Will +you have some more cake?" and nothing +more was said about the kitten.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bax seemed very noble. She kept trying +to talk to us about Pincher, and trains and +Australia, but we were determined she should +be quiet, as she wished it so much, and we +restrained our brimming curiosity about +opossums up gum-trees, and about emus and +kangaroos and wattles, and only said "Yes" +or "No," or, more often, nothing at all.</p> + +<p>When tea was over we melted away, "like +snow-wreaths in Thawjean," and went out on +the beach and had a yelling match. Our +throats felt as though they were full of wool, +from the hushed tones we had used in talking +to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Mr.'">Mrs.</ins> Bax. Oswald won the match. Next +day we kept carefully out of the way, except +for meals. Mrs. Bax tried talking again at +breakfast-time, but we checked our wish to +listen, and passed the pepper, salt, mustard, +bread, toast, butter, marmalade, and even the +cayenne, vinegar, and oil, with such politeness +that she gave up.</p> + +<p>We took it in turns to watch the house and +drive away organ-grinders. We told them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +they must not play in front of that house, +because there was an Australian lady who +had to be kept quiet. And they went at once. +This cost us expense, because an organ-grinder +will never consent to fly the spot +under twopence a flight.</p> + +<p>We went to bed early. We were quite +weary with being so calm and still. But we +knew it was our duty, and we liked the feel +of having done it.</p> + +<p>The day after was the day Jake Lee got +hurt. Jake is the man who drives about the +country in a covered cart, with pins and +needles, and combs and frying-pans, and all +the sort of things that farmers' wives are +likely to want in a hurry, and no shops for +miles. I have always thought Jake's was a +beautiful life. I should like to do it myself. +Well, this particular day he had got his +cart all ready to start and had got his foot on +the wheel to get up, when a motor-car went +by puffing and hooting. I always think +motor-cars seem so rude somehow. And the +horse was frightened; and no wonder. It +shied, and poor Jake was thrown violently to +the ground, and hurt so much that they had +to send for the doctor. Of course we went and +asked Mrs. Jake if we could do anything—such +as take the cart out and sell the things +to the farmers' wives.</p> + +<p>But she thought not.</p> + +<p>It was after this that Dicky said—</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't we get things of our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +own and go and sell them—with Bates' +donkey?"</p> + +<p>Oswald was thinking the same thing, but +he wishes to be fair, so he owns that Dicky +spoke first. We all saw at once that the idea +was a good one.</p> + +<p>"Shall we dress up for it?" H.O. asked. +We thought not. It is always good sport to +dress up, but I have never heard of people +selling things to farmers' wives in really +beautiful disguises.</p> + +<p>"We ought to go as shabby as we can," said +Alice; "but somehow that always seems to +come natural to your clothes when you've +done a few interesting things in them. We +have plenty of clothes that look poor but +deserving. What shall we buy to sell?"</p> + +<p>"Pins and needles, and tape and bodkins," +said Dora.</p> + +<p>"Butter," said Noël; "it is terrible when +there is no butter."</p> + +<p>"Honey is nice," said H.O., "and so are +sausages."</p> + +<p>"Jake has ready-made shirts and corduroy +trousers. I suppose a farmer's shirt and +trousers may give at any moment," said Alice, +"and if he can't get new ones he has to go to +bed till they are mended."</p> + +<p>Oswald thought tin-tacks, and glue, and +string must often be needed to mend barns +and farm tools with if they broke suddenly. +And Dicky said—</p> + +<p>"I think the pictures of ladies hanging on to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +crosses in foaming seas are good. Jake told +me he sold more of them than anything. I +suppose people suddenly break the old ones, +and home isn't home without a lady holding +on to a cross."</p> + +<p>We went to Munn's shop, and we bought +needles and pins, and tapes and bodkins, a +pound of butter, a pot of honey and one of +marmalade, and tin-tacks, string, and glue. But +we could not get any ladies with crosses, and +the shirts and trousers were too expensive for +us to dare to risk it. Instead, we bought a +head-stall for eighteenpence, because how +providential we should be to a farmer whose +favourite horse had escaped and he had +nothing to catch it with; and three tin-openers, +in case of a distant farm subsisting +entirely on tinned things, and the only opener +for miles lost down the well or something. +We also bought several other thoughtful and +far-sighted things.</p> + +<p>That night at supper we told Mrs. Bax we +wanted to go out for the day. She had +hardly said anything that supper-time, and +now she said—</p> + +<p>"Where are you going? Teaching Sunday +school?"</p> + +<p>As it was Monday, we felt her poor brain +was wandering—most likely for want of +quiet. And the room smelt of tobacco smoke, +so we thought some one had been to see her +and perhaps been too noisy for her. So +Oswald said gently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"No, we are not going to teach Sunday +school."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bax sighed. Then she said—</p> + +<p>"I am going out myself to-morrow—for the +day."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will not tire you too much," said +Dora, with soft-voiced and cautious politeness. +"If you want anything bought we could do it +for you, with pleasure, and you could have a +nice, quiet day at home."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Mrs. Bax shortly; and +we saw she would do what she chose, whether +it was really for her own good or not.</p> + +<p>She started before we did next morning, +and we were careful to be mouse-quiet till +the "Ship's" fly which contained her was out +of hearing. Then we had another yelling +competition, and Noël won with that new +shriek of his that is like railway engines in +distress; and then we went and fetched Bates' +donkey and cart and packed our bales in it +and started, some riding and some running +behind.</p> + +<p>Any faint distant traces of respectableness +that were left to our clothes were soon +covered up by the dust of the road and by +some of the ginger-beer bursting through +the violence of the cart, which had no +springs.