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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Stokesley Secret, by Charlotte M. Yonge
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Stokesley Secret
+
+
+Author: Charlotte M. Yonge
+
+
+
+Release Date: January 31, 2015  [eBook #3411]
+[This file was first posted on April 9, 2001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKESLEY SECRET***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1902 Macmillan and Co. “Countess Kate and The
+Stokesley Secret” edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+
+
+
+
+                           THE STOKESLEY SECRET
+
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    BY
+                            CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                  London
+                        MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
+                     NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+                                   1902
+
+                          _All rights reserved_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                     RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED,
+                            LONDON AND BUNGAY
+
+ _Transferred to Macmillan and Co._, _Limited_, 1901.  _Reprinted_, 1902.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+“HOW can a pig pay the rent?”
+
+The question seemed to have been long under consideration, to judge by
+the manner in which it came out of the pouting lips of that sturdy young
+five-year-old gentleman, David Merrifield, as he sat on a volume of the
+great Latin Dictionary to raise him to a level with the tea-table.
+
+Long, however, as it had been considered, it was unheeded on account of
+one more interesting to the general public assembled round the table.
+
+“I say!” hallooed out a tall lad of twelve holding aloft a slice taken
+from the dish in the centre of the table, “I say! what do you call this,
+Mary?”
+
+“Bread and butter, Master Sam,” replied rather pettishly the maid who had
+brought in the big black kettle.
+
+“Bread and butter!  I call it bread and scrape!” solemnly said Sam.
+
+“It only has butter in the little holes of it, not at the top, Miss
+Fosbrook,” said, in an odd pleading kind of tone, a stout good-humoured
+girl of thirteen, with face, hair, and all, a good deal like a nice
+comfortable apricot in a sunny place, or a good respectable Alderney cow.
+
+“I think it would be better not to grumble, Susan, my dear,” replied, in
+a low voice, a pleasant dark-eyed young lady who was making tea; but the
+boys at the bottom of the table neither heard nor heeded.
+
+“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” was Sam’s cry, in so funny a voice, that
+Miss Fosbrook could only laugh; “is this bread and scrape the fare for a
+rising young family of genteel birth?”
+
+“Oh!” with a pathetic grimace, cried the pretty-faced though sandy-haired
+Henry, the next to him in age, “if our beloved parents knew how their
+poor deserted infants are treated—”
+
+“A fine large infant you are, Hal!” exclaimed Susan.
+
+“I’m an infant, you’re an infant, Miss Fosbrook is an infant—a babby.”
+
+“For shame, Hal!” cried the more civilized Sam, clenching his fist.
+
+“No, no, Sam,” interposed Miss Fosbrook, laughing, “your brother is quite
+right; I am as much an infant in the eye of the law as little George.”
+
+“There, I said I would!” cried Henry; “didn’t I, Sam?”
+
+“Didn’t you what?” asked Susan, not in the most elegant English.
+
+“Why, Martin Greville twitted us with having a girl for a governess,”
+said Henry; “he said it was a shame we should be taken in to think her
+grown up, when she was not twenty; and I said I would find out, and now I
+have done it!” he cried triumphantly.
+
+“Everybody is quite welcome to know my age,” said Miss Fosbrook, the
+colour rising in her cheek.  “I was nineteen on the last of April; but I
+had rather you had asked me point blank, Henry, than tried to find out in
+a sidelong way.”
+
+Henry looked a little surly; and Elizabeth, a nice-looking girl, who sat
+next to him and was nearest in age, said, “Oh! but that would have been
+so rude, Miss Fosbrook.”
+
+“Rude, but honest,” said Miss Fosbrook; and Susan’s honest eyes twinkled,
+as much as to say, “I like that;” but she said, “I don’t believe Hal
+meant it.”
+
+“I don’t care!” said Sam.  “Come, Mary, this plate is done—more bread and
+butter; d’ye hear? not bread and gammon!” and he began the chant, in
+which six voices joined till it became a roar, pursuing Mary down to the
+lower regions:—
+
+    “Thick butter and thin bread,
+    Or it shall be thrown at Mary’s head;
+    Thick bread and thin butter,
+    Is only fit for the ducks in the gutter.”
+
+Elizabeth looked appealingly at Miss Fosbrook; but Miss Fosbrook was
+leaning back in her chair, her handkerchief up to her mouth, in fits of
+laughing, seeing which, the children bawled louder and louder; and
+Elizabeth only abstained from stopping her ears because she knew that was
+the sure way to be held fast, and have it bellowed into them.
+
+Little Annie blundered in her eagerness upon
+
+                        “Thick bread and thin butter,”
+
+whereupon there was a general outcry.  “Nanny likes thick bread and thin
+butter, let her have it!” and Sam, Henry, and Johnnie directed a whole
+battery of their remaining crusts towards her cup, which would presently
+have been upset into her lap but for Miss Fosbrook, who recovered
+herself, and said gravely, “This must not be, Sam; I shall send you away
+from the table if you do.”
+
+Sam wanted to see whether she would, and threw the crust.
+
+“Sam,” she said very decidedly, though there was a quiver in her voice,
+as if she were frightened.
+
+Sam looked up, and did not move.
+
+“Oh, Miss Fosbrook!” cried Susan, “we were all just as bad.  Don’t punish
+Sam!”
+
+“It is time that Sam should show that he has the feelings of a manly
+boy,” said Miss Fosbrook, looking full at him.  “He knows that I must
+keep my word, and that I have no strength to fight with him.—Sam, go and
+finish your tea on the window-seat.”
+
+Her clear brown eyes looked full at him as she spoke, and all the young
+population watched to see what he would do.  He hesitated a moment, then
+took up his cup and plate, and sat down in the window-seat.
+
+Miss Fosbrook breathed freely, and she had almost said, “Thank you, Sam,”
+but she did not think this was the time; and collecting herself, she
+said, “Fun is all very well, and I hope we shall have plenty, but we
+ought not to let it grow riotous; and I don’t think it was of a good sort
+when it was complaining of the food provided for us.”
+
+The children were all rather subdued by what she said; some felt a little
+cross, and some rather ashamed; and when Mary brought back the dish
+replenished with slices, no one said a word as to whether the butter were
+thick or thin.  The silence seemed to David a favourable occasion for
+renewing the great question, “How does a pig pay the rent?”
+
+There was a general giggle, and again Miss Fosbrook was as bad as any:
+while David, looking affronted, tapped the table with the handle of his
+spoon, and repeated, “I want to know.”
+
+“I’ll tell you, Davy man,” began Henry, first recovering.  “The pig is a
+very sagacious animal, especially in Hampshire, and so he smells out
+wherever the bags of money are sown underground, and digs them up with
+his nose.  Then he swings them on his back, and gives a curl of his tail
+and a wink of his eye, and lays them down just before the landlord’s
+feet; and he’s so cunning, that not an inch will he budge till he’s got
+the receipt, with a stamp upon it, on his snout.”
+
+“No; now is that a true story?” cried little Annie, who was the only
+person except David grave enough to speak; while Sam, exploding in the
+window, called out, “Why, don’t you know that’s why pigs have rings in
+their noses?”
+
+    “There was a lady loved a swine;
+       ‘Honey,’ says she,
+    I’ll give you a silver trough.’
+       ‘Hunks!’ says he,”
+
+continued Hal; “that shows his disinterestedness.  Oh, werry sagacious
+haminals is pigs!”
+
+“For shame, Hal,” cried Elizabeth, “to confuse the children with such
+nonsense.”
+
+“Why, don’t you think I know how the rent is paid?  I’ve seen Papa on
+rent-day hundreds of times.”
+
+“But the pigs, Hal; did you ever see the pigs?”
+
+“Thousands of times.”
+
+“Bringing bags of gold?  O Hal!  Hal!”
+
+“I want to know,” continued David, who had been digesting the startling
+fact, “how the pig swings the bag on his back? I don’t think ours could
+do it.”
+
+“It’s a sort made on purpose,” said Hal.
+
+“Made on purpose by Mr. Henry Merrifield,” said Susan, at last able to
+speak.  “Don’t believe one word, David dear; Hal is laughing at you.”
+
+“But how does a pig do it?” asked David, returning to the charge.
+
+“Why do you want to know, my dear?” asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Mary’s sister said so.”
+
+“I know,” exclaimed Susan; “Davy went out with the nursery children
+to-day, and they went to see Mary’s sister.  Her husband is drowned
+because he was a sailor; and the _Mermaid_ went to South America; and
+there are five little tiny children.”
+
+“Of the mermaid’s?” cried Harry.
+
+“No, no; the _Mermaid_ was the ship, and it was wrecked, and they have
+noticing to live upon; and she takes in washing, and is such a nice
+woman.  Mamma said we might take them our old winter frocks, and so David
+went there.”
+
+“And she said if she had a pig to pay the rent she should be quite
+happy,” said David.  “How could he?”
+
+“I suppose,” said Miss Fosbrook, “the pig would live on her garden-stuff,
+her cabbage-leaves and potato-skins; and that when he was fat she would
+sell him, and pay the rent with the money.  Am I right, Sam? you know I
+am a Cockney.”
+
+“You could not be more right if you were a Hampshire beg,” said Sam.
+“Jack Higgins was her husband’s name, and a famous fellow he was; he once
+rigged a little boat for me.”
+
+“And he sailed with Papa once, long ago,” added Susan; to which Sam
+rejoined,
+
+“More fool he to go into the merchant service and get drowned, with
+nothing for his widow to live upon.”
+
+“I say,” cried Hal, “why shouldn’t we give her a pig?”
+
+“Oh, do!” earnestly exclaimed David.
+
+“I’ll catch one,” broke from John and Annie at once; “such lots as there
+are in the yard!”
+
+“You would catch it, I believe,” said Sam disdainfully; while Susan
+explained,
+
+“No; those are Papa’s pigs.  Purday would not let you give them away.”
+
+“Of course,” said Henry, “that was only those little geese.  I meant to
+make a subscription among ourselves, and give her the pig; and won’t she
+be surprised!”
+
+“Oh! yes, yes,” shouted the children; “let’s do it all ourselves!”
+
+“I’ve got one-and-threepence, and sixpence next Saturday,” cried Hal.
+
+“And I’ve eightpence,” quoth Annie.
+
+“And I’ve a whole shilling,” said David.
+
+“I’ve fourpence,” said Johnnie.
+
+“I’ve not much, I’m afraid,” said Susan, feeling in her pocket, with
+rather black looks.
+
+“Oh!” said Sam, “everybody knows simple Sukey never has a farthing in her
+pocket by any chance!”
+
+“Yes, but I have, Sam;” and with an air of great triumph, Susan held up
+three-halfpence, whereat all the party screamed with laughter.
+
+“Well, but Bessie always has lots!  She’s as rich as a little Jew.  Come,
+Bet, Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy, and Bess, what will you give?—what have
+you got?”—and one hand came on her shoulder, and another on her arm but
+she shook herself free, and answered rather crossly,
+
+“Don’t—I can’t—I’ve got something else to do with my money.”
+
+“Oh! you little stingy avaricious crab!” was the outcry beginning; but
+Miss Fosbrook stopped it before Elizabeth had time to make the angry
+answer that was rising on her lips.
+
+“No, my dears, you must not tease her.  Each of you has a full right to
+use your own money as you may think best; and it is not right to force
+gifts in this manner.”
+
+“She’s a little affected pussy-cat,” said Hal, much annoyed; “I know what
+she wants it for—to buy herself a ridiculous parasol like Ida Greville,
+when she would see poor Hannah Higgins starving at her feet.”
+
+Elizabeth bit her lip, and tossed up her head; the tears were in her
+eyes, but she made no answer.
+
+“Come, never mind,” said Sam; “she’s as obstinate as a male when she gets
+a thing into her head.  Let’s see what we’ve got without her.  I’ve only
+sevenpence: worse luck that I bought ball of string yesterday.”
+
+The addition amounted to three shillings and elevenpence halfpenny: a sum
+which looked so mighty when spread out, chiefly in coppers, on the
+window-seat, that Annie and David looked on it as capable of buying any
+amount of swine; but Sam looked rather blank at it, and gazing up and
+down, said, “But what does a pig cost?”
+
+“Miss Fosbrook, what does a pig cost?”
+
+Miss Fosbrook shook her head and laughed, saying that she knew much less
+of pigs than they did; and Susan exclaiming, “There’s Purday in the
+court,” they all tumbled to the window, one upon the top of the other.
+
+The window was a large heavily-framed sash, with a deep window-seat, and
+a narrow ledge within the sill—as if made on purpose, the first for the
+knees the second for the elbows of the gazers therefrom.
+
+As to the view, it was into a walled kitchen court, some high chestnut
+and lime trees just looking over the grey roofs of the offices.  On the
+ground lay a big black Newfoundland dog, and a couple of graceful
+greyhounds, one of them gnawing a bone, cunningly watched by a
+keen-looking raven, with his head on one side; while peeping out from the
+bars of the bottle-rack was the demure face of the sandy cat, on the
+watch for either bones or sparrows.
+
+A stout, stumpy, shrewd-looking labourer, in a short round frock, high
+buskins, an old wide-awake, short curly hair, and a very large nose,
+stood in front of the dairy door, mixing a mess of warm milk for the
+young calves.
+
+“Purday!  Master Purday!” roared nearly the whole young population above;
+but he was so intent on his mixture, that he went on as if he were deaf,
+till a second explosion of “Purday!  Purday!  I say!” made him turn up
+his face in an odd half-awake kind of manner.
+
+“Purday, what’s the price of a pig?” and, “What does a pig cost, Purday?”
+
+“What d’ye all holler at once for?  A body can’t hear a word,” was all
+the answer they got; whereupon they all started together again, and
+Purday went on with his mixture as if they had been so many hens
+cackling.
+
+Then Sam got up his breath again and called alone, “Purday!” and Hal and
+Susan by pats and pinches strangled the like outcry from Annie and John,
+so as to leave the field clear for the great question, “Purday, what does
+a pig cost?”
+
+“More than your voices up there, sir,” growled Purday, making some laugh;
+but Henry cried impatiently,
+
+“Now, Purday, we really do want to know what is the price of pigs.”
+
+“They was high last market,” began Purday.
+
+“I don’t care if they were high or low,” said Hal; “I want to know what
+money they cost.”
+
+“Different pigs cost different prices,” quoth the oracle, so
+sententiously, that Miss Fosbrook’s shoulders shook with laughing as she
+stood a little in the background of the eager heap in the window.
+
+“A nice little pig, such as you’d give—”
+
+“Hush, hush, Hal, it’s a secret,” cried Susan.
+
+“A pretty sort of secret—known to eight already, and bawled out all over
+the yard,” said Sam.
+
+“But don’t tell him what it’s for; you can ask him without that.”
+
+“A nice little young pig,” said Sam, “such as you’d keep all the summer,
+and fat in the winter.”
+
+“Mind, it ain’t for you, Purday,” cried Hal.
+
+“Never fear my being disappointed, sir,” said the free-spoken Purday,
+with a twinkle of his eye, which Hal understood so well that he burst
+out,
+
+“Ah! you think I can never do what I say I will; but you’ll see, Purday,
+if we don’t give a pig to—”
+
+He was screamed at, and pulled into order and silence, ere the words,
+“Hannah Higgins” had quite come out; and Sam repeated his question.
+
+“Well,” said Purday at last, “if pigs was reasonable, you might get a
+nice little one to fat, at Kattern Hill fair, somewhere about ten
+shillings, or maybe twelve—sometimes more, sometimes less.”
+
+“Ten shillings!”  The community stood round and looked at one another at
+the notion of such an awful sum; but Hal was the first to cast a ray of
+hope on the gloom.  “Kattern Hill fair ain’t till Midsummer, and perhaps
+Grandmamma will send us some money before that.  If anybody’s birthday
+was but coming!”
+
+“Better save it out of our allowance,” said Sam.  “How long is it to the
+fair?”
+
+Miss Fosbrook’s pocket-book declared it to be four weeks.
+
+“Well, then,” said Hal, “we three big ones have sixpence a week each,
+that’s six shillings, leaving out stingy Bess, and the little ones
+threepence, that’s three times three is nine, and three times nine is
+thirty-six, that’s three shillings, and six is nine, and very near four
+is fourteen.  We shall do the pig yet.”
+
+“Yes, Hal; but if pigs are reasonable, I am afraid three times nine never
+yet were so much so as to make thirty-six,” objected Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Sam whistled.
+
+“Twenty-seven—that’s three and twopence—it’s all the same,” said Hal;
+then at the scream of the rest, “at least two and threepence.  Well, any
+way there’s plenty for piggy-wiggy, and it shall be a jolly secret to
+delight Hannah Higgins, and surprise Papa and Mamma: hurrah!”
+
+“Yes,” said Sam; “but then nobody must have any fines.”
+
+“Ay, and Sue must keep her money.  That will be a wonder!” shouted Harry.
+
+“Well, I’ll try,” said Susan.  “I’ll try not to have a single fine, and
+I’ll not buy a single lump of sugar-candy, for I do want poor Hannah to
+have her pig.”
+
+“And so will we!” cried the younger ones with one voice.
+
+“Only,” added Susan, “I must buy Dicky’s canary seed.”
+
+“And I must have a queen’s head to write to Mamma,” said Annie.
+
+“Oh! never mind that, such trumpery as your letters are,” said Hal.
+“Mamma could say them by heart before she gets them.  What does she care
+for them?”
+
+Little Annie looked very deplorable.
+
+“Never mind, my dear,” said Miss Fosbrook, “mammas always care for little
+girls’ letters, and you are quite right to keep a penny for your stamp
+for her.—You see, Hal, this scheme will never come to good if you
+sacrifice other duties to it.”
+
+Henry twirled round impatiently.
+
+“Now suppose,” said Miss Fosbrook, “that we set up a treasury, and put
+all in that we can properly afford, and then break it open on the day
+before the fair, and see how much we have.”
+
+“Oh! yes, yes,” cried the children in raptures.
+
+“Will you help, Miss Fosbrook?” said Susan, clasping her hands.
+
+“I should like to do a very little, if you will take this silver
+threepenny; but I do not think it would be right for me to spare one
+penny more, for all I can afford is very much wanted at home.”
+
+“What shall we have for treasury?” said Hal, looking round.
+
+“I know!” cried Susan.  “Here, in the baby-house; here’s the Toby, let’s
+put it inside him.”
+
+The so-called baby-house was an old-fashioned cupboard with glass doors,
+where certain tender dolls, and other curiosities, playthings too frail
+to be played with and the like, were ranged in good order, and never
+taken out except when some one child was unwell, and had to stay in-doors
+alone.
+
+Toby Fillpot was a present from Nurse Freeman.  It was a large mug,
+representing a man with a red coat, black hat, and white waistcoat, very
+short legs, and top-boots.  The opening of the cup was at the top of his
+head, and into this was dropped all the silver and pence at present
+mustered, and computed to be about four shillings.
+
+“And, Miss Fosbrook, you’ll not be cross about fines?” said Johnnie,
+looking coaxing.
+
+“I hope I shall not be cross,” she answered; “but I do not engage to let
+you off any.  I think having so good a use to put your money to should
+make you more careful against forfeiting it.”
+
+“Yes,” said Johnnie disconsolately.
+
+“Well, I never get fined,” cried Hal joyfully.
+
+“Except for running up stairs in dirty shoes,” said Sam.
+
+“Oh! there’s no dirt now.”
+
+“Let me see, what are the fines?” said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Here’s the list,” said Susan; and sighing, she said, “I’m afraid I shall
+never do it!  If Bessie only would help!”
+
+The fines of the Stokesley schoolroom were these for delinquencies—each
+value a farthing—
+
+  For being dressed later than eight o’clock.
+
+  For hair not properly brushed.
+
+  For coming to lessons later than five minutes after ten.
+
+  For dirty hands.
+
+  For being turned back twice with any lesson.
+
+  For elbows on the table.
+
+  For foolish crying.
+
+  For unnecessary words in lesson-time.
+
+  For running up stairs in wet shoes.
+
+  For leaving things about.
+
+Each of these bits of misbehaviour caused the forfeit of a farthing out
+of the weekly allowance.  Susan looked very gloomy over them; but Hal
+exclaimed, “Never mind, Susie; we’ll do it all without you, never fear!”
+
+“And now,” said Sam, “I vote we have some fun in the garden.”
+
+Some readers may be disposed to doubt, after this specimen, whether the
+young Merrifields could be really young ladies and gentlemen; but indeed
+their birth might make them so; for there had been Squire Merrifields at
+Stokesley as long as Stokesley had been a parish, and those qualities of
+honour and good breeding that mark the gentleman had not been wanting to
+the elder members of the family.  The father of these children was a
+captain in the navy, and till within the last six years the children had
+lived near Plymouth; but when he inherited the estate they came thither,
+and David and the two little ones had been born at Stokesley.  The
+property was not large; and as Captain Merrifield was far from rich, it
+took much management to give all this tribe of boys and girls a good
+education, as well as plenty of bread and butter, mutton, and
+apple-pudding.  There was very little money left to be spent upon
+ornament, or upon pleasuring; so they were brought up to the most homely
+dress suited to their station, and were left entirely to the country
+enjoyments that spring up of themselves.  Company was seldom seen, for
+Papa and Mamma had little time or means for visiting; and a few morning
+calls and a little dining out was all they did; which tended to make the
+young ones more shy and homely, more free and rude, more inclined to love
+their own ways and despise those of other people, than if they had seen
+more of the world.  They were a happy, healthy set of children, not
+faulty in essentials, but, it must be confessed, a little wild, rough and
+uncivil, in spite of the code of fines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+MRS. MERRIFIELD had taught her children herself, till Samuel and Henry
+began going to the Curate for a couple of hours every day, to be prepared
+for school.  Lessons were always rather a scramble; so many people coming
+to speak to her, and so many interruptions from the nursery; and then
+came a time when Mamma always was tired, and Papa used to come out and
+scold if the noises grew very loud indeed, and was vexed if the children
+gave Mamma any trouble of any kind.  Next they were told they were to
+have a governess—a sort of piece of finery which the little savages had
+always despised—and thereupon came Miss Fosbrook; but before she had been
+a week in the house Mamma was quite ill and in her bed-room, and Papa
+looked graver than he had ever done before; and Mr. Braddon, the doctor,
+came very often: and at last Susan was called into Mamma’s room, and it
+was explained to her that Mamma was thought so ill, that she must go to
+be under a London doctor, and would be away, she could not tell how long;
+so that meantime the children must all be left to Miss Fosbrook, with
+many many injunctions to be good and obedient, for hearing that they were
+going on well would be poor Mamma’s only comfort.
+
+It was three days since Captain and Mrs. Merrifield had gone; and Miss
+Fosbrook stood at the window, gazing at the bright young green of the
+horse-chestnut trees, and thinking many various thoughts in the lull that
+the children had left when they rushed out of doors.
+
+She thought herself quite alone, and stood, sometimes smiling over the
+odd ways of her charges, and at what they put her in mind of, sometimes
+gravely thinking whether she had said or done the wisest things for them,
+or what their mother would have most approved.  She was just going to
+move away from the window, when she saw a little figure curled up on the
+floor, with her head on the window-seat.  “Bessie, my dear, what are you
+doing here?  Why are not you gone out?”
+
+“I don’t want to go out.”
+
+“I thought they were to have a great game at whoop-hide.”
+
+“I don’t like whoop-hide.  Johnnie pulls the clothes off my back.”
+
+“My dear, I hope you are not staying in because they called you those
+foolish names.  It was all in good humour.”
+
+“It was not kind,” said Elizabeth, her throat swelling.  “It was not
+true.”
+
+“Perhaps not; but you did not speak to give your reasons; and who could
+tell how good they might be?”
+
+“I’ve a right to my secrets as well as they have,” said the little
+maiden.
+
+Miss Fosbrook looked kindly at her, and she turned wistful eyes on the
+young governess.
+
+“Miss Fosbrook, will you keep a secret?”
+
+“That I will.”
+
+“I want my money to buy some card-board—and some ribbon—and some real
+true paints.  I’ve got some vermilion, but I want some real good blue.
+And then I want to make some beautiful bands with ties—like what Papa has
+for his letters—for all Mamma’s letters in her desk.  There’s a bundle of
+Papa’s when he was gone out to the Crimean War, and that’s to have a
+frigate on it, because of the _Calliope_—his ship, you know; and there’s
+one bundle of dear Aunt Sarah’s—that’s to have a rose, because I always
+think her memory is like the rose in my hymn, you know; and Grandmamma,
+she’s to have—I think perhaps I could copy a bit of the tower of
+Westminster Abbey out of the print, because one sees it out of her
+window; and, oh! I thought of so many more, but you see I can’t do it
+without a real good paint-box, and that costs three and sixpence.  Now,
+Miss Fosbrook, is it stingy to wish to do that?”
+
+“Not at all, my dear; but you could not expect the others to understand
+what they never were told.”
+
+“I’d have said something if they had not called me stingy,” said Bessie.
+
+“It certainly was rude and hasty; but if we bear such things
+good-naturedly, they become better; and they were very eager about their
+own plan.”
+
+“Such a disagreeable thing as a pig!” continued Bessie.  “If it had been
+anything nice, I should not have minded so much.”
+
+“Yes; but, my dear, you must remember that the pig will be a more useful
+present than even your pretty contrivances.  You cannot call them doing
+good, as the other will be.”
+
+“Then you are like them!  You think I ought to spend all my money on a
+great horrid pig, when Mamma—” and the tears were in the little girl’s
+eyes.
+
+“No, indeed, my dear.  I don’t think anyone is called on to give their
+all, and it is very nice and quite right for a little girl to try to make
+a pretty present to please her mamma.  There is plenty of time before
+you, and I think you will manage to have some share in the very kind
+action your brothers and sisters are contriving.”
+
+Elizabeth had not forgiven, as she should have done, the being called
+stingy; it rankled on her feelings far more than those who said the word
+understood; and she presently went on, “If they knew ever so much, they
+would only laugh at me, and call it all Bessie’s nonsense.  Miss
+Fosbrook, please, what is affectation?”
+
+“I believe it is pretending to seem what we are not by nature,” said Miss
+Fosbrook; “putting on manners or feelings that do not come to us of
+themselves.”
+
+“Then I shall tell them they make me affected,” exclaimed she.  “If I
+like to be quiet and do things prettily, they teaze me for being
+affected, and I’m forced to be as plain and blunt as their are, and I
+don’t like it!  I wish I was grown up.  I wish I was Ida Greville!”
+
+“And why, my dear?”
+
+“Because then things might be pretty,” said Elizabeth.  “Everything is so
+plain and ugly, and one gets so tired of it!  Is it silly to like things
+to be pretty?”
+
+“No, far from it; that is, if we do not sacrifice better things to
+prettiness.”
+
+Elizabeth looked up with a light in her dark eyes, and said, “Miss
+Fosbrook, I like you!”
+
+Miss Fosbrook was very much pleased, and kissed her.
+
+She paused a moment, and then said, “Miss Fosbrook, may I ask one
+question?  What is your name?  Mamma said it must be Charlotte, because
+you signed your letter Ch. A. Fosbrook, but your little sister’s letter
+that you showed us began ‘My dear Bell.’  If it is a secret, indeed I
+will keep it.”
+
+“It is no secret at all,” said Miss Fosbrook, laughing.  “My name is
+Christabel Angela.”
+
+Elizabeth opened her eyes, and said it by syllables.  “Christabel Angela!
+that’s a prettier name than Ida.  Does it make you very glad to have it?”
+
+“I like it for some reasons,” said Miss Fosbrook, smiling.
+
+“Oh, tell me!” cried Bessie.  “Mamma always says we should not be a bit
+happier if our names were pretty ones; but I don’t know, I feel as if one
+would; only the others like to make things plainer and uglier than they
+are.”
+
+“I never could call your name ugly; it is such a dignified, old,
+respectable name.”
+
+“Yes; but they call me Betty!”
+
+“And they call me Bell, and sometimes Jelly-bag and Currant-jelly,” said
+Miss Fosbrook, laughing and sighing, for she would have liked to have
+heard those funny names again.
+
+“Then it is no good to you!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
+
+“I don’t know that we talk of good in such a matter.  I like my name
+because of the reason it was given to me.”
+
+“Oh, why?” eagerly asked the little girl.
+
+“When I was born, my papa was a very young man, and he was very fond of
+reading poetry.”
+
+“Why, I thought your papa was a doctor.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“I thought only ladies, and poets, and idle silly people, cared for
+poetry.”
+
+“They can hardly be silly if they care rightly for real poetry, Bessie,”
+said Miss Fosbrook; “at least, so my papa would say.  It has been one of
+his great helps.  Well, in those days he was very fond of a poem about a
+lady called Christabel, who was so good and sweet, that when evil came
+near, it could not touch her so as to do her any harm; and so he gave his
+little daughter her name.”
+
+“How very nice!” cried Elizabeth.
+
+“You must not envy me, my dear, for I have been a good deal laughed at
+for my pretty name, and so has Papa; and I do not think he would have
+chosen anything so fanciful if he had been a little older.”
+
+“Then isn’t he—what is it you call it—poetical now?”
+
+“Indeed he is, in a good way;” and as the earnest eyes looked so warmly
+at her, Christabel Fosbrook could not help making a friend of the little
+maiden.  “He has very little time to read it; for you know he is a parish
+surgeon in a great parish in London, full of poor people, worse off than
+you can imagine, and often very ill.  He is obliged to be always hard at
+work in the narrow close streets there, and to see everything sad, and
+dismal, and disagreeable, that can be found; but, do you know, Bessie, he
+always looks for the good and beautiful side; he looks at one person’s
+patience, and another person’s kindness, and at some little child’s love
+for its mother or sister, that hinders it from being too painful for
+him.”
+
+“But is that poetry?  I thought poetry meant verses.”
+
+“Verses are generally the best and most suitable way of expressing our
+feelings about what is good and beautiful; but they are not always
+poetry, any more than the verses they sang to-night about the bread and
+butter, because, you know, wanting thick butter was not exactly a
+beautiful feeling.  I think the denying themselves their little
+indulgences for the sake of giving the poor woman a pig, is much more
+poetical, though nobody said a word in verse.”
+
+They both laughed; and Elizabeth said, “That wasn’t what you meant about
+your papa.  Susy cares for goodness.”
+
+“No, it was not all I meant; but it was seeing high and noble thoughts
+expressed in beautiful verses that gives him pleasure; and when he has a
+little bit of leisure, it is his great treat to open a book of that sort,
+and read a little bit to us, and tell us why we like it.  He says it
+makes him young again, and takes him out of the dingy streets, and from
+all his cares as to how the bills are to be paid.”
+
+“Did you like coming here?” was Bessie’s home question; and Miss Fosbrook
+winked away a little moisture, as she said,
+
+“I was glad to be growing a woman, and to be able to help about some of
+those bills; and then I was glad to come into the beautiful country that
+Papa has so often told us about.”
+
+“I did not know there was anything beautiful here.”
+
+“O Bessie, you never lived in London!  You can’t think how many things
+are beautiful to me here!  I want to be writing about them to Papa and
+Kate all day long.”
+
+“Are they?” said Bessie.  “Mamma has pretty things in the drawing-room,
+but she keeps them out of the way; and everything here is so dull and
+stupid!” and the little girl gave a yawn.
+
+Miss Fosbrook understood her.  The wainscoted room in which they were
+sitting had been painted of a uniform creamy brown; the chairs were worn;
+the table was blistered and cracked; the carpet only covered the middle
+of the room, and was so threadbare, that only a little red showed here
+and there.  All that was needful was there, but of the plainest kind; and
+where the other children only felt ease and freedom, and were the more
+contented and happy for the homely good sense of all around them, this
+little girl felt a want that she scarcely understood, but which made her
+uncomfortable and discontented, even when she had so much to be thankful
+for.
+
+Miss Fosbrook moved nearer to the window.  Down below there was certainly
+not much to be seen; only Pierce cleaning the knives in the knife-house,
+and Martha washing out her pans before the dairy-door; but that was not
+where she looked.  She turned the little half-fretful face upwards.
+“Look there!” she said; “and talk of seeing nothing pretty!”
+
+“I see nothing—”
+
+“Do you not see the pale clear green of those noble horse-chestnut leaves
+just sprung into their full summer dress—not in the least worn nor
+stained yet?  And those fine spikes of white blossom, all tending
+up—up—while the masses of those leaves fall so gracefully down, as if
+lifting them up, and then falling back to do them honour.”  Bessie
+smiled, and her eye lighted up.  “And see the colour against the sky—look
+at the contrast of that bright light green with the blue, so very deep,
+of the sky—and oh! see that train of little clouds, red with soft sunny
+light, like a little soft flock of rosy lambs, if there were such things,
+lying across the sky. O Bessie! you can’t talk of wanting the sight of
+pretty things while you have that sky.”
+
+Bessie was coming closer to her, when in burst Sam and Johnnie.
+
+“Hello, Bess! moping here, I declare!  I suppose you and Miss Fosbrook
+are telling each other all your secrets.”
+
+“I was just coming out,” said Miss Fosbrook.  “I want to make out
+something about those noble flowers of the horse-chestnut, and why they
+don’t look whiter.  Could you gather one for me, Sam?”
+
+Sam was only too glad of an excuse for climbing a tree, however cheaply
+he might hold one who cared for flowers; and by the time Bessie had put
+on her lilac-spotted sun-bonnet—a shapeless article it must be confessed,
+with a huge curtain serving for a tippet, very comfortable, and no
+trouble at all—he had scrambled into the fork, and brought down a
+beautiful spire of blossoms, with all the grand leaves hanging round in
+their magnificent fans.
+
+“What will you do with it?” said the children, standing round.
+
+“Do you think you could ask Mary to spare us a jug, Susan?  If I might
+put it in water in the schoolroom fireplace, it would look fresh and
+cheerful for Sunday.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Susan, pleased with the commission, “that I will;” and
+away she ran, while Miss Fosbrook examined the spike to her own great
+enjoyment.  “I see,” she said, “the flowers are not really white, they
+each have a patch of pink or yellow on them, which gives them their
+softness.  Yes; and do you see, Bessie, they are in clusters of three,
+and each three has one flower with a pink spot, and two with a yellow
+one.”
+
+“That is very curious,” said Bessie: the fretfulness was very much gone
+out of her tone, and she stood looking at the beautiful flower, without a
+word, till Susan came back, when she began to show her what Miss Fosbrook
+had pointed out.  Susan smiled with her really good nature, and said,
+“How funny!” but was more intent on telling Miss Fosbrook that she had
+brought the jug, and then on hauling Elizabeth away to a game at Tom
+Tittler’s ground.
+
+Miss Fosbrook said she would put away the flower and come back again; and
+she settled the branch in the chimney, where it looked very graceful, and
+really did enliven the room, and then walked out towards the lawn.
+
+There was a lawn in front of the house, part of which had been formerly
+levelled for a bowling-green, and was kept clear of shrubs or
+flower-beds.  Beyond was a smooth, rather rapid slope towards a quiet
+river, beyond which there rose again a beautiful green field, crowned
+above by a thick wood, ending at the top in some scraggy pine-trees, with
+scanty dark foliage at the top of their rude russet arms.  Fine trees
+stood out here and there upon the slope of the field; and Captain
+Merrifield’s fine sleeked cows were licking each other, or chewing the
+cud, under them.
+
+There was a white Chinese bridge, the rails all zigzags, and patterns
+running this way and that, so that it must have been very ugly and
+glaring before the white paint had faded so much.
+
+The house was a respectable old stone building, rather brown and grey,
+and the stone somewhat disposed to peel off in flakes; the windows large
+sashes, set in great projecting squared stones, the tallest and biggest
+at the top.  It was a house of a very sober pleasant countenance, that
+looked as if it had always been used to have a large family in it; and
+there was a vine, with all its beauteous leaves, trained all across the
+garden front, making a pleasant green summer-blind over the higher half
+of the drawing-room windows, that now stood open, telling of the
+emptiness within.
+
+Christabel stood for a few moments looking round, and thinking what a
+paradise of green rest this would be to her hard-worked father and
+anxious mother; and how she should like to see her little brothers and
+sisters have one free run and roll on that delicious greensward, instead
+of now and then walking to one of the parks as a great holiday.  Yet hers
+was a very happy home, and, except her being absent from it, nothing had
+befallen her to sadden her merry young spirits; so when she heard the
+joyous cry behind her—
+
+    “I’m on Tommy Tittler’s ground,
+    Picking up gold and silver,”
+
+she turned about, and laughed as she saw the gold-finders stooping and
+clawing at the grass, with eyes cast round about them for Hal, who was
+pursuing Susan in and out, up and down till, with screams of exultation,
+she was safely across the ridge of the bowling-green, that served as
+“home.”
+
+When Hal turned back, Miss Fosbrook was as heedfully and warily picking
+up gold and silver as any of the rest of them.  He was resolved on
+capturing her; but first David was such a tempting prize, with his back
+so very near, and so unconscious, that he must be made prisoner.  A catch
+at the brown-holland blouse—a cry—a shout of laughter, and Davy is led up
+behind the standard maiden-blush rose, always serving as the prison.  And
+now the tug of war rages round it, he darts here and there within his
+bounds, holding out his hand to any kind deliverer whose touch may set
+him free; and all the others run backwards and forwards, trying to
+circumvent the watchful jailor, Tom Tittler, who, in front of the
+rose-bush, flies instantly at whoever is only coming near his captive.
+
+Ha!  Susan had nearly—all but done it, while Hal was chasing away Annie.
+No, not she; Hal is back again, and with a shriek away she scours.  Sam!
+oh, he is very near; if that stupid little Davy would only look round, he
+would be free in another moment; but he only gapes at the pursuit of
+Susan, and Sam will touch him without his being aware!  No—here’s Hal
+back again.  Sam’s off.  What a scamper!  Now’s the time—here’s Miss
+Fosbrook, lighter-footed than any of the children, softly stealing on
+tip-toe, while Hal is scaring Johnnie.  Her fingers just touch Davy’s.
+“Freed!  Freed!” is the cry; and off goes he, pounding for home! but Hal
+rushes across the path, he intercepts Miss Fosbrook, and, with a shout of
+triumph—There is the sound of a rent.  Everybody stands a little aghast.
+
+“It is only the gathers,” says Miss Fosbrook good-humouredly.  “I’ll tuck
+them up and sew them in by and by; but really, Hal, you need not pull so
+furiously; I would have yielded to something short of that.”
+
+“Gowns are such stuff!” said Hal, really meaning it for an apology,
+though it did not sound like one, for her good-natured face abashed him a
+little.
+
+“Touch and take used to be our rule,” said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Bessie eagerly said that would be the best way, the boys were so rude;
+but all the rest with one voice cried out that it would be very stupid;
+and Miss Fosbrook did not press it, but only begged in a droll way that
+some one would take pity on her; and come to release her; and so alert
+was she in skipping towards her allies from behind the rose-bush, that
+Bessie presently succeeded in giving the rescuing touch, and she flew
+back quick as a bird to the safe territory, dragging Bessie with her, who
+otherwise would have assuredly been caught; and who, warm with the spirit
+of the game, felt as if she should have been quite glad to be made
+prisoner for her dear Christabel’s sake.
+
+An hour after, and all the children were in bed.  Susan and Annie
+agreeing that a governess was no such great bother after all; and
+Elizabeth lying awake to whisper over to herself, “Christabel Angela,
+Christabel Angela!  That’s my secret!” in a sort of dream of pleasure
+that will make most people decide on her being a very silly little girl.
+
+And Christabel Angela herself sat mending her gathers, and thinking over
+her first week of far greater difficulties than she had contemplated when
+she had left home with the understanding that she was to be entirely
+under Mrs. Merrifield’s direction.  Poor Mrs. Merrifield had said much of
+regret at leaving her to such a crew of little savages, and she had only
+tried to set the mother’s mind at rest by being cheerful; and though she
+felt that it was a great undertaking to manage those great boys out of
+lesson-hours, she knew that when a thing cannot be helped, strength and
+aid is given to those who seek for it sincerely.
+
+And on the whole, she felt thankful to the children for having behaved
+even as well as they had done.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+“GRANT to us, Thy humble servants, that by Thy holy inspiration we may
+think those things that be good, and by Thy merciful guiding may perform
+the same,” spelt out David with some trouble and difficulty, as he stood
+by Miss Fosbrook on Sunday morning.
+
+“Miss Fosbrook?”
+
+“Well, my dear.”
+
+“Miss Fosbrook?”
+
+Another “Well.”
+
+“Is wanting to buy a pig one of the ‘things that be good’?’
+
+“Anything kind and right is good, my dear,” said Miss Fosbrook, a little
+vexed at a sort of snorting she heard from the other end of the room.
+
+“Davy thinks the pig is in his Collect,” said Sam.
+
+He was one of those who were especially proud of being downright, and in
+him it often amounted to utter regardlessness of people’s feelings, yet
+not out of ill-nature; and when Susan responded, “Don’t teaze Davy—he
+can’t bear it,” he was silent; but the mischief was done; and when Miss
+Fosbrook went on saying that the wish to help the poor woman was
+assuredly a good thought, which the little boy might well ask to be aided
+in fulfilling, David had grown ashamed, and would not listen.  But the
+mention of the pig had set off Master Henry, who was sitting up in the
+window-seat with Annie, also learning the Collect, and he burst out into
+descriptions of the weight of money that would be found in Toby, and how
+he meant to go to the fair with Purday, and help him to choose the pig,
+and drive it home.
+
+“More likely to hinder,” muttered Sam.
+
+“Besides, Papa wouldn’t let you,” added Bessie; but Hal did not choose to
+hear, and went on as to how the pig should ran away with Purday, and jump
+into a stall full of parliament gingerbread (whereat Annie fell into
+convulsions of laughing), and Hal should be the first to stop it, and
+jump on its back, and ride out of the fair holding it by the ears; and
+then they should pop it into the sty unknown to Hannah Higgins, and all
+lie in wait to hear what would happen; and when it squealed, she would
+think it the baby crying; but there Susan burst out at the notion of any
+one thinking a child could scream like a pig, taking it as an affront to
+all babyhood; and Miss Fosbrook took the opportunity of saying,
+
+“Hadn’t you better hatch your chickens before you count them, Henry? If
+you prevent everyone from learning the Collect, I fear there will be the
+less hope of Mr. Piggy.”
+
+“Oh! we don’t have fines on Sundays,” said Henry.
+
+“Mamma says that on Sundays naughtiness is not such a trifle that we can
+be fined for it,” said Susan.
+
+“It is not naughtiness we are ever fined for,” added Elizabeth: “_that_
+we are punished and talked to for: but the fines are only for bad
+habits.”
+
+“Oh!  I hope I sha’n’t have any this week,” sighed Susan.
+
+“You may hope,” said Sam.  “You’re sure of them for everything possible
+except crying.”
+
+“Yes, Bessie gets all the crying fines,” said Hal; “and I hope she’ll
+have lots, because she won’t help the pig.”
+
+Bessie started up from her place and rushed out of the room; while Miss
+Fosbrook indignantly exclaimed,
+
+“Really, boys, I can’t think how you can be so ill-natured!”
+
+They looked up as though it were quite a new light to them; and Susan
+exclaimed,
+
+“Oh, Miss Fosbrook! they don’t mean it: Sam and Hal never were
+ill-natured in their lives.”
+
+“I don’t know what you call ill-natured,” said Miss Fosbrook, “unless it
+is saying the very things most likely to vex another.”
+
+“I don’t mean to vex anybody,” said Henry, “only we always go on so, and
+nobody is such a baby as to mind, except Bessie.”
+
+And Sam muttered, “One can’t be always picking one’s words.”
+
+“I am not going to argue about it,” said Miss Fosbrook; “and it is time
+to get ready for church.  Only I thought manliness was shown in kindness
+to the weak, and avoiding what can pain them.”
+
+She went away; and Susan was the first to exclaim,
+
+“I didn’t think she’d have been so cross!”
+
+“Stuff, Sue!” said Sam; “it’s not being cross.  I like her for having a
+spirit; but one can’t be finikin and mealy-mouthed to suit her London
+manners.  I like the truth.”
+
+It would have been well if any one had been by to tell Mr. Samuel that
+truth of character does not consist in disagreeable and uncalled-for
+personalities.
+
+Miss Fosbrook did not wonder at little Elizabeth for her discomfort under
+the rude homeliness of Stokesley, where the children made a bad copy of
+their father’s sailor bluntness, and the difficulties of money matters
+kept down all indulgences.  She knew that Captain Merrifield was as poor
+a man for an esquire as her father was for a surgeon, and that if he were
+to give his sons an education fit for their station, he must make his
+household live plainly in every way; but without thinking them right
+feelings, she had some pity for little Bessie’s weariness and discontent
+in never seeing anything pretty.  The three girls came in dressed for
+church, in the plainest brown hats, black capes, and drab alpaca frocks,
+rather long and not very full; not a coloured bow nor handkerchief, not a
+flounce nor fringe, to relieve them; even their books plain brown.
+Bessie looked wistfully at Miss Fosbrook’s pretty Church-service, and
+said she and Susan both had beautiful Prayer-Books, but Mamma said they
+could not be trusted with them yet—Ida Greville had such a beauty.
+
+Was it the effect of Miss Fosbrook’s words, that Sam forbore to teaze
+Bessie about Ida Greville?—whose name was a very dangerous subject in the
+schoolroom.  Also, he let Bessie take hold of Miss Fosbrook’s hand in
+peace, though in general the least token of affection was scouted by the
+whole party.
+
+It was a pretty walk to church, over a paddock, where the cows were
+turned out, and then along a green lane; and the boys had been trained
+enough in Sunday habits to make them steady and quiet on the way,
+especially as Henry was romancing about the pig.
+
+By and by Elizabeth gave Miss Fosbrook’s hand a sudden pull; and she
+perceived, in the village street into which they were emerging, a party
+on the way to church.  There were two ladies, one in stately handsome
+slight mourning, the other more quietly dressed, and two or three boys;
+but what Elizabeth wanted her to look at was a little girl of nine years
+old, who was walking beside the lady.  Her hat was black chip, edged and
+tied with rose-coloured ribbon, and adorned with a real bird, with glass
+eyes, black plumage, except the red crest and wings.  She wore a
+neatly-fitting little fringed black polka, beneath which spread out in
+fan-like folds her flounced pink muslin, coming a little below her knees,
+and showing her worked drawers, which soon gave place to her neat
+stockings and dainty little boots.  She held a small white parasol,
+bordered with pink, and deeply fringed, over her head, and held a
+gold-clasped Prayer-Book in her hand; and Miss Fosbrook heard a little
+sigh, which told her that this was the being whom Elizabeth Merrifield
+thought the happiest in the world.  She hoped it was not all for the fine
+clothes; and Sam muttered,
+
+“What a little figure of fun!”
+
+Martin and Osmond Greville went daily to Mr. Carey’s, like Sam and Hal,
+so the boys ran on to them; and Mrs. Greville, turning round, showed a
+very pleasant face as she bowed to Miss Fosbrook, and shaking hands with
+Susan and Elizabeth, asked with much solicitude after their mamma, and
+how lately they had heard of her.
+
+Susan was too simple and straightforward to be shy, and answered readily,
+that they had had letters, and Mamma had been sadly tired by the journey,
+but was better the next day.  The little girls shook hands; and Mrs.
+Greville made a kind of introduction by nodding towards her companion,
+and murmuring something about “Fräulein Munsterthal;” and Miss Fosbrook
+found herself walking beside a lady with the least of all bonnets, a
+profusion of fair hair, and a good-humoured, one-coloured face, no doubt
+Miss Ida’s German governess.  She said something about the fine day, and
+received an answer, but what it was she could not guess, whether German,
+French, or English, and her own knowledge of the two first languages was
+better for reading than for speaking; so after an awkward attempt or two,
+she held her peace and looked at her companions.
+
+Susan and Mrs. Greville seemed to be getting on very well together; but
+Elizabeth’s admiration of Ida seemed to be speechless, for they were
+walking side by side without a word, perhaps too close to their elders to
+talk.
+
+Annie and David were going on steadily hand in hand a little way off; and
+Miss Fosbrook chiefly heard the talk of the boys, who had fallen behind;
+perhaps her ears were quickened by its personality, for though Sam was
+saying, “I’ll tell you what, she’s a famous fellow!” the rejoinder was,
+“What! do you mean to say that you mind her?”
+
+“Doesn’t he?” said Hal’s voice; “why, she sent him away from tea last
+night, just for shying crusts.”
+
+“And did he go?” and there was a disagreeable sounding laugh, in which
+she was sorry that Hal joined.
+
+“Catch the Fräulein serving me so!”
+
+“She never tries!”
+
+“She knows better!”
+
+“I say, Sam, I thought you had more spirit.  You’ll be sitting up
+pricking holes in a frill by the time the Captain comes back.”
+
+“And Hal will be mincing along with his toes turned out like a
+dancing-master!” continued an affected voice.
+
+“No such thing!” cried Hal angrily: “I’m not a fellow to be ordered
+about!”
+
+The Grevilles laughed; and one of them said, “Well, then, why don’t you
+show it?  I’d soon send her to the right-about if she tried to interfere
+with me!”
+
+Miss Fosbrook could bear it no longer; and facing suddenly round, looked
+the speaker full in the face, and said, “I am very much obliged to
+you—but you should not speak quite so loud.”
+
+The boys shrank back out of countenance; and Sam, who alone had not
+spoken, looked up into her face with a merry air, as if he were gratified
+by her spirited way of discomfiting them.
+
+Osmond tried to recover, and muttered, “What a sell!” rather impudently;
+but they were now near the churchyard, and Mrs. Greville turning round,
+all was hushed.
+
+Christabel felt much vexed that all this should have happened just before
+going into church; she felt a good deal ruffled herself, and feared that
+Bessie’s head was filled with nonsense, if Hal’s were not with something
+worse.
+
+The church looked pretty outside, with the old weather-boarded wooden
+belfry rising above the tiled roof and western gable; and it was neatly
+kept but not pretty within, the walls all done over with pale buff wash,
+and the wood-work very clumsy.  Sam and Susan behaved well and
+attentively; but Bessie fidgeted into her mamma’s place, and would stand
+upon a hassock.  Miss Fosbrook was much afraid it was to keep in sight of
+the beautiful bird.  Hal yawned; and Johnnie not only fidgeted unbearably
+himself, but made his sister Annie do the same, till Miss Fosbrook
+scarcely felt as if she was at church, and made up her mind to tell
+Johnnie that she should leave him at home with the babies unless he
+changed his ways.  Little David went on most steadily with his
+Prayer-Book, and scarcely looked off it till the sermon, when he fell
+asleep.
+
+Miss Fosbrook had one pleasure as she was going home.  The children had
+all gone on some steps before her, chattering eagerly among themselves,
+when Sam turned back and said abruptly, “Miss Fosbrook, you didn’t mind
+_that_, I hope?”
+
+“What those boys were saying? It depends on you whether you make me mind
+it.”
+
+“I don’t mean to make any rows if I can help it,” said Sam.
+
+“I am sure I hope you will be able to help it!  I don’t know what I
+should do if you did!”
+
+Sam gave an odd smile with his honest face.  “Well, you’ve got a good
+spirit of your own.  It would take something to cow you.”
+
+“Pray don’t try!”
+
+Sam laughed, and said, “I did promise Papa to be conformable.”
+
+“And I was very much obliged to you yesterday evening.  The behaviour of
+the other boys depends so much on you.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said Sam; “and I don’t mind it so much now I see you can
+stand up for yourself.”
+
+“Besides, what would it be if I had to write to your father that I could
+not manage such a bear-garden?”
+
+“I’ll take care that sha’n’t happen,” exclaimed Sam.  “It would hinder
+all the good to Mamma!  I’ll tell you what,” he added, after a
+confidential pause, “if we get beyond you, there’s Mr. Carey.”
+
+“I thought you did not mean to get beyond me.”
+
+Sam looked a little disconcerted, and it struck her that, though he would
+not say so, he was doubtful whether the Greville influence might not
+render Henry unmanageable; but he quickly gave it another turn.  “Only
+you must not plague us about London manners.”
+
+“I don’t know what you mean by London manners.  Do you mean not bawling
+at tea? for I mean to insist upon that, I assure you, and I want you to
+help me.”
+
+“Oh! not being finikin, and mincing, and nonsensical!”
+
+“I hope I’m not so!” said Miss Fosbrook, laughing heartily; “but I’ll
+tell you one thing, Sam, that I do wish you would leave off—and that is
+teazing.  I don’t know whether that is country manners, but I don’t like
+to see a sensible kind fellow like you just go out of your way to say
+something mortifying to a younger one.”
+
+“You don’t know,” said Sam.  “It is fun.  They like it.”
+
+“If they really like it, there is no objection.  I know I should like
+very much to have my brother here quizzing me; but you know very well
+there are two sorts of such fun, and one that is only sport to the
+stronger side.”
+
+“Bessie is so ridiculous.”
+
+“She is the very one I want to protect.  I don’t think that teazing her
+does any good; it only gives her cross feelings.  And she really has more
+right on her side than you think.  You might be just as honest and bold
+if you were less rude and bearish.”
+
+“I can’t bear to see her so affected and perked up.”
+
+“It is not affectation.  She is really more gentle and quiet than you
+are; you don’t think it so in your Mamma, and she is like her.”
+
+“Mamma is not like Bessie.”
+
+“And then about Davy.  How could you go and stop the poor little boy when
+he was trying to think and feel rightly?”
+
+“He was so funny,” repeated Sam.
+
+“I hope you will think another time whether your fun is safe and kind.”
+
+“One can’t be so particular,” he said impatiently.
+
+“I am sorry to hear it.  I thought the only way to do right was to be
+particular.”
+
+He grunted, and flung away from her.  She was vexed to have sent him off
+in such a mood; but, unmannerly as he was, she saw so much good in him,
+that she could not but hope he would be her friend and ally.
+
+Dinner went off very peaceably, and then Susan fetched her two darlings
+from the nursery, George and Sarah, of three years and eighteen months
+old.  Her great perfection was as a motherly elder sister; and even Sam
+was gentle to these little things, and played with them very nicely.
+
+Miss Fosbrook reminded Hal of his Collect; but he observed that there was
+plenty of time, and continued to stand by the window, pursuing the flies
+with his finger, not killing them, but tormenting them and David very
+seriously, by making them think he would—not a very pretty business for
+the day when all things should be happy, more like that which is always
+found “for idle hands to do.”
+
+Evening service-time put an end to this sport; but Miss Fosbrook could
+not set off till after a severe conflict with Johnnie.  She had decreed
+that he should not go again that day, after his behaviour in the morning;
+and perhaps he would not have minded this punishment much if David had
+not been going, which made him think it a disgrace.  So, in the most
+independent manner be put on his hat, and was marching off, when Miss
+Fosbrook stood in front of him, and ordered him back.
+
+He repeated, “I’m going to church.”  It was plain enough that he had
+heard what those boys had said about not submitting.
+
+“Church is not the place to go to in a fit of wilfulness, Johnnie,” she
+said; and his sisters broke out, “O Johnnie!” but the naughty boy,
+fancying, perhaps, that want of time would lead to his getting his own
+way, marched on, sticking up his toes very high in the air.
+
+Hal laughed.
+
+“Johnnie, Johnnie dear,” entreated Susan, “what would Mamma say?”
+
+John would not hear, and walked on.
+
+“John,” said Miss Fosbrook, “if you do not come back directly, I must
+carry you.”
+
+She had measured her strength with his: he was only eight years old, and
+she believed that she could carry him; but he heard the church-bells
+ringing, and thought he should have his way.
+
+She laid hold of him, and he began fighting and kicking, in stout shoes,
+whose thumps were no joke.  She held fast, but she felt frightened, and
+doubtful of the issue of the struggle; and again there was Hal laughing.
+
+“For-shame, Henry!” burst out Sam; and the same moment those two feet
+were secured, and John was a prisoner.  Miss Fosbrook called out to the
+rest to go on to church, and she and Sam dragged the boy up to the
+nursery, and shut him in there, roaring passionately.
+
+Nurse Freeman, knowing nothing about it, could not believe but that the
+stranger lady had made her child naughty, and said something about their
+Mamma letting him go to church; and “when the child wished to go to
+church, it seemed strange he should not.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook would not defend herself, for she was in great haste; but
+Sam exclaimed, “Stuff! he was as naughty as could be all this morning,
+and only wanted to go now because he was told not.”
+
+Johnnie bellowed out something else, but Miss Fosbrook would not let Sam
+go on; she touched his arm, and drew him off with her, he exclaiming,
+“Foolish old Freeman! she will pet and spoil him all church-time, till he
+is worse than ever.”
+
+It was lucky for her that she was too much hurried to dwell on this
+vexation; she almost ran to save herself from being late, and scarcely
+heard Sam’s mutterings about wishing to break Martin Greville’s head.
+
+“You need not hurry so much,” he said; “there’s a shorter cut, only I
+suppose you can’t get through a gap.”
+
+“Can’t I?” she laughed; and he led her on straight through the
+Short-horns.  Some of them looked at her more than she fancied, but she
+knew she might give up all hopes of Sam if he detected her fears.  Then
+came the gap, where a tree had been cut down in the hedge, and such a
+jump down from it!  But she gathered up her muslin, and made her leap so
+gallantly, that the boy cried,
+
+“Hurrah! well done!” and came and walked close to her, saying
+confidentially, “I say, do you think we shall ever do the pig?”
+
+“I am sure it might be done.  If you are likely to do it you must know
+better than I.”
+
+“I don’t know that I much care about it.  It will be rather a bother;
+only now we have said it, I shall hate it if we don’t do it.”
+
+“I think the pleasure of giving it will be a delightful reward for a
+little self-command.”
+
+“Only Hal and the girls will make such a work about it.  I’m glad, after
+all, that Bessie has nothing to do with it, or she would want to dress it
+up in flowers and ribbons.  Ha-ha!  But what a little crab it is!”
+
+“Don’t be too sure of that.  People may have other designs.”
+
+“Bessie’s can’t be anything but trumpery.”
+
+“Sometimes present trumpery is a step to something better.  ‘A was an
+Archer’ is not very wise, but it is the road to reading—and even if it
+were not so, Sam, it is not right to shame people into giving; for what
+is not bestowed for the true reasons, does no good to giver nor to
+receiver.”
+
+Sam looked up with a frown of attention, as if he were trying to take in
+the new light; but he did take it in, and smacking his hands together
+with a noise like a pistol-shot, said, “Ay, that’s it!  We don’t want
+what is grudged.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought of words that would another time be more familiar
+to Sam.  “Not grudgingly, nor of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful
+giver.”
+
+What she said was, “You see, if you plague Bessie too much, to make her
+like ourselves, when she is really so different, you are driving her to
+the shamming you despise so much.”
+
+“But ought not she to be cured of being silly?”
+
+“When we have quite made up our minds upon what silliness is.  There, the
+bell has stopped.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+THE most part of church-time Johnnie was eating Nurse Freeman’s
+plum-cake.  Perhaps this did not make him any easier in the conscience,
+but he had a very unlucky sentiment, that as he was already naughty and
+in disgrace, it was of no use to take the trouble of being good till he
+could make a fresh beginning; and after what the Grevilles had said, he
+did not think that would be till Papa and Mamma came home; he did not at
+all mean to give in to a girl that was not even twenty.  So he would not
+turn to the only wise thing he could have done, the learning of his
+Collect, but he teased Nurse out of more cake and more, and got what play
+he could out of little George, and that was not much, for Johnnie was not
+in a temper to be pleasant with a little one.
+
+Coming home from church, Collects were to be learnt and said before tea:
+but Hal, after glancing over his own, took up his cap and said, “Come
+along, Sam, Purday will be feeding the pigs; I want to choose the size of
+ours.”
+
+“I’ve not done,” said Sam.
+
+“Papa never said we were to say them to Miss Fosbrook.”
+
+“He meant it though,” was all Sam’s answer.  “Don’t hinder me.”
+
+“Well, I’ve no notion of being bound by what people mean,” continued Hal;
+and no one could imagine the torment he made himself, neither going nor
+staying, arguing the matter with his elder brother, as if Sam’s coming
+would justify him, and interrupting everyone; till at last Miss Fosbrook
+gathered all her spirit, and ordered him either to sit down and learn
+properly at once, or to go quite away.  She was very much vexed, for
+Henry had been the most obliging and good-natured of all at first, and
+likely to be fond of her; but such a great talker could not fail to be
+weak, and his vanity had been set against her.  He looked saucy at first,
+and much inclined to resist; if he had seen any sympathy for him in Sam
+he might have done so, but Miss Fosbrook’s steady eye was too much for
+him, so he saved his dignity, as he thought, by exclaiming, “I’m sure I
+don’t want to stay in this stuffy hole with such a set of owls; I shall
+go to Purday.”  And off he marched.
+
+The others stayed, and said their Collects and Catechism very
+respectably, all but John, who had not learned the Collect at all, and
+was sent into another room to finish it, to which he made no resistance;
+he had had enough of actual fighting with Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Then she offered to read a story to the others, but she found that this
+was distasteful even to her friend Sam; he thought it stupid to be read
+to, and said he should see after Hal; David trotted after him, and Susan
+and Anne repaired to the nursery to play with the little ones and the
+baby.  She minded it the less, as they all had some purpose; but she had
+already been vexed to find that all but Davy preferred the most arrant
+vacant idleness to anything rational.  To be sure, Susan sometimes,
+Bessie and Hal always, would read any book that made no pretensions to be
+instructive, but even a fact about a lion or an elephant made them detect
+wisdom in disguise, and throw it aside.  She thought, however, she would
+make the most of Bessie, and asked whether she would like to hear
+reading, or read to herself.
+
+“To myself,” said Bessie; and there was a silence, while Miss Fosbrook,
+glad of the quiet, began reading her _Christian Year_.  Presently she
+heard a voice so low that it seemed at a distance and it made her start,
+for it was saying “Christabel!” then she almost laughed, for it seemed to
+have been an audacious experiment, to judge by little Elizabeth’s scared
+looks and the glow on her cheeks.
+
+“May I say it sometimes when we are alone together?” she said timidly.
+“I do like it so much!”
+
+“If it is such a pleasure to you, I would not deprive you of it,” said
+Miss Fosbrook, laughing; “but don’t do so, except when we are alone, for
+your Mamma would not like me to seem younger still.”
+
+“Oh, thank you!  Isn’t it a nice secret?” cried Bessie, clinging to her
+hand: “and will you let me hug you sometimes?”
+
+A little love was pleasant to Miss Fosbrook, when she was feeling lonely,
+and she took Bessie in her lap, and they exchanged caresses, to the
+damage of the collar that Miss Fosbrook’s sister had worked for her.
+
+“And you don’t call me silly?” cried Bessie.
+
+“That depends,” was the answer, with some arch fun; but Bessie had not
+much turn for fun, and presently went on—
+
+“And you saw Ida Greville?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What did you think of her?”
+
+“I had not much opportunity of learning what to think.”
+
+“But her parasol, and her bird!  Did you think her mama very silly to
+give her pretty things?”
+
+“No, certainly not, unless she wore them at unsuitable times, or thought
+too much about them.”
+
+“Ida has so many, she does not think of them at all.  And she has shells,
+and such a lovely work-box, and picture-books; she has all she wants.”
+
+“Are you quite sure?”
+
+“Oh, yes, quite sure! and they don’t tease her for liking pretty things;
+her brothers keep quite away, and never bother about the schoolroom; but
+she learns Italian and German, and drawing and singing.  Mr. Greville
+said something about our spending the day there.  Oh! if we do but go!
+Won’t you, Miss Fosbrook?”
+
+“If I am asked, and if your Mamma would wish it.”
+
+“Oh, Mamma always lets us go, except once—when—when—”
+
+“When what?”
+
+“When I cried,” said Elizabeth, hanging down her head; “I couldn’t help
+it.  It did seem so tiresome here, and she said I was learning to be
+discontented; but nobody can help wishing, can they?”
+
+“There must be a way of not breaking the Tenth Commandment.”
+
+“I don’t covet; I don’t want to take things away from Ida, only to have
+the same.”
+
+“Yes; but what does the explanation at the end of the Duty to our
+Neighbour say, filling out that Commandment?”
+
+“I think I’ll go and see what Susie is doing,” said Elizabeth.
+
+Christabel sighed as the little girl walked off, displeased at having her
+repinings set before her in a graver light than that in which she had
+hitherto chosen to regard them.
+
+She saw no more of her charges till tea-time, when the bell brought them
+from different quarters, Johnnie with such a grimy collar and dirty
+hands, that he was a very un-Sunday-like figure, and she would have sent
+him away to make himself decent, but that she was desirous of not
+over-tormenting him.
+
+Sunday was always celebrated by having treacle with the bread, so the
+butter riot was happily escaped; and Bessie was not in a gracious mood,
+and the corners of her mouth provoked the boys to begin on what they knew
+would make her afford them sport.  Hal first: “I say, Bet, didn’t Purday
+want his gun to-day at church?”
+
+Elizabeth put out her lip in expectation that something unpleasant was
+intended, and other voices were not slow to ask an explanation.
+
+“Shooting the cocky-olly birds!”
+
+A general explosion of laughter.
+
+“I say (always the preface to the boy’s wit), shall I get a jay down off
+the barn to stick into your hat, Betty?”
+
+“Don’t, Hal,” said such a deplorable offended voice, that Sam, who had
+really held his tongue at first, could not help chiming in,
+
+“No, no; a cock-sparrow, for her London manners.”
+
+“No, that’s for me, Sam,” said Christabel good-humouredly.  “A
+London-bred sparrow; a pert forward chit.”
+
+She really had found a safety-valve; the boys were entertained, and
+diverted from their attack on their favourite victim, by finding everyone
+an appropriate bird; and when they came to “Tomtits” and “Dishwashers,”
+were so astonished at Miss Fosbrook’s never having seen either, that they
+instantly fell into the greatest haste to finish their tea, and conduct
+her into the garden, and through a course of birds, eggs, and nests,
+about which, as soon as she was assured that there was to be no
+bird’s-nesting, she was very eager.
+
+Bessie ought to have been thankful that her persecutors were called off,
+but she was in a dismal mood, and was taken with a fit of displeasure
+that her own Christabel Angela was following the rabble rout into the
+garden, instead of staying in the school-room at her service.
+
+The reason of her gloom was, that Miss Fosbrook had spoken a word that
+she did not choose to take home, and yet which she could not shake off.
+So she would neither stay in nor go out cheerfully, and sauntered along
+looking so piteous, that Johnnie could not help making her worse by
+plucking at her dress, by suddenly twisting her cape round till the back
+was in front, and pushing her hat over her eyes, till “Don’t Johnnie,” in
+a dismal whine, alternated with “I’ll tell Miss Fosbrook.”
+
+Christabel did not see nor hear.  She had gone forward with a boy on
+either side of her, and Susan walking backwards in front, all telling the
+story of a cuckoo,—or gowk, as Sara called it in Purday’s language,—which
+they had found in a water-wagtail’s nest in a heap of stones; how it sat
+up, constantly gaping with its huge mouth, while the poor little
+foster-parents toiled to their utmost to keep it supplied with
+caterpillars, and the last time it was seen, when full-fledged, were
+trying to lure it to come out of the nest by holding up green palmers at
+some little distance before it.  This was in the evening; by morning it
+was gone, having probably taken flight at sunrise.
+
+Miss Fosbrook listened with all the pleasure the boys could desire.  She
+had read natural history, and looked at birds stuffed in the British
+Museum, or alive at the Zoological Gardens, on the rare days when her
+father had time to give himself and his children a treat; and her fresh
+value and interest in all these country things were delightful to the
+boys.
+
+It was a lovely summer evening.  The sun was low enough to make the
+shadows long and refreshing, as they lay upon the blooming grass of the
+wilderness, softly swaying in the breeze, all pale with its numerous
+chaffy blossoms, and varied by the tall buttercups that raised up their
+shining yellow heads, or by white clouds of bold-faced ox-eye daisies.
+
+The pear-trees were like white garlands; the apple-trees covered with
+white blossoms and rosy buds; the climbing roses on the wall were
+bursting into blossom; the sky was one blue vault without a cloud.
+
+Surely Elizabeth had no lack here of what was pretty.  Then why did she
+lag behind, unseeing, unheeding of all, but peevishly pushing off John
+and Anne, thinking that they always teased her worst on Sundays, and very
+much discomfited that Miss Fosbrook was not attending to her?  Surely the
+fault was not altogether in what was outside her.
+
+“See!” cry the boys.  Miss Fosbrook must first look up there, high upon
+the side of the house, niched behind that thick stem of the vine.  What,
+can’t she see those round black eyes and little beak? They see her plain
+enough.  Ah! now she has them.  That’s a fly-catcher.  By and by they
+shall be able to show her the old birds flying round, catching flies on
+the wing, and feeding the young ones, all perched in a row.
+
+Now, can she scramble up the laurels?  Yes, she hopes so; though she
+wished she had known what was coming, for she would have changed her
+Sunday muslin.  But a look of anxiety came on Sam’s face as he peeped
+into the clump of laurels; he signed back the others, sprang upon the
+dark scraggy bough of the tree, and Hal called out,
+
+“Gone! has Ralph been there?”
+
+“Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so.  Not an egg left, and they
+would have hatched this week!”
+
+“Well, Purday calls him his best friend,” said Harry.  “He says we should
+not get a currant or a gooseberry if it wasn’t for that there raven, as
+Papa won’t have the small birds shot.”
+
+“Bring down the nest, Sam,” cried Susan; “Georgy will like to have it.”
+
+The children behind, who never could hear of anything to be had without
+laying a claim to it, shouted that they wanted the nest; but Sam said Sue
+had spoken first, and they fell back discontented, and more bent on their
+unkind sport.  Miss Fosbrook was rather shocked at the tearing out the
+nest, and asked if the old bird would not have another brood there; but
+it was explained that a thrush would never return to a forsaken nest; and
+when Sam came down with it in his hand, she was delighted with the
+wonderful cup that formed the lining, so smooth and firm a bason formed
+of dried mud set within the grassy wall.  She had thought that swallows
+alone built with mud, and had to learn that the swallows used their clay
+for their outer walls, and down for their lining, whereas the thrush is a
+regular plasterer.
+
+Sam promised her another thrush to make up for her disappointment, and
+meantime conducted her to a very untidy old summer-house, the moss of
+whose roof hung down loose and rough over a wild collection of headless
+wooden horses, little ships with torn sails, long sticks, battered
+watering-pots, and old garden tools.  She was desired to look up to one
+of the openings in the ragged moss, and believe that it housed a kitty
+wren’s family of sixteen or eighteen; but she had to take this on trust,
+for to lay a finger near would lead to desertion; in fact, Sam was rather
+sorry to be able to point out to her, on coming out, the tiny, dark,
+nutmeg, cock-tailed father kitty, popping in and out of the thorn hedge,
+spying at the party.
+
+Now then for a wonder as they came out.  Sam waved everybody away—nay,
+waved is a small word for what he did—shouted, pushed, ordered, would be
+more like it.  He was going to give Miss Fosbrook such a proof of his
+esteem as hardly any one enjoyed, not even Hal, twice in the summer.
+
+Everybody submitted to his violent demonstrations, and Christabel
+followed him to the back of the summer-house.  There stood a large red
+flower-pot upside down.
+
+“Now, Miss Fosbrook!”
+
+Sam’s finger hooked into the hole at the top.  Off came the flower-pot,
+and disclosed something flying off with rushing wings, and something
+confused remaining,—a cluster of grey wings all quill, with gaping yellow
+mouths here and there opening, a huddling movement always going on in the
+forlorn heap, as if each were cold, and wanted to be undermost.
+
+“Tits, my tits!” said Sam triumphantly; “they’ve built their nest here
+three years following.”
+
+“But how do they get in and out?”
+
+“Through the hole.  Take care, I’ll show you one.”
+
+“Won’t you frighten away the bird?”
+
+“Oh dear no!  Ox-eyes aren’t like wrens; I go to them every day.  See!”
+and he took up in his hand a creature that could just be seen to be
+intended for a bird, though the long skinny neck was bare, and the tiny
+quills of the young wings only showed a little grey sprouting feather, as
+did the breast some primrose-coloured down.  Miss Fosbrook had to part
+with some favourite cockney notions of the beauty of infant birds, and on
+the other hand to gain a vivid idea of what is meant by “callow young.”
+
+Sam quickly put his nestling back, and showed her the parent.  She could
+hardly believe that the handsome bird in the smooth grey coat and bright
+straw-coloured waistcoat, with the broad jet-black line down the centre,
+the great white cheeks edged with black, and the bold knowing look, could
+be like what the little bits of deformity in the nest would soon become.
+
+“Ay, that’s an ox-eye,” said Sam.  “You’ll hear them going on
+peter—peter—peter—all the spring.”
+
+But Sam was cut short by a loud and lamentable burst of roaring where
+they had left the party.
+
+Miss Fosbrook hurried back, hearing Hal’s rude laugh as she came nearer,
+it was Elizabeth, sobbing in the passionate way in which it is not good
+to see a child cry, and violently shaking off Susan, who was begging her
+to stop herself before Miss Fosbrook should come.
+
+What _was_ the matter?
+
+“Oh!  Betty’s nonsense.”
+
+“Johnnie _did_—”
+
+“Johnnie only—”
+
+“Now, Hal!”
+
+“Tell-tale!”  “Cry-baby!”
+
+“She only cried that Miss Fosbrook might hear.”
+
+So shouted the little Babel, Bessie sobbing resentfully between her
+words, till Miss Fosbrook, insisting that everybody should be quiet,
+desired her to tell what had happened.
+
+“Johnnie—Johnnie called me a toad.”
+
+The others all burst out laughing, and Miss Fosbrook, trying to silence
+them with a frown, said it was very rude of John, but she saw no reason
+why a girl of Bessie’s age should act so childish a part.
+
+“He’s been teasing me, and so has Anne, all this time!” cried Bessie.
+“They’ve been at me ever since I came out, pulling me and plaguing me,
+and—”
+
+“Well,” said Susan, “I told you to walk in front of Miss Fosbrook, where
+they could not.”
+
+“I didn’t do anything to her,” said John.
+
+“Now, Johnnie!”
+
+“He only pulled her frock and poked her ankles,” said Anne pleadingly
+
+“Only—and why did you do what she did not like?”
+
+Johnnie looked sturdy and cross.  Anne hung her head; and Elizabeth burst
+out again,
+
+“They always do—they always are cross to me!  I said I’d tell you, and
+now they said Ida was a conceited little toad, and stingy Bet was
+another;” and out burst her howls again.
+
+“A very sad and improper way of spending a Sunday evening,” said Miss
+Fosbrook, who had really grown quite angry.  “Anne and John, I _will_ put
+an end to this teasing.  Go to bed this instant.”
+
+They did not dare to disobey, but went off slowly with sulky footsteps,
+muttering to one another that Miss Fosbrook always took pipy Betty’s
+part; Nurse said so, and they wished Mamma was at home.  And when they
+came up to the nursery, Nurse pitied them.  She had never heard of a
+young lady doing such a thing as ordering off two poor dear children to
+bed for only just saying a word; but it seemed there were to be
+favourites now.  No, she could not put them to bed; they must wait till
+Mary came in from her walk; she wasn’t going to put herself out of the
+way for any fine London governess.
+
+So Johnnie had another conquest over Miss Fosbrook; but Anne was
+uncomfortable, and went and sat in a corner, wishing she had had her
+punishment properly over, and kicking her brother away when he wanted to
+play with her.
+
+As for Bessie, she only cried the more for Miss Fosbrook’s trying to talk
+to her.  It was a way of hers, perhaps from being less strong than the
+others, if once she started in a cry she could not leave off.
+
+Susan told Miss Fosbrook so; and the boys tried to drag her on with a
+promise of a blackbird’s nest; but she thought them unfeeling to such
+woeful distress, and first tried to reason with Bessie, then to soothe
+her, till at last, finding all in vain, she thought bed the only place
+for the child, and led her into the house, helped her, still shaking with
+sobs, to undress, and was going to see her lie down in the bed which she
+shared with Susan.  Elizabeth was still young enough to say her prayers
+aloud.  The words came out in the middle of choking sobs, not as if she
+were much attending to them.  Miss Fosbrook knelt down by her as she was
+going to rise, and said in her own words,
+
+“Most merciful God, give unto this Thy child the spirit of content, and
+the spirit of love, that she may bear patiently all the little trials
+that hurt and vex her, and win her way as Thy good soldier and servant.
+Amen.”
+
+Elizabeth held her breath to listen.  It was new and odd.  She did not
+like to say Amen; she did not know if the governess were not taking a
+liberty.  Perhaps it was a new way of telling her she was
+wrong—Christabel, whom she had thought on her side.
+
+The bad temper woke up, and would not let her offer a friendly kiss.  She
+hid her face in the pillow, and as soon as Miss Fosbrook had shut the
+door, went off into a fresh gust of piteous sobs, because Miss Elizabeth
+Merrifield was the most miserable ill-used child in all the world.
+
+She might be one of the most miserable, but it was not because of her
+ill-usage, but because she had no spirit to be cheerful, and had turned
+away from comfort of the right kind.  She was in such a frame as to
+prefer thinking everyone against her, to supposing that anything she
+could do would mend matters.
+
+Christabel was much grieved at this unfortunate end to the Sunday
+evening.  She looked over all the boys’ birds’ eggs—they were allowed to
+keep two of every sort as curiosities—and listened to some wonderful
+stories of Henry’s about climbing trees, and shooting partridges, and she
+kept the remaining children quiet and amused; but she was not happy in
+her mind.
+
+She thought she must have been wrong in not watching them more closely,
+and she felt more dislike and indignation against Johnnie than she feared
+was altogether right in his governess.  Also, she feared to make too much
+of Elizabeth, and was almost afraid that notice taught her to be still
+more fretful.  And yet there was a sense of being drawn to her by their
+two minds understanding each other, by likeness of tastes, by pity, and
+by a wish to protect one whom her little world oppressed.
+
+Nurse Freeman could not be more afraid of Miss Fosbrook making favourites
+than she was herself.
+
+All she could do in the matter was that which she had already done at
+Bessie’s bedside, and much more fully than when the little girl was
+listening to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+WITH Monday morning began the earning of the pig.  Miss Fosbrook’s first
+business after prayers was to deal out the week’s allowance—sixpence to
+each of the four elders, threepence apiece to the three younger ones.
+
+“May there be no fines,” she said.
+
+“I’ll not have the hundredth part of a fine!” shouted Henry, tossing his
+money into the air.
+
+Little David’s set lips expressed the same purpose.
+
+“Please let me have a whole sixpence,” said Susan.  “If I haven’t any
+change, I sha’n’t spend it.”
+
+“You, Sukey! you’d better have the four farthings,” laughed Sam.  “You’ll
+be the first to want them.”
+
+Susan laughed; and Miss Fosbrook, partly as an example to the plaintive
+Elizabeth, said, “You are so good-humoured, Susie, that I can’t find it
+in my heart to demand a fine—or—your hair; and there,” pointing to the
+stout red fingers, “did you ever behold such a black little row?”
+
+“Oh dear!” cried Susan, in her good-humoured hearty voice, “how tiresome,
+when they were _so_ clean this morning, and I’ve only just been feeding
+the chicken, and up in the hay-loft for the eggs, and pulling the
+radishes!”
+
+“Well, go and wash and brush, and to-morrow remember the pig,” said Miss
+Fosbrook, unable to help comparing the radishes and the fingers for
+redness and for earthiness.
+
+It was a more difficult matter when, as Elizabeth put her silver coin
+into her purse, John must needs repeat the stupid old joke, “There goes
+stingy Bet!” and Bessie put on her woeful appealing face.
+
+“John, I shall punish you if I hear those words again.”
+
+“I don’t mind.  Nurse says you have no business to punish me!  She did
+not put me to bed; and I had such fun!  Oh, such fun!” and the boy looked
+up with a grin that set all the others laughing.
+
+Christabel resolutely kept silence, and hoped her looks did not show her
+annoyance, as the boy went on, “I got lots of goodies, for Nurse said she
+had no notion of no stranger punishing her children.  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!”  For
+Samuel had hold of his ear, and was tweaking it sharply.
+
+“There!  Go and tell Nurse, if you like, baby!”
+
+“Sam, indeed I can’t have my battles fought in that way!” cried the
+governess, much distressed, as Johnnie roared, perhaps that old Nurse
+might hear, and, to all attempts to find out whether he were hurt,
+offered only heels and fists, till Susan came back and hugged him into
+quiet.
+
+“Now Johnnie has cried before breakfast on a Monday morning,” said Annie,
+“all the rest of the week will go wrong with him.”
+
+“Indeed,” said Miss Fosbrook, “I hope no such thing.—Suppose we try and
+show Annie she is wrong, Johnnie!”
+
+But Johnnie was sulky, and even Susan looked as if she thought this a new
+and dangerous notion.  Sam laughed, and said, “I wish you joy, Miss
+Fosbrook.  Now he’ll think he must be naughty.”
+
+“Johnnie,” said David solemnly, “the pig.”
+
+The pig was a very good master of the ceremonies, and kept all elbows off
+the table at breakfast-time; and Bessie, who was apt to stick fast in the
+midst of her bread and milk, and fall into disgrace for daintiness and
+dawdling, finished off quietly and prosperously.
+
+Then every one was turned loose till nine o’clock.  Susan had charge of
+Mamma’s keys, and had to go down to the kitchen, see what the cook
+wanted, and put it out, but only on condition that no brother or sister
+ever went with her to the store-closet.  Susan was highly trustworthy,
+but Mamma was too wise to let her be tempted by voices begging for one
+plum, one almond, or the last spoonful of Jam.  It took away a great deal
+of the pleasure of jingling the keys, and having a voice in choosing the
+pudding.
+
+The two elder boys went to their tutor, the other children to the
+nursery, except Elizabeth, who was rummaging in her little box, and
+David, whom Miss Fosbrook found perched on the ledge of the window,
+reading a book that did not look as if it were meant for men of his size.
+
+But Miss Fosbrook thought David like the oldest person in the
+house—infinitely older than John, who could do nothing better than he
+except running and bawling, and a good deal older than even Hal and Sam.
+Nay, there were times when he raised his steady eyes and slowly spoke out
+his thoughts, when she felt as if he were much more wise and serious than
+her twenty-years old self.
+
+“Well, Davy,” she asked, as at the sound of the lesson-bell the little
+old man uncrossed his sturdy legs, closed his book, and arose with a
+sigh, “have you found out all about it?”
+
+“I have found out why a pig is a profitable investment,” he answered
+gravely.
+
+“And why?”
+
+“Because he will feed upon refuse, and fatten upon cheap food,” said
+David, in the words of his book; “only I can’t make out why.  Do you
+know, Miss Fosbrook?”
+
+“I don’t quite see what you want to know, Davy.”
+
+“I want to know why a pig gets fat on barley-meal, when an ox wants
+mange, and oil-cake and hay.  I asked Nurse, and she said little boys
+mustn’t ask questions; and I asked Purday, and he said it was because
+pigs is pigs, and oxen is oxen.  Why do you think it is, Miss Fosbrook?”
+
+“I don’t think; I know it is because the great God has made one sort of
+creature to be easily fed, and made good for poor people to live upon,”
+said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+David’s eyes were fixed on her as if he still had questions to ask, and
+she was quite afraid of her powers of answering them, for he was new in
+the world, and saw the strangeness of many things to which older people
+become used by living with them, but which are not the less strange for
+all that.
+
+However, the trampling of many feet put an end to question and answer,
+and the day’s work had to begin with the Psalms, and reading the Morning
+Lessons.  Bessie was by far the best reader; and David did very well,
+though he made very long stops to look deliberately at any long new word,
+and could not bear to be told before he had mastered it for himself.
+Even Susan was sadly given to gabbling and missing the little words that
+she thought beneath her attention; and the other two stumbled so
+horribly, that it was pain to hear them.
+
+This beginning might be taken as the sign of how all would do their
+lessons.  It is only a child here and there, generally a lonely one, to
+whom lessons can be anything but a toil and an obligation.  Even with
+clever ones, who may be interested in some part of their study, some
+other branch will be disagreeable; and there is nothing in the whole
+world to be learnt without drudgery, so it would be unreasonable to
+expect lessons to be regarded as delightful; but there is one thing that
+is to be expected of any good child—not to enjoy lessons; not to surpass
+others; not to do anything surprising; only to make a conscience of doing
+what is required as well as possible.
+
+Now do not many children seem to think that they are to receive as little
+as they can possibly take in without being punished; or that, if they
+make any exertion, their teachers ought to be so much obliged to them,
+that some great praise or reward is due to them?
+
+Let us see whether anyone in Stokesley school-room was making a
+conscience of the day’s tasks.  It is not of much use to ask for any at
+present in Johnnie—not for a whole week, as Annie would declare; he does
+not know his single Latin declension; his spelling, is all abroad; his
+geography wild; yet though turned back once, he misses the fine by just
+saying his lessons passably the last time.  They perhaps ought, in strict
+justice, to have been sent back; but Miss Fosbrook was very glad to be
+saved the uproar that would have ensued, and almost wondered whether she
+were not timidly merciful to the horrible copy and the greasy slate.  But
+Johnnie had no fine, and was as proud of it as if he had been a good boy.
+“She hadn’t caught him out,” he said, as if his kind governess had been
+his enemy.
+
+As to Annie, her French verbs were always dreadful things to hear, and
+the little merry face, usually so bright, used to grow quite deplorable
+with the trouble she took not to use her mind.  Using her memory was bad
+enough, but saying things by heart was an affliction she was used to, and
+it was very shocking of Miss Fosbrook to require her to find out _how_
+many years Richard II. had reigned, if he began in 1377 and ended in
+1399.  Susan prompted her, however; so she really got a triumph over Miss
+Fosbrook, and was quite saved from thinking.  Oh, but the teasing woman!
+she silenced Susan, and would have this poor injured Annie tell how old
+the tiresome man was.  “Began to reign at eleven years old, dethroned
+after twenty-two years; how old was he?”  Annie found bursting out crying
+easier than thinking, and then they all cried out, “O Nanny, the pig!”
+and Miss Fosbrook had the barbarity to call that _foolish_ crying!  What
+might one cry for, if not at being asked how old Richard II. was?  If the
+fine must be paid, there was no use in stopping; so Annie howled till
+Miss Fosbrook turned her out to finish on the stairs; and as Nurse
+Freeman was out with the little ones, there was no one to comfort her; so
+she cried till she was tired, and when the noise ceased, Susan was
+allowed to come and coax her, and fetch her back to go on with her copy,
+as soon as her hand was steady enough.  She felt very foolish by this
+time, and thought David eyed her rather angrily and contemptuously; so
+she crept quietly to her corner, and felt sad and low-spirited all the
+rest of the morning.  Now that thirty-three had come into her head, it
+seemed so stupid not to have thought of it in time; and then she would
+have saved her farthing, and her eyes would not have been so hot.
+
+Maybe, too, Susan’s French phrases would not have been turned back.  Miss
+Fosbrook would have given a great deal not to have been obliged to do it,
+but she had prompted flagrantly already, and a teacher is obliged to have
+a conscience quite as much as a scholar; so the book was given back, and
+Susan spent twelve minutes in see-sawing herself, and going over the
+sentences in a rapid whispering gabble, a serious worry to the governess
+in listening to Bessie’s practising and David’s reading, but she thought
+it would be a hardship to be forbidden to learn in her own way at that
+moment, and forbore.  David was interrupted in his “Little Arthur’s
+History,” and looked rather cross about it, for Susan to try again.  She
+made all the same blunders—and more too!  Back again!  Poor Susie!  Once,
+twice, thrice, has she read those stupid words over, and knows less of
+them than before.  Davy’s loud voice will go into her understanding
+instead of those French phrases.  She looks up in dull stupefaction.
+
+William Rufus is disposed of, and David, as grave as a judge, is taking
+up his slate, looking a little fussed because there is a scratch in the
+corner.  “Well, Susan,” says Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Susan jumps up in desperation, and puts her hands behind her.  Oh dear!
+oh dear! all that the gentlemen on a journey were saying to one another
+has gone clean out of her head!
+
+She cannot recollect the three first words.  She only remembers that this
+is the third time, and another farthing is gone!  She stands and stares.
+
+“Susan,” says Miss Fosbrook severely, “you never tried to learn this.”
+
+Susan gives a little gasp; and Elizabeth, who has said her French without
+a blunder, puts in an unnecessary and not very sisterly word: “Susan
+never will learn her French.”
+
+Susan’s honest eyes fill with tears, but she gulps them back.  She will
+not cry away another farthing, but she does feel it very cross in Bessie,
+and she is universally miserable.
+
+Christabel feels heated, wearied, and provoked, and as if she were fast
+losing her own temper; and that made her resolve on mercy.
+
+“Susie,” she said with an effort, “run twice to the great lime-tree and
+back.  Then take the book into my room, read this over three times, and
+we will try again.”
+
+Susan looked surprised, but she obeyed, came back, and repeated the
+phrases better than she had ever said French before.  She was absolutely
+surprised and highly pleased, and she finished off her other lessons
+swimmingly; but oh, she was glad to be rid of them!  Yes, they were off
+her mind, and so she deserved that they should be!  She flew away to the
+nursery, and little Sarah was soon crowing in her arms.
+
+Elizabeth?  Not a blunder in French verbs or geography—very tidy copy.
+French reading good; English equally so, only it ended in a pout, because
+there was not time for her to go on to see what became of Carthage; and
+she was a most intolerable time in learning her poetry out of the book of
+Readings, or rather she much preferred reading the verses in other parts
+of the book to getting perfect in her lesson, and then being obliged to
+turn her mind to arithmetic.  Miss Fosbrook called her three times; and
+at last she turned round peevishly at being interrupted in the middle of
+the “Friar of Orders Gray,” and repeated her twenty lines of Cowper’s
+“Winter’s Walk” in a doleful whine, though without a blunder.
+
+It was one of the horrible novelties that Miss Fosbrook was bringing in,
+that she expected people to understand their sums as well as work them.
+She gave much shorter ones, to be sure, than Mamma, who did sometimes set
+a long multiplication sum of such a huge size, that it looked as if it
+were meant to keep the victim out of the way; but who would not prefer
+casting up any length of figures, to being required to explain the
+meaning of “carrying”?
+
+Really, if it had not been for the pig, that shocking question might have
+led to a mutiny in the school-room.  When it was bad enough to do the
+thing, how could anyone ask what was meant by the operation, and why it
+was performed?
+
+What did Bessie do when her sum was being overlooked?  Miss Fosbrook read
+on: “4 from 8, 4; 7 from 1—how’s this, Bessie?  7 from 10 are—”
+
+“3, and 1 are 4,” dolorously, as her 3 was changed.
+
+“Now then, what next?”
+
+“Carry one.”
+
+“What did I tell you was meant by carry one?”
+
+“The tens,” said Bessie, not in the least thinking “the tens” had
+anything to do with the matter, but only that she had heard something
+about them, and could thus get rid of the subject.
+
+“Now, Bessie, what tens can you possibly mean?  Think a little.”
+
+“I’m sure you said tens once,” said injured innocence.
+
+“That was in an addition sum.  See, here it is quite different.  I told
+you.”
+
+Bessie put on a vacant stare.  She was not going to attend to what she
+did not like.
+
+Miss Fosbrook saw the face.  She absolutely shrank from provoking another
+fit of crying, and went quickly through the explanation.  She saw that
+her words might as well have been spoken to the slate.  Bessie neither
+listened nor took them in.  Not all her love for her dear Christabel
+Angela could stir her up to make one effort contrary to her inclinations.
+The slate was given back to her, she wiped out the sum in a pet, and ran
+away.
+
+Miss Fosbrook turned round, David, whose lessons had been perfectly
+repeated an hour ago, was sitting cross-legged in the window, with his
+slate and pencil, and a basket of bricks, his great delight, which he was
+placing in rows.
+
+“Miss Fosbrook,” said he, “isn’t this it?  Twelve bricks; take away those
+seven, then—1, 2, 3, 4, 5—the twelve is only 5: the 10 is gone, isn’t it?
+so you must leave one out of the next figure in the upper line of the
+sum.”
+
+Now Davy had only begun arithmetic on the governess’s arrival, but he had
+learnt numeration and addition in her way.  She was so delighted, that
+she stooped down and kissed him, saying, “Quite right, my little man.”
+
+Davy rather disapproved of the kiss, and rubbed his brown-holland elbow
+over his face, as if to clear it off.
+
+“Well,” thought Christabel, as she hurried away for five minutes’ peace
+in her own room before the dinner-bell, “it is a comfort to have one
+pupil whose whole endeavour is not to frustrate one’s attempts to educate
+him.”
+
+Poor young thing! that one little bit of sense had quite cheered her up.
+Otherwise she was not one whit less weary than the children.  She had
+been learning a very tough lesson too—much harder than any of theirs; and
+she was not at all certain that she had learnt it right.
+
+Now, readers, of all the children, who do you think had used the most
+conscience at the lessons?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+WHAT an entirely different set of beings were those Stokesley children in
+lesson-time and out of it!  Talk of the change of an old thorn in winter
+to a May-bush in spring! that was nothing to it!
+
+Poor, listless, stolid, deplorable logs, with bowed backs and crossed
+ankles, pipy voices and heavy eyes!  Who would believe that these were
+the merry, capering, noisy creatures, full of fun and riot, clattering
+and screeching, and dancing about with ecstasy at Sam’s information that
+there was a bonfire by the potato-house!
+
+“A bonfire!” said the London governess, thinking of illuminations; “what
+can that be for?”
+
+“Oh, it is not _for_ anything,” said Susan; “it is Purday burning weeds.
+Don’t you smell them?  How nice they are!  I was afraid it was only
+Farmer Smith burning couch.”
+
+All the noses were elevated to scent from afar a certain smoky odour,
+usually to be detected in July breezes, and which reminded Miss Fosbrook
+of a brick-field.
+
+“Potatoes!  Potatoes!  We’ll roast some potatoes, and have them for tea!”
+bellowed all the voices; so that Miss Fosbrook could hardly find a space
+for very unwillingly saying,
+
+“But, my dears, I don’t know whether I ought to let you play with fire.”
+
+“Oh, we always do,” roared the children; and Susan added,
+
+“We always roast potatoes when there’s a bonfire.  Mamma always lets us;
+it is only Purday that is cross.”
+
+“Yes, yes; Mamma lets us.”
+
+“Well, if Sam and Susan say it is right, I trust to them,” said Miss
+Fosbrook gladly; “only you must let me come out and see what it is.  I am
+too much of a Londoner to know.”
+
+“Oh yes; and we’ll roast you some potatoes.”
+
+So the uproarious population tumbled upstairs, there to be invested with
+rougher brown-holland garments than those that already concealed the
+sprigged cottons of the girls; and when the five came down again, they
+were so much alike in dress, that it was not easy to tell girls from
+boys.  Susan brought little George down with her, and off the party set.
+Sam and Hal, who had been waiting in the hall, took Miss Fosbrook between
+them, as if they thought it their duty to do the honours of the bonfire,
+and conducted her across the garden, through the kitchen-garden, across
+which lay a long sluggish bar of heavy and very odorous smoke, to a gate
+in a quickset hedge.  Here were some sheds and cart-houses, a fagot pile,
+various logs of timber, a grindstone, and—that towards which all the
+eight children rushed with whoops of ecstasy—a heap of smoking rubbish,
+chiefly dry leaves, and peas and potato haulm, with a large allowance of
+cabbage stumps—all extremely earthy, and looking as if the smouldering
+smoke were a wonder from so mere a heap of dirt.
+
+No matter!  There were all the children round it, some on their knees,
+some jumping; and voices were crying on all sides,
+
+“O jolly, jolly!”  “I’ll get some potatoes!”  “Oh, you must have some
+sticks first, and make some ashes.”  “There’s no flame—not a bit!”  “Get
+out of the way, can’t you?  I’ll make a hot place.”  “We’ll each have our
+own oven, and roast our own potatoes!”  “Don’t, Sam; you’re pushing me
+into the smoke!”
+
+This of course was from Elizabeth; and there followed, “Don’t, Bessie,
+you will tread upon Georgie.—Yes, Georgie, you _shall_ have a place.”
+
+“Sticks, sticks!” shouted Henry; while Sam was on his knees, poking out a
+species of cavern in the fire, where some symptoms of red embers
+appeared, which he diligently puffed with his mouth, feeding it with
+leaves and smaller chips in a very well practised way.  “Sticks, Annie!
+Johnnie!  Davy! get sticks, I say, and we’ll make an oven.”
+
+Annie obeyed; but the two little boys were intent on imitating Sam on
+another side of the fire, and Johnnie uttered a gruff “Get ’em yourself,”
+while David took no notice at all.
+
+Perhaps Hal would have betaken himself to no gentle means if Susan had
+not hastily put in his way a plentiful supply of dead wood, which she had
+been letting little George think he picked up all himself; and there was
+keen excitement, which Christabel could not help sharing, while under
+Sam’s breath the red edges of the half-burnt chip glowed, flushed,
+widened, then went sparkling doubtfully, slowly, to the light bit of
+potato-stalk that he held to it, glowing as he blew—fading, smoking, when
+he took breath.  Try again—puff, puff, puff diligently; the fire
+evidently has a taste for the delicate little shaving that Annie has
+found for it; it seizes on it; another—another; a flame at last.  Hurrah!
+pile on more; not too much.  “Don’t put it out!”  Oh, there! strong
+flame—coming crackling up through those smothering heaps of stick and
+haulm; it won’t be kept down; it rises in the wind; it is a red flaring
+banner.  The children shriek in transports of admiration, little George
+loudest of all, because Susan is holding him tight, lest he should run
+into the brilliant flame.  Miss Fosbrook is rather appalled, but the
+children are all safe on the windward side, and seem used to it; so she
+supposes it is all right, and the flame dies down faster than it rose.
+It is again an innocent smouldering heap, like a volcano after an
+eruption.
+
+“We must not let it blaze again just yet,” said Sam; “keep it down well
+with sticks, to make some nice white ashes for the potatoes.  See, I’ll
+make an oven.”
+
+They were all stooping round this precious hot corner, some kneeling,
+some sitting on the ground, David with hands on his sturdy knees—all
+intent on nursing that creeping red spark, as it smouldered from chip to
+chip, leaving a black trace wherever it went, when through the thick
+smoke, that was like an absolute curtain hiding everything on the farther
+side, came headlong a huge bundle of weeds launched overwhelmingly on the
+fire, and falling on the children’s heads in an absolute shower, knocking
+Johnnie down, but on a soft and innocent side of the fire among the
+cabbage-stumps, and seeming likely to bury Sam, who leant over to shelter
+his precious oven, and puffed away as if nothing was happening, amid the
+various shouts around him, in which “Purday” was the most audible word.
+
+“Ah, so you’ve got at he, after all,” said Purday, leaning on the fork
+with which he had thrown on the weeds.  “Nothing is safe from you.”
+
+“What, you thought you had a new place, Purday, and circumvented us!”
+cried Hal; “but we smelt you out, you old rogue; we weren’t going to be
+baulked of our bonfire.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook here ventured on asking if they were doing mischief; and
+Purday answered with an odd gruff noise, “Mischief enough—ay, to be
+sure—hucking the fire all abroad.  It’s what they’re always after.  I did
+think I’d got it safe out of their way this time.”
+
+“Then,” in rather a frightened voice, for she felt that it would be a
+tremendous trial of her powers, “should I make them come away?”
+
+“Catch her!” muttered Hal.
+
+There was horror and disapprobation on Susan’s face.  Annie stood with
+her mouth open; while John, throwing himself on the ground with fury,
+rolled over, crying out something about, “I won’t,” and “very cross;” and
+David lay flat on his face, puffing at his own particular oven, like a
+little Wind in an old picture.  Sam waited, leaning on the ashen stick
+that served him as a poker.  It was the most audacious thing he had ever
+heard.  Rob them of their bonfire!  Would that old traitor of a Purday
+abet her?
+
+Perhaps Purday was as much astonished as the rest; but, after all, much
+as the children tormented his bonfires, overset his haycocks, and
+disturbed his wood-pile, he did not like anyone to scold them but
+himself, much less the new London Lady; so he made up an odd sort of
+grin, and said, “No, no, Ma’am, it ain’t that they do so much harm; let
+’em bide;” and he proceeded to shake on the rest of his barrowful,
+tumbling the weeds down over David’s cherished oven in utter disregard;
+but the children cried with one voice, “Hurrah! hurrah!  Purday, we don’t
+do any harm, so don’t ever grumble again.  Hurrah!”
+
+“And I don’t care for _her_, the crosspatch,” said Johnnie to Annie,
+never hearing or heeding Miss Fosbrook’s fervent “I am so glad!”
+
+And as long as the foolish boy remembered it, he always did believe that
+Miss Fosbrook was so cross as to want to hinder them from their bonfire,
+only Purday would not let her.
+
+Miss Fosbrook did not trouble herself to be understood; she was relieved
+to have done her duty, and be free to rejoice in and share the pleasure.
+She ran about and collected materials for Sam till she was out of breath,
+and joined in all the excitement as the fire showed symptoms of reviving,
+after being apparently crushed out by Purday.  Sam and Susan, at least,
+believed that she had only spoken to Purday because she thought it right;
+but even for them to forgive interference with their bonfire privileges
+was a great stretch.
+
+At last she thought it time to leave them to their own devices, and seize
+the moment for some quiet reading; but she had not reached the house
+before little steps came after her, and she saw Elizabeth running fast.
+
+“They are so tiresome,” she said.  “Sam won’t let me stand anywhere but
+where the smoke gets into my eyes, and George plagues so!  May I come in
+with you, dear Christabel?”
+
+“You are very welcome,” said Miss Fosbrook, “but I am sorry to hear so
+many complaints.”
+
+“They are so cross to me,” said Bessie; “they always are.”
+
+“You must try to be cheerful and good-humoured with them, and they will
+leave off vexing you.”
+
+“But may I come in?  It will be a nice time for my secret.”
+
+Christabel saw little hope for her intended reading, but she was always
+glad of a space for making Bessie happy, so she kindly consented to the
+bringing out of the little girl’s treasury, and the dismal face grew
+happy and eager.  The subjects of the drawings were all clear in her
+head; that was not the difficulty, but the cardboard, the ribbon, the
+real good paints.  One little slip of card Miss Fosbrook hunted out of
+her portfolio; she cut a pencil of her own, and advised the first attempt
+to be made upon a piece of paper.  The little bird that Bessie produced
+was really not at all bad, and her performance was quite fair enough to
+make it worth while to go on, since Miss Fosbrook well knew that mammas
+are pleased with works of their children, showing more good-will than
+skill.  For why?  Their value is in the love and thought they show.
+
+The little bird was made into a robin with the colours in a paint-box
+that Bessie had long ago bought; but they were so weak and muddy, that
+the result was far from good enough for a present, and it was agreed that
+real paints must be procured as well as ribbon.  Miss Fosbrook offered to
+commission her sisters to buy the Prussian blue, lake, and gamboge in
+London, and send them in a letter.  This was a new idea to Bessie, and
+she was only not quite decided between the certainty that London paints
+must be better than country ones, and the desire of the walk to Bonchamp
+to buy some; but the thought that the ribbon, after all, might be
+procured there, satisfied her.  The little doleful maid was changed into
+an eager, happy, chattering child, full of intelligence and contrivance,
+and showing many pretty fancies, since there was no one to tease her and
+laugh at her; and her governess listened kindly and helpfully.
+
+Miss Fosbrook could not help thinking how much happier her little
+companion would have been as an only child, or with one sister, and
+parents who would have made the most of her love of taste and refinement,
+instead of the hearty busy parents, and the rude brothers and sisters,
+who held her cheap for being unlike themselves.  But then she bethought
+her, that perhaps Bessie might have grown up vain and affected, had all
+these tastes been petted and fostered, and that perhaps her little
+hardships might make her the stronger, steadier, more useful woman,
+instead of living in fancies.  It was the unkindness on one side, and the
+temper on the other, that made Miss Fosbrook uneasy.
+
+The work had gone on happily for nearly an hour, and Bessie was copying a
+forget-me-not off a little painted card-board pincushion of her own, when
+steps were heard, little trotting steps, and Susan came in with little
+George.  He had been pushed down by Johnnie, and was rather in a fretful
+mood; and Susan had left all her happy play to bring him in to rest and
+comfort him, coming to the school-room because Nurse Freeman was out.
+Before Elizabeth had time to hide away her doings, George had seen the
+bright pincushion, and was holding out his hands for it.  Bessie hastily
+pocketed it.  George burst out crying; and Susan, without more ado, threw
+herself on her sister, and, pinioning Bessie’s slight arm by the greater
+strength of her firm one, was diving into her pocket in spite of her
+struggles.
+
+“Susan, leave off,” said Miss Fosbrook; “let your sister alone.  She has
+a right to do what she likes with her own.”
+
+“It is so cross in her,” said Susan, obeying however, but only to snatch
+up little George, and hug and kiss him.  “Poor dear little man! is Betty
+cross to him?  There! there! come with Sue, and _she’ll_ get him
+something pretty.”
+
+“Susie, Susie, indeed it’s only that I don’t want him to spoil it,” said
+Elizabeth, distressed.
+
+“A foolish thing like that!  Why, the only use of it is to please the
+children; but you are just such a baby as he is,” said Susan, still
+pitying George.
+
+“You had better put your things away, Bessie,” said Miss Fosbrook,
+interfering to stop the dispute; and as soon as Elizabeth was gone, and
+George a little pacified by an ivory ribbon-measure out of Miss
+Fosbrook’s work-box, she observed to Susan, “My dear, you must not let
+your love for the little ones make you unjust and unkind to Bessie.”
+
+“She always is so unkind to them,” said Susan resentfully.
+
+“I don’t think she feels unkindly; but if you tyrannize over her, and
+force her to give way to them, you cannot expect her to like it.”
+
+“Mamma says the elder must give way to the younger,” said Susan.
+
+“You did not try whether she would give way.”
+
+“No, because I knew she wouldn’t; and I could not have my little Georgie
+vexed.”
+
+“And I could not see my little Susie violent and unjust,” said Miss
+Fosbrook cheerfully.  “Justice first, Susan; you had no right to rob
+Bessie for George, any more than I should have to give away a dinner of
+your papa’s because he had refused a beggar.”
+
+“Papa never would,” said Susan, rather going off from the point.
+
+“Very likely; but do you understand me, Susan?  I will not have Bessie
+_forced_ out of her rights for the little ones.  Not Bessie only, but
+nobody is to be tyrannized over; it is not right.”
+
+“Bessie is so nonsensical,” was all Susan said, looking glum.
+
+“Very likely she may seem so to you; but if you knew more, you would see
+that all is not nonsense that seems so to you.  Some people would admire
+her ways.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said Susan.  “Mrs. Greville told Mrs. Brownlow that Bessie
+was the only one among us that was capable of civilisation; but Mrs.
+Greville is a fine lady, and we always laugh at her.”
+
+“And now,” as Bessie returned, “you want to go out to your play again, my
+dear.  Will you leave Georgie with us?”
+
+Susan was a little doubtful about trusting her darling with anyone,
+especially one who could take Bessie’s part against him; but she wished
+exceedingly to be present at the interesting moment of seeing whether the
+potatoes were done enough, and George was perfectly contented with
+measuring everything on the ribbon, so she ran quickly off, without the
+manners to thank Miss Fosbrook, but to assure the rest of the party that
+the governess really was very good-natured, and that she would save her
+biggest and best potato for Miss Fosbrook’s tea.
+
+Christabel managed very happily with little George, though not quite
+without offending Elizabeth, who thought it very hard to be desired to
+put away her painting instead of tantalizing her little brother with the
+sight of what he must not have.  Miss Fosbrook could not draw her into
+the merry game with little George, which made his shouts of glee ring out
+through the house, and meet Nurse Freeman’s ear as she came in-doors with
+the baby, and calling at the school-room door, summoned him off to his
+tea, as if she were in a pet with Miss Fosbrook for daring to meddle with
+one of _her_ own nursery children.
+
+Nothing more was heard of the others, and Christabel and Elizabeth both
+read in peace till the tea-bell rang, and they went down and waited and
+waited, till Miss Fosbrook accepted Bessie’s offer of going out to call
+the rest.  But Bessie returned no more than the rest; and the governess
+set forth herself, but had not made many steps before the voices of the
+rabble rout were heard, and they all were dancing and clattering about
+her, while Susan and Hal each carried aloft a plate containing articles
+once brown, now black, and thickly powdered with white ashes, as were the
+children themselves up to their very hair.
+
+As a slight concession to grown-up people’s prejudices, they did, at the
+risk of their dear potatoes getting cold, scamper up to perform a species
+of toilette, and then sat down round the tea-table, Susie, David, and Sam
+each vociferous that Miss Fosbrook should eat “my potato that I did on
+purpose for her.”  Poor Miss Fosbrook! she would nearly as soon have
+eaten the bonfire itself as those cinder-coated things, tough as leather
+outside, and within like solid smoke.  Indeed the children, who had been
+bathing in smoke all day, had brought in the air of it with them; but
+their tongues ran fast on their adventures, and their taste had no doubt
+that their own bonfire potatoes were the most perfect cookery in art!
+Miss Fosbrook picked out the most eatable bits of each of the three, and
+managed to satisfy the three cooks, all zealous for their own.  Other
+people’s potatoes might be smoky, but each one’s own was delicious—“quite
+worthy of the pig when he was bought,” thought Miss Fosbrook; but she
+made her real pleasure at the kind feeling to cover her dislike of the
+black potatoes, and thus pleased the children without being untrue.
+
+“Line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little, and there a
+little.”  That is the way habits are formed and characters made; not all
+at once.  So there had been an opportunity for Susan to grow confirmed in
+her kindness and unselfishness, as well as to learn that tyranny is
+wrong, even on behalf of the weak; and Bessie, if she would take home the
+lesson, had received one in readiness to be cheerful, and to turn from
+her own pursuits to oblige others.  Something had been attempted toward
+breaking her habit of being fretful, and thinking herself injured.  It
+remained to be seen whether the many little things that were yet to
+happen to the two girls would be so used as to strengthen their good
+habits or their bad ones.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+IT is not worth while to go on describing every day at Stokesley, since
+lessons were far too much alike; and play-times, though varied enough for
+the house of Merrifield, might be less entertaining to the readers.
+
+Enough to say, that by Saturday afternoon John had not only forfeited his
+last farthing, but was charged with another into next week, for the poor
+pleasure of leaving his hat on the school-room floor because Elizabeth
+had told him of it.  At about four o’clock it set in for rain, catching
+the party at some distance from home, so that, though they made good
+speed, the dust turned into mud, and clung fast to their shoes.
+
+David, never the best runner, was only in time to catch Johnnie by the
+skirt upon the third step of the staircase, crying out, “The pig!” but
+Johnnie, tired of the subject, and in a provoking mood, twitched away his
+pinafore, crying, “Bother the pig!” and rushed up after the four who had
+preceded him, leaving such lumps of dirt on the edge of every step, that
+when Miss Fosbrook came after with Elizabeth she could not but declare
+that a shower was a costly article.
+
+“You see,” observed Susan, “when it’s such fine weather it puts one’s
+feet out of one’s head.”
+
+While Sam, Henry, and Bessie were laughing at Susan for this speech,
+little George trotted in, crying out, “Halty man come, Halty man come;
+Georgie want sweetie!”
+
+“The Gibraltar man!” cried John and Annie with one voice, and they were
+at the bottom of the stairs with a bound.
+
+“Oh, send him away, send him away.  They’ll spend all their money, and
+there will be none left!” was David’s cry; while George kept dragging his
+eldest sister’s frock, with entreaties of “Susie, Susie, come.”
+
+“They call him the Gibraltar man, because he sells Gibraltar rock, and
+gingerbread, and all those things,” said Henry in explanation.  “We have
+always dealt with him; and he is very deserving; and his wife makes it
+all—at least I know she makes ginger-beer—so we must encourage him.”
+
+So Henry hastened downstairs to encourage the Gibraltar man; and Susan,
+saying soothingly, “Yes, yes, Georgie;—never mind Davie, we’ll make up
+for it; I can’t vex him,” had taken the little fellow in her arms and
+followed.
+
+“Pigs enough here, without sending to the fair,” muttered Sam.
+
+“Please, Sam, please, Miss Fosbrook, send the Gibraltar man away, and
+don’t let him come,” cried David quite passionately.  “Nasty man! he will
+come every Saturday, and they’ll always spend all their money.”
+
+“But, my friend,” said Miss Fosbrook good-humouredly, “suppose we have no
+right to banish the Gibraltar man?”
+
+“_I_ don’t wan’t him,” said Bessie; “it makes my fingers sticky.”
+
+“You’re no good,” said David vehemently.  “I don’t like you, and I hate
+the Gibraltar man, taking away all our money from poor Hannah.”
+
+“Gently, gently, Davie; nobody makes you spend your money; and perhaps
+the poor man has children of his own who want food as much as Hannah’s
+do.”
+
+“Then can’t they eat the Gibraltar rock and bulls’ eyes?”
+
+Sam suggested that this diet would make them sick; to which poor little
+earnest David answered, that when once the pig was bought, he would give
+all his money for a whole month to the Gibraltar man, if he would not
+come for the next four weeks.
+
+And Christabel thought of what she had once read, that people would often
+gladly put away from their children friends the very trials that are sent
+by Heaven to prove and strengthen their will and power of resisting
+self-indulgence.  Before she had quite thought it out, the quick steps
+were back again, and Sam greeted the entrance of John thus: “Well, if
+that isn’t a shame!  Have you been and done Sukey out of all that, Jack?”
+
+“It was only three bulls’ eyes,” said Susan, following.  “You know he had
+nothing of his own, and it was so hard, and Annie gave him some.”
+
+“And Nurse some,” added Hal.  “Trust Jackie for taking care of himself.”
+Well he might say so, considering how full were John’s mouth, hands, and
+pockets.
+
+“And Davie has had nothing!” said kind Susan.  “Here, Davie!” holding out
+to him an amber-like piece of barley-sugar.
+
+“I don’t want your stuff,” said David roughly.  “You’ve spent all away
+from the pig.”
+
+“No, Davie, indeed, only twopence,” said Susan; “pray have a bit.”
+
+“You might at least say thank you,” said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+But how difficult is that middle road which is the only right one!
+David, being too much set on one single purpose, good though it was,
+could see nothing else.  It was right and generous to abstain from sweets
+with this end in view; but it was wrong to be rude and unthankful to the
+sister who meant all so kindly, and was the most unselfish of all.  She
+turned round to Elizabeth with the kind offer of the dainty she had not
+even tasted herself, but was not more graciously treated.
+
+“How can you, Susie? it is all pulled about with your fingers.”
+
+This was a matter on which the Misses and Masters Merrifield were not
+wont to be particular; and with one of the teasing laughs that Bessie
+hated, Sam exclaimed as Susan turned to him, “Yes, thank you, Sukey, _I_
+don’t mind finger sauce,” but not before John was stretching out a hand
+glazed with sugar, and calling out, “Oh, give it to me!” and as it
+disappeared in his brother’s mouth, he burst out angrily, “How cross,
+Sam!  You did that on purpose!”
+
+“Yes,” said Sam, “I did; for though pigs on four legs are all very well,
+I don’t like pigs on two.”
+
+“Here, Jackie, never mind,” said Susan, seeing him about to begin to cry,
+and offering him her last sugar-plum.
+
+“I don’t want sugar-plums, I want barley-sugar,” said John devouring it
+nevertheless.
+
+“I haven’t one bit more,” said Susan regretfully.
+
+“Have you had any yourself, Susan?” asked Sam.
+
+“No; but I didn’t want any.”
+
+“Oh then, here Susie, I always keep a reserve,” said Henry.  “No, no, not
+you, Jack; I don’t feed little pigs, whatever Susie does.”
+
+And in spite of Susan, both the elder brothers set on John, teasing him
+about his greediness, till he burst out crying, and ran away to the
+nursery.  Miss Fosbrook hated the teasing, but she thought it served John
+so rightly, that she would not save him from it; and she only interfered
+to remind the others that their fingers would bring them in for fines
+unless they were washed before tea.
+
+“And how much have you spent?” reproachfully asked that rigid young
+judge, David; but all the answer he got was a pull by the hair from Hal,
+and “Hollo, young one! am I to give my accounts to you?”
+
+David gravely put up his hand and smoothed his ruffled locks, repeating,
+in his manful way, “I want to know what you have left for the pig?”
+
+Whereupon Hal laid hold of him, pulled him off the locker, and rolled him
+about on the floor like a puppy dog, crying, “I’ll tell you what, if you
+make such a work about it, I’ll spend all my allowance, and not subscribe
+at all.”
+
+“Sam!” cried the tormented David, and “Sam!” cried the governess, really
+afraid the little boy would be hurt; but Sam only stood laughing with his
+back to the shutter, and Christabel herself hurried to the rescue, to
+pick Henry off his victim, holding an arm tight, while the child got up,
+and ran away to get his hair re-brushed for tea.
+
+“Now, Hal, you might have hurt him,” argued the governess.
+
+“Very good thing for him too,” said the brothers with one voice.
+
+She was very much shocked; but when she thought it over she perceived
+that though Hal might be to blame, yet in the long run even this rough
+discipline might be more useful to her dear little David than being
+allowed to take upon him with his elder brothers, and grow conceited and
+interfering.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was not surprised when, next morning, a frightful bellowing
+was heard instead of Johnnie being seen, and she learnt that Master John
+was in the hands of Nurse Freeman, who was administering to him a dose in
+consequence of his having been greatly indisposed all night.  It must be
+confessed that Christabel was not very sorry to hear it, nor that Nurse
+would keep him to herself all day; for bad company as Johnnie had been on
+the week-days, he had been worse on the Sunday.
+
+And when John came out on Monday, he looked like a different boy; he had
+lost his fractious, rebellious look; he spoke as civilly as could be
+expected of a small Merrifield, and showed no signs of being set against
+his lessons.  To be sure it was a bad way of spending a Sunday, to be
+laid up with ailments brought on by over-eating; but even this was better
+than spending it, like the former one, in wilful misbehaviour; and John,
+who knew that Papa, Mamma, brothers, and sisters all alike detested and
+despised real greediness, had been heartily ashamed of himself, both for
+this and his forfeits.  A new week was a new starting-point, and he meant
+to spend this one well.  For indeed it is one of the blessings of our
+lives that we have so many stages—days, weeks, years, and the like—from
+each of which we may make fresh starts, feel old things left behind, and
+go on to lead a new life.
+
+Besides, Johnnie was quite well now; and perhaps no child, so well
+brought up, could have been so constantly naughty the whole week without
+some degree of ailment, suspected neither by himself nor others.  For
+this is one of our real troubles, when either young or old, that
+sometimes there is a feeling of discomfort and vexation about us that,
+without knowing why, makes everything go amiss, causes everybody else to
+appear cross, and all tasks, all orders, all misadventures, to become
+great grievances.  Grown-up people feel this as well as children; but
+they have gone through it often enough to know what is the matter, and
+they have, or ought to have, more self-command.  But children have yet to
+learn by experience that the outer things are not harder and more
+untoward, so much as that they themselves are out of sorts.  This is poor
+comfort; and certainly it is dangerous to say to ourselves that being
+poorly is any excuse for letting ourselves be cross, or for not doing our
+best.  If Mrs. Merrifield had thought so, what miserable lives her
+husband and children would have led!  No, the way to use the certain fact
+that the state of our bodies affects our tempers and spirits, is to say
+to ourselves, “Well, if this person or this thing do seem disagreeable,
+or if this work, or even this little bit of obedience, be very tiresome,
+perhaps it may really be only a fancy of mine, and if I go to it with a
+good will, I may work off the notion;” or, “Perhaps I am cross to-day,
+let me take good care how I answer.”  And a little prayer in our hearts
+will be the best help of all.  Self-command and goodness will not come by
+nature as we grow up, but we must work for them in childhood.
+
+When the Monday allowances were brought out, and the pig’s chance
+inquired into, David alone produced his whole sum, untouched by
+forfeiture or waste, and dropped it into “Toby Fillpot.”  Elizabeth had
+her entire sixpence; but a penny had been spent on a letter to Mamma, and
+she gave but one to the fund, in spite of the black looks she met from
+David.  Sam had lost a farthing by the shower, and had likewise bought a
+queen’s head, to write to his father.  The rest, fourpence-three
+farthings, he paid over.  Poor Johnnie! his last week’s naughtiness had
+exceeded his power of paying fines, and a halfpenny was subtracted from
+this week’s threepence; while the Gibraltar man had consumed all that
+fines had spared to little Annie, had left Susan only threepence, and
+Henry but twopence-halfpenny.  This, with twopence that Miss Fosbrook had
+found in her travelling-bag, made one shilling and fourpence-farthing—a
+very poor collection for one week.  David was quite melancholy.
+
+“Never mind,” said Henry; “Mr. Carey’s brother, the Colonel, is coming to
+stay here the last week in July, and he gives us boys half-a-sovereign
+each, so that we might buy a stunning pig all ourselves twice over.”
+
+“Always?  He never did so but once,” said Sam.
+
+“That was the only time he saw us, though,” said Hal; “and we were quite
+little boys then.  I’ll tell you what, Sam, he’ll give us each a
+sovereign this time, and then I’ll buy a bow and arrows.”
+
+“Stuff!” said Sam.  “I hope he won’t.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I hate it!  I hate saying thank you; I shall get out of the way, if I
+can.”
+
+“Sam has no manners!” said Hal, turning round to Miss Fosbrook.  “To
+think that he had rather go without a sovereign or two than say thank
+you!”
+
+“_I’m_ too much of a gentleman to lay myself out for presents!” retorted
+Samuel; and the two boys fell on each other, buffeting one another, all
+in good part on Sam’s side, though there was some temper and annoyance on
+Henry’s.