</p> + +<p>The first farm we stopped at the woman +really did want some pins, for though a very +stupid person, she was making a pink blouse, +and we said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Do have some tape! You never know +when you may want it."</p> + +<p>"I believe in buttons," she said. "No +strings for me, thank you."</p> + +<p>But when Oswald said, "What about +pudding-strings? You can't button up +puddings as if they were pillows!" she +consented to listen to reason. But it was +only twopence altogether.</p> + +<p>But at the next place the woman said we +were "mummickers," and told us to "get +along, do." And she set her dog at us; but +when Pincher sprang from the inmost recesses +of the cart she called her dog off. +But too late, for it and Pincher were +locked in the barking, scuffling, growling +embrace of deadly combat. When we had +separated the dogs she went into her house +and banged the door, and we went on +through the green flat marshes, among the +buttercups and may-bushes.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what she meant by 'mummickers'?" +said H.O.</p> + +<p>"She meant she saw our high-born airs +through our shabby clothes," said Alice. +"It's always happening, especially to princes. +There's nothing so hard to conceal as a really +high-bred air."</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking," said Dicky, "whether +honesty wouldn't perhaps be the best policy—not +always, of course; but just this once. If +people knew what we were doing it for they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +might be glad to help on the good +work—— What?"</p> + +<p>So at the next farm, which was half hidden +by trees, like the picture at the beginning of +"Sensible Susan," we tied the pony to the +gate-post and knocked at the door. It was +opened by a man this time, and Dora said +to him—</p> + +<p>"We are honest traders. We are trying to +sell these things to keep a lady who is poor. +If you buy some you will be helping too. +Wouldn't you like to do that? It is a good +work, and you will be glad of it afterwards, +when you come to think over the acts of your +life."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word an' 'onner!" said the man, +whose red face was surrounded by a frill of +white whiskers. "If ever I see a walkin' +Tract 'ere it stands!"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't mean to be tractish," said +Oswald quickly; "it's only her way. But +we really are trying to sell things to help a +poor person—no humbug, sir—so if we <i>have</i> +got anything you want we shall be glad. +And if not—well, there's no harm in asking, +is there, sir?"</p> + +<p>The man with the frilly whiskers was very +pleased to be called "sir"—Oswald knew he +would be—and he looked at everything we'd +got, and bought the head-stall and two tin-openers, +and a pot of marmalade, and a ball +of string, and a pair of braces. This came to +four and twopence, and we were very pleased. +It really seemed that our business was establishing +itself root and branch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + +<p>When it came to its being dinner-time, +which was first noticed through H.O. beginning +to cry and say he did not want to play +any more, it was found that we had forgotten +to bring any dinner. So we had to eat some +of our stock—the jam, the biscuits, and the +cucumber.</p> + +<p>"I feel a new man," said Alice, draining +the last of the ginger-beer bottles. "At that +homely village on the brow of yonder hill we +shall sell all that remains of the stock, and go +home with money in both pockets."</p> + +<p>But our luck had changed. As so often +happens, our hearts beat high with hopeful +thoughts, and we felt jollier than we had +done all day. Merry laughter and snatches +of musical song re-echoed from our cart, and +from round it as we went up the hill. All +Nature was smiling and gay. There was +nothing sinister in the look of the trees or +the road—or anything.</p> + +<p>Dogs are said to have inside instincts that +warn them of intending perils, but Pincher +was not a bit instinctive that day somehow. +He sported gaily up and down the hedge-banks +after pretending rats, and once he was +so excited that I believe he was playing at +weasels and stoats. But of course there was +really no trace of these savage denizens of +the jungle. It was just Pincher's varied +imagination.</p> + +<p>We got to the village, and with joyful expectations +we knocked at the first door we came to.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alice had spread out a few choice treasures—needles, +pins, tape, a photograph-frame, and +the butter, rather soft by now, and the last +of the tin-openers—on a basket-lid, like the +fish-man does with herrings and whitings and +plums and apples (you cannot sell fish in the +country unless you sell fruit too. The author +does not know why this is).</p> + +<p>The sun was shining, the sky was blue. +There was no sign at all of the intending +thunderbolt, not even when the door was +opened. This was done by a woman.</p> + +<p>She just looked at our basket-lid of things +any one might have been proud to buy, and +smiled. I saw her do it. Then she turned her +traitorous head and called "Jim!" into the +cottage.</p> + +<p>A sleepy grunt rewarded her.</p> + +<p>"Jim, I say!" she repeated. "Come here +directly minute."</p> + +<p>Next moment Jim appeared. He was Jim +to her because she was his wife, I suppose, but +to us he was the Police, with his hair ruffled—from +his hateful sofa-cushions, no doubt—and +his tunic unbuttoned.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" he said in a husky voice, as +if he had been dreaming that he had a cold. +"Can't a chap have a minute to himself to +read the paper in?"</p> + +<p>"You told me to," said the woman. "You +said if any folks come to the door with things +I was to call you, whether or no."</p> + +<p>Even now we were blind to the disaster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +that was entangling us in the meshes of its +trap. Alice said—</p> + +<p>"We've sold a good deal, but we've <i>some</i> +things left—very nice things. These crochet +needles——"</p> + +<p>But the Police, who had buttoned up his +tunic in a hurry, said quite fiercely—</p> + +<p>"Let's have a look at your license."</p> + +<p>"We didn't bring any," said Noël, "but if +you will give us an order we'll bring you some +to-morrow." He thought a lisen was a thing +to sell that we ought to have thought of.</p> + +<p>"None of your lip," was the unexpected +reply of the now plainly brutal constable. +"Where's your license, I say?"</p> + +<p>"We have a license for our dog, but Father's +got it," said Oswald, always quick-witted, but +not, this time, quite quick enough.</p> + +<p>"Your 'awker's license is what I want, as +well you knows, you young limb. Your +pedlar's license—your license to sell things. +You ain't half so half-witted as you want to +make out."</p> + +<p>"We haven't got a pedlar's license," said +Oswald. If we had been in a book the Police +would have been touched to tears by Oswald's +simple honesty. He would have said "Noble +boy!" and then gone on to say he had only +asked the question to test our honour. But +life is not really at all the same as books. I +have noticed lots of differences. Instead of +behaving like the book-Police, this thick-headed +constable said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Blowed if I wasn't certain of it! Well, +my young blokes, you'll just come along o' +me to Sir James. I've got orders to bring up +the next case afore him."</p> + +<p>"<i>Case!</i>" said Dora. "<i>Oh, don't!</i> We didn't +know we oughtn't to. We only wanted——"</p> + +<p>"Ho, yes," said the constable, "you can tell +all that to the magistrate; and anything you +say will be used against you."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it will," said Oswald. "Dora, +don't lower yourself to speak to him. Come, +we'll go home."</p> + +<p>The Police was combing its hair with a half-toothless +piece of comb, and we turned to go. +But it was vain.</p> + +<p>Ere any of our young and eager legs could +climb into the cart the Police had seized the +donkey's bridle. We could not desert our +noble steed—and besides, it wasn't really +ours, but Bates's, and this made any hope of +flight quite a forlorn one. For better, for +worse, we had to go with the donkey.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, for goodness' sake!" said Oswald +in stern undertones. "Bite your lips. Take +long breaths. Don't let him see we mind. +This beast's only the village police. Sir +James will be a gentleman. <i>He'll</i> understand. +Don't disgrace the house of Bastable. +Look here! Fall into line—no, Indian file +will be best, there are so few of us. Alice, +if you snivel I'll never say you ought to have +been a boy again. H.O., shut your mouth; no +one's going to hurt you—you're too young."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> trying," said Alice, gasping.</p> + +<p>"Noël," Oswald went on—now, as so often, +showing the brilliant qualities of the born +leader and general—"don't <i>you</i> be in a funk. +Remember how Byron fought for the Greeks +at Missy-what's-its-name. <i>He</i> didn't grouse, +and he was a poet, like you! Now look here, +let's be <i>game</i>. Dora, you're the eldest. Strike +up—any tune. We'll <i>march</i> up, and show this +sneak we Bastables aren't afraid, whoever +else is."</p> + +<p>You will perhaps find it difficult to believe, +but we <i>did</i> strike up. We sang "The British +Grenadiers," and when the Police told us to +stow it we did not. And Noël said—</p> + +<p>"Singing isn't dogs or pedlaring. You +don't want a license for that."</p> + +<p>"I'll soon show you!" said the Police.</p> + +<p>But he had to jolly well put up with +our melodious song, because he knew that +there isn't really any law to prevent you +singing if you want to.</p> + +<p>We went on singing. It soon got easier +than at first, and we followed Bates's donkey +and cart through some lodge gates and up a +drive with big trees, and we came out in front +of a big white house, and there was a lawn. +We stopped singing when we came in sight of +the house, and got ready to be polite to Sir +James. There were some ladies on the lawn +in pretty blue and green dresses. This +cheered us. Ladies are seldom quite heartless, +especially when young.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Police drew up Bates's donkey opposite +the big front door with pillars, and rang the +bell. Our hearts were beating desperately. +We cast glances of despair at the ladies. +Then, quite suddenly, Alice gave a yell that +wild Indian war-whoops are simply nothing +to, and tore across the lawn and threw her +arms round the green waist of one of the +ladies.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so glad!" she cried; "oh, save us! +We haven't done anything wrong, really and +truly we haven't."</p> + +<p>And then we all saw that the lady was our +own Mrs. Red House, that we liked so much. +So we all rushed to her, and before that +Police had got the door answered we had told +her our tale. The other ladies had turned +away when we approached her, and gone +politely away into a shrubbery.</p> + +<p>"There, there," she said, patting Alice and +Noël and as much of the others as she could +get hold of. "Don't you worry, dears, don't. +I'll make it all right with Sir James. Let's +all sit down in a comfy heap, and get our +breaths again. I am so glad to see you all. +My husband met your father at lunch the +other day. I meant to come over and see you +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>You cannot imagine the feelings of joy and +safeness that we felt now we had found someone +who knew we were Bastables, and not +vagrant outcasts like the Police thought.</p> + +<p>The door had now been answered. We saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +the base Police talking to the person who +answered it. Then he came towards us, very +red in the face.</p> + +<p>"Leave off bothering the lady," he said, +"and come along of me. Sir James is in his +lib<i>ra</i>ry, and he's ready to do justice on you, so +he is."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Red House jumped up, and so did we. +She said with smiles, as if nothing was +wrong—</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Inspector!"</p> + +<p>He looked pleased and surprised, as well he +might, for it'll be long enough before he's +within a mile of being <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, miss, I'm sure," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I think there's been a little mistake, +Inspector," she said. "I expect it's some of +your men—led away by zeal for their duties. +But I'm sure <i>you'll</i> understand. I am staying +with Lady Harborough, and these children +are very dear friends of mine."</p> + +<p>The Police looked very silly, but he said +something about hawking without a license.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not <i>hawking</i>," said Mrs. Red +House, "not <i>hawking</i>, surely! They were +just <i>playing</i> at it, you know. Your subordinates +must have been quite mistaken."</p> + +<p>Our honesty bade us say that he was his +own only subordinate, and that he hadn't +been mistaken; but it is rude to interrupt, +especially a lady, so we said nothing.