+
+When Sam was out of hearing, Hal discoursed very grandly on the sovereign
+he intended Colonel Carey to give him, and the prodigious things he meant
+to do with it.  A gentleman once gave Osmond Greville two sovereigns; why
+should not Colonel Carey be equally liberal?  And to hear the boy, those
+two sovereigns would buy everything in the world, from the pig to a
+double-barrelled gun.  David began to grow hurt, and to fear the Toby
+fund would be lost in this magnificence; but Hal assured him that it
+would be a help, and they should all have a share in the pig, promising
+presents to everybody, which Susan and Annie expected with the more
+certainty that Sam was never present to laugh down these fine projects.
+
+Indeed Miss Fosbrook had laughed at them once or twice, and observed that
+she thought money earned or spared a better thing than money given; and
+this caused Hal to cease to try to dazzle her, though he could not give
+up the pleasure of regaling his sisters in private with the wonders to be
+done with Colonel Carey’s possible sovereigns.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+THE second week was prosperous: the treasury made progress; and
+Christabel began to feel as if her pupils were not beyond her management,
+as at first she had feared.  Collectively they were less uncouth and
+bearish, not so noisy at their meals, nor so needlessly rude to one
+another; and the habit of teasing Elizabeth whenever there was nothing
+else to do was greatly lessened.  Indeed Sam did not plague her himself,
+nor let his brothers do so, unless she tempted him by some very foolish
+whine or bit of finery; and in such eases a little friendly merriment is
+a sound cure, very unlike the hateful fault of tormenting for
+tormenting’s sake.
+
+Nor did Elizabeth give nearly so much cause for their rough laughter,
+since Miss Fosbrook had given wholesome food to her tastes and likings,
+partly satisfying the longing for variety, beauty, or interest which had
+made her discontented and restless.  Her head was full of _her_ secret,
+and her pretty plans for her gift.  Such lovely drawings she saw in her
+mind’s eye, such fairies, such delightful ships, kittens, babies in the
+cradle!  But when the pencil was in her hand, the lines went all ways but
+the right; her fairy was a grimy little object, whose second wing could
+never be put on; the ships were saucers; the kitten might have been the
+pig; the baby was an owl in an ivy-bush; and to look at the live baby in
+the cradle only puzzled her the more.  Miss Fosbrook gave her real
+drawing lessons; but boxes, palings, and tumble-down sheds, done with a
+broad black pencil, did not seem to help her to what she wished.  Yet
+sometimes her fingers produced what surprised and pleased herself and
+Christabel; and she never was happier than when safely shut into Miss
+Fosbrook’s bed-room with her card and her paints.  She used to bolt
+herself in, with a little parade of mystery that made Annie exceedingly
+curious, though the others generally let it alone as “Betty’s fancy.”
+
+Christabel wanted to learn botany for her own pleasure.  She found a book
+which Susan and Bessie pronounced to be horridly stupid (indeed Annie
+called it nasty, and was reproved for using such a word), but when the
+information in it was minced up small, and brought out in a new form,
+Bessie enjoyed it extremely.  The whole party were delighted to gather
+flowers for Miss Fosbrook—the wetter or the steeper places they grew in
+the better; but the boys thought it girlish to know the names; and Susan,
+though liking gardening, did not in the least care for the inside of a
+flower.  Elizabeth, however, was charmed at the loveliness that was
+pointed out to her; and even Annie, when the boys were not at hand,
+thought it very entertaining to look at petals, stamens, and pistils, and
+to see that a daisy is made up of a host of tiny flowers.  Both little
+sisters were having their eyes opened to see some of the wonder and some
+of the glory of this earth of ours.  It made Bessie much less often tired
+of everything and everybody; though after all there is but one spirit
+that is certain never to be weary or dissatisfied, and into that she had
+yet to grow.
+
+Fines were much less frequent: there were no foolish tears; only one
+lesson of John’s turned back, two of Annie’s, one of Susan’s; some
+unbrushed hair of Susan’s too—an unlucky mention of the raven by Annie in
+lesson-time—and some books left about by Sam.  Henry’s fines were the
+serious ones: he had two for incorrect sums, one for elbows on the table,
+three for talking, one for not putting his things away; and besides, he
+_could not_ go without a pennyworth of string; and the Grevilles would
+have laughed at him if he had not bought some more marbles.
+
+But what did that signify when Colonel Carey was coming? and a sovereign
+would buy a pig three times over—at least, if it was quite a little one.
+Christabel wished the hope of that sovereign had never occurred to him,
+for he seemed to think it quite set him free from the little
+self-restraints by which the others were earning the pleasure of making
+the gift; and though he still talked the most about the pig, he denied
+himself the least for it.
+
+One evening the boys came in with a great piece of news.  Their tutor had
+read in the paper that Admiral Penrose was appointed to the _Ramilies_,
+to take command in the Mediterranean.  He was a great friend of their
+father, and, said the boys, was most likely to make him his flag-captain.
+
+“And me a naval cadet!” said Hal.  “He said he would, when he was here!”
+
+“One of you, he said,” put in Susan.
+
+“I know it will be me!” said Hal.  “He looked at the rigging of my
+frigate, and said I knew all the ropes quite well; and he told Papa he
+might be proud of such a son!”
+
+“Oh! oh!” groaned the aggrieved multitude.
+
+“Well—such a family; but he was looking at me; and I know he will give me
+the appointment; and I shall sail in his ship—you’ll see.  And when I get
+to the Mediterranean, I’ll tell you what I’ll do—I shall kill a shark all
+my own self!”
+
+“A shark in the Mediterranean!”
+
+“Well, why shouldn’t they get in by the Straits of Magellan?  Oh! is that
+the other place?  Well, never mind—I’ll shoot the shark.”
+
+“Stuff, Hal!” said Sam rather gruffly.
+
+Hal went off on another tack.  “Well, at least he has set me down by this
+time; and Papa will have me up to London for my outfit.”
+
+“I hope you will have leave, and come and see us,” said Annie.
+
+“I’ll try; but, you see, I shall be an officer on duty, and I dare say
+Admiral Penrose will hardly be able to spare me; but I’ll send you all
+presents out of my pay.”
+
+“You’ll spend all your pay on yourself,” said David.
+
+“Out of my prize-money then.”
+
+“You can’t get prize-money without a war,” said Elizabeth.
+
+“Oh! don’t let there be a war!” cried Susan.
+
+“Yes, but there is!” said Harry in a tremendous tone; and as Miss
+Fosbrook held up her hands, “at least there was one in the Black Sea; and
+I know there was a battle in the newspaper—at least, Mr. Carey read about
+Palermo.”
+
+“I don’t think Garibaldi in Sicily will put much prize-money into your
+pocket, Hal,” said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Oh! but there’s sure to be a war! and I shall get promoted, and be a man
+before any of you.  I shall go about, and see condors, and lions, and
+elephants, and wear a sword—at least, a dirk—while you are learning Latin
+and Greek at Uncle John’s!”
+
+“Don’t make such a noise about it!” said Sam crossly.
+
+“I don’t know why you should be the one to go,” said Elizabeth.  “Sam is
+the eldest.”
+
+“Yes; but Sam is such a slow-coach.  Papa said I was the only one fit to
+make a sailor of—at least, he said I was smart, and—Hollo!  Sam, I won’t
+have you kicking my legs!”
+
+“Don’t keep up such a row then!” growled Sam; but Hal was in too full
+swing to be reached by slight measures.  He pushed his chair back, tucked
+up his feet like a tailor’s, out of reach, and went on: “Then I shall
+come home in my cocked hat, like Papa’s—at least, my cap—and come and ask
+for a holiday for you all at Uncle John’s.”
+
+Uncle John was an under-master at one of the great public schools, and
+the children were all a good deal in awe of him.
+
+“Uncle John won’t give one for _you_!” said Sam.
+
+“Come, boys, I can’t have this bickering,” said Miss Fosbrook.  “I can’t
+see you trying which can be most provoking.  Stand up.  Now, David, say
+grace.  There, Annie, finish that bit of bread out of doors.  Go out, and
+let us have no more of this.”
+
+She spoke now with much less fear of not being minded; and having seen
+one of the quarrelsome parties safe out of the school-room, she went to
+fetch from her own room a glove that wanted mending; and on her return
+found Sam alone there, curled up over his lesson-books on the locker,
+looking so gloomy, that she was afraid she had made him sulky, for which
+she would have been very sorry, since she had a respect for him.
+
+“What is the matter?” she asked; and his “Nothing” did not at all assure
+her that he was in a right mood.  She doubted whether to leave him alone;
+but presently thought he looked more unhappy than ill-tempered, and
+ventured to speak.  “Have you a hard piece to learn?  Perhaps I could
+help you.”
+
+He let her come and look at his book; but, to her surprise, he had before
+him a very easy problem in Euclid.
+
+“Indeed, if you only gave your mind to this,” she said, “you would soon
+make it out.”
+
+“Stupid stuff!” exclaimed Sam.  “It is all along of that, and the rest of
+it, that I have got to be a land-lubber!” and he threw the book to the
+other end of the room.
+
+“Have you no chance?” said Miss Fosbrook, without taking notice of this
+rudeness, for she saw that the boy could hardly contain himself.
+
+“No!  The Admiral did take notice of Hal; and one day when I was slow at
+a proposition, my father said I was too block-headed to beat navigation
+into, and that Hal is a smart fellow, worth two of me.  I know he is!  I
+know that; only if he would not make such an intolerable crowing—”
+
+“Then you wish it very much?”
+
+“Wish it!  Of course I do.  Why, my father is a sailor; and I remember
+the _Fury_, and I saw the _Calliope_—his ship that he had in the war
+time.  Before I was as big as little George I always thought I should be
+a sailor.  And now if Papa goes out with Admiral Penrose, and Hal too—oh!
+it will be so horrid home!”
+
+“But can’t you both go?”
+
+“No; my father said he couldn’t ask to have two of us put down, unless
+perhaps some younger one had a chance by and by.  And Hal is the
+sharpest, and does everything better than I can when he has a mind.  My
+father says, among so many all can’t choose; and if this place is to be
+mine, Hal may want to be in the navy more than I.  Yes, it is all right,
+and Hal must go.  But—but—when my father is gone—” and Sam fairly burst
+out crying.  “I didn’t hardly know how different it is with him away till
+this month.  I was such a little fellow when he went to the Black Sea;
+but now—never mind, though!” and he stamped his foot on the floor.  “Papa
+said it, and it must be.  Don’t tell the others, Miss Fosbrook;” and he
+resolutely went and picked up his Euclid, and began finding the place.
+
+“You will do your duty like a man, wherever you are, Sam,” said
+Christabel heartily.
+
+Sam looked as if he had rather that she had not said it, but it was
+comfortable to him for all that; and though she kept further compliments
+to herself, she could not but think that there was no fear but that he
+would be a man, in the best sense of the word, before Hal, when she saw
+him so manfully put his sore grievance out of his head, and turn to the
+present business of conquering his lesson.  Nor did she hear another word
+from him about his disappointment.
+
+It made her dislike Henry’s boasts more than ever; and she used to cut
+them short as fast as she could, till the young chatterer decided that
+she was “cross,” and reserved all his wonderful “at leasts” for his
+sisters, and his proofs of manliness for the Grevilles.
+
+The Gibraltar man did not come on Saturday; and Miss Fosbrook had been
+the saving of several stamps by sending some queer little letters in her
+own to Mrs. Merrifield, so that on Monday morning the hoard was increased
+to seven-and-sixpence; although between fines and “_couldn’t helps_,”
+Henry’s sixpence had melted down to a halfpenny, which “was not worth
+while.”
+
+On this day arrived a servant from the Park, bringing a delicate little
+lilac envelope, stamped with a tiny rose, and directed to Miss
+Merrifield.  There was another rose on the top of the lilac paper; and
+the writing was in a very neat hand.
+
+    My dear Susan,
+
+    Mamma desires me to say that she hopes you and Bessie and Annie will
+    come to dine early to-morrow, and play with me, and that Miss Fosbury
+    will come with you.  She hopes your Mamma is better, and would be
+    glad to have her address in London.
+
+                                                    I am your affectionate
+                                                    IDA ARABELLA GREVILLE.
+
+“Oh!  Miss Fosbrook, may we go?” cried the girls with sparkling eyes.
+
+Mrs. Merrifield had written that one or two such invitations might be
+accepted, but she had rather it did not happen too often, as visits at
+the Park were unsettling to some of the children.  So as this was the
+first, Christabel gladly consented, rather curious and rather shy on her
+own account.
+
+Elizabeth begged for the rose, to copy it, and as there were no little
+ones present to seize it, she was allowed to have it; while Susan groaned
+and sighed over the misfortune of having to write a “horrible note” just
+at play-time; and the boys treated it as a sort of insult to the whole
+family that Ida should have mistaken their governess’s name.
+
+“Tell her you won’t go till she has it right,” said Sam; at which Annie
+made a vehement outcry of “No, no!” such as made them all laugh at her
+thinking him in earnest.
+
+Susan’s note began—
+
+    My dear Ida,
+
+    We shuold—
+
+But then perceiving that something was the matter with her word, Susan
+sat and looked at it, till at last, perceiving that her _u_ and _o_ had
+changed places, she tried putting a top to the _u_, and made it like an
+_a_; while the filling up the _o_ made it become a blot, such as caught
+Bessie’s eye.
+
+“O Susie, you won’t send such a thing as that up to Ida?”
+
+“No—that _would_ be a ‘horrible note,’” said her governess; and she ruled
+the lines again.
+
+“Dear me,” said Susan impatiently; “can’t one send a message up by the
+man that we’ll all come, without this fuss?”
+
+But Miss Fosbrook said that would be very uncivil; and Susan, groaning,
+stretched every finger till the lines were finished, and began again, in
+her scraggy round-hand—getting safely through the “should,” and also
+through “like to come very much;” but when Miss Fosbrook looked up next,
+she saw that the rest of the note consisted of—
+
+    Mamma is at Grandmamma’s, No. 12,—St., Grovensor Place.
+
+                                                    I am your affectionate
+                                                       SUSANNA MERRIFIELD.
+
+“My dear, I am very sorry.”
+
+“What! won’t that do?” sighed Susan, beginning to get into despair.
+
+Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word “Grovensor.”
+
+“Oh dear! oh dear!  I thought I had got that tiresome word this time.
+Why can’t it put its _ss_ and _ns_ into their proper sensible places?”
+cried poor Susan, to whom it was a terrible enemy.  She used to try them
+in different places all the way round, in hopes that one might at last be
+right.
+
+“Can’t you remember what I told you, that the first Grosvenor was the
+grand huntsman?  _Grosveneur_ in French; that would show you where to put
+the _s—gros_, great.”
+
+But Susan never wished to remember anything French; and Sam observed that
+“the man deserved to be spelt wrong if he called himself by a French
+name.  Why couldn’t he be content to be Mr. Grandhunter?”
+
+“But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs. Greville will be
+shocked,” said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Please can’t you scratch it out?” said the disconsolate Susan.
+
+“_I_ should not like to send a note with a scratch in it.  Besides, yours
+is hardly civil.”
+
+“No, indeed,” said Elizabeth; “don’t you know how people answer
+invitations, Susie?  I’ll tell you.  ‘Miss Susanna, and Miss Elizabeth,
+and Miss Annie Merrifield will be very happy to do the honour of dining
+with —’ Sam, why do you laugh at me always?”
+
+“Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by dining with her.”
+
+“People always do honour when they dine,” said Elizabeth.  “I know they
+do.”
+
+“They profess to receive the honour, not confer it, Bessie,” said Miss
+Fosbrook, laughing; “but I don’t think that is the model for Susie’s
+note.  It would be as much too formal as hers was too blunt.”
+
+“Must I do it again?” said Susan.  “I had rather not go, if it is to be
+such a plague.”
+
+“Indeed, I fear you must, Susie.  It is quite needful to learn how to
+write a respectable note; really a more difficult thing than writing a
+long letter.  I am sorry for you; but if you were not so careless in your
+letters to Mamma this would come more easily to you.”
+
+But this time Miss Fosbrook not only ruled another sheet, but wrote, in
+fair large-hand on a slate, the words, that Susan might copy them without
+fresh troubles:
+
+    We are much obliged to your Mamma for her kind invitation, and shall
+    have much pleasure in coming with Miss Fosbrook to dine with you and
+    spend the day.  I am sorry to say that Mamma was not quite so well
+    when last we heard.  Her address is—No. 12,—St., Grosvenor-place.
+
+Susan thought that here were a very serious number of words, and begged
+hard for leave to leave out her sorrow.  Of course she was sorry, but
+what was the use of telling Ida so?
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought it looked better, but Susan might do as she
+pleased.
+
+“I wouldn’t say it, then,” said Sam.  “I wouldn’t say it only to look
+better to Ida.”  With which words he and Hal walked off to the garden.
+
+Would it be believed?  Susan, in her delight at being near the end,
+forgot the grand huntsman, and made the unlucky Place “Grovesnor,” and
+then, in her haste to mend it, put her finger into the wet ink, and
+smeared not only that word, but all the line above!
+
+It was a shame and a wonder that a girl of her age should be so incapable
+of producing a creditable note; and Miss Fosbrook was very near scolding
+her but she had pity on the tearful eyes and weary fingers, and spoke
+cheerfully: “There, that was almost the thing.  One more trial, Susan,
+and you need never be afraid of Ida’s notes again.”
+
+If Susan could not write notes, at least she was not cross; and it would
+be well if many who could send off a much better performance with far
+less difficulty could go to work as patiently as she did, without one
+pettish word to Miss Fosbrook, though that lady seemed to poor Susie as
+hard a task mistress as if she could have helped it.  This time Miss
+Fosbrook authorized the leaving out of the spending the day, and
+suggested that S. would be enough without the whole Susanna, and she
+mercifully directed the cover to Miss Greville.
+
+“There, my dear, you have worked hard for your pleasure,” she said, as
+Susan extended each hand to its broadest stretch to uncramp them, and
+stretched herself backwards as if she wanted to double her head down to
+her heels.  “I shall give you a good mark, Susie, as if it had been a
+lesson.”
+
+Susan deserved it, for her patient perseverance had been all out of
+obedience, not in the mere desire of having her note admired.  Indeed,
+good child, at the best it was a very poor affair for a girl of twelve,
+and Miss Fosbrook was ashamed of it when she looked at Ida’s lady-like
+little billet.
+
+“But I wonder,” said she to herself, “whether I shall feel as if I would
+change my dear stupid Susan for Miss Ida?”
+
+Meanwhile Susan flew screaming and leaping out into the garden in a mad
+tom-boy fashion; but that could well be pardoned, as there were only her
+sisters to see her; and the pleasure of having persevered and done her
+best was enough to make her heart and her limbs dance for merriment.
+
+Depend upon it, however wretched and miserable hard application to what
+we do not like may seem at the moment, it is the only way to make
+play-times really delicious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+MISS FOSBROOK soon knew what Mrs. Merrifield meant by saying that visits
+at the Park unsettled the children.  Susan indeed, though liking anything
+that shortened lessons by an hour, and made a change, was not so fond of
+being on her good behaviour at the Park as to be greatly exalted at the
+prospect; but Elizabeth and Annie were changed beings.  They were
+constantly breaking out with some new variety of wonder.  They wondered
+whether they should dine in the school-room, or at Mrs. Greville’s
+luncheon; they wondered if Mr. Greville would speak to them; they
+wondered whether Fräulein Munsterthal would be cross; they wondered if
+Ida still played with dolls; and they looked as if they thought
+themselves wonderful, too, for going out for a day!
+
+Nay, the wonders were at their tongues’ end even when lessons began, and
+put their farthings in great peril; and when they had nothing else to
+wonder at, they wondered when it would be twelve o’clock, and took no
+pains to swallow enormous yawns.  Once, over her copy, Elizabeth
+exclaimed, “Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook!  May not we wear
+our white frocks?”
+
+“They are not ironed,” answered Susan.
+
+“Oh, do let me go and tell Mary!  There’s lots of time,” said Bessie, who
+had lately thought it cruel of the clock to point only to half-past ten,
+and never bethought herself how Mary would like to be called off from her
+scrubbing to iron three white frocks.
+
+“Would your Mamma wish it?” asked Christabel.
+
+“Oh dear no,” was Susan’s answer; “we always wear clean ones of our
+every-day frocks.  Our white ones are only for dinner-parties and
+Christmas-trees.”
+
+Bessie grumbled.  “How cross!  I hate those nasty old spotty cottons;”
+and Johnnie returned to the old story—“Little vain pussy-cat.”
+
+Up went Miss Fosbrook’s warning pencil, she shook her head, and held out
+her hand for two fines.  Elizabeth began to gulp and sob.
+
+“Oh, don’t, Betty!” cried Susan.  “Stop while you can.  You won’t like
+going up with red eyes.  There, I’ll pay your fine; and there’s another
+for my speaking.”
+
+“No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind words,” said Miss
+Fosbrook; “but no more now; go on, Annie.”
+
+But Annie, who was reading a little history of St. Paul, would call
+Cilicia, Cicilia, and when told to spell it she began to cry too
+decidedly for Susan’s good-nature to check her tears.  And not only did
+Elizabeth’s copy look as if she had written it with claws instead of
+fingers, but she was grieving over her spotted cotton instead of really
+seeking for places in her map.  Thus the Moselle obstinately hid itself;
+and she absolutely shed tears because Miss Fosbrook declared that
+Frankfort _was_ on the Maine.  For the first time she had her grammar
+turned back upon her hands.  How many mistakes Annie made would be really
+past telling; for these two little girls had their whole minds quite
+upset by the thought of a day’s pleasure; and as they never tried to
+restrain themselves, and to “be sober, be vigilant,” they gave way before
+all the little trials in their paths—were first careless, and then
+fractious.  Perhaps when they were older they would find out that this
+uplifted sense of excited expectation is the very warning to be heedful.
+
+If Miss Fosbrook had been a strict governess, she would have told them
+they did not deserve to go at all; or at any rate, that Bessie must
+repeat her grammar better, and re-write her copy, and that Annie’s
+unlucky addition sum must be made to prove; but she had seen her little
+sisters nearly as bad in prospect of a pantomime, so she was merciful,
+and sent them in good time to brush their hair, put on their spotted
+cottons, and wash off as much as possible of the red mottling left by
+those foolish tears.
+
+Their spirits rose again as fast as they had sunk; and it was a lively
+walk through the park to the great house, with a good deal of skipping
+and jumping at first, and then, near the door, a little awe and gravity.
+
+They were taken through a side-door of the hall to the school-room, where
+Ida and her governess received them.  It was the first time that
+Christabel had seen her out of her beplumed hat, and she thought her a
+pleasant, bright-looking little girl, not at all set up or conceited.
+Her mauve muslin, flounced though it was up to her waist, showed that it
+had been wise to withstand Bessie’s desire for the white muslins; but
+Miss Fosbrook had enough to do on her own account with the endeavour to
+understand the German governess’s foreign accent, without attending to
+the children more than was necessary.
+
+It was not a very remarkable day, and the pleasures of it seemed hardly
+enough to justify the little girls’ great excitement.  There was first
+the dinner at the luncheon of the parents, where the children sat up
+rather formal and subdued, and not quite certain what all the dishes
+might contain, a little afraid of getting what they _could_ not eat,
+though desirous of making experiments in this land of wonders.  None of
+them had forgotten, and they thought no one else had, how Bessie had once
+come to disgrace by bursting out crying over the impossibility of
+finishing some terrible rice-bordered greenish yellow stuff that burnt
+her mouth beyond bearing, and which Ida called curry, and said people in
+the East Indies liked.  However, that was when Bessie had been a very
+little girl; and she still continued adventurous, saying, “Yes, if you
+please,” to cutlets set round in a wreath, with all their bones sticking
+up, and covered with a reddish incrustation that Susan and Annie thought
+so unnatural, that they preferred the boiled chicken that at least they
+could understand, though it had funny-hooking accompaniments in the
+sauce.  And Hal’s report of some savoury jelly which he had once
+encountered would have deterred them from the pink transparency in the
+shape of a shell, if they had not seen Bessie getting on very well with
+it, Miss Fosbrook happily perceiving and cutting short Annie’s intended
+inquiry whether it were nice.  To her great relief, this was the only
+want of manners betrayed by her little savages, and she was able to keep
+her attention tolerably free from them, so as to look at the pictures on
+the walls, observe the two boys, Hal’s friends, and talk to Mrs.
+Greville, who made conversation with her very pleasantly.
+
+She was much grieved to perceive, from what that lady said, that Mrs.
+Merrifield was thought to be much more ill, and in a far more alarming
+state, than she had at all understood.  The girls were too young to enter
+into the tone of sad sympathy with which Mrs. Greville spoke, and the
+manner in which a doubt was expressed whether the Captain would be able
+to sail with Admiral Penrose if he should have the offer; and as soon as
+she saw that they and their governess were in ignorance, she turned it
+off; but she had said enough to fill Christabel with anxiety and desire
+to know more; and as soon as the dinner was over, and the little girls
+had run off together to visit Ida’s beautiful cockatoo in the
+conservatory, she turned to Fräulein Munsterthal, and begged to hear
+whether she knew more than had been said.
+
+Fräulein Munsterthal did not quite know that such a person as Mrs.
+Merrifield was in existence; but she was very amiable and warm-hearted,
+and said how sad it was to think of the trouble that hung over “these so
+careless children,” and was doubly kind to the girls when they came back
+from their conversation with pretty “Cocky,” who set up his
+lemon-coloured crest, coughed, sneezed, and said “Cocky want a biscuit!”
+to admiration, till the boys were seen approaching; when Ida, knowing
+that some torment would follow, took herself and her visitors back to the
+protection of the governesses in time to prevent the cockatoo from being
+made to fly at the girls, and powder them with the white dust under his
+feathers.
+
+The afternoon was spent in the garden, the little girls betaking
+themselves to a pretty moss-covered arbour, where there was a grand
+doll’s feast.  Ida had no less than twenty-three dolls, ranging from the
+magnificent Rosalind, who had real hair that could be brushed, and was as
+large as little Sally at home, down to poor little china Mildred, whose
+proper dwelling-place was a bath, and who had with great difficulty been
+put into petticoats enough to make her fit to be seen out of it.  Now
+nobody at home could have saved the life of a doll for a single day, and
+Susan and Elizabeth were both thought far above them; but these
+beautifully arrayed young ladies had always been the admiration of the
+heart of Bessie as well as of Annie, and they were not too old for
+extreme satisfaction in handling their elegant ladyships, and still more
+their beautiful dinner and tea-service of pink and white ware.
+
+Susan, though she could not write a note, or do lessons like Ida, was
+older in the ways of life, and played rather as she did with the little
+ones at home than for her own amusement.  She would much rather have had
+the fun of “cats and mice” with her brothers; and but for the honour of
+the thing, so perhaps would Annie.  However, they were all very happy,
+getting the dolls up in the morning, giving Mildred washing enough for
+all the twenty-three, making them breakfast, hearing lessons, in which
+Ida was governess, and made them talk so many languages that Annie was
+alarmed.  Of course one of the young ladies was very naughty, and was
+treated with extreme severity; then there was dinner, a walk, an illness,
+and a dinner-party.  While all the time the two real governesses sat in
+the shade outside, and talked in English or German as best they might,
+the Fräulein understanding Christabel’s English the best, as did
+Christabel the Fräulein’s German.  They began to make friends, and to
+wish to see more of one another.
+
+There was a walk round the garden, and admiration of the beautiful
+flowers, and the fountain and pond of gold-fish, till the boys came home,
+and got hold of the garden-engine for watering, crying out, “Fire! fire!”
+and squirting out the showers of water very much in the direction of the
+girls.
+
+Ida became quite crimson red, and got hold of Susan’s hand to drag her
+away; then, as the foremost drops of another shower touched her, she
+faced about, and said, “Osmond! don’t, or I’ll tell Mamma.”  There was a
+great rude laugh, as of boys who well knew the threat was never put in
+execution; and poor Fräulein Munsterthal only shook her head at Miss
+Fosbrook’s look of amaze, and said in German that “_die Knaben_” were far
+too _unartig_ for her to keep in order.  She pitied Miss Fosbrook for
+having so many in charge as to destroy all peace.  And if Sam and Hal had
+been like these two, Christabel felt that she could have done nothing
+with them.  To her dismay, Osmond and Martin came in to the school-room
+tea; and she never had thought to feel so thankful for poor dear Susan’s
+slowness of comprehension, for, from their whispers among themselves, and
+from their poor tormented sister’s blushes, she was clear that the “fire”
+was a piece of bad wit on Susan’s red hair.  Boys who could so basely
+insult a guest, and that a girl, she was sure must be bad companions for
+Sam and Henry.  Such little gentlemen as they had been at dinner too, so
+polite and well-behaved before their father and mother!  There could be
+no doubt that something must be very wrong about them, or they would not
+change so entirely when out of sight.  It is not always true that a child
+must be deceitful who is less good in the absence of the authorities;
+because their presence is a help and a restraint, checking the beginning
+of mischief, and removing temptation; but one who does not fall by
+weakness, but intentionally alters his conduct the instant the elder is
+gone, shows that his will has been disobedient all along.
+
+By and by Mr. Greville’s voice was heard calling, “Martin!  Osmond!” As
+they went out to meet him in the passage, Miss Fosbrook clearly
+overheard, “Here is the spring of the garden-engine spoilt.  Do you know
+anything about it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You have not been meddling with it?”
+
+“No.”  And they ran downstairs.
+
+The colour flushed into Christabel’s cheeks with horror.  She was glad
+that her little girls were all in Ida’s room, listening to a musical-box,
+and well out of hearing of such fearfully direct falsehoods, as it seemed
+to her, not knowing that the boys excused it to their own minds by the
+notion that it was not the _spring_ of the engine that they had been
+meddling with, and that so they did not know how the harm had been
+done—as if it made it any better that they lied to themselves as well as
+their father!  The German saw her dismay, and began to say how unlike her
+Ida was to her brothers—so truthful, so gentle, and courteous; but poor
+Christabel could not get over the thought of the ease and readiness with
+which deceit came to these boys.  Could their daily companions, Samuel
+and Henry, have learnt the same effrontery, and be deceiving her all this
+time?  No, no, she could not, would not think it!  Assuredly not of Sam!
+She was very glad not to see the boys again, and went home with her
+pupils, rather heavy-hearted, at eight o’clock, just as Ida was to put on
+her white muslin and pink ribbons, and go down after dinner for half an
+hour.
+
+There were many kisses at parting, and a whole box of sweets, done up in
+beautifully coloured and gold and silver paper, presented to the little
+visitors; but it might be supposed that the girls were tired, for there
+was a fretful snarling all the way across the park, because Elizabeth
+insisted that the gifts should be called _bon-bons_, and the others would
+hear of nothing but goodies.  Nobody looked at the beautiful evening sky,
+nor at the round red moon coming up like a lamp behind the trees, nor at
+the first stars peeping out, nor even at the green light of the
+glow-worm—all which were more beautiful than anything Ida had shown them,
+except perhaps the hothouse flowers; and at last two such cross
+ill-tempered voices sounded from Bessie and Annie, that Christabel turned
+round and declared that she should not let the sugar-plums be touched for
+a week if another word were said about them.
+
+She hoped that when the visit was over it would be done with; but no such
+thing.  Though Susan was her own good hearty self, Elizabeth had not
+recovered either on that day of the next from the effects of the
+pleasuring.  On each she cried over her lessons, and was cross at
+whatever the boys said to her, made a fuss about keeping the ornamental
+cases of the _bon-bons_, and went about round-backed, peevish, and
+discontented, finding everything flat and ugly after her one peep at the
+luxuries of the Park.  Her farthings melted away fast; but she seemed to
+think this her misfortune, not her fault.  She did not try to talk to
+Miss Fosbrook, feeling perhaps that she was in a naughty mood, which she
+would not try to shake off; and she made no attempt to go on with her
+present for her Mamma, it looked so poor and trumpery after the beautiful
+things she had seen.
+
+Nor did Christabel like to remind her of it, fearing that the occasion
+for giving it might never come; but she did feel that it was a mournful
+thing to see the child, who was in danger of so fearful a sorrow, wasting
+her grief in pining after foolish fancies, and turning what should have
+been a refreshing holiday into an occasion of longing after what she thus
+made into pomps and vanities of this wicked world.  Christabel had heard
+that people who murmur among blessings often have those blessings
+snatched away, and this made her tremble for poor little discontented
+Elizabeth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+“THERE!” exclaimed Susan, “I really have got a letter from Papa himself.
+What a prize!”
+
+“You’ll have to mind your Grosvenor when you answer _him_,” said Sam;
+“but hollo, what’s the matter?”
+
+For Susan’s eyes had grown large, and her whole face scarlet, and she
+gave a little cry as she read.
+
+“Your Mamma, my dear?” asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Oh, Mamma—Mamma is so very ill!” and Susan throw the letter down, and
+broke into a fit of sobbing.
+
+Sam caught it up, and Elizabeth came to read it with him, both standing
+still and not speaking a word, but staring at the letter with their eyes
+fixed.
+
+“What is it, my dear?” said Miss Fosbrook, tenderly putting her arm round
+Susan; but she sobbed too much to make a word distinct, and Bessie held
+out the letter to her governess, looking white, and too much awed to
+speak.
+
+Captain Merrifield wrote in short, plain, sad words, that he thought it
+right that his children should know how matters stood.  The doctors’
+treatment, for which their mother had been taken to London, had not
+succeeded, but had occasioned such terrible illness, that unless by the
+mercy of God she became much better in the course of a day or two, she
+could not live.  If she should be worse, he would either write or
+telegraph, and Susan and Sam must be ready to set out at once on the
+receipt of such a message, and come up by the next train to London, where
+they should be met at the station.  He had promised their mother that in
+case of need he would send for them.
+
+    God bless you, my poor children, and have mercy on us all!
+
+                                                       Your loving father,
+                                                            H. MERRIFIELD.
+
+That was all; and Christabel felt, more than even the children did, from
+how full and heavy a heart those words had been written.
+
+Though she hardly knew how to speak, she tried to comfort Susan by
+showing her that her father had evidently not given up all hope; but
+Susan was crying more at the thought of her Mamma’s present illness and
+pain than with fear of the future; and Sam said sadly, “He would not have
+written at all unless it had been very bad indeed.”
+
+“Yes,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but I believe, in cases like this, there is
+often great fear, and then very speedy improvement.”
+
+“Oh dear,” said Bessie, speaking for the first time, “I know it will be.
+Little girls in story-books always do have their mammas—die!”
+
+“Story-books are all nonsense, so it won’t happen,” said Sam; and really
+it seemed as if the habit of contradicting Bessie had suggested to him
+the greatest consolation that had yet occurred.
+
+Just then Henry and the younger ones came in, and learnt the tidings.
+Henry wept as bitterly as his elder sister, and John and Annie both did
+the same; but David did not speak one word, as if he hardly took in what
+was the matter, and, going to the window, took up his lesson-books as
+usual.
+
+“It is nine o’clock, Hal,” said Sam presently.
+
+“Oh, we can’t go to Mr. Carey to-day,” said Hal.
+
+“Yes, we shall,” returned Sam.
+
+“Oh don’t,” cried Susan.  “Suppose a telegraph should come!”
+
+“Well, then you can send for me,” said Sam.  “Come, Hal.”
+
+“How can you, Sam?” said Henry crossly; “I know Mr. Carey will give us
+leave when he knows.”
+
+“I don’t want leave,” said Sam; “I don’t want to kick up a row, as you’ll
+do if you stay at home.”
+
+“Well then, if the message comes, I shall take Susie to London instead of
+you.  I’m sure they want me most!”
+
+“No, go down to Mr. Carey’s with your brother, if you please, Hal,” said
+Miss Fosbrook decidedly.  “If he should tell you not to stay, I can’t
+help it; but you will none of you do any good by hanging about without
+doing your daily duties.”
+
+Hal saw he had no chance, and marched off, muttering about its being very
+hard.  Sam picked up his books, and turned to go, with a grave steady
+look that was quite manly in its sadness, only stopping to say, “Now,
+Jackie, you be good!—Please Miss Fosbrook, let him run down after me if
+the message comes, and I’ll be back before the horse is out.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook promised, and could not help shaking hands with the brave
+boy, if only to show that she felt with him.
+
+“Then must we all do our lessons?” asked Annie disconsolately, when he
+was gone.
+
+“Yes, my dear; I think we shall all be the better for not neglecting what
+we ought to do.  But there is one thing that we can do for your dear
+Mamma; you know what I mean.  Suppose you each went away alone for five
+minutes, and were to come back when I ring the little bell?”
+
+The first to come back was Annie, with the question in a low whisper,
+“Miss Fosbrook, will God make Mamma better if we are very good?”
+
+Miss Fosbrook kissed her, saying, “My dear little girl, I cannot tell.
+All I can certainly tell you is, that He hears the prayers of good
+children, and if it be better for her and for you He will give her back
+to you.”
+
+Annie did not quite understand, but she entered into what Miss Fosbrook
+said enough to wish to be good; so she took up her book, and began to
+learn with all her might.
+
+Elizabeth would have thought it much more like a little girl in a book to
+have done no lessons, but have sat thinking, and perhaps reading the
+Bible all day; but on the whole Elizabeth had hardly thoughts enough to
+last her so long; nor was she deep or serious enough to have done herself
+much good by keeping the Bible open before her.  In fact she did lose her
+verse in merely reading the chapter for the day!  So it was just as well
+that she had something to do that was not play, and that was a duty, and
+thus might give the desire to be good something to bear upon.
+
+But Christabel saw by Susan’s face, and heard in the shaken voice with
+which she took her turn in the reading, that she could not have given her
+mind to her tasks, and did not need them to keep her out of mischief.  It
+would have been cruel to have required her to sit down to them just then,
+and her governess was glad to be able to excuse her on account of the
+packing-up.  All her things and Sam’s must be got ready in case of an
+immediate start, and she was sent up to the nursery to take care of the
+little ones, while Nurse and Mary mended, ironed, and packed.
+
+To be sure Nurse Freeman made poor Susan unnecessarily unhappy by being
+sure that it was all the fault of the London doctors; but she was a kind,
+tender old woman, and her petting was a great comfort to the poor girl.
+What did her most good, however, was sitting quite quiet with the little
+ones while they were asleep, and all alone; it seemed to rest and compose
+her, and she always loved to be in charge of them.  Poor child! she might
+soon have to be their little mother!  She was able to play with them when
+they awoke, and cheered herself up with their pretty ways, and by finding
+how quickly Baby was learning to walk.  Ah! but would Mamma ever see her
+walk?
+
+If any of the children thought it unjust that Susan’s lessons should be
+let off, they were wrong.  Parents and teachers must have the power of
+doing such things without being judged.  Sometimes they see that a child
+is really unable to learn, when the others perceive no difference; and it
+would be very harsh and cruel to oppress one who is out of order for fear
+little silly, idle, healthy things should think themselves hardly used.
+
+At any rate, the lessons were capitally done; and when the children met
+again, they were all so much brighter and more hopeful, that they quite
+believed that their Mamma was going to get better very fast.  Bessie
+especially was so resolved that thus it should be, that she shut herself
+into Miss Fosbrook’s room, and drew and painted with all her might, as if
+preparing for Mamma’s birthday made it certain that it would be kept.
+
+The boys brought word that they would have a holiday the next day, as it
+was the Feast of St. Barnabas, and after morning service Mr. Carey was
+going to meet his brother and bring him home.
+
+“I shall be all the more certain to get the sovereign, or two
+sovereigns,” said Henry to David, the only person whom he could find to
+listen to him, “if Sam is gone; and everyone will be caring about me.”
+
+“And then you’ll give it to the pig,” said David.
+
+“Oh yes, to be sure.  You will grow into a pig yourself if you go on that
+way, David.”
+
+However, David, partaking the family distrust of Hal’s birds-in-the-bush,
+and being started on the subject of the hoard, ran up to Sam, who was
+learning his lessons by way of something to do, and said, “If you go to
+London, Sam, may I have your sixpence on Monday for the pig?”
+
+“I don’t know that I am going.”
+
+“But if you do—or we sha’n’t get the pig.”
+
+“I don’t care.”
+
+“Don’t you care if we don’t get the pig?”
+
+“No.  Be off with you.”
+
+David next betook himself to his eldest sister, who was trying to write
+to her father, and finding such a letter harder and sadder work than that
+to Ida Greville, though no one teased her about writing, blots, or
+spelling.
+
+“If you go to London, Susie,” said he, in the very same words, “may I
+have your sixpence on Monday for the pig?”
+
+“Oh, Davie, don’t be tiresome!”
+
+David only said it over again in the same words, and put his hand down on
+her letter in his earnestness.
+
+“Come away, Davie,” said Miss Fosbrook; “don’t tease your sister.”
+
+“I want her to say I may have her sixpence on Monday for the pig.”
+
+“No, you sha’n’t, then,” said Susan angrily; “you care for the nasty pig
+more than for poor Mamma or anyone else, and you sha’n’t have it.”
+
+So seldom did Susan say anything cross, that everyone looked up
+surprised.  Miss Fosbrook saw that it was sheer unhappiness that made her
+speak sharply, and would not take any notice, except by gently taking
+away the pertinacious David.
+
+He was very much distressed at the refusal; and when Miss Fosbrook told
+him that his brother and sister could not think of such things when they
+were in such trouble, he only answered, “But Hannah Higgins won’t get her
+pig.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook was vexed herself that her friend David should seem
+possessed with this single idea, as if it shut out all others from his
+mind.  He was consoled fast enough; for Susan, with another great sob,
+threw down her pen, and coming up to stroke him down with her inky
+fingers, cried out, “O Davie, Davie, I didn’t mean it; I don’t know why I
+said it.  You shall have my sixpence, or anything!  But, oh dear, I wish
+the message was come, and we were going to dear Mamma, for I can’t write,
+and I don’t know what to do.”
+
+Then she went back to her place, and tried to write, and sat with her
+head on her hand, and dawdled and cried and blotted till it grew so near
+post-time that at last Miss Fosbrook took the longest of her scrawls, and
+writing three lines at the bottom to say how it was with them all,
+directed it to Captain Merrifield, thinking that he would like it better
+than nothing from home, sent it off, and made Susan come out to refresh
+her hot eyes and burning head in the garden.
+
+Sam presently came and walked on her other side, gravely and in silence,
+glad to be away from the chatter and disputes of the younger ones.  That
+summons had made them both feel older, and less like children, than ever
+before; but they did not speak much, only, when they sat down on a garden
+bench, as Miss Fosbrook held Susan’s hand, she presently found some rough
+hard young fingers stealing into her own on the other side, and saw Sam’s
+eyes glistening with unshed tears.  She stroked his hand, and they
+dropped fast: but he was ashamed to cry, and quickly dried them.
+
+“I think,” she said, “that you will be a man, Sam; take care of Susan,
+and be a comfort to your father.”
+
+“I hope I shall,” said Sam; “but I don’t know how.”
+
+“Nobody can tell how beforehand,” she said.  “Only watch to see what he
+may seem to want to have done for him.  Sit quietly by, and don’t get in
+the way.”
+
+“Were you ever so unhappy, Miss Fosbrook?” asked Susan.
+
+“Yes, once I was, when my father was knocked down by an omnibus, and was
+very ill.”
+
+“Tell us about it?” said Susan.
+
+She did tell them of her week of sorrow and anxious care of the younger
+children, and the brightening ray of hope at last.  It seemed to freshen
+both up, and give them hopes, for each drew a long sigh of relief; and
+then Sam said, “Papa wrote to Mr. Carey.  She is to be prayed for in
+church to-morrow.”
+
+“Oh,” said Susan, with a sound as of dismay, which made Christabel ask in
+wonder why she was sorry, when, from Susan’s half-uttered words, she
+found that the little girl fancied that a “happy issue out of all her
+afflictions” meant death.
+
+“Oh no, my dear,” she said.  “What it means is, that the afflictions may
+end happily in whatever way God may see to be best; it may be in getting
+well; it may be the other way: at any rate, it is asking that the
+distress may be over, not saying how.”
+
+“Isn’t there some other prayer in the Prayer-book about it?” said Sam,
+looking straight before him.
+
+“I will show you where to find it, in the Visitation of the Sick.  I dare
+say it has often been read to her.”
+
+The boy and girl came in with her, and brought their Prayer-books to her
+room, that she might mark them.
+
+This had been a strange, long, sad day of waiting and watching for the
+telegram, and the children even fancied it might come in the middle of
+the night; but Miss Fosbrook thought this unlikely, and looked for the
+morrow’s post.  There was no letter.  It was very disappointing, but Miss
+Fosbrook thought it a good sign, since at least the danger could not be
+more pressing, and delay always left room for hope.
+
+The children readily believed her; they were too young to go on dwelling
+long on what was not in sight; and even Susan was cheerful, and able to
+think about other things after her night’s rest, and the relief of not
+hearing a worse account.
+
+The children might do as they pleased about going to church on saints’
+days, and on this day all the three girls wished to go, as soon as it had
+been made clear that even if the message should come before the short
+service would be over, there would be ample time to reach the station
+before the next train.  Miss Fosbrook was glad to prove this, for not
+only did she wish to have them in church, but she thought the weary
+watching for the telegram was the worst thing possible for Susan.  Sam
+was also going to church, but Henry hung back, after accompanying them to
+the end of the kitchen-garden.  “I wouldn’t go, Sam; just suppose if the
+message came without anyone at home, and you had to set out at once!”
+
+“We couldn’t,” said Sam; “there’s no train.”
+
+“Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever anyone is ill.”
+
+“Then there would be plenty!”
+
+“At least they did when Mr. Greville’s mother was ill, so they will now;
+and then you may ride upon the engine, for there won’t be any carriages,
+you know.  I say, Sam, if you go to church, and the telegraph comes, I
+shall set off.”
+
+“You’ll do no such thing,” said Sam.  “You had much better come to
+church.”
+
+“No, I sha’n’t.  It is like a girl to go to church on a week-day.”
+
+“It is much more like a girl to mind what a couple of asses, like the
+Grevilles, say,” returned Sam, taking up his cap and running after his
+sisters and their governess.
+
+“It is quite right,” observed Henry to John and David, who alone remained
+to listen to him, “that one of us should stay in case the telegraph comes
+in, and there are any orders to give.  I can catch the pony, you know,
+and ride off to Bonchamp, and if the special train is there, I shall get
+upon the engine.”
+
+“But it is Sam and Susan who are going.”
+
+“Oh, that’s only because Sam is eldest.  I know Mamma would like to have
+me much better, because I don’t walk hard like Sam; and when I get there,
+she will be so much better already, and we shall be all right; and
+Admiral Penrose will be so delighted at my courage in riding on the
+engine and putting out the explosion, or something, that he will give me
+my appointment as naval cadet at once, and I shall have a dirk and a
+uniform, and a chest of my own, and be an officer, and get promoted for
+firing red-hot shot out of the batteries at Gibraltar.”
+
+“Master Hal!” exclaimed Purday, “don’t throw them little apples about.”
+
+“They are red-hot shot, Purday!”
+
+“I’ll red-hot shot you if you break my cucumber frames, young gentleman!
+Come, get out with you.”
+
+Probably anxiety made Purday cross as well as everyone else, or else he
+distrusted Henry’s discretion without Sam, for he hunted the little boys
+away wherever they went.  Now they would break the cucumber frames; now
+they would meddle with the gooseberries, or trample on the beds; and at
+last he only relented so far as to let David stay with him on condition
+of being very good, and holding the little cabbages as he planted them
+out.
+
+“Master Davie was a solemn one,” Purday said, and they were great
+friends; but Hal and Johnnie were fairly turned out, as their idle hands
+were continually finding fresh mischief to do in their sauntering
+desultory mood.
+
+“I think,” said Hal, “since Purday is so savage, we’ll go and look out at
+the gate, and then we shall see if the telegraph comes.”
+
+Johnnie had no clear idea what a telegraph was, and was curious to know
+how it would come, rather expecting it to be a man in a red coat on
+horseback, blowing a horn—a sight that certainly was not to be missed; so
+he willingly strolled down after Henry to the gate leading to the lane.
+
+“I can’t see any way at all,” said Henry, looking out into the lane.  “I
+shall get up, and so see over into the bend of the road;” and Hal mounted
+to the topmost bar of the gate, and sat astride there, John scrambling
+after him not quite so easily, his legs being less long, and his dress
+less convenient.  Both knew that their Papa strongly objected to their
+climbing on this iron gate, the newest and handsomest thing about the
+place; but thought Hal, “Of course no one will care what I do when I am
+so anxious about poor Mamma!” and thought Johnnie, “What Hal does, of
+course I may do!”
+
+So there the two young gentlemen sat perched, each with one leg on either
+side of the new iron gate.  It was rather like sitting on the edge of a
+knife; and John could scarcely reach his toes down to rest them on the
+bar below, but he held on by the spikes, and it was so new and glorious a
+position, that it made up for a good deal to be five feet above the road;
+moreover, Hal said it was just like the mast-head of a man-of-war—at
+_least_, when the waves didn’t dash right overhead, like the picture of
+the Eddystone Lighthouse.
+
+“Hollo! what, a couple of cherubs aloft!” cried a voice from the road;
+and looking round, Henry beheld the two Grevilles.
+
+“Yes,” he answered; “it’s very jolly up here.”
+
+“Eh! is it?  Riding on a razor, to my mind.  Come down, and have a lark,”
+said Osmond; while Martin, undoing the gate, proceeded to swing it
+backwards and forwards, to John’s extreme terror; but the more he clung
+to the spikes, and cried for mercy, the quicker Martin swung it, shouting
+with laughter at his fright.  Henry meanwhile scrambled and tumbled to
+the ground, and caught the gate and held it fast, while he asked what his
+friends had been about.  One held up a scarlet flask of powder, the other
+a bag of shot.
+
+“You haven’t got a gun!”
+
+“No, but we know where gardener keeps his; and the governor’s out for the
+day.  Come along, Hal: you shall have your turn.”
+
+“I don’t want to go far from home to-day.”
+
+“Oh, stuff!  What was it Mamma heard, Osmond?  That your mother was ever
+so much better, wasn’t it?”
+
+“I thought it was worse,” said Osmond.
+
+“Well, never mind: your hanging about here won’t do her any good, I
+suppose.”
+
+“No; but—”
+
+“Oh, he’ll catch it from the governess!—I say, how many seams shall you
+have to sew to-day, Hal?”
+
+“I don’t sew seams: I do as I please.”
+
+“Ha!  Is that them coming out of church!”
+
+“Oh, it is! it is!” cried John from his elevation.  “Oh, help me down,
+Hal!”
+
+But Henry did not want Miss Fosbrook to find him partaking in
+gate-climbing; and either that desire, or the general terror a bad
+conscience, made him and the Grevilles run helter-skelter the opposite
+way, leaving poor little John stuck on the top of the gate, quite giddy
+at the thought of coming down alone, and almost as much afraid of being
+there caught by Miss Fosbrook coming home from church.
+
+It was a false alarm after all, that the congregation were coming out.
+John would have been glad if they had; for nothing could be more
+miserable than sitting up there, his fingers tired of clutching the
+spikes, his feet strained with reaching down to the bar, his legs chilled
+with the wind, his head almost giddy when he thought of climbing down.
+He would have cried, could he have spared a hand to rub his eyes with; he
+had a great mind to have roared for help, especially when he heard feet
+upon the road; but these turned out to belong to five little village
+boys, still smaller than himself, who, when they saw the young gentleman
+on his perch, all stood still in a row, with their mouths wide open,
+staring at him.  Johnnie scorned to let them think he was not riding
+there for his own pleasure; so he tried to put a bold face of the matter,
+and look as much at ease and indifferent as he could, under great bodily
+fear and discomfort, the injury of his brother’s desertion, the
+expectation of disgrace, and the reflection that he was being disobedient
+to his parents in the height of their trouble!
+
+There is nothing in grief that of necessity makes children or grown
+people good.  Sometimes, especially when there is suspense, it fills them
+with excitement, as well as putting them out of their usual habits; and
+thus it often happens that there are tremendous explosions of naughtiness
+just when some one is ill in a house, and the children ought to be most
+good.  But it is certain that unless trouble be taken in the right way,
+it makes people worse instead of better.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+HAL had got into a mood in which he was tired of fears and of waiting for
+tidings, and was glad to shake off the thought, and be carried along to
+something new, he and the Grevilles were rather fond of one another’s
+company, in an idle sort of way.  They “put him up to things,” as he
+said; they made a variety; and he was always glad of listeners to his
+wonderful stories, which rather diverted the other boys, who, though they
+sometimes made game of them, were much less apt to pick them to pieces
+than was Sam.
+
+Poor Captain Merrifield! what had not befallen him, according to his son?
+He had been stuck on to a rock of loadstone; he had been bitten by
+mosquitos as big as jackdaws—at least as jack-snipes; he had sat down to
+rest on the trunk of a fallen tree, and it whisked him over on his face,
+and turned out to be a rattle-snake—at least, a boa-constrictor!  Nay,
+Henry discoursed on the ponies he had himself tamed, the rabbits he had
+shot, the trees he had climbed, the nests he had found, the rats he had
+killed, in terms he durst not use when his brother was by; or if he did,
+and Sam brought him to book, he always said “it was all fun.”  It often
+seemed as if he did not himself know whether he meant to be believed or
+otherwise; and as to his intentions for his sailor life, they were, as
+has been already seen, of the most splendid character!  Sometimes he shot
+the French admiral dead from the mast-head; sometimes he sailed into
+Plymouth with the whole enemy’s fleet behind him; sometimes he, the
+youngest midshipman, rescued the whole crew in a wreck where all the
+other officers were drowned; sometimes he shot a shark through the head,
+just as it was about to make a meal of Prince Alfred!
+
+He certainly was thus an entertaining companion to those who did not pay
+heed to truth, and liked to hear or laugh at great swelling words; and
+the Grevilles, on their idle day, were glad to have him with them, and
+were rather curious to prove how much fact there was in his boast of
+being a most admirable shot.
+
+Meddling with guns was absolutely forbidden to all the three, except by
+special permission and with an elder looking on; but the Grevilles were
+not in the habit of obeying, except when they were forced to do so; and
+Henry, having once begun to think no one would heed his present doings,
+was ready to go on rather than be accused of minding his governess.
+
+So the gardener’s gun was taken from the hiding-place, whither it had
+been conveyed from the tool-house; and the three boys ran off together,
+their first object being to get out of the Greville grounds, where they
+could be met by any of the men.  They got quite out into the fields,
+before they ventured to stop that Osmond might load the gun.  Each was to
+take a shot in turn; Osmond tried first, at a poor innocent young thrush,
+newly come out for his earliest flight.  Happily he missed it; Martin
+claimed the next, and for want of anything better to shoot, took aim at
+the scare-crow in the middle of Farmer Grice’s beans.  He was sure that
+he had hit it, and showed triumphantly the great holes in its hat; but
+the other boys were strongly persuaded that they had been there before.
+
+“Well, come away,” said Osmond; “this is a great deal too near old
+Grice’s farm-yard.  If we go popping about here, we shall have him out
+upon us, for an old tiger as he is!”
+
+“Come along, then,” said Martin.
+
+But Hal had just got the gun, and saw something so black and shiny
+through the hedge, that he was persuaded that a flock of rooks were
+feeding in the next field, and he fired!
+
+Such a cackling and screeching as arose! and with it one dying gobble,
+and a very loud “Hollo! you rascal!”
+
+“My eyes! you’ve been and gone and done it!” cried Osmond.
+
+“Cut! cut!” screamed Martin; and Hal, not exactly knowing what he had
+done, but sure that it was something dreadful, and hearing voices in
+pursuit, threw down the gun, and took to his heels; but the others had
+the start of him, and were over the gap long before he could get to it.
+And even as he did reach it, a hand was on his throat, almost choking
+him, and a tremendous voice cried, “You young poacher, you sha’n’t get
+off that way!  I’ll have you up to the Bench, that I will, for shooting
+the poor old turkey-cock before my very eyes.”
+
+“Oh! don’t, don’t!  I didn’t mean it,” cried Hal, turning in the terrible
+grip; “I thought it was only a rook!”
+
+“A rook, I dare say!  And what business had you to think, coming
+trespassing here on my ground, and breaking the hedges!  I’d have you up
+for that, if for nothing else, you young vagabond!”
+
+“Oh, don’t, don’t!  I’m Henry Merrifield!”
+
+“I don’t care if you’re Henry Merry Andrew!” said Farmer Grice, who was a
+surly man, and had a grudge of long standing against the Captain, for
+withstanding him at the Board of Guardians.  “I’ll have the law out of
+you, whoever you are.”
+
+“But—but—Mamma is so very ill!” cried Hal, bursting into tears.
+
+“The more shame for you to be rampaging about the country this fashion,”
+said the farmer, giving him a shake that seemed to make all his bones
+rattle in his skin.  “Serve you right if I flogged you within an inch of
+your life.”
+
+“Oh, please don’t—I mean please do—anything but have me up to the
+magistrates!  I’ll never do it again, never!” sobbed Henry in his terror.
+
+Mr. Grice had some pity, and also knew that his wife and all the
+neighbours would be shocked at his prosecuting so young a boy, whose
+parents were in such distress.  So he said, “There, then, I’ll overlook
+it this time, sir, so as I have the value of the bird.”
+
+“And what is the value—” asked Henry, trembling.
+
+“Value!  Why, the breed came from Norfolk; he was three years old; and my
+missus set great store on him, he was as good as a house-dog, to keep
+idle children out of the yard; and it was quite a picture to see him
+posturing about, and setting up his tail!  Value! not less than
+five-and-twenty shillings, sir.”
+
+“But I have not five-and-twenty shillings.  I can’t get them,” said Hal,
+falling back into misery.
+
+“You should have thought of that before you shot poor old Tom Turkey!”
+quoth Farmer Grice.
+
+“But what in the world shall I ever do?” said Henry.
+
+“That’s for you to settle, sir,” said the farmer, taking up the unlucky
+gun.  “I shall take this, and keep it out of further harm.”
+
+“Oh pray, pray!” cried Henry.  “It is not my gun; it is Mr. Greville’s;
+please let me have it!”
+
+“What! was it those young dogs, the Master Grevilles, that were with
+you!” growled Mr. Grice.  “If I’d known that, I’d not have let you off so
+easy.  Those boys are the plague of the place; I wish it had been one of
+them as I’d caught, I’d have had some satisfaction out of them!”
+
+Henry entreated again for the gun, explaining that they had not leave to
+take it; but the farmer was unrelenting.  He might go to them, he said,
+to make up the price of the poor turkey-cock; how they could have got the
+gun was no affair of his; have it they should not, till the money was
+brought to him; and if it did not come before night, he should carry the
+gun up to the Park, and complain to Mr. Greville.
+
+With this answer the unhappy Hal was released, and ran after his friends
+to tell them of the terms.  He found them sitting on a low wall, just
+within their own grounds, waiting to hear what had become of him.  When
+he had told his story, they both set upon him for betraying them, and
+declared that they should send him to Coventry ever after, and never do
+anything with him again; but as it was plain that the gun must be
+redeemed, if they wished to avoid severe punishment, there was a
+consultation.  Nobody had much money; but Osmond consolingly suspected
+that the farmer would take less; five-and-twenty shillings was an
+exorbitant price to set on a turkey-cock’s head, and perhaps half would
+content him.
+
+The half, however, seemed as impossible as the whole.  Osmond had three
+shillings, Martin two, Hal fourpence!  What was to be done?  And the boys
+declared that if it should come to their father’s knowledge, Hal, who had
+given up their names, should certainly not be shielded by them.  In fact,
+he, who had done the deed, was the only one who ought to pay.
+
+The sound of the servants’ dinner-bell at the Park broke up the
+consultation; the boys must not be missed at luncheon; and they therefore
+separated, agreeing to meet at that same place at four o’clock, to hear
+the result of Hal’s negotiation with the farmer; for neither of the
+Grevilles would hear of helping him to face the enemy.
+
+Poor Hal plodded home disconsolately.  Once he thought of telling Sam,
+and asking his help; but Sam would be so much shocked at such a scrape at
+such a time, as possibly to lick him for it before helping him.  Indeed
+Hal did not see much chance of Sam being able to do anything for them;
+and he had too often boasted over his elder brother to like to abase
+himself by such a confession—when, too, it would almost be owning how
+much better it would have been to have followed Sam’s advice and have
+gone safely to church.
+
+Could he borrow of any one?  Had he nothing of his own to sell or
+exchange?  Ah! if it had not been for that stupid hoard of little
+David’s, he might have had even so much!  By-the-bye, some of that
+collection was his own.  He might quite lawfully take that back again.
+How much could it be?  How much did he put in last week? the week before?
+Oh, never mind; some of it was his at all events; there was no harm in
+taking that.  Most likely he should be able to restore it four-fold when
+Colonel Carey made his present; or, if not, nobody knew exactly what was
+in Toby Fillpot; and after all very likely they would forget all about
+it; people could not think about pigs when Mamma was ill; or, maybe, he
+should go to join his ship, and hear no more of it.  So he came home, and
+crossed the paddock just as the dinner-bell was ringing, opening the
+hall-door as the children were running across it to the dining-room.
+
+Miss Fosbrook, who was walking behind them, turned as he came in.