</p> + +<p>The Police said firmly, "You'll excuse me, +miss, but Sir James expressly told me to lay a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +information directly next time I caught any of +'em at it without a license."</p> + +<p>"But, you see, you didn't catch them at it." +Mrs. Red House took some money out of her +purse. "You might just give this to your +subordinates to console them for the mistake +they've made. And look here, these mistakes +do lead to trouble sometimes. So I'll tell you +what I'll do. I'll promise not to tell Sir +James a word about it. <i>So</i> nobody will be +blamed."</p> + +<p>We listened breathless for his reply. He +put his hands behind him—</p> + +<p>"Well, miss," he said at last, "you've +managed to put the Force in the wrong +somehow, which isn't often done, and I'm +blest if I know how you make it out. But +there's Sir James a-waiting for me to come +before him with my complaint. What am I +a-goin' to say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything," said Mrs. Red House; +"surely some one else has done something +wrong that you can tell him about?"</p> + +<p>"There was a matter of a couple of snares +and some night lines," he said slowly, drawing +nearer to Mrs. Red House; "but I couldn't +take no money, of course."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," she said; "I beg your +pardon for offering it. But I'll give you my +name and address, and if ever I can be of any +use to you——"</p> + +<p>She turned her back on us while she wrote +it down with a stumpy pencil he lent her;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +but Oswald could swear that he heard money +chink, and that there was something large +and round wrapped up in the paper she gave +him.</p> + +<p>"Sorry for any little misunderstanding," +the Police now said, feeling the paper with +his fingers; "and my respects to you, miss, +and your young friends. I'd best be going."</p> + +<p>And he went—to Sir James, I suppose. He +seemed quite tamed. I hope the people who +set the snares got off.</p> + +<p>"So <i>that's</i> all right," said Mrs. Red House. +"Oh, you dear children, you must stay to +lunch, and we'll have a splendid time."</p> + +<p>"What a darling Princess you are!" Noël +said slowly. "You are a witch Princess, too, +with magic powers over the Police."</p> + +<p>"It's not a very pretty sort of magic," she +said, and she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Everything about you is pretty," said +Noël. And I could see him beginning to +make the faces that always precur his poetry-fits. +But before the fit could break out +thoroughly the rest of us awoke from our +stupor of grateful safeness and began to +dance round Mrs. Red House in a ring. And +the girls sang—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The rose is red, the violet's blue,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Carnation's sweet, and so are you,"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>over and over again, so we had to join in; +though I think "She's a jolly good fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +would have been more manly and less like a +poetry book."</div> + +<p>Suddenly a known voice broke in on our +singing.</p> + +<p>"<i>Well!</i>" it said. And we stopped dancing. +And there were the other two ladies who had +politely walked off when we first discovered +Mrs. Red House. And one of them was Mrs. +Bax—of all people in the world! And she +was smoking a cigarette. So now we knew +where the smell of tobacco came from, in the +White House.</p> + +<p>We said, "<i>Oh!</i>" in one breath, and were +silent.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible," said Mrs. Bax, "that these +are the Sunday-school children I've been living +with these three long days?"</p> + +<p>"We're sorry," said Dora, softly; "we +wouldn't have made a noise if we'd know you +were here."</p> + +<p>"So I suppose," said Mrs. Bax. "Chloe, you +seem to be a witch. How have you galvanised +my six rag dolls into life like this?"</p> + +<p>"Rag dolls!" said H.O., before we could +stop him. "I think you're jolly mean and +ungrateful; and it was sixpence for making +the organs fly."</p> + +<p>"My brain's reeling," said Mrs. Bax, putting +her hands to her head.</p> + +<p>"H.O. is very rude, and I am sorry," said +Alice, "but it <i>is</i> hard to be called rag dolls, +when you've only tried to do as you were +told."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then, in answer to Mrs. Red House's +questions, we told how father had begged +us to be quiet, and how we had earnestly tried +to. When it was told, Mrs. Bax began to +laugh, and so did Mrs. Red House, and at last +Mrs. Bax said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dears! you don't know how glad +I am that you're really alive! I began to think—oh—I +don't know what I thought! And +you're not rag dolls. You're heroes and +heroines, every man jack of you. And I do +thank you. But I never wanted to be quiet +like <i>that</i>. I just didn't want to be bothered +with London and tiresome grown-up people. +And now let's enjoy ourselves! Shall it be +rounders, or stories about cannibals?"</p> + +<p>"Rounders first and stories after," said H.O. +And it was so.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bax, now that her true nature was +revealed, proved to be A1. The author does +not ask for a jollier person to be in the house +with. We had rare larks the whole time she +stayed with us.</p> + +<p>And to think that we might never have +known her true character if she hadn't been +an old school friend of Mrs. Red House's, and +if Mrs. Red House hadn't been such a friend of +ours!</p> + +<p>"Friendship," as Mr. William Smith so truly +says in his book about Latin, "is the crown of +life."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> +<h2><i>THE POOR AND NEEDY</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">What</span> shall we do to-day, kiddies?" said +Mrs. Bax. We had discovered her true nature +but three days ago, and already she had +taken us out in a sailing-boat and in a motor +car, had given us sweets every day, and taught +us eleven new games that we had not known +before; and only four of the new games +were rotters. How seldom can as much be +said for the games of a grown-up, however +gifted!</div> + +<p>The day was one of cloudless blue perfectness, +and we were all basking on the beach. +We had all bathed. Mrs. Bax said we might. +There are points about having a grown-up +with you, if it is the right kind. You can +then easily get it to say "Yes" to what you +want, and after that, if anything goes wrong +it is their fault, and you are pure from blame. +But nothing had gone wrong with the bathe, +and, so far, we were all alive, and not cold at +all, except our fingers and feet.