+
+“Henry,” she said, “I have sent Johnnie to dine in the nursery, for his
+disobedience in climbing the gate.  I certainly shall not give you a less
+punishment.  You must have led him into it; and how could you be so cruel
+as to leave the poor little fellow alone in such a dangerous place?”
+
+“Stupid little coward! it was not a bit of danger!” said Hal.
+
+“So young a child—” began Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“Oh, that’s all your London notions,” said Hal.  “Why, I climbed up our
+gate at Stonehouse, which was twice as high, when I wasn’t near as old as
+that!”
+
+“I am not going to argue with you, Henry; but after such an act of
+disobedience, I cannot allow you to sit down to dinner with us.  Go up to
+the school-room, and Mary shall bring you your dinner.”
+
+“I’m sure I don’t want to dine with a lot of babies and governesses!”
+exclaimed Henry, and bounced up-stairs, leaving Miss Fosbrook quite
+confounded at such an outbreak of naughtiness.
+
+She intended, as soon as dinner should be over, to go up to him, and try
+to lead him to be sorry for his conduct, and to think what a wretched
+moment this was for such audacity; and then she feared that she ought to
+punish him farther, by keeping him in all the afternoon.  He was so soft
+and easily impressed, that she almost trusted to make him feel that it
+would be right that he should suffer for his misconduct.
+
+When she went up-stairs, almost as soon as grace had been said, he was
+gone.  Nobody could find him, and calling produced no answer.  She became
+quite distressed and anxious, but could not go far from the house
+herself, nor send Sam, in case the message should arrive.
+
+“Oh,” said Sam, “no doubt he’s after something with the Grevilles, and
+was afraid you would stop him in.”
+
+She tried to believe this, but still felt far from satisfied all the
+afternoon, and was glad to see the boy come back in time for tea.
+
+He said he had been with the Grevilles; he did not see why anybody need
+ask him questions; he should do what he pleased without being called to
+account.  Nobody told him not to run away after dinner; he was not going
+to stay to be ordered about for nothing.
+
+This was so bad a temper, that Christabel could not bear to try to touch
+him with the thought of his sick mother.  She knew that softening must
+come in time, and believed the best thing to do at the moment would be to
+put a stop to his disrespectful speeches to her, and his cross ones to
+his brothers and sisters, by sending him to bed as soon as tea was over,
+as the completion of his punishment.  He did not struggle, for she had
+taught him to mind her; but he went up-stairs with a gloomy brow, and
+angry murmurs that it was very hard to be put under a stupid woman, who
+knew nothing about anything, and was always cross.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+SATURDAY’S post brought a letter, and a comfortable one.  All Thursday
+Mrs. Merrifield had been in so doubtful a state, that her husband could
+not bear to write, lest he should fill the children with false hopes, or
+alarm them still more; but she had had a good night, was stronger on
+Friday, and when the post went out, the doctors had just ventured to say
+they believed she would recover favourably.  The letter was finished off
+in a great hurry; but Captain Merrifield did not forget to thank his
+little Susan warmly for her poor scrambling letter, and say he knew all
+she meant by it, bidding her give Miss Fosbrook his hearty thanks for
+forwarding it, and for telling him the children were all behaving well,
+and feeling properly.  His love to them all; they must try to deserve the
+great mercy that had been granted to them.
+
+To the children, this was almost as good as saying that their mother was
+well again; but there was too much awe about them for their joy to show
+itself noisily.  Susan ran away to her own room, and Bessie followed her;
+and Sam said no word, only Miss Fosbrook remarked that he did not eat two
+mouthfuls of breakfast.  She would not take any notice; she knew his
+heart was full; and when she looked round on that little flock, and
+thought of the grievous sorrow scarcely yet averted from them, she could
+hardly keep the tears from blinding her.  They were all somewhat still
+and grave, and it was too happy a morning to be broken into by the
+reproofs that Henry deserved, even more richly than Christabel knew.  She
+had almost forgotten his bad behaviour; and when she remembered something
+of it, she could not but hope that silence, on such a day as this, might
+bring it home to him more than rebuke.  Yet when breakfast was ever, he
+was among the loudest of those who, shaking off the strange, awed gravity
+of deep gladness, went rushing together into the garden, feeling that
+they might give way to their spirits again.
+
+Sam shouted and whooped as if he were casting off a burthen, and picking
+little George up in his arms, tossed him and swung him round in the air
+in an ecstasy; while John and Annie and David went down on the grass
+together, and tumbled and rolled one over the other like three kittens,
+their legs and arms kicking about, so that it was hard to tell whose
+property were the black shoes that came wriggling into view.
+
+Susan was quieter.  She told Nurse the good news, and then laid hold upon
+Baby, and carried her off into the passage to hug all to herself.  She
+could tell no one but Baby how very happy she was, and how her heart had
+trembled at her mother’s suffering, her father’s grief, and at the
+desolateness that had so nearly come on them.  Oh, she was very happy,
+very thankful; but she could not scream it out like the others, Baby must
+have it all in kisses.
+
+“Christabel,” said a little voice, when all the others were gone, “I
+shall never be pipy again.”
+
+“You must try to fight against it, my dear.”
+
+“Because,” said Elizabeth, coming close up to her, “when dear Mamma was
+so ill, it did seem so silly to mind about not having pretty things like
+Ida, and the boys plaguing, and so on.”
+
+“Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our little
+discontents.”
+
+“I said so many times yesterday, and the day before, that I would never
+mind things again, if only Mamma would get well and come home,” said the
+little girl; “and I never shall.”
+
+“You will not always find it easy not to mind,” said Christabel; “but if
+you try hard, you will learn how to keep from showing that you mind.”
+
+“Oh!” said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an oh! it was,) “those
+things are grown so silly and little now.”
+
+“You have seen them in their true light for once, my dear.  And now that
+you have so great cause of thankfulness to God, you feel that your
+foolish frets and discontents were unthankful.”
+
+“Yes,” said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they always were when anything
+of this kind was said to her, as if she did not like to meet the look
+fixed on her.
+
+“Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these murmurs your
+thank-offering to God.  Suppose every day when you say your prayers, you
+were to add something like this—” and she wrote down on a little bit of
+paper, “O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her sickness, teach me
+to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard my words and thoughts
+from peevishness.”
+
+“Isn’t it too small to pray about?” said Elizabeth.
+
+“Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear.  Do you think this little
+midge is too small for God to have made it, and given it life, and spread
+that mother-of-pearl light on its wings?  Do you think yourself too small
+to pray? or your fault too small to pray about?”
+
+Elizabeth cast down her eyes.  She did not quite think it was a fault,
+but she did not say so.
+
+“Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the wilderness?”
+
+The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.
+
+“They tempted God by murmurs,” said Christabel.  “They tried His patience
+by grumbling, when His care and blessings were all round them, and by
+crying out because all was not just as they liked.  Now, dear Bessie, God
+has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it not be tempting Him to
+go back to complaints over what He has ordained for you?”
+
+“I shall net complain now; I shall not care,” said Elizabeth.  But she
+took the little bit of paper, and Christabel trusted that she would make
+use of it, knowing that in this lay her hope of cure; for whatever she
+might think in this first joy of relief, her little troubles were sure to
+seem quite as unbearable while they were upon her as if she had never
+feared a great one.
+
+However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and happy; but
+still the influence of their past alarm subdued them enough to make them
+quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and Sunday; and Miss Fosbrook
+had never had so little trouble with them.
+
+In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled state that
+had put the last week out of all common rules, she announced on Monday
+morning that she would excuse all the fines, and that all the children
+should have their allowance unbroken.  Maybe she was moved to this by the
+suspicion that these four sixpences and three threepennies would make up
+the fund to the price of a “reasonable pig;” and she thought it time that
+David’s perseverance should be rewarded, and room made in his mind for
+something beyond swine and halfpence.
+
+Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks, by the boys
+with a tremendous “Three times three for Miss Fosbrook!” and Bessie was
+so joyous, that instead of crying out against the noise, she joined in
+with Susan and Annie; but they made such a ridiculous little squeaking,
+that Sam laughed at them, and took to mocking their queer thin hurrahs.
+Yet even this Elizabeth could bear!
+
+David was meanwhile standing by the locker, his fingers at work as if he
+were playing a tune, his lips counting away, “Ninety-two, ninety-three,
+ninety-four—that’s me; ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven—that’s
+Jack,” and so on; till having plodded up diligently, he turned round with
+a little scream, “One hundred and twenty!  That’s the pig!”
+
+“What?” cried Annie.
+
+“One hundred and twenty pence.  Sukey said one hundred and twenty pence
+were ten shillings.  That will do it!  That’s the pig!  Oh, we’ve done
+it!  May I take it to Purday?”
+
+“It was to be let alone till fair-day, you little bother!” said Hal.
+
+“No, no, no,” cried many voices; “only till we had enough.”
+
+“And I am sure nobody knows if we have,” added Hal hotly.  “A lot of
+halfpence, indeed!”
+
+“But I know, Hal,” insisted David.  “There are eighty-nine pence and one
+farthing in Toby Fillpot, and this makes one hundred and twenty-two pence
+and one farthing.”
+
+“You’d no business to peep,” said Sam.
+
+“I didn’t peep,” said David indignantly.  “There were forty-eight pence
+at first, and then Susie had three, that was fifty-one—”  And he would
+have gone on like a little calculating machine, with the entire reckoning
+in his head, if the others had had patience to hear; but Annie and
+Johnnie were urgent to have the sum counted out before their eyes.  Hal
+roughly declared it was against the rules, and little inquisitives must
+not have their way.  But others were also inquisitive; and Sam said it
+would be best to know how much they had, that Purday might be told to
+look out for a pig at the price; besides, he wanted to have it over; it
+was such a bore not to have any money.
+
+“It’s not fair!” cried Henry passionately.  “You don’t keep the rules!
+You sha’n’t have my sixpence, I can tell you; and I won’t—I won’t stay
+and see it.”
+
+“Nobody wants you,” said Sam.
+
+“I didn’t know there were any rules,” said the girls; but Hal was already
+off.
+
+“Hal has only put in fivepence-halfpenny,” said David, “so no wonder he
+is ashamed.  Such a big boy, with sixpence a week!  But if he won’t let
+us have his sixpence now—”
+
+“Never mind, we will make it up next week,” said Susan.
+
+“Now, then, who will take Toby down?” said Miss Fosbrook, unbuttoning one
+glass door, and undoing the two bolts of the second, behind which the cup
+of money stood.
+
+“Susie ought, because she is the eldest.”
+
+“Davie ought, because he is the youngest.”
+
+David stood on a chair to take Toby off his shelf.  Solemn was the face
+with which the little boy lifted the mug by the handle, putting his other
+hand to steady the expected weight of coppers; but there was at once a
+frown, a little cry of horror.  Toby came up so light in his hand, that
+all his great effort was thrown away, and only made him stagger back in
+dismay, falling backward from the chair, and poor Toby crashing to pieces
+on the floor as he fell, while out rolled—one solitary farthing!
+
+Nobody spoke for some moments; but all stood perfectly still, staring as
+hard as if they hoped the pence would be brought out by force of looking
+for them.
+
+Then David’s knuckles went up into his eyes, and he burst forth in a loud
+bellow.  It was the first time Miss Fosbrook had heard him cry, and she
+feared that he had been hurt by the fall, or cut by the broken crockery;
+but he struck out with foot and fist, as if his tears were as much anger
+as grief, and roared out, “I want the halfpence for my pig.”
+
+“Sam, Sam,” cried Susan, “if you have hid them for a trick, let him have
+them.”
+
+“I—I play tricks _now_?” exclaimed Sam in indignation.  “No, indeed!”
+
+“Then perhaps Hal has,” said Elizabeth.
+
+“For shame, Bessie!” cried Sam.
+
+“I only know,” said Elizabeth, half in self-defence, half in fright,
+“that one of you must have been at the baby-house, for I found the doors
+open, and shut them up.”
+
+“And why should it be one of us?” demanded Sam; while David stopped
+crying, and listened.
+
+“Because none of the younger ones can reach to undo the doors,” said
+Elizabeth.  “It was as much as I could do to reach the upper bolt, though
+I stood upon a chair.”
+
+This was evident; for the baby-house was really an old-fashioned bureau,
+and below the glass doors there was a projecting slope of polished
+walnut, upon which only a fly could stand, and which was always locked.
+No one whose years were less than half a score was tall enough to get a
+good hold of the button, even from the highest chair, far less to jerk
+down the rather stiff upper bolt.
+
+“It cannot have been a little one, certainly,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but
+you should not be so ready to accuse your brothers, Bessie.”
+
+David, however, had laid hold of a hope, and getting up from the floor,
+hastened out of the room, followed by John; and they were presently heard
+shouting “Hal!” all over the house.
+
+“What day was it that you found the door open, Bessie?” asked Miss
+Fosbrook.
+
+“It was just after dinner,” said Elizabeth, recollecting herself.
+
+“It was on Friday.  Yes, I remember it was Friday, because I went into
+the school-room to get my pencil, and I was afraid Hal would jump out
+upon me, and looked in first to see whether he was going to be tiresome;
+but he was gone.”
+
+“Yes,” said Susan; “it was the day we found poor Jack stuck up on the
+gate, when he and Hal were in disgrace.  Oh, he never would have played
+tricks then.”
+
+“Did you go up before me, Bessie?” asked Miss Fosbrook; “for I went up
+directly after dinner to speak to Henry.”
+
+“Yes, I did,” said she.  “I thought if you got in first, you would be
+scolding him ever so long, and would let nobody in, so I would get my
+pencil first; and I slipped up before you had left the table.”
+
+Just then the two boys were heard stumping up the stairs, and ran in,
+panting with haste and excitement, David with a fiery red ear.
+
+“No, no; Hal didn’t hide it!”
+
+“But he boxed Davie’s ear for thinking he did,” added John; “and said
+he’d do the same for spiteful Bet!”
+
+“Then he never played tricks,” said Susan.
+
+“I told you not,” said Sam.
+
+“No,” reiterated David; “and he said I’d no business to ask; and if Bet
+went prying about everywhere, I’d better ask her.  Have you got it,
+Betty?”
+
+“I!” cried Elizabeth.  “How can you, Davie?”
+
+“You have got a secret,” exclaimed David; “and you always were cross
+about Hannah Higgins’s pig.  You have got it to tease me!  Miss Fosbrook,
+make her give it back.”
+
+“Nonsense, David,” said Miss Fosbrook; “Bessie is quite to be trusted;
+and it is wrong to make unfounded accusations.”
+
+“Never mind, Betty,” added Sam kindly; “if Davie wasn’t a little donkey,
+he wouldn’t say such things.”
+
+“Where is Henry?” asked the governess.  “Why did he not come himself?
+Call him; I want to know if he observed this door being open.”
+
+“He is gone down to Mr. Carey’s,” said John.
+
+“And it is high time you were there too, Sam,” said Miss Fosbrook,
+starting.  “If you are late, beg Mr. Carey’s pardon from me, and tell him
+that I kept you.”
+
+Sam was obliged to run off at full speed; and the other children stood
+about, still aghast and excited.  Miss Fosbrook, however, told them to
+take out their books.  She would not do anything more till she had had
+time to think, and had composed their minds and her own; for she was
+exceedingly shocked, and felt herself partly in fault, for having left
+the hoard in an unlocked cupboard.  She feared to do anything hastily,
+lest she should bring suspicion on the innocent; and she thought all
+would do better if time were given for settling down.  All were
+disappointed at thus losing the excitement, fancying perhaps that instant
+search and inquiry would hunt up the money; and David put himself quite
+into a sullen fit.  No, he would not turn round, nor read, nor do
+anything, unless Miss Fosbrook would make stingy Bet give up the pence.
+
+Miss Fosbrook and Susan both tried to argue with him; but he had set his
+mind upon one point so vehemently, that it was making him absolutely
+stupid to everything else; and he was such a little boy (only five years
+old), that his mind could hardly grasp the exceeding unlikelihood of a
+girl like Elizabeth committing such a theft, either in sport or earnest,
+nor understand the injury of such a suspicion.  He only knew that she had
+a secret—a counter secret to his pig; and when she hotly assured him that
+she had never touched the money, and Susan backed her up with, “There,
+she says she did not,” he answered, “She once told a story.”
+
+Elizabeth coloured deep red, and Susan cried out loudly that it was a
+shame in David; then explained that it was a long long time ago, that Hal
+and Bessie broke the drawing-room window by playing at ball with little
+hard apples, and had not told, but when questioned had said, “No;” but
+indeed they had been so sorry then that she knew they would never do so
+again.
+
+Again David showed that he could not enter into this, and sulkily
+repeated, “She told a story.”
+
+“I will have no more of this,” said Christabel resolutely.  “You are all
+working yourselves up into a bad spirit: and not another word will I hear
+on this matter till lessons are over.”
+
+That tone was always obeyed; but lessons did not prosper; the children
+were all restless and unsettled; and David, hitherto for his age her best
+scholar, took no pains, and seemed absolutely stupefied.  What did he
+care for fines, if the chance of the pig was gone?  And he was sullenly
+angry with Miss Fosbrook for using no measures to recover the money,
+fancied she did not care, and remembered the foolish nursery talk about
+her favouring Bessie.
+
+Once Miss Fosbrook heard a little gasping from the corner, and looking
+round, saw poor Bessie crying quietly over her slate, and trying hard to
+check herself.  She would not have noticed her, though longing to comfort
+her, if David had not cried out, “Bet is crying!  A fine!”
+
+“No,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but a fine for an ill-natured speech that has
+made her cry.”
+
+“She has got the pig’s money,” muttered David.
+
+“Say that again, and I shall punish you, David.”
+
+He looked her full in the face, and said it again.
+
+She was thoroughly roused to anger, and kept her word by opening the door
+of a small dark closet, and putting David in till dinner-time.
+
+Then she and Susan both tried to soothe Bessie, by reminding her how
+childish David was, how he had caught up some word that probably Hal had
+flung out without meaning it, and how no one of any sense suspected her
+for a moment.
+
+“It is so ill-natured and hard,” sobbed Bessie.  “To think I could steal!
+I think they hate me.”
+
+“Ah,” said Susan, “if you only would never be cross to the boys, Bessie,
+and not keep out of what they care for, they would never think it.”
+
+“Yes, Susie is right there,” said Christabel.  “If you try to be one with
+the others, and make common cause with them, giving up and forbearing,
+they never will take such things into their heads.”
+
+“And _we_ don’t now,” said Susan cheerily.  “Didn’t you hear Sam say
+nobody but a donkey could think it?”
+
+“But Bessie has a secret!” said Annie.
+
+Again stout Susan said, “For shame!”
+
+“I’ll tell you what my secret is,” began Bessie.
+
+“No,” said Susan, “don’t tell it, dear!  We’ll trust you without; and Sam
+will say the same.”
+
+Bessie flung her arms round Susan’s neck, as if she only now knew the
+comfort of her dear good sister.
+
+Lessons were resumed; and as soon as these were done, Miss Fosbrook
+resolved on a thorough search.  Some strange fit of mischief or curiosity
+might have actuated some one, and the money be hidden away; so she
+brought David out of his cupboard, and with Susan’s help turned out every
+drawer and locker in the school-room, forbidding the others to touch or
+assist.  They routed out queer nests of broken curiosities, disturbed old
+dusty dens of rubbish, peeped behind every row of books; but made no
+discovery worth mentioning, except the left leg of Annie’s last doll, the
+stuffing of Johnnie’s ball, the tiger out of George’s Noah’s ark, and the
+first sheet of Sam’s Latin Grammar, all stuffed together into a
+mouse-hole in the skirting.
+
+At dinner Christabel forbade the subject to be mentioned, not only to
+hinder quarrelsome speeches, but to prevent the loss being talked of
+among the servants; since she feared that one of them must have committed
+the theft, and though anxious not to put it into the children’s heads,
+suspected Rhoda, the little nursery-girl, who was quite a child, and had
+not long been in the house.
+
+Henry ate his dinner in haste, but could not get away till Miss Fosbrook
+had called him away from the rest, and told him that if he had been
+playing a trick on his little brother, it was time to put an end to it,
+before any innocent person fell under suspicion.
+
+“I—I’ve been playing no tricks—at least—”
+
+“Without any _at least_, Henry, have you hidden the money?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You dined in the school-room on Friday.  Were the baby-house doors open
+then!”
+
+“I—I’m sure I didn’t notice.”
+
+“You didn’t open them to take anything out?”
+
+“What should I want with the things in the baby-house?”
+
+“Did you, or did you not!”
+
+“I—I didn’t—at least—”
+
+“In one word, did you open them? yes or no.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What time did you go out after eating your dinner?”
+
+“Bother! how is one to remember!  It’s all nonsense making such a fuss.
+The children fancied they put in ever so much more than they did, and
+very likely took out some.”
+
+“No; David’s reckoning was accurate.  I wrote down all I knew of; and I
+am sure none was taken out, for early that very morning I had put in a
+sixpence myself, and the cup was then full of coppers, with that little
+silver threepenny of David’s with the edge turned up upon the top.”
+
+“Then you must have left the door undone!” said Henry delighted.
+
+“I dare not be positive,” said Christabel; “but I believe I remember
+bolting it; and if I had not done so, it would have flown open sooner.”
+
+“Oh, but the wind, you know.”
+
+“If the doors did open, it would not account for the loss of the money.”
+
+“Well, I can’t help it,” said Henry ungraciously, trying to move off: but
+she first required him to tell her what he had said to the younger boys
+to make them suspect Elizabeth.
+
+“Did I?” said Henry, “I am sure I didn’t; at least, if I did, I only said
+Bess peeped everywhere, and was very close.  I didn’t suspect her, you
+know.”
+
+“I should think not!” said Miss Fosbrook indignantly.  “Now please to
+come up with me.”
+
+“I want to go out,” said Henry.
+
+No, she would not let him go.  She thought Elizabeth ought to clear
+herself, so far as it could be done, by making her secret known, since
+that had drawn suspicion on her; and when all the children were together,
+she called the little girl and told her so.
+
+“It is very unkind of them,” said Bessie, with trembling lip; “but they
+shall see, if they want _that_ to show I am not a thief!”
+
+“I said I wouldn’t see,” said Susan.  “You knows Bessie, I trust you.”
+
+“And I,” said Sam; “I don’t care for people’s secrets.  I don’t want to
+pry into Bessie’s.”
+
+No one followed their example; all either really suspected, or else were
+full of curiosity, and delighted to gratify it.
+
+Half a dozen slips of card, with poor little coloured drawings on them,
+and as many lengths of penny ribbon!
+
+“Is that all?” said Annie, much disappointed.
+
+“So that’s what Bet made such a fuss about,” said John; and David’s face
+fell, as if he had really expected to see the lost pence.
+
+The next thing, after the search had been made through all the children’s
+bed-rooms, was to go to the nursery: and thither Miss Fosbrook allowed
+only Susan and Sam to follow her.  Nurse Freeman was very stiff and
+stately, but she had no objection to searching; and the boy and girl
+began the hunt, while Miss Fosbrook meantime cautiously asked whether
+Nurse were sure of Rhoda, and if she were trustworthy.
+
+This made Mrs. Freeman very angry; and though her words were respectful,
+she showed that she was much offended at the strange lady presuming to
+suspect anyone, especially one under her charge.
+
+Miss Fosbrook wanted to have asked Rhoda whether the doors were open or
+shut when she carried Henry his dinner, but Nurse would not consent to
+call her.  “I understood the nursery and the girl were to be my
+province,” she said.  “If Miss Merrifield heard her mamma say otherwise,
+then it is a different thing.”
+
+Susan cowered into the dark cupboard.  Nurse must be in a dreadful way to
+call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!
+
+Nothing more could be done.  The pence could not be found.  Nurse would
+not let Rhoda be examined; and all that could be found out from the
+children had been already elicited.
+
+Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and, her head
+aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet be thrown on the
+matter.  There must be pain and grief whenever it should be explained;
+but this would be far better, even for the offender, than the present
+deception: and the whole family were in a state of irritation and
+distrust, that hurt their tempers, and made her bitterly reproach herself
+with not having prevented temptation by putting the hoard under lock and
+key.
+
+She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening, and made
+herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went off heavily.  The
+next morning, Susan came back early from her housekeeping business, with
+her honest face grave and unhappy, and finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told
+her she had something _really_ to say to her if she might; and this being
+granted began, with the bright look of having found a capital notion:
+“I’ll tell you what I wish you would do.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“If you would call every one in all the house, and ask them on their word
+and honour if they took the pence.”
+
+“My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no right to do that;
+besides, I do not believe it would discover it.”
+
+“What! could a thief get in from out of doors!” said Susan looking at the
+window.
+
+“Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who could steal would not
+scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not wish to cause this additional
+sin.”
+
+“It is very horrid; I can’t bear it,” said Susan, puckering up her face
+for tears.  “Do you know, Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so angry that
+you said anything about Rhoda?”
+
+“You did not mention it, my dear?”
+
+“Oh no; nor Sam.  It was Nurse herself!  But they all say that you want
+to take away her character; and they won’t have strangers put over them.”
+
+“Pray, Susie; don’t tell me this.  It can do no good.”
+
+“Oh, but _please_!” cried Susan.  “And then Mary—I can’t think how she
+could—but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly, and that she had
+been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but she was your favourite,
+and so you vindicated her.  And Nurse began teasing her to confess, and
+tell the truth, and told her she was a wicked child because she would
+not; but it was all because we were put under strangers!  I’m sure they
+do set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to her.”
+
+“When was this, my dear?”
+
+“Last night, when we went to the nursery to be washed.  It was our night,
+you know.  Oh!  I wish Mamma was well!”
+
+“Indeed I do my dear.  And how did poor Bessie bear it!”
+
+“She got quite white, and never said a word, even when they told her she
+was sulky.  But when we got into bed, and I kissed her and cuddled her
+up, oh! she did cry so; I didn’t know what to do.  So, do you know, I got
+my shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not gone to sleep, and
+he came and sat by her, and told her that he believed her, and knew she
+was as sound a heart of oak as any of us; and we both petted her, and Sam
+was so nice and kind, till she went to sleep.  Then he went to the
+nursery, and told Nurse how horrid it was in her; but Cook said it only
+made her worse, because she is jealous of our taking part with you.”
+
+“My dear, I _do_ like to hear of your kindness to Bessie; but I wish you
+would not mind what any of the maids say, nor talk to them about it.  It
+only distresses you for nothing.”
+
+“But I can’t help it,” said Susan.
+
+“You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you need not talk to
+Cook or Mary about it.  It is of no use to vex ourselves with what people
+say who don’t know half a story.”
+
+“Can’t you tell them not?” said simple Susan.
+
+“No, I cannot interfere.  They would only do it the more.  We can only
+keep Bessie as much out of the way of the maids as we can, and show our
+confidence in her.”
+
+Certainly Elizabeth had been known to look infinitely more glum when
+nothing was the matter than under all this vexation, even though the
+servants were really very unkind to her; and her two little brothers both
+behaved as ill as possible to her whenever they had the opportunity—David
+really believing that she had made away with the money, and ought to be
+tortured for it; and Johnnie taking it on his word, and being one of
+those little boys who have a positive taste for ill-nature, and think it
+fun.  They pinched her, they bit her, they rubbed out her sums, they shut
+up her lesson-books and lost her place, they put bitten crusts into her
+plate, and did whatever they knew she most disliked, whenever Miss
+Fosbrook or Sam was not in the way; but she never told.  She did not
+choose to be called a tell-tale; and besides, they really did not succeed
+in making her life miserable, so much was she pleased with the real
+kindness her trouble had brought out from Susan and Sam.  Susan could not
+prevent the persecution of the two naughty little boys, but she defended
+her sister to her utmost; and Sam cuffed them if they said a word or
+lifted a finger against Bessie before him; and he gave her such notice
+and kindness as she never had received from him before.  One afternoon,
+when he was going to walk to Bonchamp, he asked leave for her to come
+with him, and would take nobody else; and hot day as it was, Bessie had
+never had such a charming walk.  She kept herself from making one single
+fuss; and in return, he gathered wild strawberries for her, showed her a
+kingfisher, and took her to look in at a very grand aquarium in the
+fishing-tackle maker’s window, where she saw some gold-fish, and a most
+comical little newt.  And going home, they had a real good talk about
+their father’s voyage, and how they should get on without him; and Bessie
+found to her great pleasure, that Sam hoped Miss Fosbrook would stay when
+Mamma Came home.
+
+“For I do think she has put some sense into you, Bessie,” said Sam.
+
+She was so delighted, that instead of preparing to fret if Sam did but
+hold up a finger at her, she looked up with a smile when he came in her
+way, sure of protection, and expecting something pleasant, as well as
+thinking it an honour to be asked to help him in anything.  The next day,
+when Mr. Carey had insisted on his verifying by the map all the towns
+which he had been contented to say were in Asia Minor (where every place
+in ancient history is always put if its whereabouts be doubtful), she
+saved him so much time and trouble, that he got out into the garden full
+half an hour earlier than he would otherwise have done.  Thereupon he
+told her she was a jolly good fellow, and gave her such a thump on the
+back, as a few weeks ago would have made her scream and whine; but this
+time she took it as a new form of thanks, and felt highly honoured by
+being invited to help him to fish for minnows, though it almost made her
+sick to stick the raw meat upon his hooks.
+
+The threatening of a true sorrow, the bearing a real trouble, and the
+opening to her brother’s kindness, had done far more to make her a happy
+little girl than all Miss Fosbrook’s attempts to satisfy her cravings or
+please her tastes.  These had indeed done her some good, and taught her
+to find means of enjoyment for those likings that no one else cared for;
+but it had been the _spirit_ of delight that had been chiefly wanting;
+and when thankfulness and love were leading her to that, it was much
+easier to see that the evening clouds or the rising moon were lovely,
+than when she was looking out for affronts.
+
+Nothing was said in public about the loss; and Christabel hoped that the
+bad impression as to Elizabeth would wear out in the young minds of the
+lesser children; but David’s whole nature seemed to have been
+disorganized by the disappointment.  Instead of being a pattern child for
+diligence and good behaviour, very fond of Miss Fosbrook, and not only
+inoffensive, but often keeping John and Anne in order, he seemed
+absolutely stupid and senseless at lessons, became stubborn at reproof,
+seemed to take pleasure in running counter to his governess, and rendered
+the other two, who, though his elders, were both of weak natures compared
+with his own, more openly naughty than himself.  Sometimes it seemed to
+Christabel that the habit of spiting Bessie was getting so confirmed,
+that it would last even when the cause was forgotten; and yet the more
+she strove to put it down in sight, the more it throve out of sight; and
+when she looked at David, and thought how she had once admired him, she
+could not but remember the text that says, “Thy goodness is as the
+morning cloud, and as the dew shall it vanish away.”  She had thought it
+goodness based upon religious feeling, as well as on natural gravity and
+orderliness; and so perhaps it had once been, but the little fellow had
+fixed his whole soul on one purpose, and though that was a good one, it
+had grown into an idol, and swallowed up all his other motives, till of
+late he had only been good for the sake of the pig, not because it was
+right.  Being disappointed of the pig, he had nothing to fall back upon,
+but felt himself so ill-used, that it seemed to him that it was no use to
+be good; and he revenged himself by naughtiness.
+
+Such sturdy strong characters as little David’s, when they are once set
+on the right object, come to the very best kind of goodness; but when
+they take a wrong turn, they are the very worst, both for themselves and
+others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+THE Monday after the loss of the pence was a pouring wet day.  The whole
+court was like a flood, and the drops went splashing up again as if in
+play; Purday wore his master’s old southwester coat, and looked shiny all
+over; and when the maids had to cross the court, they went click, click,
+in their pattens under their umbrellas.
+
+But it was baking day, and Susan and Annie had been down to coax the cook
+into making them a present of a handsome allowance of dough, and Miss
+Fosbrook into letting them manipulate it in the school-room.  Probably
+this was the only way of preventing the dough from being turned into
+bullets, and sent flying at each other’s eyes, or possibly plastered on
+somebody’s nose, and the cook and kitchenmaid from being nearly driven
+crazy.
+
+The dough was justly divided, and an establishment set up in each locker.
+Bessie declined altogether; Sam had lent her his beautiful book of _The
+British Songsters_, and she was hard at work at the table copying a
+tom-tit, since she no longer carried on the work in secret; but at one
+locker were the other three elders, at the other the three lesser ones,
+and little George in a corner by Susan, pegging away at his own private
+lump, and constantly begging for more.  Susan’s ambition was to make a
+set of real twists, just like Cook’s; and she pulled out and twisted and
+plaited, though often robbed of her dough by the two boys, whose united
+efforts were endeavouring to produce a likeness of Purday, with his hat
+on his head, plums for eyes, a pipe in his mouth, and driving a cow; but
+unluckily his neck always got pinched off, and his arms would not stay
+on!  No matter; the more moulding of that soft dough the better!  Johnnie
+and Annie had a whole party of white clammy serpents, always being set to
+bite one another, and to melt into each other; and David was hard at work
+on a brood of rabbits with currant eyes, and would let no one interfere
+with him.
+
+“Didn’t I hear something!” asked Bessie, looking up.
+
+“Oh, it’s only the roller,” said Sam; “Purday always rolls on a wet day.”
+
+Something, however, made the whole party of little bakers hold up their
+heads to listen.  There was a gleam on their faces, as a quick alert step
+sounded on the stairs, and Bessie, the nearest to the door, and not
+cramped like the rest, who were sitting on their heels, sprang forward
+and opened it with a scream of joy.
+
+There he was—the light, alert, weather-beaten man, with his loose wavy
+hair, and bright sailor face!  There was Papa!  Oh, the hurly-burly of
+children, tumbling up as well as they could on legs crooked under them,
+and holding out great fans of floury doughy paws, all coming to be hugged
+in his arms in turn, so that before he had come to the end of the eight
+in presence, Bessie had had time to whisk off to the nursery, snatch Baby
+up from before Nurse’s astonished eyes, rush down with her, and put her
+into his arms.  Baby had forgotten him, and was taken with such a fit of
+screaming shyness, that Susan had to take her, and Annie to play bo-peep
+with her, before she would let anyone’s voice be heard.
+
+“I’ve taken you by surprise, Miss Fosbrook,” said the Captain, shaking
+hands with her in the midst of the clatter.
+
+“Oh, it is such a pleasure!” she began.  “I hope you left Mrs. Merrifield
+much better.”
+
+“Much better, much better, thank you.  I hope to find her on the sofa
+when I go back on Thursday.  I could only run down for a few days, just
+to settle things, and see the children, before I join the _Ramilies_.
+Admiral Penrose very good-naturedly kept it open for me, till we could
+tell how _she_ was,” said the Captain, with rather a trembling voice.
+
+“Then you are going!  O Papa!” said Susan, looking up at him; “and Baby
+will not know you till—”
+
+“Hold your tongue, Miss Croaker,” said the Captain, roughly but kindly;
+and Miss Fosbrook could see that he was as much afraid of crying himself
+as of letting Susan cry; “I’ve no time for that.  I’ve got a gentleman on
+business down stairs, and your Uncle John and I must go down to them
+again.  We sha’n’t want dinner; only, Sue, tell them to send in some eggs
+and bacon, or cold meat, or whatever there may be, for tea; and get a
+room ready for your uncle.”
+
+He would have gone, but Susan called out, “O Papa, may we drink tea with
+you, Georgy and all!”
+
+“Yes, to be sure, if you won’t make a bear-fight, any of you, for your
+uncle.”
+
+“Mayn’t I come down with you?” added Sam, looking at him as if he wanted
+to make the most of every moment of that presence.
+
+“Better not, my boy,” said the Captain; “I’ve got law business to settle,
+and we don’t want you.  Better stay and make yourselves decent for
+tea-time.  Mamma’s love, and she hopes you’ll not drive Uncle John
+distracted.”  And he was gone.
+
+“Bother Uncle John!” first muttered Sam (I am sorry to say).
+
+“I can’t think what he’s come for,” sighed Annie.
+
+“To spoil our fun,” suggested Johnnie disconsolately.
+
+“To take Sam to school,” added Hal, “while I go to sea.”
+
+“You don’t know that you are going,” said Elizabeth.  “Papa said nothing
+about it.”
+
+“Oh! but I know I shall.  Admiral Penrose promised.”
+
+“You know a great many things that don’t happen.  You knew Colonel Carey
+would give you two sovereigns.”
+
+Henry looked as if he could bite.
+
+“Well, I shall finish Purday,” said Sam, turning away with a sigh; “and
+they shall have him for tea.”
+
+“Tea will be no fun!” repeated Annie.  “Oh dear! what does Uncle John
+come here for?”
+
+“May not he come to be with his brother?” suggested Christabel.
+
+“Oh! but they are grown up,” said Annie.
+
+“Can’t he have him in London, without coming here to worry us in our
+little time!” added Johnnie.
+
+“Perhaps he will not worry you.”
+
+“Oh! but—” they all cried, and stopped short.
+
+“He plagues about manners,” said Annie.
+
+“He wanted Susie and me to be sent to school!” said Bessie.
+
+“He said it was like dining with young Hottentots.”
+
+“He told Papa it was disgraceful, when we had all been sliding on the
+great pond in the village,” added Annie.
+
+“And he gave Sam a box on the ear, for only just taking a dear little
+river cray-fish in his fishing-net to show Aunt Alice.”
+
+“The net was dripping wet,” observed Bessie.
+
+“Yes,” said Anne; “but Aunt Alice is so finikin and fidgety; she never
+wets her feet, and can’t get over a stile, and is afraid of a cow; and he
+wants us all to be like her.”
+
+“And he makes Papa and Mamma mind things that they don’t mind by nature,”
+said Susan.
+
+“Mamma always tells us to be good, and never play at hockey in the house
+when he’s there,” said Anne.
+
+“She has not told us so this time,” said John triumphantly.
+
+“No, but we must mind all the same,” said Susan; and Sam silenced some
+independent murmurs, about not minding Uncle John, by saying it was
+minding Mamma.
+
+Miss Fosbrook herself was a little alarmed, for she gathered that Mamma
+was in some fear of this terrible uncle, that he had much influence with
+his brother, and was rather a severe judge of the young family.  She
+sincerely hoped that he would not find things much amiss, for the honest
+goodness of the two eldest had won so much regard from her, that she
+could not bear them to be under any cloud; and indeed she felt as if the
+whole flock were her own property, as well as her charge, and that she,
+as well as they, were about to be tried.  She would have felt it all fair
+and just before their kindly father, but it seemed hard that all should
+be brought before the school-master uncle; and she was disposed to be
+tender for her children, and exceedingly anxious as to the effect they
+might produce.  She was resolved that the Captain should hear of the
+affair of the pence; but the presence of his brother would make the
+speaking a much greater effort.  Meantime, she saw that all the fingers
+were clean, and all the hair brushed.  She flattered herself that Susan’s
+yellow locks had learnt that it was the business of hair to keep tidy,
+and had been much less unmanageable of late; but she had her fears that
+they would ruffle up again when their owner, at the head of a large
+detachment, rushed out to take the “fancy bread” out of the oven, and she
+came half-way down stairs, in case it should be necessary to capture
+them, and brush them over again.
+
+While thus watching, the door of the dining-room (the only down stairs
+room in order) opened suddenly, and the Captain came forth.  “Oh, Miss
+Fosbrook,” he said, “please come in here: I was just coming to look for
+you.  My brother—Miss Fosbrook.”
+
+To her surprise, Miss Fosbrook received a very pleasant civil greeting
+from a much younger man than she had expected to see, looking perhaps
+more stern about the mouth and sharp about the eye than his elder
+brother, and his clerical dress very precise; but somehow he was so
+curiously like his niece, Elizabeth, that she thought that his
+particularity might spring from the same love of refinement.
+
+“All going on well?” asked the Captain.
+
+“Fairly well,” she answered.  “Sam and Susan are most excellent children.
+There is only one matter on which I should like to speak to you, at some
+time when it might suit you.”
+
+“Is it about this?” he said, putting into her hand a sheet written in
+huge round-hand in pencil, no words misspelt, but the breaks in them at
+the end of the lines perfectly regardless of syllables:—
+
+    My dear Papa,
+
+    Please let me
+    have a poli
+    ceman.  Bet h
+    as got at Toby
+    and stole our
+    pence which was
+    for a secret.  Nu
+    rse says she is a
+    favourite and Miss
+    Fosbrook will not
+    find them.
+
+                                                     Your affectionate son
+                                                 DAVID DOUGLAS MERRIFIELD.
+
+“Oh! this was the letter David insisted on sealing before I put it into
+mine!” exclaimed Miss Fosbrook, as soon as she had made out the words.
+“We have been in great trouble at the loss; but we agreed not to write to
+you, because you had so much on your mind.”
+
+“Is Bessie in fault?”
+
+“No, no; none of us believe it; but I am very anxious that you should
+make an investigation, for the maids suspect her, and have made the
+younger children do so.”
+
+“And who is Toby?”
+
+“Toby is only a jug—called Toby Fillpot, I believe—shaped like a man.”
+
+“I know!” put in Mr. John Merrifield, laughing.  “Don’t you remember him,
+Harry?  We had the like in our time.”
+
+“Well?” interrogated the Captain.
+
+“Just after you left home,” said Christabel, as shortly and clearly as
+she could, “the children agreed to save their allowance to buy a pig for
+Hannah Higgins.  They showed great perseverance in their object; and by
+the third week they had about seven shillings in this jug, which, to my
+grief and shame, I let them keep in the glass cupboard, not locked, but
+one door bolted, the other buttoned.  On Friday morning, the 11th, I know
+the cup was full of coppers and silver, for I took it down to add
+something to it.  On the next Monday morning the money was gone, all but
+one farthing.”
+
+“Can you guess who took it?”
+
+“I should prefer saying nothing till you have examined the children and
+servants for yourself.”
+
+“Right!” said the Captain.  “Very well.—I am sorry to treat you to a
+court-martial, John, but I must hold one after tea.”
+
+Christabel pitied the children for having to speak before this formidable
+uncle; but there could be no help for it, since no other sitting-room was
+habitable, and there were torrents of rain out-of-doors.
+
+There was just time to show the glass cupboard, and the shelf where Toby
+had stood, and to return to the dining-room, before the children began to
+stream in and make their greetings to their uncle, Susan with George in
+one hand, and her plate of bakings in the other.  Very fancy bread indeed
+it was! as Uncle John said.  The edge of Purday’s hat had been quite
+baked off, and one of his arms was gone; he was black in the wrong
+places, and was altogether rather an uncomfortable-looking object.
+David’s brood of rabbits were much more successful, though the ears of
+many had fallen off.  Uncle John was very much diverted, and took his
+full share of admiring and tasting the various performances.  On the
+whole, the meal went off much better than Christabel had feared it would.
+She had really broken the children of many of the habits with which they
+used to make themselves disagreeable; there was no putting of spoons into
+each other’s cups, nor reaching out with buttery fingers; lips were
+wiped, and people sat still upon their chairs, even if they fidgeted and
+sighed; and there was only one slop made all tea-time, and that was by
+Johnnie, and not a very bad one.  Indeed, it might be hoped that Mr.
+Merrifield did not see it, for he was talking to Sam about the change of
+footpath that Mr. Greville was making.  There was indeed no fun, but it
+might be doubted whether Papa would have been in a mood for fun even had
+his brother not been there; and Miss Fosbrook was rather glad there was
+nothing to make the children forgetful of propriety.
+
+As soon as Mary had carried off the tea-things and wiped the table, Uncle
+John put himself as much out of the way as he could behind the newspaper
+in the recess of the window; and Miss Fosbrook would have gone to the
+school-room, but Captain Merrifield begged her to stay.
+
+“I hear,” he said, “that a very unpleasant thing has taken place in my
+absence, and I wish to learn all that I can about it, that the guilty
+person may be brought to light, and the innocent cleared from any
+suspicion.”
+
+The children looked at one another, wondering how he had heard, or
+whether Miss Fosbrook had told him; but this was soon answered by his
+calling out, “David! come here, and tell me what you meant by this
+letter.”
+
+David walked stoutly to his father’s knee, nothing daunted, though his
+brothers muttered behind him, “So he wrote!” “Little sneak!” and “He knew
+no better!”  Not that it was wrong to lay the case before his father; but
+boys had usually rather suffer injustice than make an accusation.
+
+“Why did you write this letter, David?” said his father.
+
+“Because I want my pence for the pig.”
+
+“Tell me how you lost them?”
+
+“Bess took them!”
+
+Elizabeth sprung up, crimson, and with tears in her eyes, and Sam and
+Susan were both bursting out into an angry “No, no!” but their father
+made a sign to all to keep still; and they obeyed, though each of the
+elder ones took hold of a hand of their sister and squeezed it hard.
+
+“Did you see her take them?” asked the Captain.
+
+“No!”
+
+“Then why do you say she did?  I don’t want to frighten you, David; I
+only want to hear why you think she did so.”
+
+David was getting alarmed now, and his childish memory better retained
+the impression than what had produced it.  He hung down his head, scraped
+one foot, and finding that he must answer, mumbled out at last, “Nurse
+said it, and Hal.”
+
+“Henry, come here.  Did you accuse your sister to David?”
+
+“No!” burst out Henry at once; but there was a rounding of everyone’s
+mouth to cry out Oh! and he quickly added, in a hasty scared way, “At
+least, when Davie came bothering me, I said he had better ask Betty,
+because she had been prying about, and meddling with the baby-house.  I
+never meant that she had done it; but Davie is such a little jack-ass!”
+
+“Did you see her meddle with the baby-house!”
+
+“She said that herself,” muttered Henry.
+
+“Yes, Papa,” said Elizabeth, starting forward, “I did find the doors of
+the baby-house open, and shut them up, but I never touched anything in
+it!  Sam and Susie know I would not, and that I would not tell a story
+now, though I once did, you know, Papa!”
+
+Captain Merrifield still kept his grave set face, and only asked, “When
+did you find the doors open?”
+
+“On Friday, Papa—Friday week—St. Barnabas’ Day—just after dinner.”
+
+“Was no one with you?”
+
+“No, Papa.”
+
+“You came up-stairs first?”
+
+“Yes; I wanted my pencil before—” and she stopped short.
+
+“Before what?”
+
+“Before Miss Fosbrook went in to speak to Hal,” said Elizabeth, getting
+red all over.
+
+“Hal had been dining in the school-room,” said Miss Fosbrook, “on account
+of a little bit of disobedience.”
+
+Captain Merrifield looked keenly at Henry, who tried to return the look,
+but shuffled uncomfortably under it.
+
+“Then Hal had been dining in the school-room?  Was he there when you came
+in?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Were the doors open when you were dining there, Henry?”
+
+“N—no.”
+
+“You are sure that you did not meddle with them?”
+
+“I do not know why I should,” said Henry, hastily and confusedly.  “It is
+only the girls and the babies that have things there—and—and Miss
+Fosbrook herself had been at the cupboard in the morning; why shouldn’t
+she have left it undone herself, and the doors got open?”
+
+“No, no!” cried Susan; “if they aren’t fastened they always burst open
+directly; and we never could have been in the room half the morning
+without noticing them!”
+
+“Then you are certain that they were closed when you went down to
+dinner?”
+
+Everyone was positive that the great glass doors flying out must have
+made themselves observed in that room full of children, especially as
+Susan remembered that she had been making a desk of the sloping part
+under them.
+
+“Does anyone remember how long it was between Hal’s leaving the room and
+Bessie’s coming up?”
+
+“I don’t know when he went out,” said all those who had been in the
+dining-room; but there spoke up a voice, quite proud of having something
+to tell among the others—“I saw Hal go out, and Bessie come up directly.”
+
+“You, Johnnie!  How was that?”
+
+“Miss Fosbrook made me dine in the nursery, Papa, because Hal and I had
+been riding on the new iron gate, to see if the telegraph would come in
+while the others were at church; and then Hal ran away with the
+Grevilles, and I couldn’t get down till Sam came and helped me; and so
+Miss Fosbrook made me dine in the nursery; and when I had done, I went
+and sat upon the top of the garret stairs, to watch when they came out
+from dinner, and ask if I might come down again.”
+
+“And what did you see, Johnnie?”
+
+“First, I saw a wasp,” said Johnnie.
+
+“Never mind the wasp.  Did you see when Henry went out?”
+
+“I saw him come in first,” said John, “and Miss Fosbrook order him up and
+say she would send him his dinner, and come and speak to him presently.
+So I watched to catch her when she was coming up to him, and I saw Mary
+bring him up some mince veal, and the last bit of the gooseberry pie; and
+then, very soon, he bolted right downstairs.  I didn’t think he could
+have had time to eat the pie; and I was going to see if there was a bit
+left, when I saw Bessie coming up, and I whipped up again.”
+
+“Then nobody went into the room between Henry and Bessie?”
+
+“No; there wasn’t any time.”
+
+The whole room was quite silent.  There was no sound but a quick short
+breathing from the Captain: but he had rested his brow upon his hand, and
+his face could not be seen.  It was as if something terrible had flashed
+upon him, and he was struggling with the first shock, and striving to
+deal with it.  If they had seen him in a tempest, with his ship driving
+to pieces on a rock, he would not have been thus shaken and dismayed.
+However, by the time he looked up again, he had brought his face back to
+its resolute firmness, and he spoke in a clear, stern, startling voice,
+that made all the children quake, and some catch hold of each other’s
+hands: “Henry! tell me what you have done with your theft!”
+
+Miserable Henry!  He did not try to deny it any longer; but burst out
+into a loud sobbing cry, “O Papa!  Papa!  I meant to have put it back
+again!  I couldn’t help it!”
+
+“Tell me what you have done with it!” repeated the Captain.
+
+“I—I paid it to Farmer Grice; I was obliged; and I thought I could have
+put it back again; and some of it was my own!”
+
+“Fivepence-farthing!” cried David.  “You thief, you!”
+
+The child’s fists were clenched, and his young face all one scowl of
+passion, quite shocking to see.  His father put him aside, and said,
+“Hush, David! no names.—Now, Henry, what do you say to your sister for
+your false accusation, which has thrown your own shame on her?”
+
+“Oh, no, no, Papa; he never did accuse me!” cried Bessie, for the first
+time bursting into tears.  “He never said I did it; that was only Davie’s
+fancy; and it has made Susie and Sam so kind, I have not minded it at
+all.  Please don’t mind that, Papa!”
+
+“Come away, Henry!” said the Captain; “now that your sister has been
+cleared, we had better have the rest out of the sight of these
+tender-hearted little girls.”
+
+He stood up, and without a word, stroked down Elizabeth’s smooth brown
+hair, raised her face up by the chin, and kissed her forehead, the only
+place free from tears; then he took Henry by the shoulder, and marched
+him out of the room.  Bessie could not stop herself from crying, and was
+afraid of letting Uncle John see her; so she flew out after them, and
+straight up-stairs to her own room.  Miss Fosbrook and Susan both longed
+to follow her, but they had missed this opportunity; and the sound of
+voices outside showed so plainly that the Captain and Henry were in the
+hall that they durst not open the door.
+
+Everyone was appalled, and nothing was said for a few seconds.  The first
+to speak was Annie, in a low, terror-stricken whisper, yet with some
+curiosity in it: “I wonder what Papa will do to him?”
+
+“Give him nine dozen, I hope!” answered David through his small white
+teeth, all clenched together with rage.
+
+“For shame, Davie!” said Susan; “you should not wish anything so dreadful
+for your brother.”
+
+“He has been so wicked!  I wish it!  I _will_ wish it!” said David.
+
+“Hush, David!” said Miss Fosbrook; “such things must not be said.  I will
+talk to you by and by.”
+
+“I am glad poor Bessie is cleared!” added Susan; “though I always knew
+she could not have done it.”
+
+“To be sure—I knew it was Hal!”
+
+“Sam! you did?—why didn’t you tell?” cried Annie.
+
+“I wasn’t—to say—sure,” said Sam; “and I couldn’t go and get him into a
+scrape.  I thought he might tell himself, if he could ever make up the
+money again!”
+
+“Yes,” said Susan; “he would have done that.  He always fancied he should
+get a sovereign from Colonel Carey.”
+
+“He talked till he thought so,” said Sam.
+
+“But what made you guess he had done so, Sam?” said Miss Fosbrook.  “I
+did suspect him myself, but I never felt justified in accusing him of
+such a thing.”
+
+“I don’t know!  I saw he had been getting into a fix with those
+Grevilles, and had been sold somehow.  They said something, and got out
+of my way directly, and I was sure they had done some mischief, and left
+him to pay the cost.”
+
+“Did you ask him?” said Susan.
+
+“What was the use?  One never knows where to have him.  He will eat up
+his words as fast as he says them, with his _at least_, till he doesn’t
+know what he means.  Nor I didn’t want to know much of it.”
+
+“Still I can’t think how you could let poor Bessie live under such a
+cloud,” said Christabel.
+
+“You didn’t believe it,” said Sam, “nor anyone worth a snap of my finger.
+Besides, if I had known, and had to tell, what a horrid shame it would
+have been if the naval cadetship had been to be had for him!  I knew
+Bessie would have thought so too, and then he would have been out of the
+way of the Grevilles, and would have got some money to make it up.”
+
+“Then is there no chance of the cadetship now?”
+
+“Oh, we should have heard of it long ago if there had been!  So I mind
+the coming out the less; but it’s perfectly abominable to have had all
+this row, and for Papa to be so cut up in this little short time at
+home.”
+
+“I never saw him more grieved,” said Mr. Merrifield.  “He was hardly more
+overcome when your mother was at the worst.”
+
+They started, for they had forgotten Uncle John, or they would never have
+spoken so freely; but he now put down his newspaper, and looked as if he
+meant to talk.
+
+Susan ventured to say, “And indeed they had all been so very good before.
+The pig made them so.”
+
+“A learned pig, I should think,” said her uncle, laughing good-naturedly.
+
+“We were obliged to take care,” said Susan, “or we got so many fines.”
+
+Christabel, finding that Mr. Merrifield looked at her, helped out Susan
+by explaining that various small delinquencies were visited with fines,
+and that the desire to save for the pig had rendered the children very
+careful.
+
+“Indeed,” she said, “I was thankful for the incentive, but I am afraid
+that it was over-worked, and did harm in the end:” and she glanced
+towards David.
+
+“It is the way with secondary motives,” was the answer.
+
+Here Captain Merrifield came back alone; and his brother was the only
+person who ventured to say, “Well?”
+
+“I have sent him to his room,” said the Captain.  “It is a very bad
+business, though of course he made excuses to himself.”
+
+The Captain then told them Henry’s confession.  He had been too much
+hurried by the fear of being caught, to take out his own share of the
+hoard, and had therefore emptied the whole cupful into his
+pocket-handkerchief, tied it up, and run off with it, intending to
+separate what was honestly his own.  What that was he did not know, but
+his boastful habits and want of accuracy had made his memory so careless,
+that he fancied that a far larger proportion was his than really was, and
+his purposes were in the strange medley that falls to the lot of all
+self-deceivers, sometimes fancying he would only take what he had a right
+to (whatever that might be), sometimes that he would borrow what he
+wanted, and replace it when the sovereign should be given to him, or that
+the Grevilles would make it up when they had their month’s allowance.
+
+When he came to the farm Mr. Grice was resolved to take nothing less than
+the whole sum that he had with him.  Perhaps this was less for the value
+of the turkey-cock than for the sake of giving the boys such a lesson as
+to prevent them from ever molesting his poultry again.  At any rate, he
+was inexorable till the frightened Henry had delivered up every farthing
+in his possession; and then, convinced that no more was forthcoming, he
+relented so far as to restore the gun, and promise to make no complaint
+to either of the fathers.
+
+At first Henry lived on hopes of being able to restore the money before
+the hoard should be examined, but Colonel Carey went away, and, as might
+have been expected, left no present to his brother’s pupils.  Still Henry
+had hopes of the Grevilles, and even when the loss was discovered, hoped
+to restore it secretly, and make the whole pass off as a joke; but the
+1st of August came, Martin and Osmond received their pocket-money, but
+laughed his entreaty to scorn, telling him that he had shot the
+turkey-cock, not they.  Since that time, his only hope had been in the
+affair blowing over—as if a sin ever _did_ blow over!
+
+“One question I must ask, Miss Fosbrook,” said the Captain, “though after
+such a course of deceit it hardly makes it worse.  Has he told any direct
+falsehood?”
+
+She paused, and recollected.  “Yes, Sir,” she said, “I am afraid he did;
+he flatly told me that he had not touched the baby-house.”
+
+“I expected nothing else,” said the Captain gravely.  “What has become of
+Bessie?”
+
+“She ran up-stairs.  May I go and call her?” said Susan.
+
+“I will go myself,” said her father.
+
+He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and tear-stained in
+the face; and he told her affectionately how much pleased he was with her
+patience under this false accusation.  Delight very nearly set her off
+crying again, but she managed to say, “It was Miss Fosbrook and Sam and
+Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so kind.  And nobody would
+have believed it, if I wasn’t always cross, you know.”
+
+“Not cross now, my little woman,” he said smiling.
+
+“Oh!  I said I never could be cross again, now Mamma is better; but Miss
+Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel so, and I do believe she is right,
+for I was almost cross to Georgie to-day.  But she says one may _feel_
+cross, and not _be_ cross!”
+
+He did not quite know all that his little girl was thinking of; but he
+patted her fondly, and said, “Yes, there is a great deal to be thankful
+for, my dear; and I shall trust to you elder ones to give your Mamma no
+trouble while I am afloat.”
+
+“I will try,” said Bessie.  “And please, Papa, would you tell Nurse about
+it?  She doesn’t half believe us, and she is so tiresome about Miss
+Fosbrook!”
+
+“Tiresome! what do you mean?”
+
+“She always thinks what she does is wrong, and she puts nonsense into
+Johnnie’s head, and talks about favourites.  Mary told Susan it was
+jealousy.”
+
+The Captain spoke pretty strongly to Nurse Freeman that evening, but it
+is doubtful if she were the better for it.  She was a very good woman in
+most things, but she could not bear that the children should be under
+anyone but herself; and just as Henry lost the truth by inaccuracy, she
+lost it by prejudice.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was glad to get away from the dining-room, where it was
+rather awful to sit without her work and be talked to by Mr. Merrifield,
+even though she liked him much better than she had expected.
+
+When David came to bed, she sat by him and talked to him about his angry
+unforgiving spirit.  She could not but think he was in a fearful temper,
+and she tried hard to make him sorry for his brother, instead of
+thirsting to see the disappointment visited on him; but David could not
+see what she meant.  Wicked people ought to be punished; it was wicked to
+steal and tell stories, and he hoped Henry would be punished, so as he
+would never forget it, for hindering poor Hannah from getting her pig.
+
+He would not understand Henry’s predicament; he was only angry, bitterly
+angry, and watching for vengeance.  Miss Fosbrook could not reason or
+persuade him out of it, nor make him see that he could hardly say his
+prayers in such a mood.  Indeed, he would rather have gone without his
+prayers than have ceased to hope for Henry’s punishment.
+
+Perhaps in this there was sense of justice and indignation against wrong
+doing, as well as personal resentment.  Miss Fosbrook tried to think so,
+and left him, but not without praying for him, that a Christian temper of
+forgiveness might be sent upon him.
+
+All the others were subdued and awe-struck.  It was not yet known what
+was to happen to Henry; but there was a notion that it would be very
+terrible indeed, and that Uncle John would be sure to make it worse; and
+they wished Miss Fosbrook good-night with very sad faces.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+NOTHING had as yet befallen Henry, for he came down to breakfast in the
+morning; but his father did not greet him, and spoke no word to him all
+the time they were in the room together.  The children felt that this was
+indeed terrific.  Such a thing had never befallen any of them before.
+They would much rather have been whipped; and even David’s heart sank.
+
+Something, however, was soon said that put all else out of his sisters’
+minds.  The Captain turned to them with his merry smile, saying, “Pray
+what would Miss Susie and Miss Bessie say to coming up to London with me
+to see Mamma?”
+
+The two girls bounded upon their chairs; Susan’s eyes grew round, and
+Bessie’s long; the one said, “O Papa!” and the other, “Oh, thank you!”
+and they looked so overwhelmed with ecstasy, and all the three elders
+laughed.
+
+“Then you will behave discreetly, young women?”
+
+“I’ll try,” said Susan; “and Bessie always does.  Oh, thank you, Papa!”
+
+“Grandmamma should be thanked; she asked me to bring a child or two, to
+be with Mamma when I go down to Portsmouth.  We had thought of Susan; but
+I think Betty deserves some amends for what she has undergone.”
+
+“Oh yes, Papa! thank you!” cried Susan, Sam, and David, from their
+hearts; John and Annie because the others did so.
+
+“Then you won’t kick her out if she shares your berth, Sue?”
+
+“Oh, I am so glad, Papa!  It is so nice to go together.”
+
+“Then, Miss Fosbrook, will you be kind enough to rig them out?  I must
+drive into Southminster at ten o’clock; and if you would be so good as to
+see them smartened up for London there, I should be much obliged to you.”
+
+The mere drive to the country town was a great event in itself, even
+without the almost incredible wonder that it was to lead to; and the
+delights of which Ida and Miss Fosbrook had told them in London went so
+wildly careering through the little girls’ brains, that they hardly knew
+what they said or did, as they danced about the house, and ran up-stairs
+to get ready, long before ten o’clock.
+
+Mr. Carey had been informed that his pupils would not come to him during
+the few days of their father’s stay; and Sam begged to ride in on his
+pony by the side of the carriage; but he was desired to fetch his books,
+and call Henry, as his uncle wished to give them both an examination.
+Was this the beginning of captivity to Uncle John?  David and Johnnie
+were quite angry.  They considered it highly proper that Hal should be
+shut up with Uncle John, but they thought it very hard that Sam should be
+so used too; and Sam himself looked very round-backed, reluctant, and
+miserable, partly at the task, partly at being deprived of the sight of
+his father for several hours of one of those few precious days.
+
+Miss Fosbrook wished Susan to have sat on the front seat of the old
+phaeton with her father; but he would not consent to this, and putting
+the two little girls together behind, handed the governess to the place
+of honour beside him, where she felt rather shy, in spite of his bright
+easy manner.
+
+“I am afraid,” he said, after having flourished his whip merrily at
+Johnnie, Annie, and Davie, who were holding open the iron gate, “that you
+have had a tough job with those youngsters!  We never meant you to have
+been left so long to their mercy.”
+
+“I know—I know; I only wish I could have done better.”
+
+“You have done wonders.  My brother hardly knows where he is—never saw
+those children so mannerly.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook could not show how delighted she was.
+
+“I could hardly have ventured on taking those two girls to town unless
+you had broken them in a little.  I would say nothing last night till I
+had watched Susan; for my mother is particular, and if my wife was to be
+always worrying herself about their manners, they had better be at home.”
+
+“Indeed, I think you may quite trust to their behaving well.  Those two
+and Sam are so thoroughly trustworthy, that I had no real difficulty till
+this unhappy business.”
+
+The Captain wanted to talk this over with her, and hear her account of it
+once more.  She gave it fully, thinking he ought to know exactly how his
+children had acted in the matter, and wishing to explain where she
+thought she had made mistakes.  When she had finished, he said, “Thank
+you,” and considered a little while; then said, “A thing like this brings
+out a great deal of character; and a new eye sometimes sees more what is
+in a child than those that bred him up.”
+
+“It has been a touchstone, indeed,” she answered.
+
+“Poor Hal!” he said sadly; then resumed, “I’ve said nothing of it yet to
+the boys—but Admiral Penrose has promised to let me take out one with me.
+I had thought most of Hal; he seemed to me a smarter fellow, more likely
+to make his way than his brother; but this makes me doubt whether there
+can be stuff enough in him.  I might not be able to look after him, nor
+do I know what his messmates may be; and I should not choose to risk it,
+except with a boy I could thoroughly trust.”
+
+“Those young Grevilles seem to me Hal’s bane and temptation.”
+
+“Ay, ay; but if a boy is of the sort, he’ll find someone to be his bane,
+wherever he goes.  I’ll have no more of the Grevilles though.  If he
+should not go with me, my brother John would take him into his house, and
+keep a sharp look out after him.  Just tell me, if you have no objection,
+how the boy strikes you.  Most people think him the most taking of the
+lot.”
+
+“So he is,” said Christabel thoughtfully; “he has more ease and
+readiness, and he is affectionate and warm-hearted; but then he is a
+great talker, and fond of boasting.”
+
+“Exactly.  I told him that was the very way he learnt falsehood.”
+
+“I am afraid, too,” she was obliged to add, “that his resolutions run
+away in talk.  He has not much perseverance; and he is easily led.”
+
+“Well, I believe you are right; but then what’s to be done?  I can hardly
+afford to lose this chance; but Sam was always backward; and I doubt his
+even caring to go to sea.”
+
+“Oh!  Captain Merrifield!”
+
+“What! has he given you reason to think that he does?”  She told him how
+she had found Sam struggling with his longing for the sea and his father;
+and how patiently the boy had resigned himself to see his brother put
+before him, and himself condemned for being too dull and slow.
+
+“Did I say so?  I suppose he had put me past my patience with blundering
+over his lessons.  I never meant to make any decision; but I did not
+think he wished it.”
+
+“He said it had been his desire from the time he could remember,
+especially when he felt the want of you during your last voyage.”
+
+“Very odd; how reserved some boys are!  I declare I was vexed that it had
+gone out of his head; though I thought it might be for the best.  You
+know I was not born to this place.  I never dreamt of it till my poor
+brother Sam’s little boy went off in a fever six years ago, and we had to
+settle down here.  Before that, we meant my eldest to follow my own
+profession; but when he seemed to take to the soil so kindly, I thought,
+after all, he might make the happier squire for never having learnt the
+smell of salt water, nor the spirit of enterprise; but if it were done
+already, the first choice is due to him.  You are sure?”
+
+“Ask the girls.”
+
+He leant back and shouted out the question, “Sue! do you know whether Sam
+wishes to go to sea?”
+
+“There’s nothing he ever wished so much,” was the answer.
+
+“Then why didn’t he say so?”
+
+“Because he thought it would be no use,” screamed Susan back.
+
+“No use! why?”
+
+“Because Hal says Admiral Penrose promised him.  O Papa! are you going to
+take Sam?”
+
+“Oh dear! we can’t get on without him!” sighed Elizabeth.
+
+“Are you sure he would like it?” said her father.  “I thought he never
+cared to hear of the sea.”
+
+“He can’t bear to talk of it, because it makes him so sorry,” said Susan.
+
+“And,” cried Bessie, “he burnt his dear little ship, the _Victory_,
+because he couldn’t bear to look at it after you said _that_, Papa.”
+
+“After I said what?”
+
+“That he was not smart enough to learn the ropes.”
+
+“Very silly of him,” said the Captain, “to take in despair what was only
+meant to spur him on.  I suppose now I shall find he has dawdled so much
+that he couldn’t get through an examination.”
+
+This shut up the mouths of both the girls, who were afraid that he might
+not, since they saw a good deal of his droning habits over his lessons,
+and heard more of Hal’s superior cleverness.
+
+Miss Fosbrook ventured to say, “You may expect a great deal of a boy who
+works on a pure principle of obedience.”
+
+“You think a great deal of that youngster,” said the Captain, highly
+gratified.  “It is the first time I ever knew a stranger take to him.”
+
+“I did not take to him as a stranger.  I thought him uncouth and dull.  I
+only learnt to love and respect him, as I felt how perfectly I might rely
+on him, and how deep and true his principles are.  If the children have
+gone on tolerably well in your absence, it is because he has always stood
+by me, and his weight of character has told on them.”
+
+Captain Merrifield did not answer at once; he bit his lip, then blew his
+nose, and cleared his throat, before he said, “Miss Fosbrook, you have
+made me very happy; it will make his mother so.  She always rated him so
+high, that I half thought it was a weakness for her eldest son; but
+there!  I suppose he was down-hearted about this fancy of his, poor boy;
+and that hindered him from making the most of himself.  I wonder what
+sort of a figure he is cutting before his uncle!”
+
+The town was at length reached; and the shopping was quite wonderful to
+the sisters.  Miss Fosbrook found a shop where the marvellous woman
+undertook to send home two grey frocks trimmed with pink, by the next
+evening; and found two such fashionable black silk jackets, that Susie
+felt quite ashamed of herself, though rather pleased; and Bessie only
+wished she could see her own back, it must look so like Ida’s.  Then
+there were white sleeves, and white collars, that made them feel like
+young women; and little pink silk handkerchiefs for their necks; and two
+straw hats, which Miss Fosbrook undertook to trim with puffs of white
+ribbon, and a pink rosette at each ear.  Bessie thought they would be the
+most beautiful things that had ever been in her possession, and was only
+dreading that Sam would say they were like those on Ida Greville’s
+donkey’s best harness; while Susan looked quite frightened at them,
+whispered a hope that Mamma would not think them too fine, and that Miss
+Fosbrook would not let them cost too much money; and when assured that
+all fell within what Papa had given to be laid out, she begged that Annie
+and little Sally might have the like.
+
+But as they were not going to London, Miss Fosbrook could not venture on
+this; and as Bessie had set her affections upon a certain white chip hat,
+with a pink border and a white feather, both sisters remained wishing for
+something—as is sure to happen on such occasions.
+
+However, Elizabeth recovered from the hat when she was out of sight of
+it; and they went and saw the cathedral, where the painted windows and
+grave grand arches filled her with a truer and wiser sense of what was
+beautiful; and then they walked a long time up and down under its
+buttressed wall, waiting for Papa, till they grew tired and hungry; but
+at last he came in a great hurry, and sorry to have been hindered.  With
+naval politeness, he gave his arm to Miss Fosbrook, and carried them off
+to a pastry-cook’s, where he bade them eat what they pleased, and spend
+the rest of the florin he threw them on buns for the little ones, while
+he fetched the carriage; and so they all drove home again, and found the
+rest of the party ravenous, having waited dinner for three-quarters of an
+hour.
+
+Wonderful to relate, Uncle John had not eaten anybody up! not even Baby;
+though Papa advised Susan to make sure that she was safe, and then sent
+Sam to ask Purday for a salad.  Perhaps this was by way of getting rid of
+this constant follower while he asked his brother what he thought of the
+boys’ attainments.
+
+Uncle John could not speak very highly of the learning of either; but he
+said, “Sam knows thoroughly what he does know.  As to the other, he
+thinks he knows everything, and makes most awful shots.  When I asked
+them who Dido’s husband was, Sam told me he did not know, and Hal, that
+he was Diodorus Siculus—_at least_, Scipio—no, he meant Sicyon.”
+
+“Then you think neither could stand an examination for the cadetship?”
+
+“I could not be sure of Sam; but I am quite sure that Hal could not.”
+
+Here the dinner-bell rang; the hungry populace rushed to the dining-room,
+and the meal was gone through as merrily as could be, while still the
+father never spoke to Henry.  Uncle John was as pleasant and good-natured
+as possible.  Who would have thought of the marked difference he made
+between dining with barbarians, or young gentlefolks!
+
+Dinner over, Captain Merrifield called Sam,—or rather, since that was not
+necessary, as Sam was never willingly a yard from his elbow, he ordered
+the others not to follow as they went into the garden together.
+
+“Sam,” he said, “Admiral Penrose is kind enough to offer me a berth in
+the _Ramilies_ for one of you.  If you can pass the examination, should
+you wish to avail yourself of the offer?”
+
+Sam grew very red in the face, looked down, and twirled the button of his
+sleeve.  He certainly was not a gracious boy, for all he said was in a
+gruff hoarse voice, without even thanks, “Not if it is for this.”
+
+“For this!  What do you mean, Sam?” said Captain Merrifield, thinking
+either that the boy was faint-hearted, or that his wish had been the mere
+fancy of the girls.
+
+“Not if it is to punish Hal,” said Sam, with another effort.
+
+“That is not the question.  Do you wish it?”
+
+Sam hung his head, and made his eyebrows come down, as if they were to
+serve as a veil to those horrid tears in his eyes; and after all, his
+voice sounded sulky, as he said, “Yes.”
+
+“Is that all?” said the Captain, angry and disappointed.  “Is that the
+way you take such an offer?  If you had rather stay here, and be bred up
+to be a country squire, say so at once; don’t mince the matter!”
+
+“O Papa!” cried Sam indignantly, “how can you think that?  Didn’t I
+always want to be like you?”
+
+“Then why can’t you say so?”
+
+“Because I can’t bear to cut Hal out!” said Sam, putting his arm over his
+eyes, as a way he considered secret of disposing of his tears.
+
+“Put that out of your head, Sam; or if you don’t fancy the sea, have it
+out at once.”
+
+“O Papa! please listen.  You know, though Miss Fosbrook is very jolly, we
+couldn’t help getting nohow when you were away, _us_ two particularly.”
+
+“You have no mischief to confess, surely, Sam?” said his father, really
+imagining that this preference to Hal was acting on him so as to make him
+mention some concealed misdemeanour; “if you have, you know truth is the
+best line.”
+
+“But I haven’t, Papa,” said Sam, looking up, quite surprised.  “You know
+I am a year older, and couldn’t help caring more; and Miss Fosbrook is so
+nice, one couldn’t bother her; but you see the Grevilles _would_ put it
+into Hal’s head that it was stupid and like a girl to mind her.  It is
+all their fault; and they were sneaks about the turkey-cock, and wouldn’t
+pay—and I know he would have ended by putting the money back when he
+could, only Davie made such a row before he could; and he did so reckon
+on the navy—he would pay it back the first thing.”  The last sentences
+came between gasps, very like sobs.
+
+“Have done with Hal,” said Captain Merrifield, still with displeasure.
+“I wouldn’t take him now on any account.  If the Grevilles lead him
+wrong, what would he do among the mids?  If he acts dishonourably here,
+we should have him disgracing himself and his profession.  Since he can’t
+take it, and you won’t, I shall try to make some exchange of the chance
+till John or David will be old enough.”
+
+“But Papa, I—” began Sam.
+
+“_I_ don’t want to force you to it,” continued Captain Merrifield, in his
+vexed voice.  “I never mean to force my sons to any profession if I can
+help it; and you have a right to be considered.  It has always been a
+disadvantage to me, and to this place, that I was bred to the sea instead
+of to farming; and though you can’t live on the property without some
+profession, it may be quite as well that you should turn your mind to
+something else—only if it be the army, I can’t help you on in it.”
+
+“I had rather go to sea, if you please,” said Sam.
+
+“Don’t say so to please me,” said his father.  “I tell you, the
+examinations are a pretty deal harder than they were in my time.  It is
+not a trade for a youngster to be idle in; and I won’t have you, just
+when you’ve knocked about a few years, and are getting fit to be of use
+on board and nowhere else, calling yourself heartily sick of it, and
+turning round to say it was my doing.”
+
+“I’ll never do that, Papa,” said poor Sam, unable to understand why his
+father should speak as though scolding him.
+
+“No?  And mind, you must take the rough with the smooth, if you sail with
+me, and not be always running after me, Papa-ing me.  I can’t see after
+you, and should only get you ill will if I tried.”
+
+“I had rather go,” said Sam.
+
+“I’m sure I don’t know what to make of you,” said his father, looking at
+him in a puzzle.  “However, if you do mean to go, you may tell Freeman to
+get your things ready to come up with me on Thursday; only if you don’t
+really like the notion, find out your own mind, and let me know in time,
+that’s all.”
+
+The Captain turned away, and gave a long whistle—an accustomed
+signal—that brought children and dogs all rushing and tumbling about him
+together, to walk with him about the farm, and his brother among them;
+but Sam hung back.  He had not the heart to go with that merry throng;
+for he did not know whether his father were not displeased with him, and
+he therefore thought he must be to blame.
+
+People who, like Sam, rather cultivate the habit of gruffness and
+reserve, and prefer to be short and rude, become so utterly unable to
+express what they mean, that on great occasions they are misunderstood,
+and give pain by supposed ingratitude and dislike, even when they feel
+most warmly.  Captain Merrifield could only judge from looks and words;
+and even when Sam had been satisfied about Henry, he had shown so little
+alacrity or satisfaction, as really to leave a doubt whether he were not
+unwillingly yielding to his father’s wishes; which would have been a
+mistaken act, as the Captain thought no one ought to be a sailor unless
+with a very strong desire that way.  Thus Sam really perplexed and
+distressed his father, when he least intended it; and unable to
+understand what was the matter, yet feeling heavy and sad, he turned
+aside from the rest, and, by way of the quietest place he could find,
+climbed up a tall pear-tree, to the very highest branch he could reach.
+He put himself astride on one bough, his feet upon another below, and his
+back leaning against the main stem.  No one could see him up so high
+among the thick leaves; but he could see all around the village, and over
+the house; he could look down into the farm-court at the pigs burying
+themselves in the straw; and out beyond at the geese and ducks in the
+meadow, and the broods of chickens pecking and scratching about, or the
+older poultry rolling in the dust-holes they had scraped for themselves.
+He could see Purday among his cabbages in the garden; and further off,
+could watch the walking-party through the fields, his father with little
+George in his arms, and Uncle John as often as possible by his side;
+while the others frisked about, sometimes spreading out like a flock of
+sheep in the pasture land, or when they came to the narrow paths in the
+cornfields, all getting into single file, and being lost sight of all but
+their heads.
+
+Sam recollected how, the day when he had heard that he was not likely to
+be a sailor, he had felt as if he hated Stokesley, and as if it would be
+a prison to him, and how everything reminding him of the sea had been a
+misery to him.  He would not then have believed anyone who had told him
+that he would really hear of his appointment and be so little glad.  Yet
+for two whole years the loss of the hope had weighed on him, and made him
+dull whenever he thought of grown-up life, heard of the sea, or was asked
+what he was to be: and almost always, at his prayers, he had that meaning
+in his mind, when he said “Thy Will be done;” he had really submitted
+patiently, and tried to put away the longing from his mind, and would,
+there can be no doubt, have been happy and dutiful at home; but at length
+the wish of his heart was suddenly granted.
+
+And then, wish though it still were, there came all this grief and
+discomfort.  The gladness was in him somewhere, but he could not get at
+it, either for his own comfort, or that of his father.  He missed his
+mother exceedingly.  _She_ would know what he meant, and tell Papa that
+he did care to go.  Yet, did he care so very much?  Only think of
+beginning to be a stranger at this dear old home! and seeing no mother,
+no Susie, nor any of them, for years together—probably not his father
+after the first voyage!  However, the sailor was too strong in Sam for
+that grief not to pass off; and his chief trouble was the sense of
+supplanting Henry.  He knew the disappointment would be most bitter; and
+he could not get rid of the sense of having taken an unfair advantage of
+the disgrace of Henry’s adventure.  As to his father’s manner, he got
+over that more easily, for his conscience was free; he knew that the tone
+of displeasure would be gone at the next meeting, and he was too sure of
+his own love of the sea to fear that he should not show it enough.  After
+all, he was to be a naval cadet!  He could not be sorry.  Nay, he felt he
+had his wish; the very wish he had thought it wrong to put into a prayer.
+He thought he ought to be thankful that it was granted, in the same way
+as he had been when his mother began to recover.  So he put his hands
+together, and looked up into the summer blue sky through the leaves, and
+his lips moved, as he whispered his thanks, and asked to be helped in
+being a good brave sailor, and that something as good might happen to
+poor Henry.
+
+After this, somehow, the weight was gone, he knew not where.  All he
+recollected was, that he should see Mamma in two days, and that he was to
+sail with Papa if he could get through his examination.  There was a sort
+of necessity of doing something comical; and just then spying Miss
+Fosbrook with a book walking slowly below, he could not resist the
+temptation of sending down on her a shower of little hard pears and
+twigs.
+
+Bob came one down on her book, and another on her bonnet.  She looked up,
+and saw a leg stretching out for a branch, apparently in such a dangerous
+manner, that she did not know whether she should not have Sam himself on
+her head next, and started back, watching as he swung himself from branch
+to branch, and then slid down, embracing the trunk.
+
+“Did I hit you!” said he.  “I couldn’t help trying it; it was such fun.”
+
+It was a great liberty; but she was so good-humoured as to laugh, and
+said he had taken good aim.
+
+“Please, Miss Fosbrook,” next said he, “would you hear how many
+propositions I can say!”  And as she opened her eyes at this holiday
+amusement, he added, “Papa has got the appointment after all, and means
+me to have it.”
+
+“I am so glad, Sam!  I give you joy!” she said, and took his hand to
+shake it heartily.
+
+“I wish Hal could go too,” said Sam.
+
+“Dear Sam,” she said kindly, and guessing his feelings, as having gone
+along with them, “I don’t wonder you are sorry for him; but indeed I
+think it is better for him to be sheltered from beginning real life just
+now.”
+
+“Papa said he would not have taken him,” said Sam; “but it seems so hard
+to have all his life changed for a thing that sounds worse than he meant
+it to be.”
+
+“Sam,” said Miss Fosbrook, “I once read a sermon, that said that our
+conduct in little things does decide the tenor of our lives.  You know
+one moment of hastiness cost Moses the Promised Land; and only a little
+while ago, we heard how Joash had but few victories allowed to him,
+because he did not think it worth while to strike the ground as often as
+Elisha told him.  It is the little things that show whether we are to be
+trusted with great.”
+
+“It is such a tremendous punishment,” said Sam, “when he would have put
+it back again.”
+
+“My brother knew a banker’s clerk who was transported for borrowing what
+he meant to put back again.  No, Sam; people must bear the result of
+their doings; and your father judges for Hal as much in kindness as in
+anger.”
+
+“I know he knows best.”
+
+“You may see it as well as trust.  With all his grand talk, do you really
+think that Hal would not be upset at the first hardship, or that he could
+face bullying or danger?  Remember the bull, that was at least a vicious
+cow, and turned out to be a calf.”
+
+Sam could not help laughing, as he said, “Yes, that would never do at
+sea; and he would be done for if he were cowardly there.  But I wish I
+could get out of sight of him till I am gone.  And please hear my Euclid;
+I’ll get the book, if you’ll stay out here.”
+
+“Therefore, if the two sides of two triangles be equal to one another,
+and the adjacent angles be equal each to each,” resounded through the
+laurels, as the walking party returned.
+
+“Hallo! _al fresco_ Euclid!” exclaimed Uncle John, as Sam with a blush
+ran after his blotted diagrams, as a sudden gust of wind blew them
+dancing over the garden.  Captain Merrifield caught one, and restored it
+to Sam, with a pat on the back that made his teeth rattle in his head,
+but which made him as happy as a young sea-king, showing that they
+perfectly understood each other.
+
+But to be ever so good a boy does not carry one through the examinations
+that stand at the door of every road of life for those who are not
+wealthy.  Sam knew he was the dull boy of Mr. Carey’s four pupils; and
+though from sheer diligence he was less often turned back than the rest,
+yet they could all excel him whenever they chose: his lessons all went
+against the grain, and were a sore trouble to him; and his uncle had
+shown much wrath to-day at his ignorance and backwardness.  He was
+therefore in a great fright, and gave himself and Miss Fosbrook no peace,
+running after her every moment with his Euclid, his Colenso, or his
+slate.
+
+“That boy will stupefy himself and his admirable cramming machine!”
+exclaimed Uncle John, when coming out into the court after tea to talk to
+Purday, the two brothers heard, “The complement A E is equal to the
+complement D E,” proceeding out of the school-room window.
+
+“A truce with your complements to-night,” shouted the Captain; “come
+down, Sam; I must have a game at hide-and-seek!”
+
+Though hide-and-seek on the lawn with Papa was the supremest bliss that
+life had yet offered to the young Merrifields, and though Susan, Bessie,
+Annie, and Johnnie, had all severally burst into the room to proclaim it
+and summon Sam, he had refused them all; but this call settled it; he
+broke off in the middle of his rectangle, and dashed down stairs, to the
+great relief of kind Miss Fosbrook, who, with all her good-will, found
+her head beginning to grow weary of angles and right-angles on a hot
+evening in the height of summer.
+
+The summer-house was to be _home_, and there the party were
+assembled—nine in number, for not only Papa, but Uncle John, was going to
+play; and Henry, though forlorn and unnoticed, had wandered about with
+the rest all day, trying to do as usual, to forget the heavy load that
+pressed on him, and to believe that he was not going to be punished for
+mere unluckiness in borrowing, and for not answering impertinent
+questions.  The world was very unlike itself to him; and he saw the
+enjoyment without being able to enter into it, just as a sick person sees
+the sunshine without feeling the warmth; but instead of penitence, he
+merely tried to shake off his compunction.
+
+So there he stood in the ring, as Susan was finding out who was to be the
+first to hide, by pointing to each, at each word of the formula,
+
+    “Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,
+    Sticks, stocks, stones, dead.”
+
+“Dead” came to Uncle John, as perhaps Susan had contrived; and shrugging
+up his shoulders, he went off to hide, and his whoop was presently heard.
+He was not _very_ good game; maybe he did not wish to be very long
+sought, for he was no further than in the tall French beans, generally
+considered as a stupid place to hide in.  The children had been in hopes
+that he would catch Papa, which was always a very difficult matter, for
+the sailor was lighter of foot, as well as, of course, longer in limb,
+than any of the children; but they saw that Uncle John had not the
+slightest chance with him, and it was Bessie who was caught in her
+homeward race.
+
+Bessie was rather a good hider, and was searched for far and wide before
+Sam’s “I spy!  I spy!” gave the signal that a bit of the spotty cotton
+had been seen peeping out from under Purday’s big potato-basket in the
+tool-house, and the whole party flew towards home.  Bessie would not aim
+at Papa, for if so, she would certainly catch no one; but she hunted down
+David, who was too sturdy to be a quick runner, and who was very well
+pleased to be caught.
+
+“I’ll have Papa!” he said, as she captured him.  “I know of such a
+cunning place.”
+
+David’s place proved to be in among his likenesses, the cabbages,
+immediately in front of the summer-house.  There he lay flat on the very
+wet mould, among the stout cabbages, all of which had a bead of wet in
+every wrinkle of their great leaves, so that when Susan had at length
+spied him, and he came plunging out, his brown-holland—to say nothing of
+his knees—was in a state that would have caused most mammas to send him
+to be instantly undressed; but nobody even saw it, and he charged
+instantly towards the door of the summer-house, not pursuing anyone in
+particular, but cutting all off from their retreat.  He slipped aside,
+however, and let all the lesser game pass by uncaught; his soul soared
+higher than even Uncle John, who looked on exceedingly amused at the
+small man’s stratagem, and at the long dodging that took place between
+him and his father, the quick lithe Captain skipping hither and thither,
+and trying to pop in one side while his enemy was on the other; and the
+square, determined, little, puffing, panting boy, guarding his door,
+hands on knees, ever ready for a dart wherever the attempt was made.  The
+whole party in the home nearly went into fits at the fun, and at the
+droll remarks Uncle John made at this hare and tortoise spectacle; till
+at last either the Captain gave in, or Davie made a cleverer attack than
+ever, for with a great shout he flew upon Papa, and held him fast by the
+legs.  Everyone shrieked with delight; Papa hid in such clever places,
+and when found, he roared so splendidly, that it struck the little ones
+with terror, and did the hearts of the elders good, to hear him; indeed,
+the greatest ambition Johnnie entertained was to roar like Papa.  Then he
+could make his voice sound as if out of any place he chose, so that no
+one could guess by his “whoop” where to look for him; and this time it
+seemed to be quite out at the other end of the kitchen-garden, where they
+were all looking, when another “whoop” came apparently down from Sam’s
+pear-tree on the lawn; and while they were peeping up into it, “whoop”
+re-echoed from the stables!  At last, as Annie was gazing up and round as
+if she even thought it as well to look right into the sky for Papa, she
+suddenly beheld the two merriest eyes in the world, on the roof of the
+summer-house itself.  He had been lying there on the thatch, watching at
+his ease all the wanderings of the seekers, and uttering those wonderful
+whoops to bewilder them.
+
+“I spy!  I spy!” shrieked Annie, flying in, even while her father sprang
+to the ground, and with Davie’s manœuvre on a larger scale, seemed to be
+taking his choice of all the fugitives rushing up from all parts.
+
+One elder boy, and one younger, he was hunting down the gooseberry-path,
+when just as he was about to pounce on the former, he said that it was
+not Sam, stood still, and folded his arms.  A shriek made him look round;
+little David stood sobbing and crying piteously.
+
+“Davie! what, Davie!  What is it, my man?  Where are you hurt!”
+
+“No, no!  I’m not hurt!  Catch Hal, Papa.”
+
+“No, David.  I do not play with boys that act like Henry.”
+
+“Speak to him, Papa; oh, speak!”
+
+“I shall, before I go,” said the Captain gravely.
+
+“Now, now!  Papa.  Oh, do!  I did want him to be punished, but not like
+this.”
+
+“No, David.  If he can expect to play with me, and be treated like the
+others, he is not in the state to receive forgiveness.  There, have done
+crying; let us go on with the game.”
+
+But David could not go on playing; he was too unhappy.  Not to be
+forgiven, even if punished, seemed to him too dreadful to happen to
+anyone; and he thought that he had brought it all on Henry by his letter
+of accusation.  Tardily and dolefully he crept into the house; and Miss
+Fosbrook met him, looking so woe-begone, that she too thought he had hurt
+himself.  She took him, dirt and all, on her lap; and there he sobbed out
+that Papa wouldn’t speak to Hal, and it was very dreadful; and he wished
+there were no such things as pigs, or money, or secrets; they only made
+people miserable!
+
+“Dear Davie, they only make people miserable when they care too much
+about them.  Papa will forgive Hal before he goes away, I am sure; only
+he is making him sorry first, that he may never do such a thing again.”
+
+“I don’t like it.”  And David cried sadly, perhaps because partly he was
+tired with having been on his legs more than usual that day; but his good
+and loving little self was come home again.  He at least had forgiven his
+brother the wrong done to himself; and there was no hanging back that
+night from the fulness of prayer; no, he rather felt that he had been
+unkind; and the last thing heard of him that night was, that as Sam and
+Hal were coming up-stairs to bed, a little white figure stood on the top
+of the stairs, and a small voice said, “Hal, please kiss me!  I am so
+sorry I told Papa about—”
+
+“There, hold your tongue,” said Hal, cutting him short with the desired
+kiss, “if you hadn’t told, someone else would.”
+
+But long after Sam was asleep, Hal was wetting his pillow through with
+tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+STILL the silence lasted.  Henry had tried at first to persuade himself
+that it was only by chance that he never heard his own name from lips
+that used to call it more often than any other.  Indeed, he was so much
+used to favour, that it needed all the awe-struck pity of the rest to
+prove to him its withdrawal; and he was so much in the habit of thrusting
+himself before Samuel, that even the sight and sound of the First Book of
+Euclid, all day long, failed to convince him that his brother could be
+preferred; above all, as Nurse Freeman had been collecting his clean
+shirts as well as Sam’s, and all the portmanteaus and trunks in the house
+had been hunted out of the roof.  Once, either the spirit of imitation,
+or his usual desire of showing himself off, made him break in when Sam
+was knitting his brows frightfully over a sum in proportion.  Hal could
+do it in no time!
+
+So he did; but he put the third term first, and multiplied the hours into
+the minutes, instead of reducing them to the same denomination; so that
+he made out that twenty-five men would take longer to cut a field of
+grass than three, and then could not see that he was wrong; but Miss
+Fosbrook and Sam both looked so much grieved for him, that a start of
+fright went through him.
+
+Some minds really do not understand a fault till they see it severely
+visited; and “_at least_” and “_couldn’t help_” had so blinded Henry’s
+eyes that he had thought himself more unlucky than to blame, till his
+father’s manner forced it on him that he had done something dreadful.
+Vaguely afraid, he hung about, looking so wretched that he was a piteous
+sight; and it cut his father to the heart to spend such a last day
+together.  Mayhap the Captain could hardly have held out all that second
+day, if he had not passed his word to his brother.
+
+The travellers were to set off at six in the morning, to meet the
+earliest train: and it was not till nine o’clock at night, when the four
+elder ones said good-night, that the Captain, following them out of the
+room, laid his hand on Henry as the others went up-stairs, and said,
+“Henry, have you nothing to say to me?”
+
+Henry leant against the baluster and sobbed, not knowing what else to do.
+
+“You can’t be more grieved than I am to have such a last day together,”
+said his father, laying his hand on the yellow head; “but I can’t help
+it, you see.  If you will do such things, it is my duty to make you
+repent of them.”
+
+Hal threw himself almost double over the rail, and something was heard
+about “sorry,” and “never.”
+
+“Poor little lad!” said his father aloud to himself; “he is cut up enough
+now; but how am I to know if his sorrow is good for anything?”
+
+“O Papa!  I’ll never do such a thing again!”
+
+“I wish I knew that, Hal,” said the Captain, sitting down on the stairs,
+and taking him between his knees.  “There, let us talk it over together.
+I don’t suppose you expected to steal and deceive when you got up in the
+morning.”
+
+“Oh no, no!”
+
+“Go back to the beginning.  See how you came to this.”
+
+As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time, “You said we
+need not go to church on a week-day.”
+
+“Well, what of that?”
+
+“I didn’t go in case the telegraph should come.”
+
+“There are different ways of thinking,” said his father.  “Church was the
+only place where I _could_ have gone that St. Barnabas’ Day.”
+
+“I would have gone,” said the self-contradictory Henry, “only the
+Grevilles are always at one for being like a girl.”
+
+“Ha! now we see daylight!” said the Captain.
+
+“‘The Grevilles are at one,’—that’s more like getting to the bottom of
+it.”
+
+“Yes, Papa,” said Hal, glad to make himself out a victim to circumstance;
+“you can’t think what a pair of fellows those are for not letting one
+alone; Purday says they haven’t as much conscience between them as a
+pigeon’s egg has meat; and going down to Mr. Carey’s with them every day,
+they let one have no peace.”
+
+“You will find people everywhere who will let you have no peace, unless
+you do not care for them; though you will not be left to the Grevilles
+any longer.”
+
+“Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will see—”
+
+“No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear.”
+
+“Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?”
+
+“You will not sail at all: I thought you knew that.”
+
+“I thought the Admiral must have given you two appointments,” said Hal
+timidly.
+
+“He gave me _one_, for one of my sons.  The first choice is Sam’s right,
+even if he had not deserved it by his brave patient obedience.”
+
+Hal hung his head; then said, “But, Papa, if Sam broke down in his
+examination, please mightn’t I—”
+
+“No, Henry.  Not only does your uncle say that though Sam’s success is
+very doubtful, your inaccuracy would make your failure certain; but if
+your knowledge were ever so well up to the mark, I could not put you into
+the navy.  Left to yourself here, you have been insubordinate, vain,
+weak, shuffling: can I let you go into greater temptation, where disgrace
+would be public and without remedy?”
+
+“Oh, but, Papa!  Papa!  Away from the Grevilles, and not under only a
+governess—”
+
+“You shall be away from the Grevilles, and not under a governess.  Your
+uncle is kind enough to take you with him to his house, and will
+endeavour to make you fit to try to get upon the foundation by the time
+there is a vacancy.”
+
+“O Papa! don’t,” sobbed Henry.
+
+“I can’t help it, Hal!  You have shown yourself unfit either for the sea
+or for home.  What can I do with you?”
+
+“Try me—only try me, Papa.  I would—”
+
+“I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you are.  Deeds, not
+words.”
+
+“But if you won’t let me go into the navy, only let me be in real
+school.”
+
+“No, Henry; I have not the means of sending you there: excepting on the
+foundation; and if you get admittance there at all, it will only be by
+great diligence, and your uncle’s kindness in preparing you.”
+
+Henry cried bitterly.  It was a dreadful prospect to do his lessons alone
+with Uncle John in the boys’ play-hours, and be kept in order by Aunt
+Alice when his uncle was in school.  Perhaps his father would not have
+liked it himself, for his voice was very pitying, though cheering, as he
+said, “One half year, Hal, very likely no more if you take pains, and
+you’ll get into school, and be very happy, so long as you don’t make a
+Greville of every idle chap you meet.”
+
+Henry cried as though beyond consolation.
+
+“I hate leaving you this way,” continued his father; “but by the time I
+come home you will see it was the best thing for you; and look up to
+Uncle John as your best friend.  Why, Hal, boy, you’ll be a tall fellow
+of fourteen!  Let me find you godly and manly: you can’t be one without
+the other.  There now, good night, God bless you.”
+
+More might have been said to Henry on his fault and what had led to it;
+but what his father did say was likely to sink deeper as he grew older,
+and had more sense and feeling.
+
+From him Captain Merrifield went to the school-room, where Miss Fosbrook
+was packing up for the little girls, and putting last stitches to their
+equipments, with hearty good-will and kindness, as if she had been their
+elder sister.
+
+He thanked her most warmly; and without sending away the girls, who were
+both busy tacking in little white tuckers to the evening frocks, he began
+to settle about the terms on which she was to remain at Stokesley.  He
+said that he could not possibly have left his wife without a person on
+whose friendly help and good management of the children he could depend.
+Important as it was to him to be employed, he must have refused the
+appointment if Miss Fosbrook had been discontented, or had not had the
+children so well in hand.  He explained that he had reason to think that
+Mrs. Merrifield’s present illness had been the effect of all she had gone
+through while he was in the Black Sea during the Crimean War.  She had
+been a very strong person, and had never thought of sparing herself; but
+she and all her little children had had to get into Stokesley in his
+absence; she had to manage the estate and farm, teach the elder children,
+and take care of the babies, with no help but Nurse Freeman’s: and though
+he had been wounded when with the Naval Brigade, and had been at death’s
+door with cholera, the effects had done him no lasting harm at all; while
+the over-strain of the anxiety and exertion that she had undergone all
+alone had so told upon her, that she had never been well since, and he
+much feared, would never be in perfect health again.  He must depend upon
+Miss Fosbrook for watching over her and saving her, as his little Susie
+could not yet do; and for letting him know from time to time how she was
+going on, and whether he ought to give up everything and come home.
+
+He had tears in his eyes as he thanked Christabel for her earnest promise
+to watch and tend Mrs. Merrifield with a daughter’s care; and her heart
+swelled with strong deep feeling of sorrow and sympathy with these two
+brave-hearted loving people, doing their duty at all costs so steadily;
+and she was full of gladness and thankfulness that they could treat her
+as a true and trusty friend.  He walked away, feeling far too much to
+bear any eye upon him; and Susan was found to be crying quietly, making
+her thread wet through, and her needle squeak at every stitch, at the sad
+news that Mamma never was to be quite well, even though assured that she
+was likely to be much better than she had been for months past.
+
+Bessie shed no tears; but Miss Fosbrook, who had been hindered all day by
+Sam’s Euclid and Colenso, and had sat up till half-past eleven o’clock to
+make the two Sunday frocks nice enough for the journey, on going into the
+bed-room to lay them out for the morning, saw a little face raised from
+the pillow of one of the small white beds, and found her broad awake.
+Bessie never could go to sleep properly when anything out of the common
+way was coming to pass, so that was the less wonder; but she had a great
+deal in her head, and she was glad to get Christabel to kneel down by
+her, to listen to her whispers.
+
+“Dear Christabel, I am so sorry.  I never cared about it before!”
+
+“About what, my dear?”
+
+“What Papa said about when he was in the Black Sea.  I never knew Mamma
+cared so much.”
+
+“I dare say not, my dear; you were much younger then.”
+
+“And I didn’t know all about it,” said Bessie, “or else I’ve forgotten.
+I have been trying to remember whether we ever thought about Mamma; and
+oh, Christabel! do you know—I believe we only thought she was cross!  Oh
+dear! it was so naughty and bad of us!”
+
+“I can guess how it happened, my dear.  You were not old enough to be
+made her friends, and you could not understand quiet sorrow.”
+
+“To think we should have said she was cross!”
+
+“That was wrong, because it was disrespectful.  You see, my dear, when
+grown people are in trouble, you young ones can’t enter into their
+feelings, nor always even find out that anything is amiss; and you get
+vexed at there being a cloud over the house, and call it crossness.”
+
+“Grown-up people are sometimes cross, aren’t they?” said Bessie.  “Nurse
+is; and I heard Papa say Aunt Alice was.”
+
+“We have tempers, certainly,” said Miss Fosbrook; “and unless we have
+conquered them as children, there will be signs of them afterwards; but
+very few people, and certainly no children, can tell when grave looks, or
+words sharper than usual, come from illness or anxiety or sorrow; and it
+is the only way to save great grief and self-reproach to give one’s own
+faults the blame, and try to be as unobtrusive and obliging as possible.”
+
+“And I am older now, and can understand,” said Bessie; “but then, it is
+Susie that is right hand, and does everything.”
+
+“There’s plenty in your own line, Bessie—plenty of little kindly services
+that are very cheering; and above all—”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Attending to your Mamma’s troubles will drive away your own grievances.
+Only I will not talk to you any more now, for I want you to go to sleep;
+if you lie awake, you will be tired to-morrow, and that will incline you
+to be fretful.”
+
+“Fretful to-morrow!”
+
+Bessie could not believe it possible; and indeed Miss Fosbrook did not
+think the chance great, as long as there was amusement and excitement.
+The danger would be in the waitings and disappointments that will often
+occur, even in the height of enjoyable schemes.
+
+It would take too long to tell of all the good-byes.  The children old
+enough to enter into the parting were setting off too; and Miss Fosbrook
+felt more for the little ones than they did for themselves, as they
+watched their father and uncle and two sisters into the gig, and the boys
+into the cart, with Purday to drive them and the boxes, Sam sitting on
+his father’s old midshipman’s chest, trying, as well as the jolting would
+let him, to con over that troublesome Thirty-fifth Proposition, which
+nine times repetition to Miss Fosbrook had failed to put into his head.
+
+Johnnie and Annie wished themselves going to sea, or to London, or
+anywhere, rather than having the full force of Miss Fosbrook on their
+lessons!  She did not make them do more, but she took the opportunity of
+making everything be done thoroughly, and, as they thought, bothered them
+frightfully about pronouncing their words in reading, and holding their
+pens when they wrote.  After a little while, however, they found that
+really their hands were much less tired, and their lines much smoother
+and more slanting, than when they crooked their fingers close down over
+the ink.  Absolutely they began to know the pleasure of doing something
+well, and they felt so comfortable, that they were wonderfully good; and
+the pig fund might have had a chance, but David did not seem to think of
+reviving it.  Perhaps his great vehemence had tired itself out; and maybe
+he was ashamed of the great disturbance he had made and all that had come
+upon Henry, and did not wish to think of it again, for St. Katherine’s
+fair-day passed over without a word of the pig.
+
+The young ladies were not great letter-writers; and all that was known of
+them was that Mamma was better, they had been to the Zoological Gardens
+and the hyena was so funny, and Mrs. Penrose was so nice.  Then that Papa
+and Sam were gone to Portsmouth, and that they had telegraphed that Sam
+had succeeded.
+
+If it had been her own brother, Miss Fosbrook could not have been much
+happier; and in honour of it she and the three children all went to drink
+tea in the wilderness, walking in procession, each with a flag in hand,
+painted by her for the occasion.
+
+Three days after, when the post came in, there was a letter directed to
+Master David Douglas Merrifield, Stokesley House, Bonchamp.  It was a
+great wonder; for David was not baby enough, nor near enough to the
+youngest, to get letters as a pet, nor was he old enough to be written to
+like an elder one.  He spelt the address all over before he made up his
+mind to open it, and then exclaimed, “But it is not a letter!  It’s
+green!”
+
+“It is a post-office order, Davie,” said Miss Fosbrook.  “Let me look.
+Yes, for ten shillings.  Write your name there; and if we take it to the
+post-office at Bonchamp, they will give you ten shillings.”
+
+“Ten shillings!  Oh, Davie!” cried Johnnie, “I wish it was to me!”
+
+“It just makes up for what Hal took, and more too,” said Annie.  “Where
+can it come from, Davie?”
+
+“From the Queen,” said Davie composedly; “the Queen always does justice.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook was quite sorry to confess, for truth’s sake, that she did
+not think the Queen could have heard of the loss of the pig fund, and
+that it was more likely to be from someone who wished to make up for the
+disaster—who could it be?  She looked at the round stamp upon the
+green-lettered paper, and read “Portsmouth.”  Could it be from Papa?
+Then she looked at the cover; but it was not a bit like the Captain’s
+writing; it was pretty, lady-like, clear-looking hand-writing, and
+puzzled her a great deal more.  If the children had once had a secret of
+their own, there was a very considerable one to puzzle them now; and they
+could hardly believe that Miss Fosbrook knew nothing about it, any more
+than themselves.
+
+So restless and puzzled were they, that she thought they would never be
+able to settle quietly to their lessons, and that it would save idleness
+if she walked with them at once to Bonchamp to get the money.  It was two
+miles; but all three were stout walkers, and they were delighted to go;
+indeed, they would have fancied that someone else might run away with the
+ten shillings if they had not made haste to secure it.  So “David Douglas
+Merrifield” was written, with much difficulty to make it small enough, in
+the very best and roundest hand.  The boys were put into clean blouses,
+Annie’s striped cotton came to light; and off set the party through the
+lanes, each with sixpence in their hand, for it was poor fun to go to
+Bonchamp, unless one had something to spend there.  David wanted a knife,
+Johnnie wanted a whip, Annie nothing in particular, only to go into a
+shop, and buy—she didn’t know what.
+
+But the wonderful affair at the post-office must have the first turn; and
+very grand did David feel as the clerk peeped out from his little hole,
+and looked amused and gracious as the little boy stood on tiptoe to give
+in his green paper.
+
+“Will you have it in gold or silver, Sir?” he asked.
+
+“In gold, please,” said David.
+
+It was something to have a bit of gold in one’s possession for the first
+time in one’s life; and David felt as if he had grown an inch taller, and
+were as good as six years old, as he walked away with the half sovereign
+squeezed into his hot little palm.
+
+The toy-shop was at the end of the street, and in they went; Johnnie to
+try all the whistles in the handles of the whips, and be much disgusted
+that all that had a real sound lash cost a shilling; David to open and
+shut the sixpenny knives with the gravity of a judge examining their
+blades; and Annie to gape about, and ask the price of everything, after
+the tiresome fashion of people, old or young, when they come out bent on
+spending, but without any aim or object.  However, Annie was kind, if she
+were silly, and she was very fond of Johnnie; so it ended, after a little
+whispering, in her sixpence being added to his, to buy a real good whip,
+such as would crack, and not come to pieces.
+
+Just then, what should the children espy, but a nice firm deal box,
+containing a little saw, a little plane, a hammer, a gimlet, a chisel,
+and sundry different sizes of nails.  Was there ever anything so
+delightful, especially to David, who loved nothing so well as running
+after George Bowles the carpenter, and handling his tools.  What was the
+price of them?
+
+Just ten shillings and sixpence.  They were very cheap, the woman of the
+toy-shop said.  They had been ordered by an old lady at her grandson’s
+entreaty; but afterwards a misgiving had seized her that the young
+gentleman would cut his fingers, and she would not take them.
+
+“Miss Fosbrook,” whispered David, “may I give back the knife? then I
+could buy it.”
+
+“You have bought and paid for it,” said Christabel.
+
+“Somebody else will buy the box,” said David wistfully.
+
+Miss Fosbrook, within herself, thought this unlikely, for nobody went to
+Bonchamp for costly shopping; and she saw that the woman would gladly
+have had the knife back, if she could have sold the tool-box, which, even
+at this reduced price, was much too dear for the little boys who
+frequented the shop.
+
+“Come away now, my dear,” she said decidedly.  “No, another time, thank
+you.”
+
+David was as nearly crying as ever he was, as he was forced to follow her
+out of the shop.  Those tools were so charming; his fingers tingled to be
+hammering, sawing, boring holes.  Had he lost the chance for that poor
+blunt knife?  Must he wait a whole fortnight for another sixpence, and
+find the delicious tool-chest gone?
+
+“Dear Davie, I am very sorry,” said Christabel when they were in the
+street.
+
+“That nasty knife!” cried David.
+
+“It is not the knife, Davie,” said she; “but that I want to think—I want
+you to think—why these ten shillings must have been sent.”
+
+“Because we lost the money for the pig,” said David.  “But Kattern Hill
+fair is over, and I don’t want a pig now; I do want the gimlet to make
+holes—”
+
+“Yes, David; but you know what was saved for the pig came from all of
+you; you would have had no right to spend it on anything else, unless
+they all had consented.”
+
+“This is my very own,” said David; “it was sent to me—myself—me.”
+
+“So it seems now; but just suppose you were to have a letter to say that
+someone—poor Hal himself, perhaps—or Papa—had sent ten shillings to make
+up the money for the pig, and directed it to you because you cared so
+much, would it not be a shame to have spent the money upon yourself?”
+
+“Then they should not have sent it without saying,” said David.
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought the same, when she saw how hard the trial was to
+the little boy; but she hoped she was taking the kindest course, as she
+said, “Now, David, in nine days time, if you are good, you will have had
+another sixpence.  I see no chance of the tools being sold; or if they
+are, I could send for such a box from London.  By that time, perhaps,
+something will have happened to show who sent the money, and why.”
+
+“And if it is all for myself, I may have the tools!” cried David.
+
+“You shall have them, if you really think it is right, when Monday week
+comes.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+IDEAS were slow in both entering or dying out of David’s mind; but while
+there they reigned supreme.  Carpentry had come in as the pig had gone
+out, and with the more force, because a new window was being put into
+Mamma’s room; and George Bowles was there, with all his delightful tools,
+letting the little boys amuse themselves therewith, till they had hardly
+three sound fingers between them; and Nurse Freeman, when she dressed
+their wounds, could not think what was the use of a lady if she could not
+keep the children from hurting themselves; but Miss Fosbrook thought that
+it was better that boys should get a few cuts and bruises than that they
+should be timid and unhandy.
+
+One evening, all the party walked to carry to Hannah Higgins’s little
+girl a pinafore that Annie had been making.  She was a nice, tidy woman,
+but there was little furniture in her house, and she looked very poor.
+The garden was large, and in pretty good order; and there was an empty
+pig-sty, into which Annie peeped significantly.
+
+“No, Miss Annie, we haven’t no pig,” said Mrs. Higgins.  “Ben says, says
+he, ‘Mother, when I’m taken on for carter boy, see if I don’t get you a
+nice little pig, as will eat the garden stuff, and pay the rent.’
+
+“Oh, but—” began Annie, and there she came to a sudden stop.
+
+“Is he likely soon to be a carter boy?” asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+“No, Ma’am; he is but ten years old, and they don’t often take them on
+under twelve; but he is a good boy to his mother, and a terrible one for
+leasing.”
+
+Miss Fosbrook was obliged to have it explained to her that “leasing”
+meant gleaning; and she saw the grand pile of small neat bundles of wheat
+put out to dry on the sunny side of the house.
+
+“O Davie!” cried Annie, as soon as they were outside the gate, “sha’n’t
+we get the pig for Hannah?”
+
+“It is my money, not yours; I shall do what I please with it,” said
+David, rather crossly.
+
+Miss Fosbrook pulled Annie back, and desired her to let David alone;
+herself wondering what would be the effect of what he had seen.
+
+He had been eager to do good to Hannah when no desire of his own stood in
+the way; but a formed wish had arisen in his mind, and he loved himself
+better than Hannah.  Christabel dreaded the clearing-up of the secret of
+the post-office order, lest he should be proved to love himself more than
+right and justice.
+
+There were not many letters from the absent pair of sisters; they seemed
+to be much too busy and happy to write, and appeared to be “seeing
+everything,” and to be only just able to put down the names of the
+wonders.  The chief of all, however, was that kind Mrs. Penrose had
+actually taken them to Portsmouth for a couple of nights, to see the
+_Ramilies_, in which she was going to remain till it sailed.  They had
+sat in the Admiral’s cabin, and had slept upon “dear little sofas,” where
+they wished they always slept; they had been in Papa’s cabin, which was
+half filled up with a great gun, that can only be fired out at the window
+(scratched out, and “port-hole” put in.)
+
+“Oh, how delightful!  I wish I had a big gun in my room!” cried Johnnie.
+
+And they had seen Sam’s chest; and Sam did look so nice in his uniform;
+and he had dined with them every day.  They had dined late, with the
+grown-up people; and the Admiral was so kind, only rather funny.
+
+Annie wished she were as old as Bessie, as much as John wished to have a
+gun filling up his whole bed-room.
+
+The next day, their Papa had taken them into the country to see Lady
+Seabury, Bessie’s godmother, a very old lady indeed, older than
+Grandmamma, and who could not move out of her chair.  “She gave me—”
+wrote Bessie.  There again something had been scratched out, and “a kiss”
+written overhead.
+
+That something was quite a long word, but it had been very completely
+blotted out; not like the “window,” which had only a couple of cross
+bars, through which it could be plainly read; but there had plainly been
+first an attempt at smearing it out with the finger, and that not
+succeeding, an immense shiny black mess, like the black shade of a chafer
+grub, had been put down on it, and had come off on the opposite side of
+the sheet.
+
+What could the word be?  Annie and David were both sure they could read
+the lines through all the blot.  The first letter was certainly S.
+
+“But,” said Miss Fosbrook, “do you think it is quite honourable to try to
+read what Bessie did not mean us to see?”
+
+They did not quite enter into this, but they left off trying.
+
+“Mamma had been out in the carriage several times; and they were all
+coming home on Saturday week”—that was the best news of all—“and then we
+have a secret too for Miss Fosbrook.”
+
+David said he was tired of secrets, and would not guess.  Annie guessed a
+great deal; but Miss Fosbrook thought more about the word she would not
+try to read.  She began to have a strong suspicion from whom the
+post-office order had come, and was the more uneasy about the spending of
+David’s half sovereign; but she durst say nothing, for she knew it could
+do no good if he felt himself compelled against his own will; and she saw
+that he was full of thought.
+
+One day the lawn had been mown, and the children where all very busy
+wheeling their little barrows, and loading them with the short grass;
+David was with them at first, but when Purday left off work, he marched
+after the old man in his grave deliberate way, and was seen no more till
+nearly tea-time, when he walked into the school-room with a very set look
+upon his solemn face, and sat himself down cross-legged on the locker,
+with a sigh that seemed to come out of the very depths of his heart.
+
+“What’s the matter, David?”
+
+He made no answer, and Miss Fosbrook let him alone; but Annie presently
+bounced in, crying out, “Davie, Davie! where were you? we have been
+hunting for you everywhere!  Where did you go?”
+
+“I went with Purday.”
+
+“What, to milk the cows?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And then?”
+
+“I went with him to Farmer Long’s, to see his little Chinese pigs.”
+
+“And you have bought one!  O Davie!”
+
+“Purday is to ask the farmer about the price to-morrow morning, because
+he wasn’t at home.”
+
+“Then you won’t get the carpenter’s tools?” said Annie.
+
+“No,” said David; “Purday said tools that they make for little boys never
+will cut.”
+
+“So you told Purday all about it?”
+
+David nodded his head.
+
+“Oh, do tell me what Purday said!” continued Annie.
+
+“It’s nothing to you,” said David bluntly.  But by and by, when John came
+in, and a few more questions were asked, David let out that Purday had
+said, “Well, he thought sure enough if the money was sent to Master David
+for that intent, he did not ought to spend it no other ways; and whether
+or not, Hannah Higgins was a deserving woman; and Master Davie didn’t
+know what it was like never to have a bit of bacon ne’er a Sunday in the
+winter.  He couldn’t say but it was hard that those poor folks should get
+nothing but bread and cabbages from week’s end to week’s end, just that
+Master Davie might spoil bits of deal board with making chips of them.”
+
+And when David was sure he shouldn’t spoil his wood, Purday had told him
+that them toy-shop young gentleman’s tools were made to sell, and not
+made to cut.  Best save up his money, and buy one real man’s tool after
+another; and then he’d get a set equal to George Bowles’s in time!
+
+Though so young, David was long-sighted and patient enough to see the
+sense of this, and had already made up his mind that he would begin with
+a gimlet.  And though he did not say so, and the first resolution had
+cost a very tough struggle, his heart seemed to have freed itself in that
+one great sigh, and he was at peace with himself.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was very glad he had gone to so wise and good an adviser as
+Purday, and was almost as happy as David himself.  She gave him and John
+leave to go with Purday the next day to bargain for the pig, as David was
+very anxious for one in especial, whose face he said was so jolly fat;
+and it was grand to see the two little boys consequentially walking on
+either aide of Purday, who had put on his whitest round frock for the
+great occasion.
+
+Farmer Long was at home; he came out and did the honours of his ten
+little pigs; and when he found which was David’s favourite, he declared
+that it was the best of the lot, and laughed till David blushed, at the
+young gentleman’s having got such an eye for a pig.  “It was a regular
+little Trudgeon,” said Purday, (meaning perhaps a Trojan;) and it was
+worth at least twelve shillings, but the farmer in his good-nature
+declared that little Master should have it for the ten, as it was for a
+present.  Hannah’s boy was working for him, and was a right good lad, and
+he would give him some straw for the pig’s bed when he went home at
+night.  Then he took the two boys into the parlour, and while Purday had
+a glass of beer in the kitchen, Mrs. Long gave each of them a big slice
+of plum-cake, and wanted very much to have given them some wine, but that
+they knew they must not have; and she inquired after their Mamma and
+Papa, and made them so much of visitors, that David was terribly shy, and
+very glad when it was over, though John liked it, and talked fast.
+
+As to the giving the pig, that was a serious business; and David felt hot
+and shy, and wanted to get it over as soon as possible without a fuss.
+
+So he bolted into Mrs. Higgins’s cottage, put his hands behind his back,
+and spoke thus:—“Please, Mrs. Higgins, put your pig-sty in order!  We’ve
+all done it—at least they all wanted to—and a green order came down in a
+letter—and we’ve bought the pig, and Ben will drive it home when he comes
+from work!”
+
+And then, as if he had been in a great fright, he ran away; while Johnnie
+stayed, and, when Hannah understood, received so many curtsies, and
+listened to so much pleasure, that he could hardly think of anything
+else, and felt very glad that _some_ pence of his had been in Toby
+Fillpot.
+
+Annie said that it was not fair that she had not been at the giving the
+pig; and Miss Fosbrook was a little disappointed too; but then it was
+much better that David should not want to make a display, so she would
+not complain, and comforted Annie by putting her in mind that they could
+go and see the little pig in his new quarters.
+
+A few days more, and the carriage was driving up to the door with dear
+Mamma in it, and—why, there were three little girls, not two!  One look,
+and the colour came into Christabel’s face.  It was her youngest little
+sister, Dora, who sat beside Bessie!  Mrs. Merrifield had gone to see
+Mrs. Fosbrook, and ask if she could take anything for her to her
+daughter; and she had been so much shocked at the sight of the little
+pale London faces, that she had begged leave to take home one of the
+children to spend a month with her sister at Stokesley, since Miss
+Fosbrook could not be spared to go home at present.  Was not that a
+secret for Christabel?  How these two sisters did hug each other!
+
+But the Stokesley secrets have lasted long enough; and there is no time
+to tell of the happy days of Dora’s visit, and the good care that Johnnie
+took of her whenever she went out, and of her pretty quiet ways that made
+Bessie take her for her dearest of friends.  And still less can be told
+of the smooth, peaceful, free spirit that seemed to have come home with
+Mamma, even though she was still able to do little among the children,
+for the very having her in the house appeared to keep things from going
+wrong.
+
+One thing must be told, however, and that is, that when Annie told all
+the wonderful story of the post-office order and the Chinese pig, Bessie
+grew redder and redder in the face, and Susan squeezed both her hands
+tight together, and said “May I tell, Bessie!”