</p> + +<p>"What would you <i>like</i> to do?" asked Mrs. +Bax. We were far away from human sight +along the beach, and Mrs. Bax was smoking +cigarettes as usual.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know," we all said politely. But +H.O. said—</p> + +<p>"What about poor Miss Sandal?"</p> + +<p>"Why poor?" asked Mrs. Bax.</p> + +<p>"Because she is," said H.O.</p> + +<p>"But how? What do you mean?" asked +Mrs. Bax.</p> + +<p>"Why, isn't she?" said H.O.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she what?" said Mrs. Bax.</p> + +<p>"What you said why about," said H.O.</p> + +<p>She put her hands to her head. Her short +hair was still damp and rumpled from contact +with the foaming billows of ocean.</p> + +<p>"Let's have a fresh deal and start fair," she +said; "why do you think my sister is poor?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot she was your sister," said H.O., +"or I wouldn't have said it—honour bright I +wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it," said Mrs. Bax, and began +throwing stones at a groin in amiable silence.</p> + +<p>We were furious with H.O., first because it +is such bad manners to throw people's poverty +in their faces, or even in their sisters' faces, +like H.O. had just done, and second because +it seemed to have put out of Mrs. Bax's head +what she was beginning to say about what +would we like to do.</p> + +<p>So Oswald presently remarked, when he +had aimed at the stump she was aiming at, +and hit it before she did, for though a fair +shot for a lady, she takes a long time to get +her eye in.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bax, we should like to do whatever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +<i>you</i> like to do." This was real politeness and +true too, as it happened, because by this time +we could quite trust her not to want to do +anything deeply duffing.</p> + +<p>"That's very nice of you," she replied, "but +don't let me interfere with any plans of yours. +My own idea was to pluck a waggonette from +the nearest bush. I suppose they grow freely +in these parts?"</p> + +<p>"There's one at the 'Ship,'" said Alice; "it +costs seven-and-six to pluck it, just for going +to the station."</p> + +<p>"Well, then! And to stuff our waggonette +with lunch and drive over to Lynwood Castle, +and eat it there."</p> + +<p>"A picnic!" fell in accents of joy from the +lips of one and all.</p> + +<p>"We'll also boil the billy in the castle courtyard, +and eat buns in the shadow of the keep."</p> + +<p>"Tea as well?" said H.O., "with buns? +You can't be poor and needy any way, whatever +your——"</p> + +<p>We hastily hushed him, stifling his murmurs +with sand.</p> + +<p>"I always think," said Mrs. Bax dreamily, +"that 'the more the merrier,' is peculiarly +true of picnics. So I have arranged—always +subject to your approval, of course—to meet +your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Red House, there, +and——"</p> + +<p>We drowned her conclusive remarks with a +cheer. And Oswald, always willing to be of +use, offered to go to the 'Ship' and see about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +the waggonette. I like horses and stable-yards, +and the smell of hay and straw, and +talking to ostlers and people like that.</p> + +<p>There turned out to be two horses belonging +to the best waggonette, or you could have a +one-horse one, much smaller, with the blue +cloth of the cushions rather frayed, and mended +here and there, and green in patches from +age and exposition to the weather.</p> + +<p>Oswald told Mrs. Bax this, not concealing +about how shabby the little one was, and she +gloriously said—</p> + +<p>"The pair by all means! We don't kill a +pig every day!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Dora, but if "killing a +pig" means having a lark, Mrs. Bax is as good +a pig-killer as any I ever knew.</p> + +<p>It was splendid to drive (Oswald, on the box +beside the driver, who had his best coat with +the bright buttons) along the same roads that +we had trodden as muddy pedestrinators, or +travelled along behind Bates's donkey.</p> + +<p>It was a perfect day, as I said before. We +were all clean and had our second-best things +on. I think second-bests are much more +comfy than first-bests. You feel equivalent +to meeting any one, and have "a heart for +any fate," as it says in the poetry-book, and +yet you are not starched and booted and +stiffened and tightened out of all human +feelings.</p> + +<p>Lynwood Castle is in a hollow in the hills. +It has a moat all round it with water-lily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +leaves on it. I suppose there are lilies when +in season. There is a bridge over the moat—not +the draw kind of bridge. And the castle +has eight towers—four round and four square +ones, and a courtyard in the middle, all green +grass, and heaps of stones—stray bits of castle, +I suppose they are—and a great white may-tree +in the middle that Mrs. Bax said was +hundreds of years old.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Red House was sitting under the may-tree +when we got there, nursing her baby, in +a blue dress and looking exactly like a picture +on the top of a chocolate-box.</p> + +<p>The girls instantly wanted to nurse the baby +so we let them. And we explored the castle. +We had never happened to explore one +thoroughly before. We did not find the +deepest dungeon below the castle moat, +though we looked everywhere for it, but +we found everything else you can think of +belonging to castles—even the holes they used +to pour boiling lead through into the eyes of +besiegers when they tried to squint up to see +how strong the garrison was in the keep—and +the little slits they shot arrows through, and +the mouldering remains of the portcullis. +We went up the eight towers, every single +one of them, and some parts were jolly +dangerous, I can tell you. Dicky and I would +not let H.O. and Noël come up the dangerous +parts. There was no lasting ill-feeling about +this. By the time we had had a thorough +good explore lunch was ready.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a glorious lunch—not too many +meaty things, but all sorts of cakes and +sweets, and grapes and figs and nuts.</p> + +<p>We gazed at the feast, and Mrs. Bax said—</p> + +<p>"There you are, young Copperfield, and a +royal spread you've got."</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i> had currant wine," said Noël, who +has only just read the book by Mr. Charles +Dickens.