+
+
+
+
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+<title>The Stokesley Secret, by Charlotte M. Yonge</title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Stokesley Secret, by Charlotte M. Yonge
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
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+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Stokesley Secret
+
+
+Author: Charlotte M. Yonge
+
+
+
+Release Date: January 31, 2015  [eBook #3411]
+[This file was first posted on April 9, 2001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKESLEY SECRET***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1902 Macmillan and Co. &ldquo;Countess
+Kate and The Stokesley Secret&rdquo; edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<h1>THE STOKESLEY SECRET</h1>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">BY<br />
+CHARLOTTE M. YONGE</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><b>London</b><br />
+MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span><br
+/>
+1902</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Richard Clay
+and Sons</span>, <span class="smcap">Limited</span>,<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LONDON AND BUNGAY</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Transferred to Macmillan and
+Co.</i>, <i>Limited</i>, 1901.&nbsp; <i>Reprinted</i>, 1902.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">How</span> can a pig pay the
+rent?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The question seemed to have been long under consideration, to
+judge by the manner in which it came out of the pouting lips of
+that sturdy young five-year-old gentleman, David Merrifield, as
+he sat on a volume of the great Latin Dictionary to raise him to
+a level with the tea-table.</p>
+<p>Long, however, as it had been considered, it was unheeded on
+account of one more interesting to the general public assembled
+round the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say!&rdquo; hallooed out a tall lad of twelve holding
+aloft a slice taken from the dish in the centre of the table,
+&ldquo;I say! what do you call this, Mary?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bread and butter, Master Sam,&rdquo; replied rather
+pettishly the maid who had brought in the big black kettle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bread and butter!&nbsp; I call it bread and
+scrape!&rdquo; solemnly said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It only has butter in the little holes of it, not at
+the top, Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; said, in an odd pleading kind of
+tone, a stout good-humoured girl of thirteen, with face, hair,
+and all, a good deal like a nice comfortable apricot in a sunny
+place, or a good respectable Alderney cow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think it would be better not to grumble, Susan, my
+dear,&rdquo; replied, in a low voice, a pleasant dark-eyed young
+lady who was making tea; but the boys at the bottom of the table
+neither heard nor heeded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mary, Mary, quite contrary,&rdquo; was Sam&rsquo;s cry,
+in so funny a voice, that Miss Fosbrook could only laugh;
+&ldquo;is this bread and scrape the fare for a rising young
+family of genteel birth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; with a pathetic grimace, cried the
+pretty-faced though sandy-haired Henry, the next to him in age,
+&ldquo;if our beloved parents knew how their poor deserted
+infants are treated&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A fine large infant you are, Hal!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m an infant, you&rsquo;re an infant, Miss
+Fosbrook is an infant&mdash;a babby.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, Hal!&rdquo; cried the more civilized Sam,
+clenching his fist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, Sam,&rdquo; interposed Miss Fosbrook, laughing,
+&ldquo;your brother is quite right; I am as much an infant in the
+eye of the law as little George.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, I said I would!&rdquo; cried Henry;
+&ldquo;didn&rsquo;t I, Sam?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you what?&rdquo; asked Susan, not in the
+most elegant English.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Martin Greville twitted us with having a girl for
+a governess,&rdquo; said Henry; &ldquo;he said it was a shame we
+should be taken in to think her grown up, when she was not
+twenty; and I said I would find out, and now I have done
+it!&rdquo; he cried triumphantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Everybody is quite welcome to know my age,&rdquo; said
+Miss Fosbrook, the colour rising in her cheek.&nbsp; &ldquo;I was
+nineteen on the last of April; but I had rather you had asked me
+point blank, Henry, than tried to find out in a sidelong
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry looked a little surly; and Elizabeth, a nice-looking
+girl, who sat next to him and was nearest in age, said,
+&ldquo;Oh! but that would have been so rude, Miss
+Fosbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rude, but honest,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; and
+Susan&rsquo;s honest eyes twinkled, as much as to say, &ldquo;I
+like that;&rdquo; but she said, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe Hal
+meant it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care!&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;Come,
+Mary, this plate is done&mdash;more bread and butter; d&rsquo;ye
+hear? not bread and gammon!&rdquo; and he began the chant, in
+which six voices joined till it became a roar, pursuing Mary down
+to the lower regions:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Thick butter and thin bread,<br />
+Or it shall be thrown at Mary&rsquo;s head;<br />
+Thick bread and thin butter,<br />
+Is only fit for the ducks in the gutter.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Elizabeth looked appealingly at Miss Fosbrook; but Miss
+Fosbrook was leaning back in her chair, her handkerchief up to
+her mouth, in fits of laughing, seeing which, the children bawled
+louder and louder; and Elizabeth only abstained from stopping her
+ears because she knew that was the sure way to be held fast, and
+have it bellowed into them.</p>
+<p>Little Annie blundered in her eagerness upon</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">&ldquo;Thick bread and
+thin butter,&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>whereupon there was a general outcry.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nanny likes
+thick bread and thin butter, let her have it!&rdquo; and Sam,
+Henry, and Johnnie directed a whole battery of their remaining
+crusts towards her cup, which would presently have been upset
+into her lap but for Miss Fosbrook, who recovered herself, and
+said gravely, &ldquo;This must not be, Sam; I shall send you away
+from the table if you do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam wanted to see whether she would, and threw the crust.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam,&rdquo; she said very decidedly, though there was a
+quiver in her voice, as if she were frightened.</p>
+<p>Sam looked up, and did not move.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Fosbrook!&rdquo; cried Susan, &ldquo;we were
+all just as bad.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t punish Sam!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time that Sam should show that he has the
+feelings of a manly boy,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, looking full
+at him.&nbsp; &ldquo;He knows that I must keep my word, and that
+I have no strength to fight with him.&mdash;Sam, go and finish
+your tea on the window-seat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her clear brown eyes looked full at him as she spoke, and all
+the young population watched to see what he would do.&nbsp; He
+hesitated a moment, then took up his cup and plate, and sat down
+in the window-seat.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook breathed freely, and she had almost said,
+&ldquo;Thank you, Sam,&rdquo; but she did not think this was the
+time; and collecting herself, she said, &ldquo;Fun is all very
+well, and I hope we shall have plenty, but we ought not to let it
+grow riotous; and I don&rsquo;t think it was of a good sort when
+it was complaining of the food provided for us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The children were all rather subdued by what she said; some
+felt a little cross, and some rather ashamed; and when Mary
+brought back the dish replenished with slices, no one said a word
+as to whether the butter were thick or thin.&nbsp; The silence
+seemed to David a favourable occasion for renewing the great
+question, &ldquo;How does a pig pay the rent?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a general giggle, and again Miss Fosbrook was as bad
+as any: while David, looking affronted, tapped the table with the
+handle of his spoon, and repeated, &ldquo;I want to
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you, Davy man,&rdquo; began Henry,
+first recovering.&nbsp; &ldquo;The pig is a very sagacious
+animal, especially in Hampshire, and so he smells out wherever
+the bags of money are sown underground, and digs them up with his
+nose.&nbsp; Then he swings them on his back, and gives a curl of
+his tail and a wink of his eye, and lays them down just before
+the landlord&rsquo;s feet; and he&rsquo;s so cunning, that not an
+inch will he budge till he&rsquo;s got the receipt, with a stamp
+upon it, on his snout.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; now is that a true story?&rdquo; cried little
+Annie, who was the only person except David grave enough to
+speak; while Sam, exploding in the window, called out,
+&ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you know that&rsquo;s why pigs have rings
+in their noses?&rdquo;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;There was a lady loved a swine;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &lsquo;Honey,&rsquo; says she,<br />
+I&rsquo;ll give you a silver trough.&rsquo;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &lsquo;Hunks!&rsquo; says he,&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>continued Hal; &ldquo;that shows his disinterestedness.&nbsp;
+Oh, werry sagacious haminals is pigs!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, Hal,&rdquo; cried Elizabeth, &ldquo;to
+confuse the children with such nonsense.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you think I know how the rent is
+paid?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve seen Papa on rent-day hundreds of
+times.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the pigs, Hal; did you ever see the
+pigs?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thousands of times.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bringing bags of gold?&nbsp; O Hal!&nbsp;
+Hal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to know,&rdquo; continued David, who had been
+digesting the startling fact, &ldquo;how the pig swings the bag
+on his back? I don&rsquo;t think ours could do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a sort made on purpose,&rdquo; said Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Made on purpose by Mr. Henry Merrifield,&rdquo; said
+Susan, at last able to speak.&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t believe
+one word, David dear; Hal is laughing at you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how does a pig do it?&rdquo; asked David, returning
+to the charge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you want to know, my dear?&rdquo; asked Miss
+Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mary&rsquo;s sister said so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; exclaimed Susan; &ldquo;Davy went out
+with the nursery children to-day, and they went to see
+Mary&rsquo;s sister.&nbsp; Her husband is drowned because he was
+a sailor; and the <i>Mermaid</i> went to South America; and there
+are five little tiny children.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of the mermaid&rsquo;s?&rdquo; cried Harry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no; the <i>Mermaid</i> was the ship, and it was
+wrecked, and they have noticing to live upon; and she takes in
+washing, and is such a nice woman.&nbsp; Mamma said we might take
+them our old winter frocks, and so David went there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And she said if she had a pig to pay the rent she
+should be quite happy,&rdquo; said David.&nbsp; &ldquo;How could
+he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;the pig
+would live on her garden-stuff, her cabbage-leaves and
+potato-skins; and that when he was fat she would sell him, and
+pay the rent with the money.&nbsp; Am I right, Sam? you know I am
+a Cockney.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You could not be more right if you were a Hampshire
+beg,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;Jack Higgins was her
+husband&rsquo;s name, and a famous fellow he was; he once rigged
+a little boat for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he sailed with Papa once, long ago,&rdquo; added
+Susan; to which Sam rejoined,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More fool he to go into the merchant service and get
+drowned, with nothing for his widow to live upon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; cried Hal, &ldquo;why shouldn&rsquo;t we
+give her a pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, do!&rdquo; earnestly exclaimed David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll catch one,&rdquo; broke from John and Annie
+at once; &ldquo;such lots as there are in the yard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You would catch it, I believe,&rdquo; said Sam
+disdainfully; while Susan explained,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; those are Papa&rsquo;s pigs.&nbsp; Purday would not
+let you give them away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Henry, &ldquo;that was only
+those little geese.&nbsp; I meant to make a subscription among
+ourselves, and give her the pig; and won&rsquo;t she be
+surprised!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, yes,&rdquo; shouted the children;
+&ldquo;let&rsquo;s do it all ourselves!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got one-and-threepence, and sixpence next
+Saturday,&rdquo; cried Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ve eightpence,&rdquo; quoth Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ve a whole shilling,&rdquo; said David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve fourpence,&rdquo; said Johnnie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve not much, I&rsquo;m afraid,&rdquo; said
+Susan, feeling in her pocket, with rather black looks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;everybody knows simple
+Sukey never has a farthing in her pocket by any
+chance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but I have, Sam;&rdquo; and with an air of great
+triumph, Susan held up three-halfpence, whereat all the party
+screamed with laughter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, but Bessie always has lots!&nbsp; She&rsquo;s as
+rich as a little Jew.&nbsp; Come, Bet, Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy,
+and Bess, what will you give?&mdash;what have you
+got?&rdquo;&mdash;and one hand came on her shoulder, and another
+on her arm but she shook herself free, and answered rather
+crossly,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t&mdash;I can&rsquo;t&mdash;I&rsquo;ve got
+something else to do with my money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! you little stingy avaricious crab!&rdquo; was the
+outcry beginning; but Miss Fosbrook stopped it before Elizabeth
+had time to make the angry answer that was rising on her
+lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dears, you must not tease her.&nbsp; Each of you
+has a full right to use your own money as you may think best; and
+it is not right to force gifts in this manner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a little affected pussy-cat,&rdquo; said
+Hal, much annoyed; &ldquo;I know what she wants it for&mdash;to
+buy herself a ridiculous parasol like Ida Greville, when she
+would see poor Hannah Higgins starving at her feet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth bit her lip, and tossed up her head; the tears were
+in her eyes, but she made no answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, never mind,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;she&rsquo;s
+as obstinate as a male when she gets a thing into her head.&nbsp;
+Let&rsquo;s see what we&rsquo;ve got without her.&nbsp;
+I&rsquo;ve only sevenpence: worse luck that I bought ball of
+string yesterday.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The addition amounted to three shillings and elevenpence
+halfpenny: a sum which looked so mighty when spread out, chiefly
+in coppers, on the window-seat, that Annie and David looked on it
+as capable of buying any amount of swine; but Sam looked rather
+blank at it, and gazing up and down, said, &ldquo;But what does a
+pig cost?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, what does a pig cost?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook shook her head and laughed, saying that she knew
+much less of pigs than they did; and Susan exclaiming,
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s Purday in the court,&rdquo; they all tumbled
+to the window, one upon the top of the other.</p>
+<p>The window was a large heavily-framed sash, with a deep
+window-seat, and a narrow ledge within the sill&mdash;as if made
+on purpose, the first for the knees the second for the elbows of
+the gazers therefrom.</p>
+<p>As to the view, it was into a walled kitchen court, some high
+chestnut and lime trees just looking over the grey roofs of the
+offices.&nbsp; On the ground lay a big black Newfoundland dog,
+and a couple of graceful greyhounds, one of them gnawing a bone,
+cunningly watched by a keen-looking raven, with his head on one
+side; while peeping out from the bars of the bottle-rack was the
+demure face of the sandy cat, on the watch for either bones or
+sparrows.</p>
+<p>A stout, stumpy, shrewd-looking labourer, in a short round
+frock, high buskins, an old wide-awake, short curly hair, and a
+very large nose, stood in front of the dairy door, mixing a mess
+of warm milk for the young calves.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Purday!&nbsp; Master Purday!&rdquo; roared nearly the
+whole young population above; but he was so intent on his
+mixture, that he went on as if he were deaf, till a second
+explosion of &ldquo;Purday!&nbsp; Purday!&nbsp; I say!&rdquo;
+made him turn up his face in an odd half-awake kind of
+manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Purday, what&rsquo;s the price of a pig?&rdquo; and,
+&ldquo;What does a pig cost, Purday?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What d&rsquo;ye all holler at once for?&nbsp; A body
+can&rsquo;t hear a word,&rdquo; was all the answer they got;
+whereupon they all started together again, and Purday went on
+with his mixture as if they had been so many hens cackling.</p>
+<p>Then Sam got up his breath again and called alone,
+&ldquo;Purday!&rdquo; and Hal and Susan by pats and pinches
+strangled the like outcry from Annie and John, so as to leave the
+field clear for the great question, &ldquo;Purday, what does a
+pig cost?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More than your voices up there, sir,&rdquo; growled
+Purday, making some laugh; but Henry cried impatiently,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Purday, we really do want to know what is the
+price of pigs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They was high last market,&rdquo; began Purday.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care if they were high or low,&rdquo;
+said Hal; &ldquo;I want to know what money they cost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Different pigs cost different prices,&rdquo; quoth the
+oracle, so sententiously, that Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s shoulders
+shook with laughing as she stood a little in the background of
+the eager heap in the window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A nice little pig, such as you&rsquo;d
+give&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, hush, Hal, it&rsquo;s a secret,&rdquo; cried
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A pretty sort of secret&mdash;known to eight already,
+and bawled out all over the yard,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But don&rsquo;t tell him what it&rsquo;s for; you can
+ask him without that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A nice little young pig,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;such
+as you&rsquo;d keep all the summer, and fat in the
+winter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mind, it ain&rsquo;t for you, Purday,&rdquo; cried
+Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never fear my being disappointed, sir,&rdquo; said the
+free-spoken Purday, with a twinkle of his eye, which Hal
+understood so well that he burst out,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! you think I can never do what I say I will; but
+you&rsquo;ll see, Purday, if we don&rsquo;t give a pig
+to&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was screamed at, and pulled into order and silence, ere the
+words, &ldquo;Hannah Higgins&rdquo; had quite come out; and Sam
+repeated his question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Purday at last, &ldquo;if pigs was
+reasonable, you might get a nice little one to fat, at Kattern
+Hill fair, somewhere about ten shillings, or maybe
+twelve&mdash;sometimes more, sometimes less.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ten shillings!&rdquo;&nbsp; The community stood round
+and looked at one another at the notion of such an awful sum; but
+Hal was the first to cast a ray of hope on the gloom.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Kattern Hill fair ain&rsquo;t till Midsummer, and perhaps
+Grandmamma will send us some money before that.&nbsp; If
+anybody&rsquo;s birthday was but coming!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better save it out of our allowance,&rdquo; said
+Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;How long is it to the fair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s pocket-book declared it to be four
+weeks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Hal, &ldquo;we three big ones
+have sixpence a week each, that&rsquo;s six shillings, leaving
+out stingy Bess, and the little ones threepence, that&rsquo;s
+three times three is nine, and three times nine is thirty-six,
+that&rsquo;s three shillings, and six is nine, and very near four
+is fourteen.&nbsp; We shall do the pig yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Hal; but if pigs are reasonable, I am afraid three
+times nine never yet were so much so as to make
+thirty-six,&rdquo; objected Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>Sam whistled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty-seven&mdash;that&rsquo;s three and
+twopence&mdash;it&rsquo;s all the same,&rdquo; said Hal; then at
+the scream of the rest, &ldquo;at least two and threepence.&nbsp;
+Well, any way there&rsquo;s plenty for piggy-wiggy, and it shall
+be a jolly secret to delight Hannah Higgins, and surprise Papa
+and Mamma: hurrah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;but then nobody must have
+any fines.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, and Sue must keep her money.&nbsp; That will be a
+wonder!&rdquo; shouted Harry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll try,&rdquo; said Susan.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try not to have a single fine, and I&rsquo;ll
+not buy a single lump of sugar-candy, for I do want poor Hannah
+to have her pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so will we!&rdquo; cried the younger ones with one
+voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only,&rdquo; added Susan, &ldquo;I must buy
+Dicky&rsquo;s canary seed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I must have a queen&rsquo;s head to write to
+Mamma,&rdquo; said Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! never mind that, such trumpery as your letters
+are,&rdquo; said Hal.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mamma could say them by heart
+before she gets them.&nbsp; What does she care for
+them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Little Annie looked very deplorable.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, my dear,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+&ldquo;mammas always care for little girls&rsquo; letters, and
+you are quite right to keep a penny for your stamp for
+her.&mdash;You see, Hal, this scheme will never come to good if
+you sacrifice other duties to it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry twirled round impatiently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now suppose,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;that we
+set up a treasury, and put all in that we can properly afford,
+and then break it open on the day before the fair, and see how
+much we have.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, yes,&rdquo; cried the children in
+raptures.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you help, Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo; said Susan,
+clasping her hands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to do a very little, if you will take
+this silver threepenny; but I do not think it would be right for
+me to spare one penny more, for all I can afford is very much
+wanted at home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What shall we have for treasury?&rdquo; said Hal,
+looking round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know!&rdquo; cried Susan.&nbsp; &ldquo;Here, in the
+baby-house; here&rsquo;s the Toby, let&rsquo;s put it inside
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The so-called baby-house was an old-fashioned cupboard with
+glass doors, where certain tender dolls, and other curiosities,
+playthings too frail to be played with and the like, were ranged
+in good order, and never taken out except when some one child was
+unwell, and had to stay in-doors alone.</p>
+<p>Toby Fillpot was a present from Nurse Freeman.&nbsp; It was a
+large mug, representing a man with a red coat, black hat, and
+white waistcoat, very short legs, and top-boots.&nbsp; The
+opening of the cup was at the top of his head, and into this was
+dropped all the silver and pence at present mustered, and
+computed to be about four shillings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And, Miss Fosbrook, you&rsquo;ll not be cross about
+fines?&rdquo; said Johnnie, looking coaxing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope I shall not be cross,&rdquo; she answered;
+&ldquo;but I do not engage to let you off any.&nbsp; I think
+having so good a use to put your money to should make you more
+careful against forfeiting it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Johnnie disconsolately.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I never get fined,&rdquo; cried Hal joyfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Except for running up stairs in dirty shoes,&rdquo;
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! there&rsquo;s no dirt now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me see, what are the fines?&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the list,&rdquo; said Susan; and sighing,
+she said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I shall never do it!&nbsp; If
+Bessie only would help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The fines of the Stokesley schoolroom were these for
+delinquencies&mdash;each value a farthing&mdash;</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For being dressed later than eight
+o&rsquo;clock.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For hair not properly brushed.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For coming to lessons later than five
+minutes after ten.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For dirty hands.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For being turned back twice with any
+lesson.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For elbows on the table.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For foolish crying.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For unnecessary words in lesson-time.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For running up stairs in wet shoes.</p>
+<p class="gutindent">For leaving things about.</p>
+<p>Each of these bits of misbehaviour caused the forfeit of a
+farthing out of the weekly allowance.&nbsp; Susan looked very
+gloomy over them; but Hal exclaimed, &ldquo;Never mind, Susie;
+we&rsquo;ll do it all without you, never fear!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;I vote we have some
+fun in the garden.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Some readers may be disposed to doubt, after this specimen,
+whether the young Merrifields could be really young ladies and
+gentlemen; but indeed their birth might make them so; for there
+had been Squire Merrifields at Stokesley as long as Stokesley had
+been a parish, and those qualities of honour and good breeding
+that mark the gentleman had not been wanting to the elder members
+of the family.&nbsp; The father of these children was a captain
+in the navy, and till within the last six years the children had
+lived near Plymouth; but when he inherited the estate they came
+thither, and David and the two little ones had been born at
+Stokesley.&nbsp; The property was not large; and as Captain
+Merrifield was far from rich, it took much management to give all
+this tribe of boys and girls a good education, as well as plenty
+of bread and butter, mutton, and apple-pudding.&nbsp; There was
+very little money left to be spent upon ornament, or upon
+pleasuring; so they were brought up to the most homely dress
+suited to their station, and were left entirely to the country
+enjoyments that spring up of themselves.&nbsp; Company was seldom
+seen, for Papa and Mamma had little time or means for visiting;
+and a few morning calls and a little dining out was all they did;
+which tended to make the young ones more shy and homely, more
+free and rude, more inclined to love their own ways and despise
+those of other people, than if they had seen more of the
+world.&nbsp; They were a happy, healthy set of children, not
+faulty in essentials, but, it must be confessed, a little wild,
+rough and uncivil, in spite of the code of fines.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Merrifield</span> had taught her
+children herself, till Samuel and Henry began going to the Curate
+for a couple of hours every day, to be prepared for school.&nbsp;
+Lessons were always rather a scramble; so many people coming to
+speak to her, and so many interruptions from the nursery; and
+then came a time when Mamma always was tired, and Papa used to
+come out and scold if the noises grew very loud indeed, and was
+vexed if the children gave Mamma any trouble of any kind.&nbsp;
+Next they were told they were to have a governess&mdash;a sort of
+piece of finery which the little savages had always
+despised&mdash;and thereupon came Miss Fosbrook; but before she
+had been a week in the house Mamma was quite ill and in her
+bed-room, and Papa looked graver than he had ever done before;
+and Mr. Braddon, the doctor, came very often: and at last Susan
+was called into Mamma&rsquo;s room, and it was explained to her
+that Mamma was thought so ill, that she must go to be under a
+London doctor, and would be away, she could not tell how long; so
+that meantime the children must all be left to Miss Fosbrook,
+with many many injunctions to be good and obedient, for hearing
+that they were going on well would be poor Mamma&rsquo;s only
+comfort.</p>
+<p>It was three days since Captain and Mrs. Merrifield had gone;
+and Miss Fosbrook stood at the window, gazing at the bright young
+green of the horse-chestnut trees, and thinking many various
+thoughts in the lull that the children had left when they rushed
+out of doors.</p>
+<p>She thought herself quite alone, and stood, sometimes smiling
+over the odd ways of her charges, and at what they put her in
+mind of, sometimes gravely thinking whether she had said or done
+the wisest things for them, or what their mother would have most
+approved.&nbsp; She was just going to move away from the window,
+when she saw a little figure curled up on the floor, with her
+head on the window-seat.&nbsp; &ldquo;Bessie, my dear, what are
+you doing here?&nbsp; Why are not you gone out?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to go out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought they were to have a great game at
+whoop-hide.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like whoop-hide.&nbsp; Johnnie pulls the
+clothes off my back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I hope you are not staying in because they
+called you those foolish names.&nbsp; It was all in good
+humour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was not kind,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, her throat
+swelling.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was not true.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not; but you did not speak to give your
+reasons; and who could tell how good they might be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve a right to my secrets as well as they
+have,&rdquo; said the little maiden.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook looked kindly at her, and she turned wistful
+eyes on the young governess.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, will you keep a secret?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That I will.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want my money to buy some card-board&mdash;and some
+ribbon&mdash;and some real true paints.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve got some
+vermilion, but I want some real good blue.&nbsp; And then I want
+to make some beautiful bands with ties&mdash;like what Papa has
+for his letters&mdash;for all Mamma&rsquo;s letters in her
+desk.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s a bundle of Papa&rsquo;s when he was
+gone out to the Crimean War, and that&rsquo;s to have a frigate
+on it, because of the <i>Calliope</i>&mdash;his ship, you know;
+and there&rsquo;s one bundle of dear Aunt
+Sarah&rsquo;s&mdash;that&rsquo;s to have a rose, because I always
+think her memory is like the rose in my hymn, you know; and
+Grandmamma, she&rsquo;s to have&mdash;I think perhaps I could
+copy a bit of the tower of Westminster Abbey out of the print,
+because one sees it out of her window; and, oh! I thought of so
+many more, but you see I can&rsquo;t do it without a real good
+paint-box, and that costs three and sixpence.&nbsp; Now, Miss
+Fosbrook, is it stingy to wish to do that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all, my dear; but you could not expect the
+others to understand what they never were told.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have said something if they had not called me
+stingy,&rdquo; said Bessie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It certainly was rude and hasty; but if we bear such
+things good-naturedly, they become better; and they were very
+eager about their own plan.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Such a disagreeable thing as a pig!&rdquo; continued
+Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;If it had been anything nice, I should not
+have minded so much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but, my dear, you must remember that the pig will
+be a more useful present than even your pretty
+contrivances.&nbsp; You cannot call them doing good, as the other
+will be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you are like them!&nbsp; You think I ought to
+spend all my money on a great horrid pig, when
+Mamma&mdash;&rdquo; and the tears were in the little girl&rsquo;s
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed, my dear.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t think anyone
+is called on to give their all, and it is very nice and quite
+right for a little girl to try to make a pretty present to please
+her mamma.&nbsp; There is plenty of time before you, and I think
+you will manage to have some share in the very kind action your
+brothers and sisters are contriving.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth had not forgiven, as she should have done, the being
+called stingy; it rankled on her feelings far more than those who
+said the word understood; and she presently went on, &ldquo;If
+they knew ever so much, they would only laugh at me, and call it
+all Bessie&rsquo;s nonsense.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook, please, what is
+affectation?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I believe it is pretending to seem what we are not by
+nature,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;putting on manners or
+feelings that do not come to us of themselves.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I shall tell them they make me affected,&rdquo;
+exclaimed she.&nbsp; &ldquo;If I like to be quiet and do things
+prettily, they teaze me for being affected, and I&rsquo;m forced
+to be as plain and blunt as their are, and I don&rsquo;t like
+it!&nbsp; I wish I was grown up.&nbsp; I wish I was Ida
+Greville!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And why, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because then things might be pretty,&rdquo; said
+Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;Everything is so plain and ugly, and one
+gets so tired of it!&nbsp; Is it silly to like things to be
+pretty?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, far from it; that is, if we do not sacrifice better
+things to prettiness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth looked up with a light in her dark eyes, and said,
+&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, I like you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was very much pleased, and kissed her.</p>
+<p>She paused a moment, and then said, &ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, may
+I ask one question?&nbsp; What is your name?&nbsp; Mamma said it
+must be Charlotte, because you signed your letter Ch. A.
+Fosbrook, but your little sister&rsquo;s letter that you showed
+us began &lsquo;My dear Bell.&rsquo;&nbsp; If it is a secret,
+indeed I will keep it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is no secret at all,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+laughing.&nbsp; &ldquo;My name is Christabel Angela.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth opened her eyes, and said it by syllables.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Christabel Angela! that&rsquo;s a prettier name than
+Ida.&nbsp; Does it make you very glad to have it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I like it for some reasons,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+smiling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, tell me!&rdquo; cried Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mamma
+always says we should not be a bit happier if our names were
+pretty ones; but I don&rsquo;t know, I feel as if one would; only
+the others like to make things plainer and uglier than they
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never could call your name ugly; it is such a
+dignified, old, respectable name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but they call me Betty!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And they call me Bell, and sometimes Jelly-bag and
+Currant-jelly,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, laughing and sighing,
+for she would have liked to have heard those funny names
+again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is no good to you!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that we talk of good in such a
+matter.&nbsp; I like my name because of the reason it was given
+to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, why?&rdquo; eagerly asked the little girl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I was born, my papa was a very young man, and he
+was very fond of reading poetry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, I thought your papa was a doctor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought only ladies, and poets, and idle silly
+people, cared for poetry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They can hardly be silly if they care rightly for real
+poetry, Bessie,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;at least, so my
+papa would say.&nbsp; It has been one of his great helps.&nbsp;
+Well, in those days he was very fond of a poem about a lady
+called Christabel, who was so good and sweet, that when evil came
+near, it could not touch her so as to do her any harm; and so he
+gave his little daughter her name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How very nice!&rdquo; cried Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must not envy me, my dear, for I have been a good
+deal laughed at for my pretty name, and so has Papa; and I do not
+think he would have chosen anything so fanciful if he had been a
+little older.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then isn&rsquo;t he&mdash;what is it you call
+it&mdash;poetical now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed he is, in a good way;&rdquo; and as the earnest
+eyes looked so warmly at her, Christabel Fosbrook could not help
+making a friend of the little maiden.&nbsp; &ldquo;He has very
+little time to read it; for you know he is a parish surgeon in a
+great parish in London, full of poor people, worse off than you
+can imagine, and often very ill.&nbsp; He is obliged to be always
+hard at work in the narrow close streets there, and to see
+everything sad, and dismal, and disagreeable, that can be found;
+but, do you know, Bessie, he always looks for the good and
+beautiful side; he looks at one person&rsquo;s patience, and
+another person&rsquo;s kindness, and at some little child&rsquo;s
+love for its mother or sister, that hinders it from being too
+painful for him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But is that poetry?&nbsp; I thought poetry meant
+verses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Verses are generally the best and most suitable way of
+expressing our feelings about what is good and beautiful; but
+they are not always poetry, any more than the verses they sang
+to-night about the bread and butter, because, you know, wanting
+thick butter was not exactly a beautiful feeling.&nbsp; I think
+the denying themselves their little indulgences for the sake of
+giving the poor woman a pig, is much more poetical, though nobody
+said a word in verse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They both laughed; and Elizabeth said, &ldquo;That
+wasn&rsquo;t what you meant about your papa.&nbsp; Susy cares for
+goodness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it was not all I meant; but it was seeing high and
+noble thoughts expressed in beautiful verses that gives him
+pleasure; and when he has a little bit of leisure, it is his
+great treat to open a book of that sort, and read a little bit to
+us, and tell us why we like it.&nbsp; He says it makes him young
+again, and takes him out of the dingy streets, and from all his
+cares as to how the bills are to be paid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you like coming here?&rdquo; was Bessie&rsquo;s
+home question; and Miss Fosbrook winked away a little moisture,
+as she said,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was glad to be growing a woman, and to be able to
+help about some of those bills; and then I was glad to come into
+the beautiful country that Papa has so often told us
+about.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not know there was anything beautiful
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Bessie, you never lived in London!&nbsp; You
+can&rsquo;t think how many things are beautiful to me here!&nbsp;
+I want to be writing about them to Papa and Kate all day
+long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are they?&rdquo; said Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mamma has
+pretty things in the drawing-room, but she keeps them out of the
+way; and everything here is so dull and stupid!&rdquo; and the
+little girl gave a yawn.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook understood her.&nbsp; The wainscoted room in
+which they were sitting had been painted of a uniform creamy
+brown; the chairs were worn; the table was blistered and cracked;
+the carpet only covered the middle of the room, and was so
+threadbare, that only a little red showed here and there.&nbsp;
+All that was needful was there, but of the plainest kind; and
+where the other children only felt ease and freedom, and were the
+more contented and happy for the homely good sense of all around
+them, this little girl felt a want that she scarcely understood,
+but which made her uncomfortable and discontented, even when she
+had so much to be thankful for.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook moved nearer to the window.&nbsp; Down below
+there was certainly not much to be seen; only Pierce cleaning the
+knives in the knife-house, and Martha washing out her pans before
+the dairy-door; but that was not where she looked.&nbsp; She
+turned the little half-fretful face upwards.&nbsp; &ldquo;Look
+there!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and talk of seeing nothing
+pretty!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see nothing&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you not see the pale clear green of those noble
+horse-chestnut leaves just sprung into their full summer
+dress&mdash;not in the least worn nor stained yet?&nbsp; And
+those fine spikes of white blossom, all tending
+up&mdash;up&mdash;while the masses of those leaves fall so
+gracefully down, as if lifting them up, and then falling back to
+do them honour.&rdquo;&nbsp; Bessie smiled, and her eye lighted
+up.&nbsp; &ldquo;And see the colour against the sky&mdash;look at
+the contrast of that bright light green with the blue, so very
+deep, of the sky&mdash;and oh! see that train of little clouds,
+red with soft sunny light, like a little soft flock of rosy
+lambs, if there were such things, lying across the sky. O Bessie!
+you can&rsquo;t talk of wanting the sight of pretty things while
+you have that sky.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie was coming closer to her, when in burst Sam and
+Johnnie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hello, Bess! moping here, I declare!&nbsp; I suppose
+you and Miss Fosbrook are telling each other all your
+secrets.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was just coming out,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I want to make out something about those noble flowers of
+the horse-chestnut, and why they don&rsquo;t look whiter.&nbsp;
+Could you gather one for me, Sam?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam was only too glad of an excuse for climbing a tree,
+however cheaply he might hold one who cared for flowers; and by
+the time Bessie had put on her lilac-spotted sun-bonnet&mdash;a
+shapeless article it must be confessed, with a huge curtain
+serving for a tippet, very comfortable, and no trouble at
+all&mdash;he had scrambled into the fork, and brought down a
+beautiful spire of blossoms, with all the grand leaves hanging
+round in their magnificent fans.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will you do with it?&rdquo; said the children,
+standing round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think you could ask Mary to spare us a jug,
+Susan?&nbsp; If I might put it in water in the schoolroom
+fireplace, it would look fresh and cheerful for
+Sunday.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Susan, pleased with the
+commission, &ldquo;that I will;&rdquo; and away she ran, while
+Miss Fosbrook examined the spike to her own great
+enjoyment.&nbsp; &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;the
+flowers are not really white, they each have a patch of pink or
+yellow on them, which gives them their softness.&nbsp; Yes; and
+do you see, Bessie, they are in clusters of three, and each three
+has one flower with a pink spot, and two with a yellow
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is very curious,&rdquo; said Bessie: the
+fretfulness was very much gone out of her tone, and she stood
+looking at the beautiful flower, without a word, till Susan came
+back, when she began to show her what Miss Fosbrook had pointed
+out.&nbsp; Susan smiled with her really good nature, and said,
+&ldquo;How funny!&rdquo; but was more intent on telling Miss
+Fosbrook that she had brought the jug, and then on hauling
+Elizabeth away to a game at Tom Tittler&rsquo;s ground.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook said she would put away the flower and come back
+again; and she settled the branch in the chimney, where it looked
+very graceful, and really did enliven the room, and then walked
+out towards the lawn.</p>
+<p>There was a lawn in front of the house, part of which had been
+formerly levelled for a bowling-green, and was kept clear of
+shrubs or flower-beds.&nbsp; Beyond was a smooth, rather rapid
+slope towards a quiet river, beyond which there rose again a
+beautiful green field, crowned above by a thick wood, ending at
+the top in some scraggy pine-trees, with scanty dark foliage at
+the top of their rude russet arms.&nbsp; Fine trees stood out
+here and there upon the slope of the field; and Captain
+Merrifield&rsquo;s fine sleeked cows were licking each other, or
+chewing the cud, under them.</p>
+<p>There was a white Chinese bridge, the rails all zigzags, and
+patterns running this way and that, so that it must have been
+very ugly and glaring before the white paint had faded so
+much.</p>
+<p>The house was a respectable old stone building, rather brown
+and grey, and the stone somewhat disposed to peel off in flakes;
+the windows large sashes, set in great projecting squared stones,
+the tallest and biggest at the top.&nbsp; It was a house of a
+very sober pleasant countenance, that looked as if it had always
+been used to have a large family in it; and there was a vine,
+with all its beauteous leaves, trained all across the garden
+front, making a pleasant green summer-blind over the higher half
+of the drawing-room windows, that now stood open, telling of the
+emptiness within.</p>
+<p>Christabel stood for a few moments looking round, and thinking
+what a paradise of green rest this would be to her hard-worked
+father and anxious mother; and how she should like to see her
+little brothers and sisters have one free run and roll on that
+delicious greensward, instead of now and then walking to one of
+the parks as a great holiday.&nbsp; Yet hers was a very happy
+home, and, except her being absent from it, nothing had befallen
+her to sadden her merry young spirits; so when she heard the
+joyous cry behind her&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m on Tommy Tittler&rsquo;s
+ground,<br />
+Picking up gold and silver,&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>she turned about, and laughed as she saw the gold-finders
+stooping and clawing at the grass, with eyes cast round about
+them for Hal, who was pursuing Susan in and out, up and down
+till, with screams of exultation, she was safely across the ridge
+of the bowling-green, that served as &ldquo;home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When Hal turned back, Miss Fosbrook was as heedfully and
+warily picking up gold and silver as any of the rest of
+them.&nbsp; He was resolved on capturing her; but first David was
+such a tempting prize, with his back so very near, and so
+unconscious, that he must be made prisoner.&nbsp; A catch at the
+brown-holland blouse&mdash;a cry&mdash;a shout of laughter, and
+Davy is led up behind the standard maiden-blush rose, always
+serving as the prison.&nbsp; And now the tug of war rages round
+it, he darts here and there within his bounds, holding out his
+hand to any kind deliverer whose touch may set him free; and all
+the others run backwards and forwards, trying to circumvent the
+watchful jailor, Tom Tittler, who, in front of the rose-bush,
+flies instantly at whoever is only coming near his captive.</p>
+<p>Ha!&nbsp; Susan had nearly&mdash;all but done it, while Hal
+was chasing away Annie.&nbsp; No, not she; Hal is back again, and
+with a shriek away she scours.&nbsp; Sam! oh, he is very near; if
+that stupid little Davy would only look round, he would be free
+in another moment; but he only gapes at the pursuit of Susan, and
+Sam will touch him without his being aware!&nbsp;
+No&mdash;here&rsquo;s Hal back again.&nbsp; Sam&rsquo;s
+off.&nbsp; What a scamper!&nbsp; Now&rsquo;s the
+time&mdash;here&rsquo;s Miss Fosbrook, lighter-footed than any of
+the children, softly stealing on tip-toe, while Hal is scaring
+Johnnie.&nbsp; Her fingers just touch Davy&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Freed!&nbsp; Freed!&rdquo; is the cry; and off goes he,
+pounding for home! but Hal rushes across the path, he intercepts
+Miss Fosbrook, and, with a shout of triumph&mdash;There is the
+sound of a rent.&nbsp; Everybody stands a little aghast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is only the gathers,&rdquo; says Miss Fosbrook
+good-humouredly.&nbsp; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tuck them up and sew
+them in by and by; but really, Hal, you need not pull so
+furiously; I would have yielded to something short of
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gowns are such stuff!&rdquo; said Hal, really meaning
+it for an apology, though it did not sound like one, for her
+good-natured face abashed him a little.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Touch and take used to be our rule,&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>Bessie eagerly said that would be the best way, the boys were
+so rude; but all the rest with one voice cried out that it would
+be very stupid; and Miss Fosbrook did not press it, but only
+begged in a droll way that some one would take pity on her; and
+come to release her; and so alert was she in skipping towards her
+allies from behind the rose-bush, that Bessie presently succeeded
+in giving the rescuing touch, and she flew back quick as a bird
+to the safe territory, dragging Bessie with her, who otherwise
+would have assuredly been caught; and who, warm with the spirit
+of the game, felt as if she should have been quite glad to be
+made prisoner for her dear Christabel&rsquo;s sake.</p>
+<p>An hour after, and all the children were in bed.&nbsp; Susan
+and Annie agreeing that a governess was no such great bother
+after all; and Elizabeth lying awake to whisper over to herself,
+&ldquo;Christabel Angela, Christabel Angela!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s
+my secret!&rdquo; in a sort of dream of pleasure that will make
+most people decide on her being a very silly little girl.</p>
+<p>And Christabel Angela herself sat mending her gathers, and
+thinking over her first week of far greater difficulties than she
+had contemplated when she had left home with the understanding
+that she was to be entirely under Mrs. Merrifield&rsquo;s
+direction.&nbsp; Poor Mrs. Merrifield had said much of regret at
+leaving her to such a crew of little savages, and she had only
+tried to set the mother&rsquo;s mind at rest by being cheerful;
+and though she felt that it was a great undertaking to manage
+those great boys out of lesson-hours, she knew that when a thing
+cannot be helped, strength and aid is given to those who seek for
+it sincerely.</p>
+<p>And on the whole, she felt thankful to the children for having
+behaved even as well as they had done.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Grant</span> to us, Thy humble
+servants, that by Thy holy inspiration we may think those things
+that be good, and by Thy merciful guiding may perform the
+same,&rdquo; spelt out David with some trouble and difficulty, as
+he stood by Miss Fosbrook on Sunday morning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Another &ldquo;Well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is wanting to buy a pig one of the &lsquo;things that
+be good&rsquo;?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Anything kind and right is good, my dear,&rdquo; said
+Miss Fosbrook, a little vexed at a sort of snorting she heard
+from the other end of the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Davy thinks the pig is in his Collect,&rdquo; said
+Sam.</p>
+<p>He was one of those who were especially proud of being
+downright, and in him it often amounted to utter regardlessness
+of people&rsquo;s feelings, yet not out of ill-nature; and when
+Susan responded, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t teaze Davy&mdash;he
+can&rsquo;t bear it,&rdquo; he was silent; but the mischief was
+done; and when Miss Fosbrook went on saying that the wish to help
+the poor woman was assuredly a good thought, which the little boy
+might well ask to be aided in fulfilling, David had grown
+ashamed, and would not listen.&nbsp; But the mention of the pig
+had set off Master Henry, who was sitting up in the window-seat
+with Annie, also learning the Collect, and he burst out into
+descriptions of the weight of money that would be found in Toby,
+and how he meant to go to the fair with Purday, and help him to
+choose the pig, and drive it home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More likely to hinder,&rdquo; muttered Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Besides, Papa wouldn&rsquo;t let you,&rdquo; added
+Bessie; but Hal did not choose to hear, and went on as to how the
+pig should ran away with Purday, and jump into a stall full of
+parliament gingerbread (whereat Annie fell into convulsions of
+laughing), and Hal should be the first to stop it, and jump on
+its back, and ride out of the fair holding it by the ears; and
+then they should pop it into the sty unknown to Hannah Higgins,
+and all lie in wait to hear what would happen; and when it
+squealed, she would think it the baby crying; but there Susan
+burst out at the notion of any one thinking a child could scream
+like a pig, taking it as an affront to all babyhood; and Miss
+Fosbrook took the opportunity of saying,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t you better hatch your chickens before you
+count them, Henry? If you prevent everyone from learning the
+Collect, I fear there will be the less hope of Mr.
+Piggy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! we don&rsquo;t have fines on Sundays,&rdquo; said
+Henry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma says that on Sundays naughtiness is not such a
+trifle that we can be fined for it,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not naughtiness we are ever fined for,&rdquo;
+added Elizabeth: &ldquo;<i>that</i> we are punished and talked to
+for: but the fines are only for bad habits.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&nbsp; I hope I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t have any this
+week,&rdquo; sighed Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may hope,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re sure of them for everything possible except
+crying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Bessie gets all the crying fines,&rdquo; said Hal;
+&ldquo;and I hope she&rsquo;ll have lots, because she won&rsquo;t
+help the pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie started up from her place and rushed out of the room;
+while Miss Fosbrook indignantly exclaimed,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Really, boys, I can&rsquo;t think how you can be so
+ill-natured!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They looked up as though it were quite a new light to them;
+and Susan exclaimed,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Fosbrook! they don&rsquo;t mean it: Sam and
+Hal never were ill-natured in their lives.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you call ill-natured,&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;unless it is saying the very things
+most likely to vex another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mean to vex anybody,&rdquo; said Henry,
+&ldquo;only we always go on so, and nobody is such a baby as to
+mind, except Bessie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Sam muttered, &ldquo;One can&rsquo;t be always picking
+one&rsquo;s words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not going to argue about it,&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook; &ldquo;and it is time to get ready for church.&nbsp;
+Only I thought manliness was shown in kindness to the weak, and
+avoiding what can pain them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She went away; and Susan was the first to exclaim,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think she&rsquo;d have been so
+cross!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stuff, Sue!&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s not
+being cross.&nbsp; I like her for having a spirit; but one
+can&rsquo;t be finikin and mealy-mouthed to suit her London
+manners.&nbsp; I like the truth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It would have been well if any one had been by to tell Mr.