</p> + +<p>"Well, so have you," said Mrs. Bax. And +we had. Two bottles of it.</p> + +<p>"I never knew any one like you," said Noël +to Mrs. Red House, dreamily with his mouth +full, "for knowing the things people really +like to eat, not the things that are good for +them, but what they <i>like</i>, and Mrs. Bax is just +the same."</p> + +<p>"It was one of the things they taught at +our school," said Mrs. Bax. "Do you remember +the Saturday night feasts, Chloe, and how +good the cocoanut ice tasted after extra strong +peppermints?"</p> + +<p>"Fancy you knowing <i>that!</i>" said H.O. "I +thought it was us found <i>that</i> out."</p> + +<p>"I really know much more about things to +eat than <i>she</i> does," said Mrs. Bax. "I was +quite an old girl when she was a little thing +in pinafores. She was such a nice little girl."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if she was always nice," +said Noël, "even when she was a baby!"</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed at this, except the +existing baby, and it was asleep on the +waggonette cushions, under the white may-tree,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +and perhaps if it had been awake it +wouldn't have laughed, for Oswald himself, +though possessing a keen sense of humour, +did not see anything to laugh at.</p> + +<p>Mr. Red House made a speech after dinner, +and said drink to the health of everybody, +one after the other, in currant wine, which +was done, beginning with Mrs. Bax and ending +with H.O.</p> + +<p>Then he said—</p> + +<p>"Somnus, avaunt! What shall we play +at?" and nobody, as so often happens, had +any idea ready. Then suddenly Mrs. Red +House said—</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, look there!" and we looked +there, and where we were to look was the +lowest piece of the castle wall, just beside the +keep that the bridge led over to, and what we +were to look at was a strange blobbiness of +knobbly bumps along the top, that looked +exactly like human heads.</p> + +<p>It turned out, when we had talked about +cannibals and New Guinea, that human heads +were just exactly what they were. Not loose +heads, stuck on pikes or things like that, such +as there often must have been while the castle +stayed in the olden times it was built in and +belonged to, but real live heads with their +bodies still in attendance on them.</p> + +<p>They were, in fact, the village children.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Lazaruses!" said Mr. Red House.</p> + +<p>"There's not such a bad slice of Dives' feast +left," said Mrs. Bax. "Shall we——?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>So Mr. Red House went out by the keep +and called the heads in (with the bodies they +were connected with, of course), and they +came and ate up all that was left of the lunch. +Not the buns, of course, for those were sacred +to tea-time, but all the other things, even the +nuts and figs, and we were quite glad that +they should have them—really and truly we +were, even H.O.!</p> + +<p>They did not seem to be very clever children, +or just the sort you would choose for your +friends, but I suppose you like to play, however +little you are other people's sort. So, +after they had eaten all there was, when Mrs. +Red House invited them all to join in games +with us we knew we ought to be pleased. +But village children are not taught rounders, +and though we wondered at first why their +teachers had not seen to this, we understood +presently. Because it is most awfully difficult +to make them understand the very simplest +thing.</p> + +<p>But they could play all the ring games, and +"Nuts and May," and "There Came Three +Knights"—and another one we had never +heard of before. The singing part begins:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Up and down the green grass,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This and that and thus,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Come along, my pretty maid,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And take a walk with us.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You shall have a duck, my dear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And you shall have a drake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And you shall have a handsome man</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">For your father's sake."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></div> + +<div class='unindent'>I forget the rest, and if anybody who reads +this knows it, and will write and tell me, the +author will not have laboured in vain.</div> + +<p>The grown-ups played with all their heart +and soul—I expect it is but seldom they are +able to play, and they enjoy the novel excitement. +And when we'd been at it some time +we saw there was another head looking over +the wall.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" said Mrs. Bax, "here's another of +them, run along and ask it to come and join +in."</p> + +<p>She spoke to the village children, but nobody +ran.</p> + +<p>"Here, you go," she said, pointing at a girl +in red plaits tied with dirty sky-blue ribbon.</p> + +<p>"Please, miss, I'd leifer not," replied the red-haired. +"Mother says we ain't to play along +of him."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter with him?" asked +Mrs. Red House.</p> + +<p>"His father's in jail, miss, along of snares +and night lines, and no one won't give his +mother any work, so my mother says we ain't +to demean ourselves to speak to him."</p> + +<p>"But it's not the child's fault," said Mrs. Red +House, "is it now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, miss," said the red-haired.</p> + +<p>"But it's cruel," said Mrs. Bax. "How would +you like it if your father was sent to prison, +and nobody would speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"Father's always kep' hisself respectable," +said the girl with the dirty blue ribbon. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +can't be sent to gaol, not if you keeps yourself +respectable, you can't, miss."</p> + +<p>"And do none of you speak to him?"</p> + +<p>The other children put their fingers in their +mouths, and looked silly, showing plainly that +they didn't.</p> + +<p>"Don't you feel sorry for the poor little +chap?" said Mrs. Bax.</p> + +<p>No answer transpired.</p> + +<p>"Can't you imagine how you'd feel if it was +<i>your</i> father?"</p> + +<p>"My father always kep' hisself respectable," +the red-haired girl said again.</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall ask him to come and play +with us," said Mrs. Red House. "Little +pigs!" she added in low tones only heard by +the author and Mr. Red House.