+Samuel that truth of character does not consist in disagreeable
+and uncalled-for personalities.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook did not wonder at little Elizabeth for her
+discomfort under the rude homeliness of Stokesley, where the
+children made a bad copy of their father&rsquo;s sailor
+bluntness, and the difficulties of money matters kept down all
+indulgences.&nbsp; She knew that Captain Merrifield was as poor a
+man for an esquire as her father was for a surgeon, and that if
+he were to give his sons an education fit for their station, he
+must make his household live plainly in every way; but without
+thinking them right feelings, she had some pity for little
+Bessie&rsquo;s weariness and discontent in never seeing anything
+pretty.&nbsp; The three girls came in dressed for church, in the
+plainest brown hats, black capes, and drab alpaca frocks, rather
+long and not very full; not a coloured bow nor handkerchief, not
+a flounce nor fringe, to relieve them; even their books plain
+brown.&nbsp; Bessie looked wistfully at Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s
+pretty Church-service, and said she and Susan both had beautiful
+Prayer-Books, but Mamma said they could not be trusted with them
+yet&mdash;Ida Greville had such a beauty.</p>
+<p>Was it the effect of Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s words, that Sam
+forbore to teaze Bessie about Ida Greville?&mdash;whose name was
+a very dangerous subject in the schoolroom.&nbsp; Also, he let
+Bessie take hold of Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s hand in peace, though
+in general the least token of affection was scouted by the whole
+party.</p>
+<p>It was a pretty walk to church, over a paddock, where the cows
+were turned out, and then along a green lane; and the boys had
+been trained enough in Sunday habits to make them steady and
+quiet on the way, especially as Henry was romancing about the
+pig.</p>
+<p>By and by Elizabeth gave Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s hand a sudden
+pull; and she perceived, in the village street into which they
+were emerging, a party on the way to church.&nbsp; There were two
+ladies, one in stately handsome slight mourning, the other more
+quietly dressed, and two or three boys; but what Elizabeth wanted
+her to look at was a little girl of nine years old, who was
+walking beside the lady.&nbsp; Her hat was black chip, edged and
+tied with rose-coloured ribbon, and adorned with a real bird,
+with glass eyes, black plumage, except the red crest and
+wings.&nbsp; She wore a neatly-fitting little fringed black
+polka, beneath which spread out in fan-like folds her flounced
+pink muslin, coming a little below her knees, and showing her
+worked drawers, which soon gave place to her neat stockings and
+dainty little boots.&nbsp; She held a small white parasol,
+bordered with pink, and deeply fringed, over her head, and held a
+gold-clasped Prayer-Book in her hand; and Miss Fosbrook heard a
+little sigh, which told her that this was the being whom
+Elizabeth Merrifield thought the happiest in the world.&nbsp; She
+hoped it was not all for the fine clothes; and Sam muttered,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a little figure of fun!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Martin and Osmond Greville went daily to Mr. Carey&rsquo;s,
+like Sam and Hal, so the boys ran on to them; and Mrs. Greville,
+turning round, showed a very pleasant face as she bowed to Miss
+Fosbrook, and shaking hands with Susan and Elizabeth, asked with
+much solicitude after their mamma, and how lately they had heard
+of her.</p>
+<p>Susan was too simple and straightforward to be shy, and
+answered readily, that they had had letters, and Mamma had been
+sadly tired by the journey, but was better the next day.&nbsp;
+The little girls shook hands; and Mrs. Greville made a kind of
+introduction by nodding towards her companion, and murmuring
+something about &ldquo;Fr&auml;ulein Munsterthal;&rdquo; and Miss
+Fosbrook found herself walking beside a lady with the least of
+all bonnets, a profusion of fair hair, and a good-humoured,
+one-coloured face, no doubt Miss Ida&rsquo;s German
+governess.&nbsp; She said something about the fine day, and
+received an answer, but what it was she could not guess, whether
+German, French, or English, and her own knowledge of the two
+first languages was better for reading than for speaking; so
+after an awkward attempt or two, she held her peace and looked at
+her companions.</p>
+<p>Susan and Mrs. Greville seemed to be getting on very well
+together; but Elizabeth&rsquo;s admiration of Ida seemed to be
+speechless, for they were walking side by side without a word,
+perhaps too close to their elders to talk.</p>
+<p>Annie and David were going on steadily hand in hand a little
+way off; and Miss Fosbrook chiefly heard the talk of the boys,
+who had fallen behind; perhaps her ears were quickened by its
+personality, for though Sam was saying, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell
+you what, she&rsquo;s a famous fellow!&rdquo; the rejoinder was,
+&ldquo;What! do you mean to say that you mind her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo; said Hal&rsquo;s voice;
+&ldquo;why, she sent him away from tea last night, just for
+shying crusts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And did he go?&rdquo; and there was a disagreeable
+sounding laugh, in which she was sorry that Hal joined.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Catch the Fr&auml;ulein serving me so!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She never tries!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She knows better!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Sam, I thought you had more spirit.&nbsp;
+You&rsquo;ll be sitting up pricking holes in a frill by the time
+the Captain comes back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Hal will be mincing along with his toes turned out
+like a dancing-master!&rdquo; continued an affected voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No such thing!&rdquo; cried Hal angrily:
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a fellow to be ordered about!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Grevilles laughed; and one of them said, &ldquo;Well,
+then, why don&rsquo;t you show it?&nbsp; I&rsquo;d soon send her
+to the right-about if she tried to interfere with me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook could bear it no longer; and facing suddenly
+round, looked the speaker full in the face, and said, &ldquo;I am
+very much obliged to you&mdash;but you should not speak quite so
+loud.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boys shrank back out of countenance; and Sam, who alone
+had not spoken, looked up into her face with a merry air, as if
+he were gratified by her spirited way of discomfiting them.</p>
+<p>Osmond tried to recover, and muttered, &ldquo;What a
+sell!&rdquo; rather impudently; but they were now near the
+churchyard, and Mrs. Greville turning round, all was hushed.</p>
+<p>Christabel felt much vexed that all this should have happened
+just before going into church; she felt a good deal ruffled
+herself, and feared that Bessie&rsquo;s head was filled with
+nonsense, if Hal&rsquo;s were not with something worse.</p>
+<p>The church looked pretty outside, with the old weather-boarded
+wooden belfry rising above the tiled roof and western gable; and
+it was neatly kept but not pretty within, the walls all done over
+with pale buff wash, and the wood-work very clumsy.&nbsp; Sam and
+Susan behaved well and attentively; but Bessie fidgeted into her
+mamma&rsquo;s place, and would stand upon a hassock.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook was much afraid it was to keep in sight of the beautiful
+bird.&nbsp; Hal yawned; and Johnnie not only fidgeted unbearably
+himself, but made his sister Annie do the same, till Miss
+Fosbrook scarcely felt as if she was at church, and made up her
+mind to tell Johnnie that she should leave him at home with the
+babies unless he changed his ways.&nbsp; Little David went on
+most steadily with his Prayer-Book, and scarcely looked off it
+till the sermon, when he fell asleep.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook had one pleasure as she was going home.&nbsp;
+The children had all gone on some steps before her, chattering
+eagerly among themselves, when Sam turned back and said abruptly,
+&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, you didn&rsquo;t mind <i>that</i>, I
+hope?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What those boys were saying? It depends on you whether
+you make me mind it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mean to make any rows if I can help
+it,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure I hope you will be able to help it!&nbsp; I
+don&rsquo;t know what I should do if you did!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam gave an odd smile with his honest face.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,
+you&rsquo;ve got a good spirit of your own.&nbsp; It would take
+something to cow you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pray don&rsquo;t try!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam laughed, and said, &ldquo;I did promise Papa to be
+conformable.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I was very much obliged to you yesterday
+evening.&nbsp; The behaviour of the other boys depends so much on
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;and I don&rsquo;t
+mind it so much now I see you can stand up for
+yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Besides, what would it be if I had to write to your
+father that I could not manage such a bear-garden?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care that sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t
+happen,&rdquo; exclaimed Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;It would hinder all
+the good to Mamma!&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll tell you what,&rdquo; he
+added, after a confidential pause, &ldquo;if we get beyond you,
+there&rsquo;s Mr. Carey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you did not mean to get beyond me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam looked a little disconcerted, and it struck her that,
+though he would not say so, he was doubtful whether the Greville
+influence might not render Henry unmanageable; but he quickly
+gave it another turn.&nbsp; &ldquo;Only you must not plague us
+about London manners.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean by London
+manners.&nbsp; Do you mean not bawling at tea? for I mean to
+insist upon that, I assure you, and I want you to help
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! not being finikin, and mincing, and
+nonsensical!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope I&rsquo;m not so!&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+laughing heartily; &ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll tell you one thing, Sam,
+that I do wish you would leave off&mdash;and that is
+teazing.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t know whether that is country
+manners, but I don&rsquo;t like to see a sensible kind fellow
+like you just go out of your way to say something mortifying to a
+younger one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;It
+is fun.&nbsp; They like it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If they really like it, there is no objection.&nbsp; I
+know I should like very much to have my brother here quizzing me;
+but you know very well there are two sorts of such fun, and one
+that is only sport to the stronger side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bessie is so ridiculous.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is the very one I want to protect.&nbsp; I
+don&rsquo;t think that teazing her does any good; it only gives
+her cross feelings.&nbsp; And she really has more right on her
+side than you think.&nbsp; You might be just as honest and bold
+if you were less rude and bearish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t bear to see her so affected and perked
+up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not affectation.&nbsp; She is really more gentle
+and quiet than you are; you don&rsquo;t think it so in your
+Mamma, and she is like her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma is not like Bessie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then about Davy.&nbsp; How could you go and stop
+the poor little boy when he was trying to think and feel
+rightly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was so funny,&rdquo; repeated Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you will think another time whether your fun is
+safe and kind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One can&rsquo;t be so particular,&rdquo; he said
+impatiently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry to hear it.&nbsp; I thought the only way to
+do right was to be particular.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He grunted, and flung away from her.&nbsp; She was vexed to
+have sent him off in such a mood; but, unmannerly as he was, she
+saw so much good in him, that she could not but hope he would be
+her friend and ally.</p>
+<p>Dinner went off very peaceably, and then Susan fetched her two
+darlings from the nursery, George and Sarah, of three years and
+eighteen months old.&nbsp; Her great perfection was as a motherly
+elder sister; and even Sam was gentle to these little things, and
+played with them very nicely.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook reminded Hal of his Collect; but he observed
+that there was plenty of time, and continued to stand by the
+window, pursuing the flies with his finger, not killing them, but
+tormenting them and David very seriously, by making them think he
+would&mdash;not a very pretty business for the day when all
+things should be happy, more like that which is always found
+&ldquo;for idle hands to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Evening service-time put an end to this sport; but Miss
+Fosbrook could not set off till after a severe conflict with
+Johnnie.&nbsp; She had decreed that he should not go again that
+day, after his behaviour in the morning; and perhaps he would not
+have minded this punishment much if David had not been going,
+which made him think it a disgrace.&nbsp; So, in the most
+independent manner be put on his hat, and was marching off, when
+Miss Fosbrook stood in front of him, and ordered him back.</p>
+<p>He repeated, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to church.&rdquo;&nbsp; It
+was plain enough that he had heard what those boys had said about
+not submitting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Church is not the place to go to in a fit of
+wilfulness, Johnnie,&rdquo; she said; and his sisters broke out,
+&ldquo;O Johnnie!&rdquo; but the naughty boy, fancying, perhaps,
+that want of time would lead to his getting his own way, marched
+on, sticking up his toes very high in the air.</p>
+<p>Hal laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Johnnie, Johnnie dear,&rdquo; entreated Susan,
+&ldquo;what would Mamma say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>John would not hear, and walked on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;John,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;if you do not
+come back directly, I must carry you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She had measured her strength with his: he was only eight
+years old, and she believed that she could carry him; but he
+heard the church-bells ringing, and thought he should have his
+way.</p>
+<p>She laid hold of him, and he began fighting and kicking, in
+stout shoes, whose thumps were no joke.&nbsp; She held fast, but
+she felt frightened, and doubtful of the issue of the struggle;
+and again there was Hal laughing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For-shame, Henry!&rdquo; burst out Sam; and the same
+moment those two feet were secured, and John was a
+prisoner.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook called out to the rest to go on to
+church, and she and Sam dragged the boy up to the nursery, and
+shut him in there, roaring passionately.</p>
+<p>Nurse Freeman, knowing nothing about it, could not believe but
+that the stranger lady had made her child naughty, and said
+something about their Mamma letting him go to church; and
+&ldquo;when the child wished to go to church, it seemed strange
+he should not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook would not defend herself, for she was in great
+haste; but Sam exclaimed, &ldquo;Stuff! he was as naughty as
+could be all this morning, and only wanted to go now because he
+was told not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Johnnie bellowed out something else, but Miss Fosbrook would
+not let Sam go on; she touched his arm, and drew him off with
+her, he exclaiming, &ldquo;Foolish old Freeman! she will pet and
+spoil him all church-time, till he is worse than ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was lucky for her that she was too much hurried to dwell on
+this vexation; she almost ran to save herself from being late,
+and scarcely heard Sam&rsquo;s mutterings about wishing to break
+Martin Greville&rsquo;s head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You need not hurry so much,&rdquo; he said;
+&ldquo;there&rsquo;s a shorter cut, only I suppose you
+can&rsquo;t get through a gap.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; she laughed; and he led her on
+straight through the Short-horns.&nbsp; Some of them looked at
+her more than she fancied, but she knew she might give up all
+hopes of Sam if he detected her fears.&nbsp; Then came the gap,
+where a tree had been cut down in the hedge, and such a jump down
+from it!&nbsp; But she gathered up her muslin, and made her leap
+so gallantly, that the boy cried,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah! well done!&rdquo; and came and walked close to
+her, saying confidentially, &ldquo;I say, do you think we shall
+ever do the pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure it might be done.&nbsp; If you are likely to
+do it you must know better than I.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that I much care about it.&nbsp; It
+will be rather a bother; only now we have said it, I shall hate
+it if we don&rsquo;t do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think the pleasure of giving it will be a delightful
+reward for a little self-command.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only Hal and the girls will make such a work about
+it.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m glad, after all, that Bessie has nothing to
+do with it, or she would want to dress it up in flowers and
+ribbons.&nbsp; Ha-ha!&nbsp; But what a little crab it
+is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be too sure of that.&nbsp; People may have
+other designs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bessie&rsquo;s can&rsquo;t be anything but
+trumpery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes present trumpery is a step to something
+better.&nbsp; &lsquo;A was an Archer&rsquo; is not very wise, but
+it is the road to reading&mdash;and even if it were not so, Sam,
+it is not right to shame people into giving; for what is not
+bestowed for the true reasons, does no good to giver nor to
+receiver.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam looked up with a frown of attention, as if he were trying
+to take in the new light; but he did take it in, and smacking his
+hands together with a noise like a pistol-shot, said, &ldquo;Ay,
+that&rsquo;s it!&nbsp; We don&rsquo;t want what is
+grudged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook thought of words that would another time be more
+familiar to Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not grudgingly, nor of necessity,
+for God loveth a cheerful giver.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>What she said was, &ldquo;You see, if you plague Bessie too
+much, to make her like ourselves, when she is really so
+different, you are driving her to the shamming you despise so
+much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But ought not she to be cured of being
+silly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When we have quite made up our minds upon what
+silliness is.&nbsp; There, the bell has stopped.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> most part of church-time
+Johnnie was eating Nurse Freeman&rsquo;s plum-cake.&nbsp; Perhaps
+this did not make him any easier in the conscience, but he had a
+very unlucky sentiment, that as he was already naughty and in
+disgrace, it was of no use to take the trouble of being good till
+he could make a fresh beginning; and after what the Grevilles had
+said, he did not think that would be till Papa and Mamma came
+home; he did not at all mean to give in to a girl that was not
+even twenty.&nbsp; So he would not turn to the only wise thing he
+could have done, the learning of his Collect, but he teased Nurse
+out of more cake and more, and got what play he could out of
+little George, and that was not much, for Johnnie was not in a
+temper to be pleasant with a little one.</p>
+<p>Coming home from church, Collects were to be learnt and said
+before tea: but Hal, after glancing over his own, took up his cap
+and said, &ldquo;Come along, Sam, Purday will be feeding the
+pigs; I want to choose the size of ours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve not done,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Papa never said we were to say them to Miss
+Fosbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He meant it though,&rdquo; was all Sam&rsquo;s
+answer.&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t hinder me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ve no notion of being bound by what
+people mean,&rdquo; continued Hal; and no one could imagine the
+torment he made himself, neither going nor staying, arguing the
+matter with his elder brother, as if Sam&rsquo;s coming would
+justify him, and interrupting everyone; till at last Miss
+Fosbrook gathered all her spirit, and ordered him either to sit
+down and learn properly at once, or to go quite away.&nbsp; She
+was very much vexed, for Henry had been the most obliging and
+good-natured of all at first, and likely to be fond of her; but
+such a great talker could not fail to be weak, and his vanity had
+been set against her.&nbsp; He looked saucy at first, and much
+inclined to resist; if he had seen any sympathy for him in Sam he
+might have done so, but Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s steady eye was too
+much for him, so he saved his dignity, as he thought, by
+exclaiming, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t want to stay in
+this stuffy hole with such a set of owls; I shall go to
+Purday.&rdquo;&nbsp; And off he marched.</p>
+<p>The others stayed, and said their Collects and Catechism very
+respectably, all but John, who had not learned the Collect at
+all, and was sent into another room to finish it, to which he
+made no resistance; he had had enough of actual fighting with
+Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>Then she offered to read a story to the others, but she found
+that this was distasteful even to her friend Sam; he thought it
+stupid to be read to, and said he should see after Hal; David
+trotted after him, and Susan and Anne repaired to the nursery to
+play with the little ones and the baby.&nbsp; She minded it the
+less, as they all had some purpose; but she had already been
+vexed to find that all but Davy preferred the most arrant vacant
+idleness to anything rational.&nbsp; To be sure, Susan sometimes,
+Bessie and Hal always, would read any book that made no
+pretensions to be instructive, but even a fact about a lion or an
+elephant made them detect wisdom in disguise, and throw it
+aside.&nbsp; She thought, however, she would make the most of
+Bessie, and asked whether she would like to hear reading, or read
+to herself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To myself,&rdquo; said Bessie; and there was a silence,
+while Miss Fosbrook, glad of the quiet, began reading her
+<i>Christian Year</i>.&nbsp; Presently she heard a voice so low
+that it seemed at a distance and it made her start, for it was
+saying &ldquo;Christabel!&rdquo; then she almost laughed, for it
+seemed to have been an audacious experiment, to judge by little
+Elizabeth&rsquo;s scared looks and the glow on her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I say it sometimes when we are alone
+together?&rdquo; she said timidly.&nbsp; &ldquo;I do like it so
+much!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it is such a pleasure to you, I would not deprive
+you of it,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, laughing; &ldquo;but
+don&rsquo;t do so, except when we are alone, for your Mamma would
+not like me to seem younger still.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, thank you!&nbsp; Isn&rsquo;t it a nice
+secret?&rdquo; cried Bessie, clinging to her hand: &ldquo;and
+will you let me hug you sometimes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A little love was pleasant to Miss Fosbrook, when she was
+feeling lonely, and she took Bessie in her lap, and they
+exchanged caresses, to the damage of the collar that Miss
+Fosbrook&rsquo;s sister had worked for her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t call me silly?&rdquo; cried
+Bessie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That depends,&rdquo; was the answer, with some arch
+fun; but Bessie had not much turn for fun, and presently went
+on&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you saw Ida Greville?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did you think of her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had not much opportunity of learning what to
+think.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But her parasol, and her bird!&nbsp; Did you think her
+mama very silly to give her pretty things?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, certainly not, unless she wore them at unsuitable
+times, or thought too much about them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ida has so many, she does not think of them at
+all.&nbsp; And she has shells, and such a lovely work-box, and
+picture-books; she has all she wants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you quite sure?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, quite sure! and they don&rsquo;t tease her for
+liking pretty things; her brothers keep quite away, and never
+bother about the schoolroom; but she learns Italian and German,
+and drawing and singing.&nbsp; Mr. Greville said something about
+our spending the day there.&nbsp; Oh! if we do but go!&nbsp;
+Won&rsquo;t you, Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I am asked, and if your Mamma would wish
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mamma always lets us go, except
+once&mdash;when&mdash;when&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When what?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I cried,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, hanging down her
+head; &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t help it.&nbsp; It did seem so
+tiresome here, and she said I was learning to be discontented;
+but nobody can help wishing, can they?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There must be a way of not breaking the Tenth
+Commandment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t covet; I don&rsquo;t want to take things
+away from Ida, only to have the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but what does the explanation at the end of the
+Duty to our Neighbour say, filling out that
+Commandment?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll go and see what Susie is
+doing,&rdquo; said Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>Christabel sighed as the little girl walked off, displeased at
+having her repinings set before her in a graver light than that
+in which she had hitherto chosen to regard them.</p>
+<p>She saw no more of her charges till tea-time, when the bell
+brought them from different quarters, Johnnie with such a grimy
+collar and dirty hands, that he was a very un-Sunday-like figure,
+and she would have sent him away to make himself decent, but that
+she was desirous of not over-tormenting him.</p>
+<p>Sunday was always celebrated by having treacle with the bread,
+so the butter riot was happily escaped; and Bessie was not in a
+gracious mood, and the corners of her mouth provoked the boys to
+begin on what they knew would make her afford them sport.&nbsp;
+Hal first: &ldquo;I say, Bet, didn&rsquo;t Purday want his gun
+to-day at church?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth put out her lip in expectation that something
+unpleasant was intended, and other voices were not slow to ask an
+explanation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shooting the cocky-olly birds!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A general explosion of laughter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I say (always the preface to the boy&rsquo;s wit),
+shall I get a jay down off the barn to stick into your hat,
+Betty?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Hal,&rdquo; said such a deplorable
+offended voice, that Sam, who had really held his tongue at
+first, could not help chiming in,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no; a cock-sparrow, for her London
+manners.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, that&rsquo;s for me, Sam,&rdquo; said Christabel
+good-humouredly.&nbsp; &ldquo;A London-bred sparrow; a pert
+forward chit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She really had found a safety-valve; the boys were
+entertained, and diverted from their attack on their favourite
+victim, by finding everyone an appropriate bird; and when they
+came to &ldquo;Tomtits&rdquo; and &ldquo;Dishwashers,&rdquo; were
+so astonished at Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s never having seen either,
+that they instantly fell into the greatest haste to finish their
+tea, and conduct her into the garden, and through a course of
+birds, eggs, and nests, about which, as soon as she was assured
+that there was to be no bird&rsquo;s-nesting, she was very
+eager.</p>
+<p>Bessie ought to have been thankful that her persecutors were
+called off, but she was in a dismal mood, and was taken with a
+fit of displeasure that her own Christabel Angela was following
+the rabble rout into the garden, instead of staying in the
+school-room at her service.</p>
+<p>The reason of her gloom was, that Miss Fosbrook had spoken a
+word that she did not choose to take home, and yet which she
+could not shake off.&nbsp; So she would neither stay in nor go
+out cheerfully, and sauntered along looking so piteous, that
+Johnnie could not help making her worse by plucking at her dress,
+by suddenly twisting her cape round till the back was in front,
+and pushing her hat over her eyes, till &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+Johnnie,&rdquo; in a dismal whine, alternated with
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell Miss Fosbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Christabel did not see nor hear.&nbsp; She had gone forward
+with a boy on either side of her, and Susan walking backwards in
+front, all telling the story of a cuckoo,&mdash;or gowk, as Sara
+called it in Purday&rsquo;s language,&mdash;which they had found
+in a water-wagtail&rsquo;s nest in a heap of stones; how it sat
+up, constantly gaping with its huge mouth, while the poor little
+foster-parents toiled to their utmost to keep it supplied with
+caterpillars, and the last time it was seen, when full-fledged,
+were trying to lure it to come out of the nest by holding up
+green palmers at some little distance before it.&nbsp; This was
+in the evening; by morning it was gone, having probably taken
+flight at sunrise.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook listened with all the pleasure the boys could
+desire.&nbsp; She had read natural history, and looked at birds
+stuffed in the British Museum, or alive at the Zoological
+Gardens, on the rare days when her father had time to give
+himself and his children a treat; and her fresh value and
+interest in all these country things were delightful to the
+boys.</p>
+<p>It was a lovely summer evening.&nbsp; The sun was low enough
+to make the shadows long and refreshing, as they lay upon the
+blooming grass of the wilderness, softly swaying in the breeze,
+all pale with its numerous chaffy blossoms, and varied by the
+tall buttercups that raised up their shining yellow heads, or by
+white clouds of bold-faced ox-eye daisies.</p>
+<p>The pear-trees were like white garlands; the apple-trees
+covered with white blossoms and rosy buds; the climbing roses on
+the wall were bursting into blossom; the sky was one blue vault
+without a cloud.</p>
+<p>Surely Elizabeth had no lack here of what was pretty.&nbsp;
+Then why did she lag behind, unseeing, unheeding of all, but
+peevishly pushing off John and Anne, thinking that they always
+teased her worst on Sundays, and very much discomfited that Miss
+Fosbrook was not attending to her?&nbsp; Surely the fault was not
+altogether in what was outside her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See!&rdquo; cry the boys.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook must
+first look up there, high upon the side of the house, niched
+behind that thick stem of the vine.&nbsp; What, can&rsquo;t she
+see those round black eyes and little beak? They see her plain
+enough.&nbsp; Ah! now she has them.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s a
+fly-catcher.&nbsp; By and by they shall be able to show her the
+old birds flying round, catching flies on the wing, and feeding
+the young ones, all perched in a row.</p>
+<p>Now, can she scramble up the laurels?&nbsp; Yes, she hopes so;
+though she wished she had known what was coming, for she would
+have changed her Sunday muslin.&nbsp; But a look of anxiety came
+on Sam&rsquo;s face as he peeped into the clump of laurels; he
+signed back the others, sprang upon the dark scraggy bough of the
+tree, and Hal called out,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gone! has Ralph been there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so.&nbsp; Not
+an egg left, and they would have hatched this week!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Purday calls him his best friend,&rdquo; said
+Harry.&nbsp; &ldquo;He says we should not get a currant or a
+gooseberry if it wasn&rsquo;t for that there raven, as Papa
+won&rsquo;t have the small birds shot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring down the nest, Sam,&rdquo; cried Susan;
+&ldquo;Georgy will like to have it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The children behind, who never could hear of anything to be
+had without laying a claim to it, shouted that they wanted the
+nest; but Sam said Sue had spoken first, and they fell back
+discontented, and more bent on their unkind sport.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook was rather shocked at the tearing out the nest, and
+asked if the old bird would not have another brood there; but it
+was explained that a thrush would never return to a forsaken
+nest; and when Sam came down with it in his hand, she was
+delighted with the wonderful cup that formed the lining, so
+smooth and firm a bason formed of dried mud set within the grassy
+wall.&nbsp; She had thought that swallows alone built with mud,
+and had to learn that the swallows used their clay for their
+outer walls, and down for their lining, whereas the thrush is a
+regular plasterer.</p>
+<p>Sam promised her another thrush to make up for her
+disappointment, and meantime conducted her to a very untidy old
+summer-house, the moss of whose roof hung down loose and rough
+over a wild collection of headless wooden horses, little ships
+with torn sails, long sticks, battered watering-pots, and old
+garden tools.&nbsp; She was desired to look up to one of the
+openings in the ragged moss, and believe that it housed a kitty
+wren&rsquo;s family of sixteen or eighteen; but she had to take
+this on trust, for to lay a finger near would lead to desertion;
+in fact, Sam was rather sorry to be able to point out to her, on
+coming out, the tiny, dark, nutmeg, cock-tailed father kitty,
+popping in and out of the thorn hedge, spying at the party.</p>
+<p>Now then for a wonder as they came out.&nbsp; Sam waved
+everybody away&mdash;nay, waved is a small word for what he
+did&mdash;shouted, pushed, ordered, would be more like it.&nbsp;
+He was going to give Miss Fosbrook such a proof of his esteem as
+hardly any one enjoyed, not even Hal, twice in the summer.</p>
+<p>Everybody submitted to his violent demonstrations, and
+Christabel followed him to the back of the summer-house.&nbsp;
+There stood a large red flower-pot upside down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Miss Fosbrook!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam&rsquo;s finger hooked into the hole at the top.&nbsp; Off
+came the flower-pot, and disclosed something flying off with
+rushing wings, and something confused remaining,&mdash;a cluster
+of grey wings all quill, with gaping yellow mouths here and there
+opening, a huddling movement always going on in the forlorn heap,
+as if each were cold, and wanted to be undermost.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tits, my tits!&rdquo; said Sam triumphantly;
+&ldquo;they&rsquo;ve built their nest here three years
+following.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how do they get in and out?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Through the hole.&nbsp; Take care, I&rsquo;ll show you
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you frighten away the bird?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear no!&nbsp; Ox-eyes aren&rsquo;t like wrens; I go
+to them every day.&nbsp; See!&rdquo; and he took up in his hand a
+creature that could just be seen to be intended for a bird,
+though the long skinny neck was bare, and the tiny quills of the
+young wings only showed a little grey sprouting feather, as did
+the breast some primrose-coloured down.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook had
+to part with some favourite cockney notions of the beauty of
+infant birds, and on the other hand to gain a vivid idea of what
+is meant by &ldquo;callow young.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam quickly put his nestling back, and showed her the
+parent.&nbsp; She could hardly believe that the handsome bird in
+the smooth grey coat and bright straw-coloured waistcoat, with
+the broad jet-black line down the centre, the great white cheeks
+edged with black, and the bold knowing look, could be like what
+the little bits of deformity in the nest would soon become.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, that&rsquo;s an ox-eye,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll hear them going on
+peter&mdash;peter&mdash;peter&mdash;all the spring.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Sam was cut short by a loud and lamentable burst of
+roaring where they had left the party.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook hurried back, hearing Hal&rsquo;s rude laugh as
+she came nearer, it was Elizabeth, sobbing in the passionate way
+in which it is not good to see a child cry, and violently shaking
+off Susan, who was begging her to stop herself before Miss
+Fosbrook should come.</p>
+<p>What <i>was</i> the matter?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&nbsp; Betty&rsquo;s nonsense.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Johnnie <i>did</i>&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Johnnie only&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Hal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell-tale!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Cry-baby!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She only cried that Miss Fosbrook might
+hear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So shouted the little Babel, Bessie sobbing resentfully
+between her words, till Miss Fosbrook, insisting that everybody
+should be quiet, desired her to tell what had happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Johnnie&mdash;Johnnie called me a toad.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The others all burst out laughing, and Miss Fosbrook, trying
+to silence them with a frown, said it was very rude of John, but
+she saw no reason why a girl of Bessie&rsquo;s age should act so
+childish a part.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s been teasing me, and so has Anne, all this
+time!&rdquo; cried Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve been at me
+ever since I came out, pulling me and plaguing me,
+and&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Susan, &ldquo;I told you to walk in
+front of Miss Fosbrook, where they could not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t do anything to her,&rdquo; said
+John.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Johnnie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He only pulled her frock and poked her ankles,&rdquo;
+said Anne pleadingly</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only&mdash;and why did you do what she did not
+like?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Johnnie looked sturdy and cross.&nbsp; Anne hung her head; and
+Elizabeth burst out again,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They always do&mdash;they always are cross to me!&nbsp;
+I said I&rsquo;d tell you, and now they said Ida was a conceited
+little toad, and stingy Bet was another;&rdquo; and out burst her
+howls again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A very sad and improper way of spending a Sunday
+evening,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, who had really grown quite
+angry.&nbsp; &ldquo;Anne and John, I <i>will</i> put an end to
+this teasing.&nbsp; Go to bed this instant.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They did not dare to disobey, but went off slowly with sulky
+footsteps, muttering to one another that Miss Fosbrook always
+took pipy Betty&rsquo;s part; Nurse said so, and they wished
+Mamma was at home.&nbsp; And when they came up to the nursery,
+Nurse pitied them.&nbsp; She had never heard of a young lady
+doing such a thing as ordering off two poor dear children to bed
+for only just saying a word; but it seemed there were to be
+favourites now.&nbsp; No, she could not put them to bed; they
+must wait till Mary came in from her walk; she wasn&rsquo;t going
+to put herself out of the way for any fine London governess.</p>
+<p>So Johnnie had another conquest over Miss Fosbrook; but Anne
+was uncomfortable, and went and sat in a corner, wishing she had
+had her punishment properly over, and kicking her brother away
+when he wanted to play with her.</p>
+<p>As for Bessie, she only cried the more for Miss
+Fosbrook&rsquo;s trying to talk to her.&nbsp; It was a way of
+hers, perhaps from being less strong than the others, if once she
+started in a cry she could not leave off.</p>
+<p>Susan told Miss Fosbrook so; and the boys tried to drag her on
+with a promise of a blackbird&rsquo;s nest; but she thought them
+unfeeling to such woeful distress, and first tried to reason with
+Bessie, then to soothe her, till at last, finding all in vain,
+she thought bed the only place for the child, and led her into
+the house, helped her, still shaking with sobs, to undress, and
+was going to see her lie down in the bed which she shared with
+Susan.&nbsp; Elizabeth was still young enough to say her prayers
+aloud.&nbsp; The words came out in the middle of choking sobs,
+not as if she were much attending to them.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook
+knelt down by her as she was going to rise, and said in her own
+words,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most merciful God, give unto this Thy child the spirit
+of content, and the spirit of love, that she may bear patiently
+all the little trials that hurt and vex her, and win her way as
+Thy good soldier and servant.&nbsp; Amen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth held her breath to listen.&nbsp; It was new and
+odd.&nbsp; She did not like to say Amen; she did not know if the
+governess were not taking a liberty.&nbsp; Perhaps it was a new
+way of telling her she was wrong&mdash;Christabel, whom she had
+thought on her side.</p>
+<p>The bad temper woke up, and would not let her offer a friendly
+kiss.&nbsp; She hid her face in the pillow, and as soon as Miss
+Fosbrook had shut the door, went off into a fresh gust of piteous
+sobs, because Miss Elizabeth Merrifield was the most miserable
+ill-used child in all the world.</p>
+<p>She might be one of the most miserable, but it was not because
+of her ill-usage, but because she had no spirit to be cheerful,
+and had turned away from comfort of the right kind.&nbsp; She was
+in such a frame as to prefer thinking everyone against her, to
+supposing that anything she could do would mend matters.</p>
+<p>Christabel was much grieved at this unfortunate end to the
+Sunday evening.&nbsp; She looked over all the boys&rsquo;
+birds&rsquo; eggs&mdash;they were allowed to keep two of every
+sort as curiosities&mdash;and listened to some wonderful stories
+of Henry&rsquo;s about climbing trees, and shooting partridges,
+and she kept the remaining children quiet and amused; but she was
+not happy in her mind.</p>
+<p>She thought she must have been wrong in not watching them more
+closely, and she felt more dislike and indignation against
+Johnnie than she feared was altogether right in his
+governess.&nbsp; Also, she feared to make too much of Elizabeth,
+and was almost afraid that notice taught her to be still more
+fretful.&nbsp; And yet there was a sense of being drawn to her by
+their two minds understanding each other, by likeness of tastes,
+by pity, and by a wish to protect one whom her little world
+oppressed.</p>
+<p>Nurse Freeman could not be more afraid of Miss Fosbrook making
+favourites than she was herself.</p>
+<p>All she could do in the matter was that which she had already
+done at Bessie&rsquo;s bedside, and much more fully than when the
+little girl was listening to her.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">With</span> Monday morning began the
+earning of the pig.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s first business
+after prayers was to deal out the week&rsquo;s
+allowance&mdash;sixpence to each of the four elders, threepence
+apiece to the three younger ones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May there be no fines,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not have the hundredth part of a
+fine!&rdquo; shouted Henry, tossing his money into the air.</p>
+<p>Little David&rsquo;s set lips expressed the same purpose.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please let me have a whole sixpence,&rdquo; said
+Susan.&nbsp; &ldquo;If I haven&rsquo;t any change, I
+sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t spend it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You, Sukey! you&rsquo;d better have the four
+farthings,&rdquo; laughed Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be the
+first to want them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan laughed; and Miss Fosbrook, partly as an example to the
+plaintive Elizabeth, said, &ldquo;You are so good-humoured,
+Susie, that I can&rsquo;t find it in my heart to demand a
+fine&mdash;or&mdash;your hair; and there,&rdquo; pointing to the
+stout red fingers, &ldquo;did you ever behold such a black little
+row?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear!&rdquo; cried Susan, in her good-humoured
+hearty voice, &ldquo;how tiresome, when they were <i>so</i> clean
+this morning, and I&rsquo;ve only just been feeding the chicken,
+and up in the hay-loft for the eggs, and pulling the
+radishes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, go and wash and brush, and to-morrow remember the
+pig,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, unable to help comparing the
+radishes and the fingers for redness and for earthiness.</p>
+<p>It was a more difficult matter when, as Elizabeth put her
+silver coin into her purse, John must needs repeat the stupid old
+joke, &ldquo;There goes stingy Bet!&rdquo; and Bessie put on her
+woeful appealing face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;John, I shall punish you if I hear those words
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mind.&nbsp; Nurse says you have no
+business to punish me!&nbsp; She did not put me to bed; and I had
+such fun!&nbsp; Oh, such fun!&rdquo; and the boy looked up with a
+grin that set all the others laughing.</p>
+<p>Christabel resolutely kept silence, and hoped her looks did
+not show her annoyance, as the boy went on, &ldquo;I got lots of
+goodies, for Nurse said she had no notion of no stranger
+punishing her children.&nbsp; Oh!&nbsp; Oh!&nbsp;
+Oh!&rdquo;&nbsp; For Samuel had hold of his ear, and was tweaking
+it sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There!&nbsp; Go and tell Nurse, if you like,
+baby!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam, indeed I can&rsquo;t have my battles fought in
+that way!&rdquo; cried the governess, much distressed, as Johnnie
+roared, perhaps that old Nurse might hear, and, to all attempts
+to find out whether he were hurt, offered only heels and fists,
+till Susan came back and hugged him into quiet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now Johnnie has cried before breakfast on a Monday
+morning,&rdquo; said Annie, &ldquo;all the rest of the week will
+go wrong with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;I hope no
+such thing.&mdash;Suppose we try and show Annie she is wrong,
+Johnnie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Johnnie was sulky, and even Susan looked as if she thought
+this a new and dangerous notion.&nbsp; Sam laughed, and said,
+&ldquo;I wish you joy, Miss Fosbrook.&nbsp; Now he&rsquo;ll think
+he must be naughty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Johnnie,&rdquo; said David solemnly, &ldquo;the
+pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The pig was a very good master of the ceremonies, and kept all
+elbows off the table at breakfast-time; and Bessie, who was apt
+to stick fast in the midst of her bread and milk, and fall into
+disgrace for daintiness and dawdling, finished off quietly and
+prosperously.</p>
+<p>Then every one was turned loose till nine o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp;
+Susan had charge of Mamma&rsquo;s keys, and had to go down to the
+kitchen, see what the cook wanted, and put it out, but only on
+condition that no brother or sister ever went with her to the
+store-closet.&nbsp; Susan was highly trustworthy, but Mamma was
+too wise to let her be tempted by voices begging for one plum,
+one almond, or the last spoonful of Jam.&nbsp; It took away a
+great deal of the pleasure of jingling the keys, and having a
+voice in choosing the pudding.</p>
+<p>The two elder boys went to their tutor, the other children to
+the nursery, except Elizabeth, who was rummaging in her little
+box, and David, whom Miss Fosbrook found perched on the ledge of
+the window, reading a book that did not look as if it were meant
+for men of his size.</p>
+<p>But Miss Fosbrook thought David like the oldest person in the
+house&mdash;infinitely older than John, who could do nothing
+better than he except running and bawling, and a good deal older
+than even Hal and Sam.&nbsp; Nay, there were times when he raised
+his steady eyes and slowly spoke out his thoughts, when she felt
+as if he were much more wise and serious than her twenty-years
+old self.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Davy,&rdquo; she asked, as at the sound of the
+lesson-bell the little old man uncrossed his sturdy legs, closed
+his book, and arose with a sigh, &ldquo;have you found out all
+about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have found out why a pig is a profitable
+investment,&rdquo; he answered gravely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because he will feed upon refuse, and fatten upon cheap
+food,&rdquo; said David, in the words of his book; &ldquo;only I
+can&rsquo;t make out why.&nbsp; Do you know, Miss
+Fosbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t quite see what you want to know,
+Davy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to know why a pig gets fat on barley-meal, when
+an ox wants mange, and oil-cake and hay.&nbsp; I asked Nurse, and
+she said little boys mustn&rsquo;t ask questions; and I asked
+Purday, and he said it was because pigs is pigs, and oxen is
+oxen.&nbsp; Why do you think it is, Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think; I know it is because the great God
+has made one sort of creature to be easily fed, and made good for
+poor people to live upon,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>David&rsquo;s eyes were fixed on her as if he still had
+questions to ask, and she was quite afraid of her powers of
+answering them, for he was new in the world, and saw the
+strangeness of many things to which older people become used by
+living with them, but which are not the less strange for all
+that.</p>
+<p>However, the trampling of many feet put an end to question and
+answer, and the day&rsquo;s work had to begin with the Psalms,
+and reading the Morning Lessons.&nbsp; Bessie was by far the best
+reader; and David did very well, though he made very long stops
+to look deliberately at any long new word, and could not bear to
+be told before he had mastered it for himself.&nbsp; Even Susan
+was sadly given to gabbling and missing the little words that she
+thought beneath her attention; and the other two stumbled so
+horribly, that it was pain to hear them.</p>
+<p>This beginning might be taken as the sign of how all would do
+their lessons.&nbsp; It is only a child here and there, generally
+a lonely one, to whom lessons can be anything but a toil and an
+obligation.&nbsp; Even with clever ones, who may be interested in
+some part of their study, some other branch will be disagreeable;
+and there is nothing in the whole world to be learnt without
+drudgery, so it would be unreasonable to expect lessons to be
+regarded as delightful; but there is one thing that is to be
+expected of any good child&mdash;not to enjoy lessons; not to
+surpass others; not to do anything surprising; only to make a
+conscience of doing what is required as well as possible.</p>
+<p>Now do not many children seem to think that they are to
+receive as little as they can possibly take in without being
+punished; or that, if they make any exertion, their teachers
+ought to be so much obliged to them, that some great praise or
+reward is due to them?</p>
+<p>Let us see whether anyone in Stokesley school-room was making
+a conscience of the day&rsquo;s tasks.&nbsp; It is not of much
+use to ask for any at present in Johnnie&mdash;not for a whole
+week, as Annie would declare; he does not know his single Latin
+declension; his spelling, is all abroad; his geography wild; yet
+though turned back once, he misses the fine by just saying his
+lessons passably the last time.&nbsp; They perhaps ought, in
+strict justice, to have been sent back; but Miss Fosbrook was
+very glad to be saved the uproar that would have ensued, and
+almost wondered whether she were not timidly merciful to the
+horrible copy and the greasy slate.&nbsp; But Johnnie had no
+fine, and was as proud of it as if he had been a good boy.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;She hadn&rsquo;t caught him out,&rdquo; he said, as if his
+kind governess had been his enemy.</p>
+<p>As to Annie, her French verbs were always dreadful things to
+hear, and the little merry face, usually so bright, used to grow
+quite deplorable with the trouble she took not to use her
+mind.&nbsp; Using her memory was bad enough, but saying things by
+heart was an affliction she was used to, and it was very shocking
+of Miss Fosbrook to require her to find out <i>how</i> many years
+Richard II. had reigned, if he began in 1377 and ended in
+1399.&nbsp; Susan prompted her, however; so she really got a
+triumph over Miss Fosbrook, and was quite saved from
+thinking.&nbsp; Oh, but the teasing woman! she silenced Susan,
+and would have this poor injured Annie tell how old the tiresome
+man was.&nbsp; &ldquo;Began to reign at eleven years old,
+dethroned after twenty-two years; how old was he?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Annie found bursting out crying easier than thinking, and then
+they all cried out, &ldquo;O Nanny, the pig!&rdquo; and Miss
+Fosbrook had the barbarity to call that <i>foolish</i>
+crying!&nbsp; What might one cry for, if not at being asked how
+old Richard II. was?&nbsp; If the fine must be paid, there was no
+use in stopping; so Annie howled till Miss Fosbrook turned her
+out to finish on the stairs; and as Nurse Freeman was out with
+the little ones, there was no one to comfort her; so she cried
+till she was tired, and when the noise ceased, Susan was allowed
+to come and coax her, and fetch her back to go on with her copy,
+as soon as her hand was steady enough.&nbsp; She felt very
+foolish by this time, and thought David eyed her rather angrily
+and contemptuously; so she crept quietly to her corner, and felt
+sad and low-spirited all the rest of the morning.&nbsp; Now that
+thirty-three had come into her head, it seemed so stupid not to
+have thought of it in time; and then she would have saved her
+farthing, and her eyes would not have been so hot.</p>
+<p>Maybe, too, Susan&rsquo;s French phrases would not have been
+turned back.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook would have given a great deal
+not to have been obliged to do it, but she had prompted
+flagrantly already, and a teacher is obliged to have a conscience
+quite as much as a scholar; so the book was given back, and Susan
+spent twelve minutes in see-sawing herself, and going over the
+sentences in a rapid whispering gabble, a serious worry to the
+governess in listening to Bessie&rsquo;s practising and
+David&rsquo;s reading, but she thought it would be a hardship to
+be forbidden to learn in her own way at that moment, and
+forbore.&nbsp; David was interrupted in his &ldquo;Little
+Arthur&rsquo;s History,&rdquo; and looked rather cross about it,
+for Susan to try again.&nbsp; She made all the same
+blunders&mdash;and more too!&nbsp; Back again!&nbsp; Poor
+Susie!&nbsp; Once, twice, thrice, has she read those stupid words
+over, and knows less of them than before.&nbsp; Davy&rsquo;s loud
+voice will go into her understanding instead of those French
+phrases.&nbsp; She looks up in dull stupefaction.</p>
+<p>William Rufus is disposed of, and David, as grave as a judge,
+is taking up his slate, looking a little fussed because there is
+a scratch in the corner.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, Susan,&rdquo; says
+Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>Susan jumps up in desperation, and puts her hands behind
+her.&nbsp; Oh dear! oh dear! all that the gentlemen on a journey
+were saying to one another has gone clean out of her head!</p>
+<p>She cannot recollect the three first words.&nbsp; She only
+remembers that this is the third time, and another farthing is
+gone!&nbsp; She stands and stares.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Susan,&rdquo; says Miss Fosbrook severely, &ldquo;you
+never tried to learn this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan gives a little gasp; and Elizabeth, who has said her
+French without a blunder, puts in an unnecessary and not very
+sisterly word: &ldquo;Susan never will learn her
+French.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan&rsquo;s honest eyes fill with tears, but she gulps them
+back.&nbsp; She will not cry away another farthing, but she does
+feel it very cross in Bessie, and she is universally
+miserable.</p>
+<p>Christabel feels heated, wearied, and provoked, and as if she
+were fast losing her own temper; and that made her resolve on
+mercy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Susie,&rdquo; she said with an effort, &ldquo;run twice
+to the great lime-tree and back.&nbsp; Then take the book into my
+room, read this over three times, and we will try
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan looked surprised, but she obeyed, came back, and
+repeated the phrases better than she had ever said French
+before.&nbsp; She was absolutely surprised and highly pleased,
+and she finished off her other lessons swimmingly; but oh, she
+was glad to be rid of them!&nbsp; Yes, they were off her mind,
+and so she deserved that they should be!&nbsp; She flew away to
+the nursery, and little Sarah was soon crowing in her arms.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth?&nbsp; Not a blunder in French verbs or
+geography&mdash;very tidy copy.&nbsp; French reading good;
+English equally so, only it ended in a pout, because there was
+not time for her to go on to see what became of Carthage; and she
+was a most intolerable time in learning her poetry out of the
+book of Readings, or rather she much preferred reading the verses
+in other parts of the book to getting perfect in her lesson, and
+then being obliged to turn her mind to arithmetic.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook called her three times; and at last she turned round
+peevishly at being interrupted in the middle of the &ldquo;Friar
+of Orders Gray,&rdquo; and repeated her twenty lines of
+Cowper&rsquo;s &ldquo;Winter&rsquo;s Walk&rdquo; in a doleful
+whine, though without a blunder.</p>
+<p>It was one of the horrible novelties that Miss Fosbrook was
+bringing in, that she expected people to understand their sums as
+well as work them.&nbsp; She gave much shorter ones, to be sure,
+than Mamma, who did sometimes set a long multiplication sum of
+such a huge size, that it looked as if it were meant to keep the
+victim out of the way; but who would not prefer casting up any
+length of figures, to being required to explain the meaning of
+&ldquo;carrying&rdquo;?</p>
+<p>Really, if it had not been for the pig, that shocking question
+might have led to a mutiny in the school-room.&nbsp; When it was
+bad enough to do the thing, how could anyone ask what was meant
+by the operation, and why it was performed?</p>
+<p>What did Bessie do when her sum was being overlooked?&nbsp;
+Miss Fosbrook read on: &ldquo;4 from 8, 4; 7 from
+1&mdash;how&rsquo;s this, Bessie?&nbsp; 7 from 10
+are&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;3, and 1 are 4,&rdquo; dolorously, as her 3 was
+changed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now then, what next?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Carry one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did I tell you was meant by carry one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The tens,&rdquo; said Bessie, not in the least thinking
+&ldquo;the tens&rdquo; had anything to do with the matter, but
+only that she had heard something about them, and could thus get
+rid of the subject.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Bessie, what tens can you possibly mean?&nbsp;
+Think a little.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you said tens once,&rdquo; said injured
+innocence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was in an addition sum.&nbsp; See, here it is
+quite different.&nbsp; I told you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie put on a vacant stare.&nbsp; She was not going to
+attend to what she did not like.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook saw the face.&nbsp; She absolutely shrank from
+provoking another fit of crying, and went quickly through the
+explanation.&nbsp; She saw that her words might as well have been
+spoken to the slate.&nbsp; Bessie neither listened nor took them
+in.&nbsp; Not all her love for her dear Christabel Angela could
+stir her up to make one effort contrary to her
+inclinations.&nbsp; The slate was given back to her, she wiped
+out the sum in a pet, and ran away.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook turned round, David, whose lessons had been
+perfectly repeated an hour ago, was sitting cross-legged in the
+window, with his slate and pencil, and a basket of bricks, his
+great delight, which he was placing in rows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;isn&rsquo;t this
+it?&nbsp; Twelve bricks; take away those seven, then&mdash;1, 2,
+3, 4, 5&mdash;the twelve is only 5: the 10 is gone, isn&rsquo;t
+it? so you must leave one out of the next figure in the upper
+line of the sum.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now Davy had only begun arithmetic on the governess&rsquo;s
+arrival, but he had learnt numeration and addition in her
+way.&nbsp; She was so delighted, that she stooped down and kissed
+him, saying, &ldquo;Quite right, my little man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Davy rather disapproved of the kiss, and rubbed his
+brown-holland elbow over his face, as if to clear it off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; thought Christabel, as she hurried away
+for five minutes&rsquo; peace in her own room before the
+dinner-bell, &ldquo;it is a comfort to have one pupil whose whole
+endeavour is not to frustrate one&rsquo;s attempts to educate
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Poor young thing! that one little bit of sense had quite
+cheered her up.&nbsp; Otherwise she was not one whit less weary
+than the children.&nbsp; She had been learning a very tough
+lesson too&mdash;much harder than any of theirs; and she was not
+at all certain that she had learnt it right.</p>
+<p>Now, readers, of all the children, who do you think had used
+the most conscience at the lessons?</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">What</span> an entirely different set of
+beings were those Stokesley children in lesson-time and out of
+it!&nbsp; Talk of the change of an old thorn in winter to a
+May-bush in spring! that was nothing to it!</p>
+<p>Poor, listless, stolid, deplorable logs, with bowed backs and
+crossed ankles, pipy voices and heavy eyes!&nbsp; Who would
+believe that these were the merry, capering, noisy creatures,
+full of fun and riot, clattering and screeching, and dancing
+about with ecstasy at Sam&rsquo;s information that there was a
+bonfire by the potato-house!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A bonfire!&rdquo; said the London governess, thinking
+of illuminations; &ldquo;what can that be for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is not <i>for</i> anything,&rdquo; said Susan;
+&ldquo;it is Purday burning weeds.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you smell
+them?&nbsp; How nice they are!&nbsp; I was afraid it was only
+Farmer Smith burning couch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All the noses were elevated to scent from afar a certain smoky
+odour, usually to be detected in July breezes, and which reminded
+Miss Fosbrook of a brick-field.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Potatoes!&nbsp; Potatoes!&nbsp; We&rsquo;ll roast some
+potatoes, and have them for tea!&rdquo; bellowed all the voices;
+so that Miss Fosbrook could hardly find a space for very
+unwillingly saying,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, my dears, I don&rsquo;t know whether I ought to
+let you play with fire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we always do,&rdquo; roared the children; and Susan
+added,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We always roast potatoes when there&rsquo;s a
+bonfire.&nbsp; Mamma always lets us; it is only Purday that is
+cross.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes; Mamma lets us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if Sam and Susan say it is right, I trust to
+them,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook gladly; &ldquo;only you must let
+me come out and see what it is.&nbsp; I am too much of a Londoner
+to know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes; and we&rsquo;ll roast you some
+potatoes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the uproarious population tumbled upstairs, there to be
+invested with rougher brown-holland garments than those that
+already concealed the sprigged cottons of the girls; and when the
+five came down again, they were so much alike in dress, that it
+was not easy to tell girls from boys.&nbsp; Susan brought little
+George down with her, and off the party set.&nbsp; Sam and Hal,
+who had been waiting in the hall, took Miss Fosbrook between
+them, as if they thought it their duty to do the honours of the
+bonfire, and conducted her across the garden, through the
+kitchen-garden, across which lay a long sluggish bar of heavy and
+very odorous smoke, to a gate in a quickset hedge.&nbsp; Here
+were some sheds and cart-houses, a fagot pile, various logs of
+timber, a grindstone, and&mdash;that towards which all the eight
+children rushed with whoops of ecstasy&mdash;a heap of smoking
+rubbish, chiefly dry leaves, and peas and potato haulm, with a
+large allowance of cabbage stumps&mdash;all extremely earthy, and
+looking as if the smouldering smoke were a wonder from so mere a
+heap of dirt.</p>
+<p>No matter!&nbsp; There were all the children round it, some on
+their knees, some jumping; and voices were crying on all
+sides,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O jolly, jolly!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get some
+potatoes!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, you must have some sticks
+first, and make some ashes.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no
+flame&mdash;not a bit!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Get out of the way,
+can&rsquo;t you?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll make a hot place.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll each have our own oven, and roast our own
+potatoes!&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Sam; you&rsquo;re
+pushing me into the smoke!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This of course was from Elizabeth; and there followed,
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Bessie, you will tread upon
+Georgie.&mdash;Yes, Georgie, you <i>shall</i> have a
+place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sticks, sticks!&rdquo; shouted Henry; while Sam was on
+his knees, poking out a species of cavern in the fire, where some
+symptoms of red embers appeared, which he diligently puffed with
+his mouth, feeding it with leaves and smaller chips in a very
+well practised way.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sticks, Annie!&nbsp;
+Johnnie!&nbsp; Davy! get sticks, I say, and we&rsquo;ll make an
+oven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Annie obeyed; but the two little boys were intent on imitating
+Sam on another side of the fire, and Johnnie uttered a gruff
+&ldquo;Get &rsquo;em yourself,&rdquo; while David took no notice
+at all.</p>
+<p>Perhaps Hal would have betaken himself to no gentle means if
+Susan had not hastily put in his way a plentiful supply of dead
+wood, which she had been letting little George think he picked up
+all himself; and there was keen excitement, which Christabel
+could not help sharing, while under Sam&rsquo;s breath the red
+edges of the half-burnt chip glowed, flushed, widened, then went
+sparkling doubtfully, slowly, to the light bit of potato-stalk
+that he held to it, glowing as he blew&mdash;fading, smoking,
+when he took breath.&nbsp; Try again&mdash;puff, puff, puff
+diligently; the fire evidently has a taste for the delicate
+little shaving that Annie has found for it; it seizes on it;
+another&mdash;another; a flame at last.&nbsp; Hurrah! pile on
+more; not too much.&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t put it
+out!&rdquo;&nbsp; Oh, there! strong flame&mdash;coming crackling
+up through those smothering heaps of stick and haulm; it
+won&rsquo;t be kept down; it rises in the wind; it is a red
+flaring banner.&nbsp; The children shriek in transports of
+admiration, little George loudest of all, because Susan is
+holding him tight, lest he should run into the brilliant
+flame.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook is rather appalled, but the children
+are all safe on the windward side, and seem used to it; so she
+supposes it is all right, and the flame dies down faster than it
+rose.&nbsp; It is again an innocent smouldering heap, like a
+volcano after an eruption.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must not let it blaze again just yet,&rdquo; said
+Sam; &ldquo;keep it down well with sticks, to make some nice
+white ashes for the potatoes.&nbsp; See, I&rsquo;ll make an
+oven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were all stooping round this precious hot corner, some
+kneeling, some sitting on the ground, David with hands on his
+sturdy knees&mdash;all intent on nursing that creeping red spark,
+as it smouldered from chip to chip, leaving a black trace
+wherever it went, when through the thick smoke, that was like an
+absolute curtain hiding everything on the farther side, came
+headlong a huge bundle of weeds launched overwhelmingly on the
+fire, and falling on the children&rsquo;s heads in an absolute
+shower, knocking Johnnie down, but on a soft and innocent side of
+the fire among the cabbage-stumps, and seeming likely to bury
+Sam, who leant over to shelter his precious oven, and puffed away
+as if nothing was happening, amid the various shouts around him,
+in which &ldquo;Purday&rdquo; was the most audible word.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, so you&rsquo;ve got at he, after all,&rdquo; said
+Purday, leaning on the fork with which he had thrown on the
+weeds.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nothing is safe from you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What, you thought you had a new place, Purday, and
+circumvented us!&rdquo; cried Hal; &ldquo;but we smelt you out,
+you old rogue; we weren&rsquo;t going to be baulked of our
+bonfire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook here ventured on asking if they were doing
+mischief; and Purday answered with an odd gruff noise,
+&ldquo;Mischief enough&mdash;ay, to be sure&mdash;hucking the
+fire all abroad.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s what they&rsquo;re always
+after.&nbsp; I did think I&rsquo;d got it safe out of their way
+this time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; in rather a frightened voice, for she felt
+that it would be a tremendous trial of her powers, &ldquo;should
+I make them come away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Catch her!&rdquo; muttered Hal.</p>
+<p>There was horror and disapprobation on Susan&rsquo;s
+face.&nbsp; Annie stood with her mouth open; while John, throwing
+himself on the ground with fury, rolled over, crying out
+something about, &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; and &ldquo;very
+cross;&rdquo; and David lay flat on his face, puffing at his own
+particular oven, like a little Wind in an old picture.&nbsp; Sam
+waited, leaning on the ashen stick that served him as a
+poker.&nbsp; It was the most audacious thing he had ever
+heard.&nbsp; Rob them of their bonfire!&nbsp; Would that old
+traitor of a Purday abet her?</p>
+<p>Perhaps Purday was as much astonished as the rest; but, after
+all, much as the children tormented his bonfires, overset his
+haycocks, and disturbed his wood-pile, he did not like anyone to
+scold them but himself, much less the new London Lady; so he made
+up an odd sort of grin, and said, &ldquo;No, no, Ma&rsquo;am, it
+ain&rsquo;t that they do so much harm; let &rsquo;em bide;&rdquo;
+and he proceeded to shake on the rest of his barrowful, tumbling
+the weeds down over David&rsquo;s cherished oven in utter
+disregard; but the children cried with one voice, &ldquo;Hurrah!
+hurrah!&nbsp; Purday, we don&rsquo;t do any harm, so don&rsquo;t
+ever grumble again.&nbsp; Hurrah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I don&rsquo;t care for <i>her</i>, the
+crosspatch,&rdquo; said Johnnie to Annie, never hearing or
+heeding Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s fervent &ldquo;I am so
+glad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And as long as the foolish boy remembered it, he always did
+believe that Miss Fosbrook was so cross as to want to hinder them
+from their bonfire, only Purday would not let her.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook did not trouble herself to be understood; she
+was relieved to have done her duty, and be free to rejoice in and
+share the pleasure.&nbsp; She ran about and collected materials
+for Sam till she was out of breath, and joined in all the
+excitement as the fire showed symptoms of reviving, after being
+apparently crushed out by Purday.&nbsp; Sam and Susan, at least,
+believed that she had only spoken to Purday because she thought
+it right; but even for them to forgive interference with their
+bonfire privileges was a great stretch.</p>
+<p>At last she thought it time to leave them to their own
+devices, and seize the moment for some quiet reading; but she had
+not reached the house before little steps came after her, and she
+saw Elizabeth running fast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are so tiresome,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sam
+won&rsquo;t let me stand anywhere but where the smoke gets into
+my eyes, and George plagues so!&nbsp; May I come in with you,
+dear Christabel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are very welcome,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+&ldquo;but I am sorry to hear so many complaints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are so cross to me,&rdquo; said Bessie;
+&ldquo;they always are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must try to be cheerful and good-humoured with
+them, and they will leave off vexing you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But may I come in?&nbsp; It will be a nice time for my
+secret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Christabel saw little hope for her intended reading, but she
+was always glad of a space for making Bessie happy, so she kindly
+consented to the bringing out of the little girl&rsquo;s
+treasury, and the dismal face grew happy and eager.&nbsp; The
+subjects of the drawings were all clear in her head; that was not
+the difficulty, but the cardboard, the ribbon, the real good
+paints.&nbsp; One little slip of card Miss Fosbrook hunted out of
+her portfolio; she cut a pencil of her own, and advised the first
+attempt to be made upon a piece of paper.&nbsp; The little bird
+that Bessie produced was really not at all bad, and her
+performance was quite fair enough to make it worth while to go
+on, since Miss Fosbrook well knew that mammas are pleased with
+works of their children, showing more good-will than skill.&nbsp;
+For why?&nbsp; Their value is in the love and thought they
+show.</p>
+<p>The little bird was made into a robin with the colours in a
+paint-box that Bessie had long ago bought; but they were so weak
+and muddy, that the result was far from good enough for a
+present, and it was agreed that real paints must be procured as
+well as ribbon.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook offered to commission her
+sisters to buy the Prussian blue, lake, and gamboge in London,
+and send them in a letter.&nbsp; This was a new idea to Bessie,
+and she was only not quite decided between the certainty that
+London paints must be better than country ones, and the desire of
+the walk to Bonchamp to buy some; but the thought that the
+ribbon, after all, might be procured there, satisfied her.&nbsp;
+The little doleful maid was changed into an eager, happy,
+chattering child, full of intelligence and contrivance, and
+showing many pretty fancies, since there was no one to tease her
+and laugh at her; and her governess listened kindly and
+helpfully.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook could not help thinking how much happier her
+little companion would have been as an only child, or with one
+sister, and parents who would have made the most of her love of
+taste and refinement, instead of the hearty busy parents, and the
+rude brothers and sisters, who held her cheap for being unlike
+themselves.&nbsp; But then she bethought her, that perhaps Bessie
+might have grown up vain and affected, had all these tastes been
+petted and fostered, and that perhaps her little hardships might
+make her the stronger, steadier, more useful woman, instead of
+living in fancies.&nbsp; It was the unkindness on one side, and
+the temper on the other, that made Miss Fosbrook uneasy.</p>
+<p>The work had gone on happily for nearly an hour, and Bessie
+was copying a forget-me-not off a little painted card-board
+pincushion of her own, when steps were heard, little trotting
+steps, and Susan came in with little George.&nbsp; He had been
+pushed down by Johnnie, and was rather in a fretful mood; and
+Susan had left all her happy play to bring him in to rest and
+comfort him, coming to the school-room because Nurse Freeman was
+out.&nbsp; Before Elizabeth had time to hide away her doings,
+George had seen the bright pincushion, and was holding out his
+hands for it.&nbsp; Bessie hastily pocketed it.&nbsp; George
+burst out crying; and Susan, without more ado, threw herself on
+her sister, and, pinioning Bessie&rsquo;s slight arm by the
+greater strength of her firm one, was diving into her pocket in
+spite of her struggles.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Susan, leave off,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;let
+your sister alone.&nbsp; She has a right to do what she likes
+with her own.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is so cross in her,&rdquo; said Susan, obeying
+however, but only to snatch up little George, and hug and kiss
+him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Poor dear little man! is Betty cross to
+him?&nbsp; There! there! come with Sue, and <i>she&rsquo;ll</i>
+get him something pretty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Susie, Susie, indeed it&rsquo;s only that I don&rsquo;t
+want him to spoil it,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, distressed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A foolish thing like that!&nbsp; Why, the only use of
+it is to please the children; but you are just such a baby as he
+is,&rdquo; said Susan, still pitying George.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You had better put your things away, Bessie,&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook, interfering to stop the dispute; and as soon
+as Elizabeth was gone, and George a little pacified by an ivory
+ribbon-measure out of Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s work-box, she
+observed to Susan, &ldquo;My dear, you must not let your love for
+the little ones make you unjust and unkind to Bessie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She always is so unkind to them,&rdquo; said Susan
+resentfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think she feels unkindly; but if you
+tyrannize over her, and force her to give way to them, you cannot
+expect her to like it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma says the elder must give way to the
+younger,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You did not try whether she would give way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, because I knew she wouldn&rsquo;t; and I could not
+have my little Georgie vexed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I could not see my little Susie violent and
+unjust,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook cheerfully.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Justice first, Susan; you had no right to rob Bessie for
+George, any more than I should have to give away a dinner of your
+papa&rsquo;s because he had refused a beggar.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Papa never would,&rdquo; said Susan, rather going off
+from the point.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely; but do you understand me, Susan?&nbsp; I
+will not have Bessie <i>forced</i> out of her rights for the
+little ones.&nbsp; Not Bessie only, but nobody is to be
+tyrannized over; it is not right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bessie is so nonsensical,&rdquo; was all Susan said,
+looking glum.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely she may seem so to you; but if you knew
+more, you would see that all is not nonsense that seems so to
+you.&nbsp; Some people would admire her ways.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said Susan.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mrs.