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Red House said in a whisper that +no one overheard except Mrs. R. H. and the +present author.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Puss-cat; it's no good. The poor +little pariah wouldn't like it. And these kids +only do what their parents teach them."</p> + +<p>If the author didn't know what a stainless +gentleman Mr. Red House is he would think +he heard him mutter a word that gentlemen +wouldn't say.</p> + +<p>"Tell off a detachment of consolation," Mr. +Red House went on; "look here, <i>our</i> kids—who'll +go and talk to the poor little chap?"</p> + +<p>We all instantly said, "<i>I</i> will!"</p> + +<p>The present author was chosen to be the +one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + +<p>When you think about yourself there is a +kind of you that is not what you generally +are but that you know you would like to be if +only you were good enough. Albert's uncle +says this is called your ideal of yourself. I +will call it your best I, for short. Oswald's +"best I" was glad to go and talk to that boy +whose father was in prison, but the Oswald that +generally exists hated being out of the games. +Yet the whole Oswald, both the best and the +ordinary, was pleased that he was the one +chosen to be a detachment of consolation.</p> + +<p>He went out under the great archway, and +as he went he heard the games beginning +again. This made him feel noble, and yet he +was ashamed of feeling it. Your feelings are +a beastly nuisance, if once you begin to let +yourself think about them. Oswald soon saw +the broken boots of the boy whose father +was in jail so nobody would play with him, +standing on the stones near the top of the +wall where it was broken to match the boots.</p> + +<p>He climbed up and said, "Hullo!"</p> + +<p>To this remark the boy replied, "Hullo!"</p> + +<p>Oswald now did not know what to say. +The sorrier you are for people the harder it +is to tell them so.</p> + +<p>But at last he said—</p> + +<p>"I've just heard about your father being +where he is. It's beastly rough luck. I hope +you don't mind my saying I'm jolly sorry for +you."</p> + +<p>The boy had a pale face and watery blue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +eyes. When Oswald said this his eyes got +waterier than ever, and he climbed down to +the ground before he said—</p> + +<p>"I don't care so much, but it do upset +mother something crool."</p> + +<p>It is awfully difficult to console those in +affliction. Oswald thought this, then he said—</p> + +<p>"I say; never mind if those beastly kids +won't play with you. It isn't your fault, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Nor it ain't father's neither," the boy said; +"he broke his arm a-falling off of a rick, and +he hadn't paid up his club money along of +mother's new baby costing what it did when it +come, so there warn't nothing—and what's a +hare or two, or a partridge? It ain't as if +it was pheasants as is as dear to rear as +chicks."</p> + +<p>Oswald did not know what to say, so he got +out his new pen-and-pencil-combined and +said—</p> + +<p>"Look here! You can have this to keep if +you like."</p> + +<p>The pale-eyed boy took it and looked at it +and said—</p> + +<p>"You ain't foolin' me?"</p> + +<p>And Oswald said no he wasn't, but he felt +most awfully rum and uncomfy, and though +he wanted most frightfully to do something +for the boy he felt as if he wanted to get away +more than anything else, and he never was +gladder in his life than when he saw Dora +coming along, and she said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"You go back and play, Oswald. I'm tired +and I'd like to sit down a bit."</p> + +<p>She got the boy to sit down beside her, and +Oswald went back to the others.</p> + +<p>Games, however unusually splendid, have +to come to an end. And when the games +were over and it was tea, and the village +children were sent away, and Oswald went to +call Dora and the prisoner's son, he found +nothing but Dora, and he saw at once, in his +far-sighted way, that she had been crying.</p> + +<p>It was one of the A1est days we ever had, +and the drive home was good, but Dora was +horribly quiet, as though the victim of dark +interior thoughts.</p> + +<p>And the next day she was but little better.</p> + +<p>We were all paddling on the sands, but +Dora would not. And presently Alice left us +and went back to Dora, and we all saw across +the sandy waste that something was up.</p> + +<p>And presently Alice came down and said—</p> + +<p>"Dry your feet and legs and come to a +council. Dora wants to tell you something."</p> + +<p>We dried our pink and sandy toes and we +came to the council. Then Alice said: "I +don't think H.O. is wanted at the council, it +isn't anything amusing; you go and enjoy +yourself by the sea, and catch the nice little +crabs, H.O. dear."</p> + +<p>H.O. said: "You always want me to be out +of everything. I can be councils as well as +anybody else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, H.O.!" said Alice, in pleading tones,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +"not if I give you a halfpenny to go and buy +bulls-eyes with?"</p> + +<p>So then he went, and Dora said—</p> + +<p>"I can't think how I could do it when you'd +all trusted me so. And yet I couldn't help it. +I remember Dicky saying when you decided +to give it me to take care of—about me being +the most trustworthy of all of us. I'm not fit +for any one to speak to. But it did seem the +really right thing at the time, it really and +truly did. And now it all looks different."</p> + +<p>"What has she done?" Dicky asked this, +but Oswald almost knew.</p> + +<p>"Tell them," said Dora, turning over on her +front and hiding her face partly in her hands, +and partly in the sand.</p> + +<p>"She's given all Miss Sandal's money to that +little boy that the father of was in prison," +said Alice.</p> + +<p>"It was one pound thirteen and sevenpence +halfpenny," sobbed Dora.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have consulted us, I do think, +really," said Dicky. "Of course, I see you're +sorry now, but I do think that."</p> + +<p>"How could I consult you?" said Dora; +"you were all playing Cat and Mouse, and he +wanted to get home. I only wish you'd heard +what he told me—that's all—about his mother +being ill, and nobody letting her do any work +because of where his father is, and his baby +brother ill, poor little darling, and not enough +to eat, and everything as awful as you can +possibly think. I'll save up and pay it all back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +out of my own money. Only do forgive me, +all of you, and say you don't despise me for a +forger and embezzlementer. I couldn't help +it."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you couldn't," said the sudden +voice of H.O., who had sneaked up on his +young stomach unobserved by the council. +"You shall have all my money too, Dora, +and here's the bulls-eye halfpenny to begin +with." He crammed it into her hand. +"Listen? I should jolly well think I did +listen," H.O. went on. "I've just as much +right as anybody else to be in at a council, +and I think Dora was quite right, and the rest +of you are beasts not to say so, too, when you +see how she's blubbing. Suppose it had been +<i>your</i> darling baby-brother ill, and nobody +hadn't given you nothing when they'd got +pounds and pounds in their silly pockets?"</p> + +<p>He now hugged Dora, who responded.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't her own money," said Dicky.</p> + +<p>"If you think <i>you're</i> our darling baby-brother——" +said Oswald.</p> + +<p>But Alice and Noël began hugging Dora +and H.O., and Dicky and I felt it was no go. +Girls have no right and honourable feelings +about business, and little boys are the same.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Oswald rather bitterly, "if +a majority of the council backs Dora up, we'll +give in. But we must all save up and repay +the money, that's all. We shall all be beastly +short for ages."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Dora, and now her sobs were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +beginning to turn into sniffs, "you don't +know how I felt! And I've felt most awful +ever since, but those poor, poor people——"</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Bax came down on to +the beach by the wooden steps that lead from +the sea-wall where the grass grows between +the stones.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" she said, "hurt yourself, my +Dora-dove?"</p> + +<p>Dora was rather a favourite of hers.</p> + +<p>"It's all right now," said Dora.</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> all right," said Mrs. Bax, who has +learnt in anti-what's-its-name climes the great +art of not asking too many questions. "Mrs. +Red House has come to lunch. She went this +morning to see that boy's mother—you know, +the boy the others wouldn't play with?"</p> + +<p>We said "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Red House has arranged to get +the woman some work—like the dear she is—the +woman told her that the little lady—and +that's you, Dora—had given the little boy one +pound thirteen and sevenpence."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bax looked straight out to sea through +her gold-rimmed spectacles, and went on—</p> + +<p>"That must have been about all you had +among the lot of you. I don't want to jaw, +but I think you're a set of little bricks, and I +must say so or expire on the sandy spot."</p> + +<p>There was a painful silence.</p> + +<p>H.O. looked, "There, what did I tell you?" +at the rest of us.</p> + +<p>Then Alice said, "We others had nothing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +do with it. It was Dora's doing." I suppose +she said this because we did not mean to tell +Mrs. Bax anything about it, and if there was +any brickiness in the act we wished Dora to +have the consolement of getting the credit +of it.</p> + +<p>But of course Dora couldn't stand that. She +said—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Bax, it was very wrong of me. +It wasn't my own money, and I'd no business +to, but I was so sorry for the little boy and +his mother and his darling baby-brother. The +money belonged to some one else."</p> + +<p>"Who?" Mrs. Bax asked ere she had time +to remember the excellent Australian rule +about not asking questions.</p> + +<p>And H.O. blurted out, "It was Miss Sandal's +money—every penny," before we could stop +him.</p> + +<p>Once again in our career concealment was +at an end. The rule about questions was again +unregarded, and the whole thing came out.</p> + +<p>It was a long story, and Mrs. Red House +came out in the middle, but nobody could +mind her hearing things.</p> + +<p>When she knew all, from the plain living to +the pedlar who hadn't a license, Mrs. Bax +spoke up like a man, and said several kind +things that I won't write down.</p> + +<p>She then went on to say that her sister was +not poor and needy at all, but that she lived +plain and thought high just because she +liked it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> + +<p>We were very disappointed as soon as we +had got over our hardly believing any one +could—like it, I mean—and then Mrs. Red +House said—</p> + +<p>"Sir James gave me five pounds for the +poor woman, and she sent back thirty of your +shillings. She had spent three and sevenpence, +and they had a lovely supper of boiled +pork and greens last night. So now you've +only got that to make up, and you can buy a +most splendid present for Miss Sandal."</p> + +<p>It is difficult to choose presents for people +who live plain and think high because they +like it. But at last we decided to get books. +They were written by a person called Emerson, +and of a dull character, but the backs +were very beautiful, and Miss Sandal was +most awfully pleased with them when she +came down to her cottage with her partially +repaired brother, who had fallen off the +scaffold when treating a bricklayer to tracts.</p> + +<p>This is the end of the things we did when +we were at Lymchurch in Miss Sandal's +house.</p> + +<p>It is the last story that the present author +means ever to be the author of. So goodbye, +if you have got as far as this.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Your affectionate author,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Oswald Bastable</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> +<p>Varied hyphenation was retained: was armchair and arm-chair; boathouse +and boat-house; halfway and half-way; postmark and post-mark; stationmaster and +station-master; tablecloths and table-cloths; thoroughbred and thorough-bred; wastepaper +and waste-paper; motor car; motor-car.</p> + +<p>Both Krikey and crikey were used and retained as were handkie and hankie.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW TREASURE SEEKERS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25496-h.txt or 25496-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/4/9/25496">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/9/25496</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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