+Greville told Mrs. Brownlow that Bessie was the only one among us
+that was capable of civilisation; but Mrs. Greville is a fine
+lady, and we always laugh at her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; as Bessie returned, &ldquo;you want to
+go out to your play again, my dear.&nbsp; Will you leave Georgie
+with us?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan was a little doubtful about trusting her darling with
+anyone, especially one who could take Bessie&rsquo;s part against
+him; but she wished exceedingly to be present at the interesting
+moment of seeing whether the potatoes were done enough, and
+George was perfectly contented with measuring everything on the
+ribbon, so she ran quickly off, without the manners to thank Miss
+Fosbrook, but to assure the rest of the party that the governess
+really was very good-natured, and that she would save her biggest
+and best potato for Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s tea.</p>
+<p>Christabel managed very happily with little George, though not
+quite without offending Elizabeth, who thought it very hard to be
+desired to put away her painting instead of tantalizing her
+little brother with the sight of what he must not have.&nbsp;
+Miss Fosbrook could not draw her into the merry game with little
+George, which made his shouts of glee ring out through the house,
+and meet Nurse Freeman&rsquo;s ear as she came in-doors with the
+baby, and calling at the school-room door, summoned him off to
+his tea, as if she were in a pet with Miss Fosbrook for daring to
+meddle with one of <i>her</i> own nursery children.</p>
+<p>Nothing more was heard of the others, and Christabel and
+Elizabeth both read in peace till the tea-bell rang, and they
+went down and waited and waited, till Miss Fosbrook accepted
+Bessie&rsquo;s offer of going out to call the rest.&nbsp; But
+Bessie returned no more than the rest; and the governess set
+forth herself, but had not made many steps before the voices of
+the rabble rout were heard, and they all were dancing and
+clattering about her, while Susan and Hal each carried aloft a
+plate containing articles once brown, now black, and thickly
+powdered with white ashes, as were the children themselves up to
+their very hair.</p>
+<p>As a slight concession to grown-up people&rsquo;s prejudices,
+they did, at the risk of their dear potatoes getting cold,
+scamper up to perform a species of toilette, and then sat down
+round the tea-table, Susie, David, and Sam each vociferous that
+Miss Fosbrook should eat &ldquo;my potato that I did on purpose
+for her.&rdquo;&nbsp; Poor Miss Fosbrook! she would nearly as
+soon have eaten the bonfire itself as those cinder-coated things,
+tough as leather outside, and within like solid smoke.&nbsp;
+Indeed the children, who had been bathing in smoke all day, had
+brought in the air of it with them; but their tongues ran fast on
+their adventures, and their taste had no doubt that their own
+bonfire potatoes were the most perfect cookery in art!&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook picked out the most eatable bits of each of the three,
+and managed to satisfy the three cooks, all zealous for their
+own.&nbsp; Other people&rsquo;s potatoes might be smoky, but each
+one&rsquo;s own was delicious&mdash;&ldquo;quite worthy of the
+pig when he was bought,&rdquo; thought Miss Fosbrook; but she
+made her real pleasure at the kind feeling to cover her dislike
+of the black potatoes, and thus pleased the children without
+being untrue.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little,
+and there a little.&rdquo;&nbsp; That is the way habits are
+formed and characters made; not all at once.&nbsp; So there had
+been an opportunity for Susan to grow confirmed in her kindness
+and unselfishness, as well as to learn that tyranny is wrong,
+even on behalf of the weak; and Bessie, if she would take home
+the lesson, had received one in readiness to be cheerful, and to
+turn from her own pursuits to oblige others.&nbsp; Something had
+been attempted toward breaking her habit of being fretful, and
+thinking herself injured.&nbsp; It remained to be seen whether
+the many little things that were yet to happen to the two girls
+would be so used as to strengthen their good habits or their bad
+ones.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is not worth while to go on
+describing every day at Stokesley, since lessons were far too
+much alike; and play-times, though varied enough for the house of
+Merrifield, might be less entertaining to the readers.</p>
+<p>Enough to say, that by Saturday afternoon John had not only
+forfeited his last farthing, but was charged with another into
+next week, for the poor pleasure of leaving his hat on the
+school-room floor because Elizabeth had told him of it.&nbsp; At
+about four o&rsquo;clock it set in for rain, catching the party
+at some distance from home, so that, though they made good speed,
+the dust turned into mud, and clung fast to their shoes.</p>
+<p>David, never the best runner, was only in time to catch
+Johnnie by the skirt upon the third step of the staircase, crying
+out, &ldquo;The pig!&rdquo; but Johnnie, tired of the subject,
+and in a provoking mood, twitched away his pinafore, crying,
+&ldquo;Bother the pig!&rdquo; and rushed up after the four who
+had preceded him, leaving such lumps of dirt on the edge of every
+step, that when Miss Fosbrook came after with Elizabeth she could
+not but declare that a shower was a costly article.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; observed Susan, &ldquo;when it&rsquo;s
+such fine weather it puts one&rsquo;s feet out of one&rsquo;s
+head.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>While Sam, Henry, and Bessie were laughing at Susan for this
+speech, little George trotted in, crying out, &ldquo;Halty man
+come, Halty man come; Georgie want sweetie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Gibraltar man!&rdquo; cried John and Annie with one
+voice, and they were at the bottom of the stairs with a
+bound.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, send him away, send him away.&nbsp; They&rsquo;ll
+spend all their money, and there will be none left!&rdquo; was
+David&rsquo;s cry; while George kept dragging his eldest
+sister&rsquo;s frock, with entreaties of &ldquo;Susie, Susie,
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They call him the Gibraltar man, because he sells
+Gibraltar rock, and gingerbread, and all those things,&rdquo;
+said Henry in explanation.&nbsp; &ldquo;We have always dealt with
+him; and he is very deserving; and his wife makes it all&mdash;at
+least I know she makes ginger-beer&mdash;so we must encourage
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Henry hastened downstairs to encourage the Gibraltar man;
+and Susan, saying soothingly, &ldquo;Yes, yes,
+Georgie;&mdash;never mind Davie, we&rsquo;ll make up for it; I
+can&rsquo;t vex him,&rdquo; had taken the little fellow in her
+arms and followed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pigs enough here, without sending to the fair,&rdquo;
+muttered Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Sam, please, Miss Fosbrook, send the Gibraltar
+man away, and don&rsquo;t let him come,&rdquo; cried David quite
+passionately.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nasty man! he will come every
+Saturday, and they&rsquo;ll always spend all their
+money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, my friend,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook
+good-humouredly, &ldquo;suppose we have no right to banish the
+Gibraltar man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> don&rsquo;t wan&rsquo;t him,&rdquo; said
+Bessie; &ldquo;it makes my fingers sticky.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re no good,&rdquo; said David
+vehemently.&nbsp; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like you, and I hate the
+Gibraltar man, taking away all our money from poor
+Hannah.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gently, gently, Davie; nobody makes you spend your
+money; and perhaps the poor man has children of his own who want
+food as much as Hannah&rsquo;s do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then can&rsquo;t they eat the Gibraltar rock and
+bulls&rsquo; eyes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam suggested that this diet would make them sick; to which
+poor little earnest David answered, that when once the pig was
+bought, he would give all his money for a whole month to the
+Gibraltar man, if he would not come for the next four weeks.</p>
+<p>And Christabel thought of what she had once read, that people
+would often gladly put away from their children friends the very
+trials that are sent by Heaven to prove and strengthen their will
+and power of resisting self-indulgence.&nbsp; Before she had
+quite thought it out, the quick steps were back again, and Sam
+greeted the entrance of John thus: &ldquo;Well, if that
+isn&rsquo;t a shame!&nbsp; Have you been and done Sukey out of
+all that, Jack?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was only three bulls&rsquo; eyes,&rdquo; said Susan,
+following.&nbsp; &ldquo;You know he had nothing of his own, and
+it was so hard, and Annie gave him some.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Nurse some,&rdquo; added Hal.&nbsp; &ldquo;Trust
+Jackie for taking care of himself.&rdquo;&nbsp; Well he might say
+so, considering how full were John&rsquo;s mouth, hands, and
+pockets.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And Davie has had nothing!&rdquo; said kind
+Susan.&nbsp; &ldquo;Here, Davie!&rdquo; holding out to him an
+amber-like piece of barley-sugar.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want your stuff,&rdquo; said David
+roughly.&nbsp; &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve spent all away from the
+pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Davie, indeed, only twopence,&rdquo; said Susan;
+&ldquo;pray have a bit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You might at least say thank you,&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>But how difficult is that middle road which is the only right
+one!&nbsp; David, being too much set on one single purpose, good
+though it was, could see nothing else.&nbsp; It was right and
+generous to abstain from sweets with this end in view; but it was
+wrong to be rude and unthankful to the sister who meant all so
+kindly, and was the most unselfish of all.&nbsp; She turned round
+to Elizabeth with the kind offer of the dainty she had not even
+tasted herself, but was not more graciously treated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you, Susie? it is all pulled about with your
+fingers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was a matter on which the Misses and Masters Merrifield
+were not wont to be particular; and with one of the teasing
+laughs that Bessie hated, Sam exclaimed as Susan turned to him,
+&ldquo;Yes, thank you, Sukey, <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t mind finger
+sauce,&rdquo; but not before John was stretching out a hand
+glazed with sugar, and calling out, &ldquo;Oh, give it to
+me!&rdquo; and as it disappeared in his brother&rsquo;s mouth, he
+burst out angrily, &ldquo;How cross, Sam!&nbsp; You did that on
+purpose!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;I did; for though pigs on
+four legs are all very well, I don&rsquo;t like pigs on
+two.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here, Jackie, never mind,&rdquo; said Susan, seeing him
+about to begin to cry, and offering him her last sugar-plum.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want sugar-plums, I want
+barley-sugar,&rdquo; said John devouring it nevertheless.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t one bit more,&rdquo; said Susan
+regretfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you had any yourself, Susan?&rdquo; asked Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; but I didn&rsquo;t want any.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh then, here Susie, I always keep a reserve,&rdquo;
+said Henry.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, no, not you, Jack; I don&rsquo;t
+feed little pigs, whatever Susie does.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And in spite of Susan, both the elder brothers set on John,
+teasing him about his greediness, till he burst out crying, and
+ran away to the nursery.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook hated the teasing,
+but she thought it served John so rightly, that she would not
+save him from it; and she only interfered to remind the others
+that their fingers would bring them in for fines unless they were
+washed before tea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how much have you spent?&rdquo; reproachfully asked
+that rigid young judge, David; but all the answer he got was a
+pull by the hair from Hal, and &ldquo;Hollo, young one! am I to
+give my accounts to you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David gravely put up his hand and smoothed his ruffled locks,
+repeating, in his manful way, &ldquo;I want to know what you have
+left for the pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whereupon Hal laid hold of him, pulled him off the locker, and
+rolled him about on the floor like a puppy dog, crying,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what, if you make such a work about
+it, I&rsquo;ll spend all my allowance, and not subscribe at
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam!&rdquo; cried the tormented David, and
+&ldquo;Sam!&rdquo; cried the governess, really afraid the little
+boy would be hurt; but Sam only stood laughing with his back to
+the shutter, and Christabel herself hurried to the rescue, to
+pick Henry off his victim, holding an arm tight, while the child
+got up, and ran away to get his hair re-brushed for tea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Hal, you might have hurt him,&rdquo; argued the
+governess.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good thing for him too,&rdquo; said the brothers
+with one voice.</p>
+<p>She was very much shocked; but when she thought it over she
+perceived that though Hal might be to blame, yet in the long run
+even this rough discipline might be more useful to her dear
+little David than being allowed to take upon him with his elder
+brothers, and grow conceited and interfering.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was not surprised when, next morning, a
+frightful bellowing was heard instead of Johnnie being seen, and
+she learnt that Master John was in the hands of Nurse Freeman,
+who was administering to him a dose in consequence of his having
+been greatly indisposed all night.&nbsp; It must be confessed
+that Christabel was not very sorry to hear it, nor that Nurse
+would keep him to herself all day; for bad company as Johnnie had
+been on the week-days, he had been worse on the Sunday.</p>
+<p>And when John came out on Monday, he looked like a different
+boy; he had lost his fractious, rebellious look; he spoke as
+civilly as could be expected of a small Merrifield, and showed no
+signs of being set against his lessons.&nbsp; To be sure it was a
+bad way of spending a Sunday, to be laid up with ailments brought
+on by over-eating; but even this was better than spending it,
+like the former one, in wilful misbehaviour; and John, who knew
+that Papa, Mamma, brothers, and sisters all alike detested and
+despised real greediness, had been heartily ashamed of himself,
+both for this and his forfeits.&nbsp; A new week was a new
+starting-point, and he meant to spend this one well.&nbsp; For
+indeed it is one of the blessings of our lives that we have so
+many stages&mdash;days, weeks, years, and the like&mdash;from
+each of which we may make fresh starts, feel old things left
+behind, and go on to lead a new life.</p>
+<p>Besides, Johnnie was quite well now; and perhaps no child, so
+well brought up, could have been so constantly naughty the whole
+week without some degree of ailment, suspected neither by himself
+nor others.&nbsp; For this is one of our real troubles, when
+either young or old, that sometimes there is a feeling of
+discomfort and vexation about us that, without knowing why, makes
+everything go amiss, causes everybody else to appear cross, and
+all tasks, all orders, all misadventures, to become great
+grievances.&nbsp; Grown-up people feel this as well as children;
+but they have gone through it often enough to know what is the
+matter, and they have, or ought to have, more self-command.&nbsp;
+But children have yet to learn by experience that the outer
+things are not harder and more untoward, so much as that they
+themselves are out of sorts.&nbsp; This is poor comfort; and
+certainly it is dangerous to say to ourselves that being poorly
+is any excuse for letting ourselves be cross, or for not doing
+our best.&nbsp; If Mrs. Merrifield had thought so, what miserable
+lives her husband and children would have led!&nbsp; No, the way
+to use the certain fact that the state of our bodies affects our
+tempers and spirits, is to say to ourselves, &ldquo;Well, if this
+person or this thing do seem disagreeable, or if this work, or
+even this little bit of obedience, be very tiresome, perhaps it
+may really be only a fancy of mine, and if I go to it with a good
+will, I may work off the notion;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Perhaps I am
+cross to-day, let me take good care how I answer.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And a little prayer in our hearts will be the best help of
+all.&nbsp; Self-command and goodness will not come by nature as
+we grow up, but we must work for them in childhood.</p>
+<p>When the Monday allowances were brought out, and the
+pig&rsquo;s chance inquired into, David alone produced his whole
+sum, untouched by forfeiture or waste, and dropped it into
+&ldquo;Toby Fillpot.&rdquo;&nbsp; Elizabeth had her entire
+sixpence; but a penny had been spent on a letter to Mamma, and
+she gave but one to the fund, in spite of the black looks she met
+from David.&nbsp; Sam had lost a farthing by the shower, and had
+likewise bought a queen&rsquo;s head, to write to his
+father.&nbsp; The rest, fourpence-three farthings, he paid
+over.&nbsp; Poor Johnnie! his last week&rsquo;s naughtiness had
+exceeded his power of paying fines, and a halfpenny was
+subtracted from this week&rsquo;s threepence; while the Gibraltar
+man had consumed all that fines had spared to little Annie, had
+left Susan only threepence, and Henry but
+twopence-halfpenny.&nbsp; This, with twopence that Miss Fosbrook
+had found in her travelling-bag, made one shilling and
+fourpence-farthing&mdash;a very poor collection for one
+week.&nbsp; David was quite melancholy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Henry; &ldquo;Mr. Carey&rsquo;s
+brother, the Colonel, is coming to stay here the last week in
+July, and he gives us boys half-a-sovereign each, so that we
+might buy a stunning pig all ourselves twice over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Always?&nbsp; He never did so but once,&rdquo; said
+Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was the only time he saw us, though,&rdquo; said
+Hal; &ldquo;and we were quite little boys then.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll
+tell you what, Sam, he&rsquo;ll give us each a sovereign this
+time, and then I&rsquo;ll buy a bow and arrows.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stuff!&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;I hope he
+won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hate it!&nbsp; I hate saying thank you; I shall get
+out of the way, if I can.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam has no manners!&rdquo; said Hal, turning round to
+Miss Fosbrook.&nbsp; &ldquo;To think that he had rather go
+without a sovereign or two than say thank you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I&rsquo;m</i> too much of a gentleman to lay myself
+out for presents!&rdquo; retorted Samuel; and the two boys fell
+on each other, buffeting one another, all in good part on
+Sam&rsquo;s side, though there was some temper and annoyance on
+Henry&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p>When Sam was out of hearing, Hal discoursed very grandly on
+the sovereign he intended Colonel Carey to give him, and the
+prodigious things he meant to do with it.&nbsp; A gentleman once
+gave Osmond Greville two sovereigns; why should not Colonel Carey
+be equally liberal?&nbsp; And to hear the boy, those two
+sovereigns would buy everything in the world, from the pig to a
+double-barrelled gun.&nbsp; David began to grow hurt, and to fear
+the Toby fund would be lost in this magnificence; but Hal assured
+him that it would be a help, and they should all have a share in
+the pig, promising presents to everybody, which Susan and Annie
+expected with the more certainty that Sam was never present to
+laugh down these fine projects.</p>
+<p>Indeed Miss Fosbrook had laughed at them once or twice, and
+observed that she thought money earned or spared a better thing
+than money given; and this caused Hal to cease to try to dazzle
+her, though he could not give up the pleasure of regaling his
+sisters in private with the wonders to be done with Colonel
+Carey&rsquo;s possible sovereigns.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> second week was prosperous: the
+treasury made progress; and Christabel began to feel as if her
+pupils were not beyond her management, as at first she had
+feared.&nbsp; Collectively they were less uncouth and bearish,
+not so noisy at their meals, nor so needlessly rude to one
+another; and the habit of teasing Elizabeth whenever there was
+nothing else to do was greatly lessened.&nbsp; Indeed Sam did not
+plague her himself, nor let his brothers do so, unless she
+tempted him by some very foolish whine or bit of finery; and in
+such eases a little friendly merriment is a sound cure, very
+unlike the hateful fault of tormenting for tormenting&rsquo;s
+sake.</p>
+<p>Nor did Elizabeth give nearly so much cause for their rough
+laughter, since Miss Fosbrook had given wholesome food to her
+tastes and likings, partly satisfying the longing for variety,
+beauty, or interest which had made her discontented and
+restless.&nbsp; Her head was full of <i>her</i> secret, and her
+pretty plans for her gift.&nbsp; Such lovely drawings she saw in
+her mind&rsquo;s eye, such fairies, such delightful ships,
+kittens, babies in the cradle!&nbsp; But when the pencil was in
+her hand, the lines went all ways but the right; her fairy was a
+grimy little object, whose second wing could never be put on; the
+ships were saucers; the kitten might have been the pig; the baby
+was an owl in an ivy-bush; and to look at the live baby in the
+cradle only puzzled her the more.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook gave her
+real drawing lessons; but boxes, palings, and tumble-down sheds,
+done with a broad black pencil, did not seem to help her to what
+she wished.&nbsp; Yet sometimes her fingers produced what
+surprised and pleased herself and Christabel; and she never was
+happier than when safely shut into Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s bed-room
+with her card and her paints.&nbsp; She used to bolt herself in,
+with a little parade of mystery that made Annie exceedingly
+curious, though the others generally let it alone as
+&ldquo;Betty&rsquo;s fancy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Christabel wanted to learn botany for her own pleasure.&nbsp;
+She found a book which Susan and Bessie pronounced to be horridly
+stupid (indeed Annie called it nasty, and was reproved for using
+such a word), but when the information in it was minced up small,
+and brought out in a new form, Bessie enjoyed it extremely.&nbsp;
+The whole party were delighted to gather flowers for Miss
+Fosbrook&mdash;the wetter or the steeper places they grew in the
+better; but the boys thought it girlish to know the names; and
+Susan, though liking gardening, did not in the least care for the
+inside of a flower.&nbsp; Elizabeth, however, was charmed at the
+loveliness that was pointed out to her; and even Annie, when the
+boys were not at hand, thought it very entertaining to look at
+petals, stamens, and pistils, and to see that a daisy is made up
+of a host of tiny flowers.&nbsp; Both little sisters were having
+their eyes opened to see some of the wonder and some of the glory
+of this earth of ours.&nbsp; It made Bessie much less often tired
+of everything and everybody; though after all there is but one
+spirit that is certain never to be weary or dissatisfied, and
+into that she had yet to grow.</p>
+<p>Fines were much less frequent: there were no foolish tears;
+only one lesson of John&rsquo;s turned back, two of
+Annie&rsquo;s, one of Susan&rsquo;s; some unbrushed hair of
+Susan&rsquo;s too&mdash;an unlucky mention of the raven by Annie
+in lesson-time&mdash;and some books left about by Sam.&nbsp;
+Henry&rsquo;s fines were the serious ones: he had two for
+incorrect sums, one for elbows on the table, three for talking,
+one for not putting his things away; and besides, he <i>could
+not</i> go without a pennyworth of string; and the Grevilles
+would have laughed at him if he had not bought some more
+marbles.</p>
+<p>But what did that signify when Colonel Carey was coming? and a
+sovereign would buy a pig three times over&mdash;at least, if it
+was quite a little one.&nbsp; Christabel wished the hope of that
+sovereign had never occurred to him, for he seemed to think it
+quite set him free from the little self-restraints by which the
+others were earning the pleasure of making the gift; and though
+he still talked the most about the pig, he denied himself the
+least for it.</p>
+<p>One evening the boys came in with a great piece of news.&nbsp;
+Their tutor had read in the paper that Admiral Penrose was
+appointed to the <i>Ramilies</i>, to take command in the
+Mediterranean.&nbsp; He was a great friend of their father, and,
+said the boys, was most likely to make him his flag-captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And me a naval cadet!&rdquo; said Hal.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+said he would, when he was here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One of you, he said,&rdquo; put in Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it will be me!&rdquo; said Hal.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+looked at the rigging of my frigate, and said I knew all the
+ropes quite well; and he told Papa he might be proud of such a
+son!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! oh!&rdquo; groaned the aggrieved multitude.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;such a family; but he was looking at me; and
+I know he will give me the appointment; and I shall sail in his
+ship&mdash;you&rsquo;ll see.&nbsp; And when I get to the
+Mediterranean, I&rsquo;ll tell you what I&rsquo;ll do&mdash;I
+shall kill a shark all my own self!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A shark in the Mediterranean!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, why shouldn&rsquo;t they get in by the Straits of
+Magellan?&nbsp; Oh! is that the other place?&nbsp; Well, never
+mind&mdash;I&rsquo;ll shoot the shark.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stuff, Hal!&rdquo; said Sam rather gruffly.</p>
+<p>Hal went off on another tack.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well, at least he
+has set me down by this time; and Papa will have me up to London
+for my outfit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you will have leave, and come and see us,&rdquo;
+said Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try; but, you see, I shall be an officer on
+duty, and I dare say Admiral Penrose will hardly be able to spare
+me; but I&rsquo;ll send you all presents out of my
+pay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll spend all your pay on yourself,&rdquo;
+said David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Out of my prize-money then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t get prize-money without a war,&rdquo;
+said Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! don&rsquo;t let there be a war!&rdquo; cried
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but there is!&rdquo; said Harry in a tremendous
+tone; and as Miss Fosbrook held up her hands, &ldquo;at least
+there was one in the Black Sea; and I know there was a battle in
+the newspaper&mdash;at least, Mr. Carey read about
+Palermo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think Garibaldi in Sicily will put much
+prize-money into your pocket, Hal,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! but there&rsquo;s sure to be a war! and I shall get
+promoted, and be a man before any of you.&nbsp; I shall go about,
+and see condors, and lions, and elephants, and wear a
+sword&mdash;at least, a dirk&mdash;while you are learning Latin
+and Greek at Uncle John&rsquo;s!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t make such a noise about it!&rdquo; said Sam
+crossly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why you should be the one to
+go,&rdquo; said Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sam is the
+eldest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but Sam is such a slow-coach.&nbsp; Papa said I
+was the only one fit to make a sailor of&mdash;at least, he said
+I was smart, and&mdash;Hollo!&nbsp; Sam, I won&rsquo;t have you
+kicking my legs!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t keep up such a row then!&rdquo; growled
+Sam; but Hal was in too full swing to be reached by slight
+measures.&nbsp; He pushed his chair back, tucked up his feet like
+a tailor&rsquo;s, out of reach, and went on: &ldquo;Then I shall
+come home in my cocked hat, like Papa&rsquo;s&mdash;at least, my
+cap&mdash;and come and ask for a holiday for you all at Uncle
+John&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle John was an under-master at one of the great public
+schools, and the children were all a good deal in awe of him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle John won&rsquo;t give one for <i>you</i>!&rdquo;
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, boys, I can&rsquo;t have this bickering,&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook.&nbsp; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see you trying
+which can be most provoking.&nbsp; Stand up.&nbsp; Now, David,
+say grace.&nbsp; There, Annie, finish that bit of bread out of
+doors.&nbsp; Go out, and let us have no more of this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spoke now with much less fear of not being minded; and
+having seen one of the quarrelsome parties safe out of the
+school-room, she went to fetch from her own room a glove that
+wanted mending; and on her return found Sam alone there, curled
+up over his lesson-books on the locker, looking so gloomy, that
+she was afraid she had made him sulky, for which she would have
+been very sorry, since she had a respect for him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she asked; and his
+&ldquo;Nothing&rdquo; did not at all assure her that he was in a
+right mood.&nbsp; She doubted whether to leave him alone; but
+presently thought he looked more unhappy than ill-tempered, and
+ventured to speak.&nbsp; &ldquo;Have you a hard piece to
+learn?&nbsp; Perhaps I could help you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He let her come and look at his book; but, to her surprise, he
+had before him a very easy problem in Euclid.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, if you only gave your mind to this,&rdquo; she
+said, &ldquo;you would soon make it out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stupid stuff!&rdquo; exclaimed Sam.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is
+all along of that, and the rest of it, that I have got to be a
+land-lubber!&rdquo; and he threw the book to the other end of the
+room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you no chance?&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, without
+taking notice of this rudeness, for she saw that the boy could
+hardly contain himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&nbsp; The Admiral did take notice of Hal; and one
+day when I was slow at a proposition, my father said I was too
+block-headed to beat navigation into, and that Hal is a smart
+fellow, worth two of me.&nbsp; I know he is!&nbsp; I know that;
+only if he would not make such an intolerable
+crowing&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you wish it very much?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wish it!&nbsp; Of course I do.&nbsp; Why, my father is
+a sailor; and I remember the <i>Fury</i>, and I saw the
+<i>Calliope</i>&mdash;his ship that he had in the war time.&nbsp;
+Before I was as big as little George I always thought I should be
+a sailor.&nbsp; And now if Papa goes out with Admiral Penrose,
+and Hal too&mdash;oh! it will be so horrid home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But can&rsquo;t you both go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; my father said he couldn&rsquo;t ask to have two of
+us put down, unless perhaps some younger one had a chance by and
+by.&nbsp; And Hal is the sharpest, and does everything better
+than I can when he has a mind.&nbsp; My father says, among so
+many all can&rsquo;t choose; and if this place is to be mine, Hal
+may want to be in the navy more than I.&nbsp; Yes, it is all
+right, and Hal must go.&nbsp; But&mdash;but&mdash;when my father
+is gone&mdash;&rdquo; and Sam fairly burst out crying.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t hardly know how different it is with him
+away till this month.&nbsp; I was such a little fellow when he
+went to the Black Sea; but now&mdash;never mind, though!&rdquo;
+and he stamped his foot on the floor.&nbsp; &ldquo;Papa said it,
+and it must be.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t tell the others, Miss
+Fosbrook;&rdquo; and he resolutely went and picked up his Euclid,
+and began finding the place.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will do your duty like a man, wherever you are,
+Sam,&rdquo; said Christabel heartily.</p>
+<p>Sam looked as if he had rather that she had not said it, but
+it was comfortable to him for all that; and though she kept
+further compliments to herself, she could not but think that
+there was no fear but that he would be a man, in the best sense
+of the word, before Hal, when she saw him so manfully put his
+sore grievance out of his head, and turn to the present business
+of conquering his lesson.&nbsp; Nor did she hear another word
+from him about his disappointment.</p>
+<p>It made her dislike Henry&rsquo;s boasts more than ever; and
+she used to cut them short as fast as she could, till the young
+chatterer decided that she was &ldquo;cross,&rdquo; and reserved
+all his wonderful &ldquo;at leasts&rdquo; for his sisters, and
+his proofs of manliness for the Grevilles.</p>
+<p>The Gibraltar man did not come on Saturday; and Miss Fosbrook
+had been the saving of several stamps by sending some queer
+little letters in her own to Mrs. Merrifield, so that on Monday
+morning the hoard was increased to seven-and-sixpence; although
+between fines and &ldquo;<i>couldn&rsquo;t helps</i>,&rdquo;
+Henry&rsquo;s sixpence had melted down to a halfpenny, which
+&ldquo;was not worth while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On this day arrived a servant from the Park, bringing a
+delicate little lilac envelope, stamped with a tiny rose, and
+directed to Miss Merrifield.&nbsp; There was another rose on the
+top of the lilac paper; and the writing was in a very neat
+hand.</p>
+<blockquote><p>My dear Susan,</p>
+<p>Mamma desires me to say that she hopes you and Bessie and
+Annie will come to dine early to-morrow, and play with me, and
+that Miss Fosbury will come with you.&nbsp; She hopes your Mamma
+is better, and would be glad to have her address in London.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">I am your affectionate<br />
+<span class="smcap">Ida Arabella Greville</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook, may we go?&rdquo; cried the
+girls with sparkling eyes.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Merrifield had written that one or two such invitations
+might be accepted, but she had rather it did not happen too
+often, as visits at the Park were unsettling to some of the
+children.&nbsp; So as this was the first, Christabel gladly
+consented, rather curious and rather shy on her own account.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth begged for the rose, to copy it, and as there were
+no little ones present to seize it, she was allowed to have it;
+while Susan groaned and sighed over the misfortune of having to
+write a &ldquo;horrible note&rdquo; just at play-time; and the
+boys treated it as a sort of insult to the whole family that Ida
+should have mistaken their governess&rsquo;s name.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell her you won&rsquo;t go till she has it
+right,&rdquo; said Sam; at which Annie made a vehement outcry of
+&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; such as made them all laugh at her thinking
+him in earnest.</p>
+<p>Susan&rsquo;s note began&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>My dear Ida,</p>
+<p>We shuold&mdash;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>But then perceiving that something was the matter with her
+word, Susan sat and looked at it, till at last, perceiving that
+her <i>u</i> and <i>o</i> had changed places, she tried putting a
+top to the <i>u</i>, and made it like an <i>a</i>; while the
+filling up the <i>o</i> made it become a blot, such as caught
+Bessie&rsquo;s eye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Susie, you won&rsquo;t send such a thing as that up
+to Ida?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;that <i>would</i> be a &lsquo;horrible
+note,&rsquo;&rdquo; said her governess; and she ruled the lines
+again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said Susan impatiently;
+&ldquo;can&rsquo;t one send a message up by the man that
+we&rsquo;ll all come, without this fuss?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Miss Fosbrook said that would be very uncivil; and Susan,
+groaning, stretched every finger till the lines were finished,
+and began again, in her scraggy round-hand&mdash;getting safely
+through the &ldquo;should,&rdquo; and also through &ldquo;like to
+come very much;&rdquo; but when Miss Fosbrook looked up next, she
+saw that the rest of the note consisted of&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>Mamma is at Grandmamma&rsquo;s, No. 12,&mdash;St.,
+Grovensor Place.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">I am your affectionate<br />
+<span class="smcap">Susanna Merrifield</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I am very sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! won&rsquo;t that do?&rdquo; sighed Susan,
+beginning to get into despair.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word &ldquo;Grovensor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear! oh dear!&nbsp; I thought I had got that
+tiresome word this time.&nbsp; Why can&rsquo;t it put its
+<i>ss</i> and <i>ns</i> into their proper sensible places?&rdquo;
+cried poor Susan, to whom it was a terrible enemy.&nbsp; She used
+to try them in different places all the way round, in hopes that
+one might at last be right.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you remember what I told you, that the
+first Grosvenor was the grand huntsman?&nbsp; <i>Grosveneur</i>
+in French; that would show you where to put the
+<i>s&mdash;gros</i>, great.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Susan never wished to remember anything French; and Sam
+observed that &ldquo;the man deserved to be spelt wrong if he
+called himself by a French name.&nbsp; Why couldn&rsquo;t he be
+content to be Mr. Grandhunter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs.
+Greville will be shocked,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please can&rsquo;t you scratch it out?&rdquo; said the
+disconsolate Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> should not like to send a note with a scratch
+in it.&nbsp; Besides, yours is hardly civil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed,&rdquo; said Elizabeth; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+you know how people answer invitations, Susie?&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll
+tell you.&nbsp; &lsquo;Miss Susanna, and Miss Elizabeth, and Miss
+Annie Merrifield will be very happy to do the honour of dining
+with &mdash;&rsquo; Sam, why do you laugh at me
+always?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by
+dining with her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;People always do honour when they dine,&rdquo; said
+Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;I know they do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They profess to receive the honour, not confer it,
+Bessie,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, laughing; &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t think that is the model for Susie&rsquo;s note.&nbsp;
+It would be as much too formal as hers was too blunt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Must I do it again?&rdquo; said Susan.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+had rather not go, if it is to be such a plague.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I fear you must, Susie.&nbsp; It is quite
+needful to learn how to write a respectable note; really a more
+difficult thing than writing a long letter.&nbsp; I am sorry for
+you; but if you were not so careless in your letters to Mamma
+this would come more easily to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But this time Miss Fosbrook not only ruled another sheet, but
+wrote, in fair large-hand on a slate, the words, that Susan might
+copy them without fresh troubles:</p>
+<blockquote><p>We are much obliged to your Mamma for her kind
+invitation, and shall have much pleasure in coming with Miss
+Fosbrook to dine with you and spend the day.&nbsp; I am sorry to
+say that Mamma was not quite so well when last we heard.&nbsp;
+Her address is&mdash;No. 12,&mdash;St., Grosvenor-place.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Susan thought that here were a very serious number of words,
+and begged hard for leave to leave out her sorrow.&nbsp; Of
+course she was sorry, but what was the use of telling Ida so?</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook thought it looked better, but Susan might do as
+she pleased.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t say it, then,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t say it only to look better to
+Ida.&rdquo;&nbsp; With which words he and Hal walked off to the
+garden.</p>
+<p>Would it be believed?&nbsp; Susan, in her delight at being
+near the end, forgot the grand huntsman, and made the unlucky
+Place &ldquo;Grovesnor,&rdquo; and then, in her haste to mend it,
+put her finger into the wet ink, and smeared not only that word,
+but all the line above!</p>
+<p>It was a shame and a wonder that a girl of her age should be
+so incapable of producing a creditable note; and Miss Fosbrook
+was very near scolding her but she had pity on the tearful eyes
+and weary fingers, and spoke cheerfully: &ldquo;There, that was
+almost the thing.&nbsp; One more trial, Susan, and you need never
+be afraid of Ida&rsquo;s notes again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If Susan could not write notes, at least she was not cross;
+and it would be well if many who could send off a much better
+performance with far less difficulty could go to work as
+patiently as she did, without one pettish word to Miss Fosbrook,
+though that lady seemed to poor Susie as hard a task mistress as
+if she could have helped it.&nbsp; This time Miss Fosbrook
+authorized the leaving out of the spending the day, and suggested
+that S. would be enough without the whole Susanna, and she
+mercifully directed the cover to Miss Greville.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, my dear, you have worked hard for your
+pleasure,&rdquo; she said, as Susan extended each hand to its
+broadest stretch to uncramp them, and stretched herself backwards
+as if she wanted to double her head down to her heels.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I shall give you a good mark, Susie, as if it had been a
+lesson.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan deserved it, for her patient perseverance had been all
+out of obedience, not in the mere desire of having her note
+admired.&nbsp; Indeed, good child, at the best it was a very poor
+affair for a girl of twelve, and Miss Fosbrook was ashamed of it
+when she looked at Ida&rsquo;s lady-like little billet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I wonder,&rdquo; said she to herself,
+&ldquo;whether I shall feel as if I would change my dear stupid
+Susan for Miss Ida?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Susan flew screaming and leaping out into the garden
+in a mad tom-boy fashion; but that could well be pardoned, as
+there were only her sisters to see her; and the pleasure of
+having persevered and done her best was enough to make her heart
+and her limbs dance for merriment.</p>
+<p>Depend upon it, however wretched and miserable hard
+application to what we do not like may seem at the moment, it is
+the only way to make play-times really delicious.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Fosbrook</span> soon knew what Mrs.
+Merrifield meant by saying that visits at the Park unsettled the
+children.&nbsp; Susan indeed, though liking anything that
+shortened lessons by an hour, and made a change, was not so fond
+of being on her good behaviour at the Park as to be greatly
+exalted at the prospect; but Elizabeth and Annie were changed
+beings.&nbsp; They were constantly breaking out with some new
+variety of wonder.&nbsp; They wondered whether they should dine
+in the school-room, or at Mrs. Greville&rsquo;s luncheon; they
+wondered if Mr. Greville would speak to them; they wondered
+whether Fr&auml;ulein Munsterthal would be cross; they wondered
+if Ida still played with dolls; and they looked as if they
+thought themselves wonderful, too, for going out for a day!</p>
+<p>Nay, the wonders were at their tongues&rsquo; end even when
+lessons began, and put their farthings in great peril; and when
+they had nothing else to wonder at, they wondered when it would
+be twelve o&rsquo;clock, and took no pains to swallow enormous
+yawns.&nbsp; Once, over her copy, Elizabeth exclaimed,
+&ldquo;Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook!&nbsp; May not
+we wear our white frocks?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are not ironed,&rdquo; answered Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, do let me go and tell Mary!&nbsp; There&rsquo;s
+lots of time,&rdquo; said Bessie, who had lately thought it cruel
+of the clock to point only to half-past ten, and never bethought
+herself how Mary would like to be called off from her scrubbing
+to iron three white frocks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would your Mamma wish it?&rdquo; asked Christabel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear no,&rdquo; was Susan&rsquo;s answer; &ldquo;we
+always wear clean ones of our every-day frocks.&nbsp; Our white
+ones are only for dinner-parties and Christmas-trees.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie grumbled.&nbsp; &ldquo;How cross!&nbsp; I hate those
+nasty old spotty cottons;&rdquo; and Johnnie returned to the old
+story&mdash;&ldquo;Little vain pussy-cat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Up went Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s warning pencil, she shook her
+head, and held out her hand for two fines.&nbsp; Elizabeth began
+to gulp and sob.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t, Betty!&rdquo; cried Susan.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Stop while you can.&nbsp; You won&rsquo;t like going up
+with red eyes.&nbsp; There, I&rsquo;ll pay your fine; and
+there&rsquo;s another for my speaking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind
+words,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;but no more now; go on,
+Annie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Annie, who was reading a little history of St. Paul, would
+call Cilicia, Cicilia, and when told to spell it she began to cry
+too decidedly for Susan&rsquo;s good-nature to check her
+tears.&nbsp; And not only did Elizabeth&rsquo;s copy look as if
+she had written it with claws instead of fingers, but she was
+grieving over her spotted cotton instead of really seeking for
+places in her map.&nbsp; Thus the Moselle obstinately hid itself;
+and she absolutely shed tears because Miss Fosbrook declared that
+Frankfort <i>was</i> on the Maine.&nbsp; For the first time she
+had her grammar turned back upon her hands.&nbsp; How many
+mistakes Annie made would be really past telling; for these two
+little girls had their whole minds quite upset by the thought of
+a day&rsquo;s pleasure; and as they never tried to restrain
+themselves, and to &ldquo;be sober, be vigilant,&rdquo; they gave
+way before all the little trials in their paths&mdash;were first
+careless, and then fractious.&nbsp; Perhaps when they were older
+they would find out that this uplifted sense of excited
+expectation is the very warning to be heedful.</p>
+<p>If Miss Fosbrook had been a strict governess, she would have
+told them they did not deserve to go at all; or at any rate, that
+Bessie must repeat her grammar better, and re-write her copy, and
+that Annie&rsquo;s unlucky addition sum must be made to prove;
+but she had seen her little sisters nearly as bad in prospect of
+a pantomime, so she was merciful, and sent them in good time to
+brush their hair, put on their spotted cottons, and wash off as
+much as possible of the red mottling left by those foolish
+tears.</p>
+<p>Their spirits rose again as fast as they had sunk; and it was
+a lively walk through the park to the great house, with a good
+deal of skipping and jumping at first, and then, near the door, a
+little awe and gravity.</p>
+<p>They were taken through a side-door of the hall to the
+school-room, where Ida and her governess received them.&nbsp; It
+was the first time that Christabel had seen her out of her
+beplumed hat, and she thought her a pleasant, bright-looking
+little girl, not at all set up or conceited.&nbsp; Her mauve
+muslin, flounced though it was up to her waist, showed that it
+had been wise to withstand Bessie&rsquo;s desire for the white
+muslins; but Miss Fosbrook had enough to do on her own account
+with the endeavour to understand the German governess&rsquo;s
+foreign accent, without attending to the children more than was
+necessary.</p>
+<p>It was not a very remarkable day, and the pleasures of it
+seemed hardly enough to justify the little girls&rsquo; great
+excitement.&nbsp; There was first the dinner at the luncheon of
+the parents, where the children sat up rather formal and subdued,
+and not quite certain what all the dishes might contain, a little
+afraid of getting what they <i>could</i> not eat, though desirous
+of making experiments in this land of wonders.&nbsp; None of them
+had forgotten, and they thought no one else had, how Bessie had
+once come to disgrace by bursting out crying over the
+impossibility of finishing some terrible rice-bordered greenish
+yellow stuff that burnt her mouth beyond bearing, and which Ida
+called curry, and said people in the East Indies liked.&nbsp;
+However, that was when Bessie had been a very little girl; and
+she still continued adventurous, saying, &ldquo;Yes, if you
+please,&rdquo; to cutlets set round in a wreath, with all their
+bones sticking up, and covered with a reddish incrustation that
+Susan and Annie thought so unnatural, that they preferred the
+boiled chicken that at least they could understand, though it had
+funny-hooking accompaniments in the sauce.&nbsp; And Hal&rsquo;s
+report of some savoury jelly which he had once encountered would
+have deterred them from the pink transparency in the shape of a
+shell, if they had not seen Bessie getting on very well with it,
+Miss Fosbrook happily perceiving and cutting short Annie&rsquo;s
+intended inquiry whether it were nice.&nbsp; To her great relief,
+this was the only want of manners betrayed by her little savages,
+and she was able to keep her attention tolerably free from them,
+so as to look at the pictures on the walls, observe the two boys,
+Hal&rsquo;s friends, and talk to Mrs. Greville, who made
+conversation with her very pleasantly.</p>
+<p>She was much grieved to perceive, from what that lady said,
+that Mrs. Merrifield was thought to be much more ill, and in a
+far more alarming state, than she had at all understood.&nbsp;
+The girls were too young to enter into the tone of sad sympathy
+with which Mrs. Greville spoke, and the manner in which a doubt
+was expressed whether the Captain would be able to sail with
+Admiral Penrose if he should have the offer; and as soon as she
+saw that they and their governess were in ignorance, she turned
+it off; but she had said enough to fill Christabel with anxiety
+and desire to know more; and as soon as the dinner was over, and
+the little girls had run off together to visit Ida&rsquo;s
+beautiful cockatoo in the conservatory, she turned to
+Fr&auml;ulein Munsterthal, and begged to hear whether she knew
+more than had been said.</p>
+<p>Fr&auml;ulein Munsterthal did not quite know that such a
+person as Mrs. Merrifield was in existence; but she was very
+amiable and warm-hearted, and said how sad it was to think of the
+trouble that hung over &ldquo;these so careless children,&rdquo;
+and was doubly kind to the girls when they came back from their
+conversation with pretty &ldquo;Cocky,&rdquo; who set up his
+lemon-coloured crest, coughed, sneezed, and said &ldquo;Cocky
+want a biscuit!&rdquo; to admiration, till the boys were seen
+approaching; when Ida, knowing that some torment would follow,
+took herself and her visitors back to the protection of the
+governesses in time to prevent the cockatoo from being made to
+fly at the girls, and powder them with the white dust under his
+feathers.</p>
+<p>The afternoon was spent in the garden, the little girls
+betaking themselves to a pretty moss-covered arbour, where there
+was a grand doll&rsquo;s feast.&nbsp; Ida had no less than
+twenty-three dolls, ranging from the magnificent Rosalind, who
+had real hair that could be brushed, and was as large as little
+Sally at home, down to poor little china Mildred, whose proper
+dwelling-place was a bath, and who had with great difficulty been
+put into petticoats enough to make her fit to be seen out of
+it.&nbsp; Now nobody at home could have saved the life of a doll
+for a single day, and Susan and Elizabeth were both thought far
+above them; but these beautifully arrayed young ladies had always
+been the admiration of the heart of Bessie as well as of Annie,
+and they were not too old for extreme satisfaction in handling
+their elegant ladyships, and still more their beautiful dinner
+and tea-service of pink and white ware.</p>
+<p>Susan, though she could not write a note, or do lessons like
+Ida, was older in the ways of life, and played rather as she did
+with the little ones at home than for her own amusement.&nbsp;
+She would much rather have had the fun of &ldquo;cats and
+mice&rdquo; with her brothers; and but for the honour of the
+thing, so perhaps would Annie.&nbsp; However, they were all very
+happy, getting the dolls up in the morning, giving Mildred
+washing enough for all the twenty-three, making them breakfast,
+hearing lessons, in which Ida was governess, and made them talk
+so many languages that Annie was alarmed.&nbsp; Of course one of
+the young ladies was very naughty, and was treated with extreme
+severity; then there was dinner, a walk, an illness, and a
+dinner-party.&nbsp; While all the time the two real governesses
+sat in the shade outside, and talked in English or German as best
+they might, the Fr&auml;ulein understanding Christabel&rsquo;s
+English the best, as did Christabel the Fr&auml;ulein&rsquo;s
+German.&nbsp; They began to make friends, and to wish to see more
+of one another.</p>
+<p>There was a walk round the garden, and admiration of the
+beautiful flowers, and the fountain and pond of gold-fish, till
+the boys came home, and got hold of the garden-engine for
+watering, crying out, &ldquo;Fire! fire!&rdquo; and squirting out
+the showers of water very much in the direction of the girls.</p>
+<p>Ida became quite crimson red, and got hold of Susan&rsquo;s
+hand to drag her away; then, as the foremost drops of another
+shower touched her, she faced about, and said, &ldquo;Osmond!
+don&rsquo;t, or I&rsquo;ll tell Mamma.&rdquo;&nbsp; There was a
+great rude laugh, as of boys who well knew the threat was never
+put in execution; and poor Fr&auml;ulein Munsterthal only shook
+her head at Miss Fosbrook&rsquo;s look of amaze, and said in
+German that &ldquo;<i>die Knaben</i>&rdquo; were far too
+<i>unartig</i> for her to keep in order.&nbsp; She pitied Miss
+Fosbrook for having so many in charge as to destroy all
+peace.&nbsp; And if Sam and Hal had been like these two,
+Christabel felt that she could have done nothing with them.&nbsp;
+To her dismay, Osmond and Martin came in to the school-room tea;
+and she never had thought to feel so thankful for poor dear
+Susan&rsquo;s slowness of comprehension, for, from their whispers
+among themselves, and from their poor tormented sister&rsquo;s
+blushes, she was clear that the &ldquo;fire&rdquo; was a piece of
+bad wit on Susan&rsquo;s red hair.&nbsp; Boys who could so basely
+insult a guest, and that a girl, she was sure must be bad
+companions for Sam and Henry.&nbsp; Such little gentlemen as they
+had been at dinner too, so polite and well-behaved before their
+father and mother!&nbsp; There could be no doubt that something
+must be very wrong about them, or they would not change so
+entirely when out of sight.&nbsp; It is not always true that a
+child must be deceitful who is less good in the absence of the
+authorities; because their presence is a help and a restraint,
+checking the beginning of mischief, and removing temptation; but
+one who does not fall by weakness, but intentionally alters his
+conduct the instant the elder is gone, shows that his will has
+been disobedient all along.</p>
+<p>By and by Mr. Greville&rsquo;s voice was heard calling,
+&ldquo;Martin!&nbsp; Osmond!&rdquo; As they went out to meet him
+in the passage, Miss Fosbrook clearly overheard, &ldquo;Here is
+the spring of the garden-engine spoilt.&nbsp; Do you know
+anything about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have not been meddling with it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they ran downstairs.</p>
+<p>The colour flushed into Christabel&rsquo;s cheeks with
+horror.&nbsp; She was glad that her little girls were all in
+Ida&rsquo;s room, listening to a musical-box, and well out of
+hearing of such fearfully direct falsehoods, as it seemed to her,
+not knowing that the boys excused it to their own minds by the
+notion that it was not the <i>spring</i> of the engine that they
+had been meddling with, and that so they did not know how the
+harm had been done&mdash;as if it made it any better that they
+lied to themselves as well as their father!&nbsp; The German saw
+her dismay, and began to say how unlike her Ida was to her
+brothers&mdash;so truthful, so gentle, and courteous; but poor
+Christabel could not get over the thought of the ease and
+readiness with which deceit came to these boys.&nbsp; Could their
+daily companions, Samuel and Henry, have learnt the same
+effrontery, and be deceiving her all this time?&nbsp; No, no, she
+could not, would not think it!&nbsp; Assuredly not of Sam!&nbsp;
+She was very glad not to see the boys again, and went home with
+her pupils, rather heavy-hearted, at eight o&rsquo;clock, just as
+Ida was to put on her white muslin and pink ribbons, and go down
+after dinner for half an hour.</p>
+<p>There were many kisses at parting, and a whole box of sweets,
+done up in beautifully coloured and gold and silver paper,
+presented to the little visitors; but it might be supposed that
+the girls were tired, for there was a fretful snarling all the
+way across the park, because Elizabeth insisted that the gifts
+should be called <i>bon-bons</i>, and the others would hear of
+nothing but goodies.&nbsp; Nobody looked at the beautiful evening
+sky, nor at the round red moon coming up like a lamp behind the
+trees, nor at the first stars peeping out, nor even at the green
+light of the glow-worm&mdash;all which were more beautiful than
+anything Ida had shown them, except perhaps the hothouse flowers;
+and at last two such cross ill-tempered voices sounded from
+Bessie and Annie, that Christabel turned round and declared that
+she should not let the sugar-plums be touched for a week if
+another word were said about them.</p>
+<p>She hoped that when the visit was over it would be done with;
+but no such thing.&nbsp; Though Susan was her own good hearty
+self, Elizabeth had not recovered either on that day of the next
+from the effects of the pleasuring.&nbsp; On each she cried over
+her lessons, and was cross at whatever the boys said to her, made
+a fuss about keeping the ornamental cases of the <i>bon-bons</i>,
+and went about round-backed, peevish, and discontented, finding
+everything flat and ugly after her one peep at the luxuries of
+the Park.&nbsp; Her farthings melted away fast; but she seemed to
+think this her misfortune, not her fault.&nbsp; She did not try
+to talk to Miss Fosbrook, feeling perhaps that she was in a
+naughty mood, which she would not try to shake off; and she made
+no attempt to go on with her present for her Mamma, it looked so
+poor and trumpery after the beautiful things she had seen.</p>
+<p>Nor did Christabel like to remind her of it, fearing that the
+occasion for giving it might never come; but she did feel that it
+was a mournful thing to see the child, who was in danger of so
+fearful a sorrow, wasting her grief in pining after foolish
+fancies, and turning what should have been a refreshing holiday
+into an occasion of longing after what she thus made into pomps
+and vanities of this wicked world.&nbsp; Christabel had heard
+that people who murmur among blessings often have those blessings
+snatched away, and this made her tremble for poor little
+discontented Elizabeth.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">There</span>!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Susan, &ldquo;I really have got a letter from Papa himself.&nbsp;
+What a prize!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to mind your Grosvenor when you
+answer <i>him</i>,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;but hollo,
+what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For Susan&rsquo;s eyes had grown large, and her whole face
+scarlet, and she gave a little cry as she read.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your Mamma, my dear?&rdquo; asked Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mamma&mdash;Mamma is so very ill!&rdquo; and Susan
+throw the letter down, and broke into a fit of sobbing.</p>
+<p>Sam caught it up, and Elizabeth came to read it with him, both
+standing still and not speaking a word, but staring at the letter
+with their eyes fixed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, my dear?&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook,
+tenderly putting her arm round Susan; but she sobbed too much to
+make a word distinct, and Bessie held out the letter to her
+governess, looking white, and too much awed to speak.</p>
+<p>Captain Merrifield wrote in short, plain, sad words, that he
+thought it right that his children should know how matters
+stood.&nbsp; The doctors&rsquo; treatment, for which their mother
+had been taken to London, had not succeeded, but had occasioned
+such terrible illness, that unless by the mercy of God she became
+much better in the course of a day or two, she could not
+live.&nbsp; If she should be worse, he would either write or
+telegraph, and Susan and Sam must be ready to set out at once on
+the receipt of such a message, and come up by the next train to
+London, where they should be met at the station.&nbsp; He had
+promised their mother that in case of need he would send for
+them.</p>
+<blockquote><p>God bless you, my poor children, and have mercy on
+us all!</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">Your loving father,<br />
+H. <span class="smcap">Merrifield</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>That was all; and Christabel felt, more than even the children
+did, from how full and heavy a heart those words had been
+written.</p>
+<p>Though she hardly knew how to speak, she tried to comfort
+Susan by showing her that her father had evidently not given up
+all hope; but Susan was crying more at the thought of her
+Mamma&rsquo;s present illness and pain than with fear of the
+future; and Sam said sadly, &ldquo;He would not have written at
+all unless it had been very bad indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;but I believe,
+in cases like this, there is often great fear, and then very
+speedy improvement.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear,&rdquo; said Bessie, speaking for the first
+time, &ldquo;I know it will be.&nbsp; Little girls in story-books
+always do have their mammas&mdash;die!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Story-books are all nonsense, so it won&rsquo;t
+happen,&rdquo; said Sam; and really it seemed as if the habit of
+contradicting Bessie had suggested to him the greatest
+consolation that had yet occurred.</p>
+<p>Just then Henry and the younger ones came in, and learnt the
+tidings.&nbsp; Henry wept as bitterly as his elder sister, and
+John and Annie both did the same; but David did not speak one
+word, as if he hardly took in what was the matter, and, going to
+the window, took up his lesson-books as usual.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is nine o&rsquo;clock, Hal,&rdquo; said Sam
+presently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we can&rsquo;t go to Mr. Carey to-day,&rdquo; said
+Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, we shall,&rdquo; returned Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; cried Susan.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Suppose a telegraph should come!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then you can send for me,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Come, Hal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you, Sam?&rdquo; said Henry crossly; &ldquo;I
+know Mr. Carey will give us leave when he knows.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want leave,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t want to kick up a row, as you&rsquo;ll do if you stay
+at home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well then, if the message comes, I shall take Susie to
+London instead of you.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m sure they want me
+most!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, go down to Mr. Carey&rsquo;s with your brother, if
+you please, Hal,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook decidedly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;If he should tell you not to stay, I can&rsquo;t help it;
+but you will none of you do any good by hanging about without
+doing your daily duties.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hal saw he had no chance, and marched off, muttering about its
+being very hard.&nbsp; Sam picked up his books, and turned to go,
+with a grave steady look that was quite manly in its sadness,
+only stopping to say, &ldquo;Now, Jackie, you be
+good!&mdash;Please Miss Fosbrook, let him run down after me if
+the message comes, and I&rsquo;ll be back before the horse is
+out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook promised, and could not help shaking hands with
+the brave boy, if only to show that she felt with him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then must we all do our lessons?&rdquo; asked Annie
+disconsolately, when he was gone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear; I think we shall all be the better for
+not neglecting what we ought to do.&nbsp; But there is one thing
+that we can do for your dear Mamma; you know what I mean.&nbsp;
+Suppose you each went away alone for five minutes, and were to
+come back when I ring the little bell?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The first to come back was Annie, with the question in a low
+whisper, &ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, will God make Mamma better if we
+are very good?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook kissed her, saying, &ldquo;My dear little girl,
+I cannot tell.&nbsp; All I can certainly tell you is, that He
+hears the prayers of good children, and if it be better for her
+and for you He will give her back to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Annie did not quite understand, but she entered into what Miss
+Fosbrook said enough to wish to be good; so she took up her book,
+and began to learn with all her might.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth would have thought it much more like a little girl
+in a book to have done no lessons, but have sat thinking, and
+perhaps reading the Bible all day; but on the whole Elizabeth had
+hardly thoughts enough to last her so long; nor was she deep or
+serious enough to have done herself much good by keeping the
+Bible open before her.&nbsp; In fact she did lose her verse in
+merely reading the chapter for the day!&nbsp; So it was just as
+well that she had something to do that was not play, and that was
+a duty, and thus might give the desire to be good something to
+bear upon.</p>
+<p>But Christabel saw by Susan&rsquo;s face, and heard in the
+shaken voice with which she took her turn in the reading, that
+she could not have given her mind to her tasks, and did not need
+them to keep her out of mischief.&nbsp; It would have been cruel
+to have required her to sit down to them just then, and her
+governess was glad to be able to excuse her on account of the
+packing-up.&nbsp; All her things and Sam&rsquo;s must be got
+ready in case of an immediate start, and she was sent up to the
+nursery to take care of the little ones, while Nurse and Mary
+mended, ironed, and packed.</p>
+<p>To be sure Nurse Freeman made poor Susan unnecessarily unhappy
+by being sure that it was all the fault of the London doctors;
+but she was a kind, tender old woman, and her petting was a great
+comfort to the poor girl.&nbsp; What did her most good, however,
+was sitting quite quiet with the little ones while they were
+asleep, and all alone; it seemed to rest and compose her, and she
+always loved to be in charge of them.&nbsp; Poor child! she might
+soon have to be their little mother!&nbsp; She was able to play
+with them when they awoke, and cheered herself up with their
+pretty ways, and by finding how quickly Baby was learning to
+walk.&nbsp; Ah! but would Mamma ever see her walk?</p>
+<p>If any of the children thought it unjust that Susan&rsquo;s
+lessons should be let off, they were wrong.&nbsp; Parents and
+teachers must have the power of doing such things without being
+judged.&nbsp; Sometimes they see that a child is really unable to
+learn, when the others perceive no difference; and it would be
+very harsh and cruel to oppress one who is out of order for fear
+little silly, idle, healthy things should think themselves hardly
+used.</p>
+<p>At any rate, the lessons were capitally done; and when the
+children met again, they were all so much brighter and more
+hopeful, that they quite believed that their Mamma was going to
+get better very fast.&nbsp; Bessie especially was so resolved
+that thus it should be, that she shut herself into Miss
+Fosbrook&rsquo;s room, and drew and painted with all her might,
+as if preparing for Mamma&rsquo;s birthday made it certain that
+it would be kept.</p>
+<p>The boys brought word that they would have a holiday the next
+day, as it was the Feast of St. Barnabas, and after morning
+service Mr. Carey was going to meet his brother and bring him
+home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be all the more certain to get the sovereign,
+or two sovereigns,&rdquo; said Henry to David, the only person
+whom he could find to listen to him, &ldquo;if Sam is gone; and
+everyone will be caring about me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then you&rsquo;ll give it to the pig,&rdquo; said
+David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, to be sure.&nbsp; You will grow into a pig
+yourself if you go on that way, David.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>However, David, partaking the family distrust of Hal&rsquo;s
+birds-in-the-bush, and being started on the subject of the hoard,
+ran up to Sam, who was learning his lessons by way of something
+to do, and said, &ldquo;If you go to London, Sam, may I have your
+sixpence on Monday for the pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that I am going.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if you do&mdash;or we sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t get the
+pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you care if we don&rsquo;t get the
+pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&nbsp; Be off with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David next betook himself to his eldest sister, who was trying
+to write to her father, and finding such a letter harder and
+sadder work than that to Ida Greville, though no one teased her
+about writing, blots, or spelling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you go to London, Susie,&rdquo; said he, in the very
+same words, &ldquo;may I have your sixpence on Monday for the
+pig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Davie, don&rsquo;t be tiresome!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David only said it over again in the same words, and put his
+hand down on her letter in his earnestness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come away, Davie,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook;
+&ldquo;don&rsquo;t tease your sister.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want her to say I may have her sixpence on Monday for
+the pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, you sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t, then,&rdquo; said Susan
+angrily; &ldquo;you care for the nasty pig more than for poor
+Mamma or anyone else, and you sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t have
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So seldom did Susan say anything cross, that everyone looked
+up surprised.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook saw that it was sheer
+unhappiness that made her speak sharply, and would not take any
+notice, except by gently taking away the pertinacious David.</p>
+<p>He was very much distressed at the refusal; and when Miss
+Fosbrook told him that his brother and sister could not think of
+such things when they were in such trouble, he only answered,
+&ldquo;But Hannah Higgins won&rsquo;t get her pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was vexed herself that her friend David should
+seem possessed with this single idea, as if it shut out all
+others from his mind.&nbsp; He was consoled fast enough; for
+Susan, with another great sob, threw down her pen, and coming up
+to stroke him down with her inky fingers, cried out, &ldquo;O
+Davie, Davie, I didn&rsquo;t mean it; I don&rsquo;t know why I
+said it.&nbsp; You shall have my sixpence, or anything!&nbsp;
+But, oh dear, I wish the message was come, and we were going to
+dear Mamma, for I can&rsquo;t write, and I don&rsquo;t know what
+to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she went back to her place, and tried to write, and sat
+with her head on her hand, and dawdled and cried and blotted till
+it grew so near post-time that at last Miss Fosbrook took the
+longest of her scrawls, and writing three lines at the bottom to
+say how it was with them all, directed it to Captain Merrifield,
+thinking that he would like it better than nothing from home,
+sent it off, and made Susan come out to refresh her hot eyes and
+burning head in the garden.</p>
+<p>Sam presently came and walked on her other side, gravely and
+in silence, glad to be away from the chatter and disputes of the
+younger ones.&nbsp; That summons had made them both feel older,
+and less like children, than ever before; but they did not speak
+much, only, when they sat down on a garden bench, as Miss
+Fosbrook held Susan&rsquo;s hand, she presently found some rough
+hard young fingers stealing into her own on the other side, and
+saw Sam&rsquo;s eyes glistening with unshed tears.&nbsp; She
+stroked his hand, and they dropped fast: but he was ashamed to
+cry, and quickly dried them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that you will be a
+man, Sam; take care of Susan, and be a comfort to your
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope I shall,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t know how.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody can tell how beforehand,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Only watch to see what he may seem to want to have done
+for him.&nbsp; Sit quietly by, and don&rsquo;t get in the
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Were you ever so unhappy, Miss Fosbrook?&rdquo; asked
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, once I was, when my father was knocked down by an
+omnibus, and was very ill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell us about it?&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>She did tell them of her week of sorrow and anxious care of
+the younger children, and the brightening ray of hope at
+last.&nbsp; It seemed to freshen both up, and give them hopes,
+for each drew a long sigh of relief; and then Sam said,
+&ldquo;Papa wrote to Mr. Carey.&nbsp; She is to be prayed for in
+church to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Susan, with a sound as of dismay, which
+made Christabel ask in wonder why she was sorry, when, from
+Susan&rsquo;s half-uttered words, she found that the little girl
+fancied that a &ldquo;happy issue out of all her
+afflictions&rdquo; meant death.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no, my dear,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;What it
+means is, that the afflictions may end happily in whatever way
+God may see to be best; it may be in getting well; it may be the
+other way: at any rate, it is asking that the distress may be
+over, not saying how.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t there some other prayer in the Prayer-book
+about it?&rdquo; said Sam, looking straight before him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will show you where to find it, in the Visitation of
+the Sick.&nbsp; I dare say it has often been read to
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boy and girl came in with her, and brought their
+Prayer-books to her room, that she might mark them.</p>
+<p>This had been a strange, long, sad day of waiting and watching
+for the telegram, and the children even fancied it might come in
+the middle of the night; but Miss Fosbrook thought this unlikely,
+and looked for the morrow&rsquo;s post.&nbsp; There was no
+letter.&nbsp; It was very disappointing, but Miss Fosbrook
+thought it a good sign, since at least the danger could not be
+more pressing, and delay always left room for hope.</p>
+<p>The children readily believed her; they were too young to go
+on dwelling long on what was not in sight; and even Susan was
+cheerful, and able to think about other things after her
+night&rsquo;s rest, and the relief of not hearing a worse
+account.</p>
+<p>The children might do as they pleased about going to church on
+saints&rsquo; days, and on this day all the three girls wished to
+go, as soon as it had been made clear that even if the message
+should come before the short service would be over, there would
+be ample time to reach the station before the next train.&nbsp;
+Miss Fosbrook was glad to prove this, for not only did she wish
+to have them in church, but she thought the weary watching for
+the telegram was the worst thing possible for Susan.&nbsp; Sam
+was also going to church, but Henry hung back, after accompanying
+them to the end of the kitchen-garden.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+wouldn&rsquo;t go, Sam; just suppose if the message came without
+anyone at home, and you had to set out at once!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We couldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Sam;
+&ldquo;there&rsquo;s no train.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever
+anyone is ill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then there would be plenty!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At least they did when Mr. Greville&rsquo;s mother was
+ill, so they will now; and then you may ride upon the engine, for
+there won&rsquo;t be any carriages, you know.&nbsp; I say, Sam,
+if you go to church, and the telegraph comes, I shall set
+off.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll do no such thing,&rdquo; said Sam.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You had much better come to church.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t.&nbsp; It is like a girl to
+go to church on a week-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is much more like a girl to mind what a couple of
+asses, like the Grevilles, say,&rdquo; returned Sam, taking up
+his cap and running after his sisters and their governess.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is quite right,&rdquo; observed Henry to John and
+David, who alone remained to listen to him, &ldquo;that one of us
+should stay in case the telegraph comes in, and there are any
+orders to give.&nbsp; I can catch the pony, you know, and ride
+off to Bonchamp, and if the special train is there, I shall get
+upon the engine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it is Sam and Susan who are going.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s only because Sam is eldest.&nbsp; I
+know Mamma would like to have me much better, because I
+don&rsquo;t walk hard like Sam; and when I get there, she will be
+so much better already, and we shall be all right; and Admiral
+Penrose will be so delighted at my courage in riding on the
+engine and putting out the explosion, or something, that he will
+give me my appointment as naval cadet at once, and I shall have a
+dirk and a uniform, and a chest of my own, and be an officer, and
+get promoted for firing red-hot shot out of the batteries at
+Gibraltar.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Master Hal!&rdquo; exclaimed Purday, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+throw them little apples about.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are red-hot shot, Purday!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll red-hot shot you if you break my cucumber
+frames, young gentleman!&nbsp; Come, get out with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Probably anxiety made Purday cross as well as everyone else,
+or else he distrusted Henry&rsquo;s discretion without Sam, for
+he hunted the little boys away wherever they went.&nbsp; Now they
+would break the cucumber frames; now they would meddle with the
+gooseberries, or trample on the beds; and at last he only
+relented so far as to let David stay with him on condition of
+being very good, and holding the little cabbages as he planted
+them out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Master Davie was a solemn one,&rdquo; Purday said, and
+they were great friends; but Hal and Johnnie were fairly turned
+out, as their idle hands were continually finding fresh mischief
+to do in their sauntering desultory mood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Hal, &ldquo;since Purday is so
+savage, we&rsquo;ll go and look out at the gate, and then we
+shall see if the telegraph comes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Johnnie had no clear idea what a telegraph was, and was
+curious to know how it would come, rather expecting it to be a
+man in a red coat on horseback, blowing a horn&mdash;a sight that
+certainly was not to be missed; so he willingly strolled down
+after Henry to the gate leading to the lane.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see any way at all,&rdquo; said Henry,
+looking out into the lane.&nbsp; &ldquo;I shall get up, and so
+see over into the bend of the road;&rdquo; and Hal mounted to the
+topmost bar of the gate, and sat astride there, John scrambling
+after him not quite so easily, his legs being less long, and his
+dress less convenient.&nbsp; Both knew that their Papa strongly
+objected to their climbing on this iron gate, the newest and
+handsomest thing about the place; but thought Hal, &ldquo;Of
+course no one will care what I do when I am so anxious about poor
+Mamma!&rdquo; and thought Johnnie, &ldquo;What Hal does, of
+course I may do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So there the two young gentlemen sat perched, each with one
+leg on either side of the new iron gate.&nbsp; It was rather like
+sitting on the edge of a knife; and John could scarcely reach his
+toes down to rest them on the bar below, but he held on by the
+spikes, and it was so new and glorious a position, that it made
+up for a good deal to be five feet above the road; moreover, Hal
+said it was just like the mast-head of a man-of-war&mdash;at
+<i>least</i>, when the waves didn&rsquo;t dash right overhead,
+like the picture of the Eddystone Lighthouse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hollo! what, a couple of cherubs aloft!&rdquo; cried a
+voice from the road; and looking round, Henry beheld the two
+Grevilles.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s very jolly
+up here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Eh! is it?&nbsp; Riding on a razor, to my mind.&nbsp;
+Come down, and have a lark,&rdquo; said Osmond; while Martin,
+undoing the gate, proceeded to swing it backwards and forwards,
+to John&rsquo;s extreme terror; but the more he clung to the
+spikes, and cried for mercy, the quicker Martin swung it,
+shouting with laughter at his fright.&nbsp; Henry meanwhile
+scrambled and tumbled to the ground, and caught the gate and held
+it fast, while he asked what his friends had been about.&nbsp;
+One held up a scarlet flask of powder, the other a bag of
+shot.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t got a gun!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, but we know where gardener keeps his; and the
+governor&rsquo;s out for the day.&nbsp; Come along, Hal: you
+shall have your turn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to go far from home
+to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, stuff!&nbsp; What was it Mamma heard, Osmond?&nbsp;
+That your mother was ever so much better, wasn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought it was worse,&rdquo; said Osmond.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, never mind: your hanging about here won&rsquo;t
+do her any good, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; but&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he&rsquo;ll catch it from the governess!&mdash;I
+say, how many seams shall you have to sew to-day, Hal?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t sew seams: I do as I please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ha!&nbsp; Is that them coming out of church!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is! it is!&rdquo; cried John from his
+elevation.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, help me down, Hal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Henry did not want Miss Fosbrook to find him partaking in
+gate-climbing; and either that desire, or the general terror a
+bad conscience, made him and the Grevilles run helter-skelter the
+opposite way, leaving poor little John stuck on the top of the
+gate, quite giddy at the thought of coming down alone, and almost
+as much afraid of being there caught by Miss Fosbrook coming home
+from church.</p>
+<p>It was a false alarm after all, that the congregation were
+coming out.&nbsp; John would have been glad if they had; for
+nothing could be more miserable than sitting up there, his
+fingers tired of clutching the spikes, his feet strained with
+reaching down to the bar, his legs chilled with the wind, his
+head almost giddy when he thought of climbing down.&nbsp; He
+would have cried, could he have spared a hand to rub his eyes
+with; he had a great mind to have roared for help, especially
+when he heard feet upon the road; but these turned out to belong
+to five little village boys, still smaller than himself, who,
+when they saw the young gentleman on his perch, all stood still
+in a row, with their mouths wide open, staring at him.&nbsp;
+Johnnie scorned to let them think he was not riding there for his
+own pleasure; so he tried to put a bold face of the matter, and
+look as much at ease and indifferent as he could, under great
+bodily fear and discomfort, the injury of his brother&rsquo;s
+desertion, the expectation of disgrace, and the reflection that
+he was being disobedient to his parents in the height of their
+trouble!</p>
+<p>There is nothing in grief that of necessity makes children or
+grown people good.&nbsp; Sometimes, especially when there is
+suspense, it fills them with excitement, as well as putting them
+out of their usual habits; and thus it often happens that there
+are tremendous explosions of naughtiness just when some one is
+ill in a house, and the children ought to be most good.&nbsp; But
+it is certain that unless trouble be taken in the right way, it
+makes people worse instead of better.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Hal</span> had got into a mood in which he
+was tired of fears and of waiting for tidings, and was glad to
+shake off the thought, and be carried along to something new, he
+and the Grevilles were rather fond of one another&rsquo;s
+company, in an idle sort of way.&nbsp; They &ldquo;put him up to
+things,&rdquo; as he said; they made a variety; and he was always
+glad of listeners to his wonderful stories, which rather diverted
+the other boys, who, though they sometimes made game of them,
+were much less apt to pick them to pieces than was Sam.</p>
+<p>Poor Captain Merrifield! what had not befallen him, according
+to his son?&nbsp; He had been stuck on to a rock of loadstone; he
+had been bitten by mosquitos as big as jackdaws&mdash;at least as
+jack-snipes; he had sat down to rest on the trunk of a fallen
+tree, and it whisked him over on his face, and turned out to be a
+rattle-snake&mdash;at least, a boa-constrictor!&nbsp; Nay, Henry
+discoursed on the ponies he had himself tamed, the rabbits he had
+shot, the trees he had climbed, the nests he had found, the rats
+he had killed, in terms he durst not use when his brother was by;
+or if he did, and Sam brought him to book, he always said
+&ldquo;it was all fun.&rdquo;&nbsp; It often seemed as if he did
+not himself know whether he meant to be believed or otherwise;
+and as to his intentions for his sailor life, they were, as has
+been already seen, of the most splendid character!&nbsp;
+Sometimes he shot the French admiral dead from the mast-head;
+sometimes he sailed into Plymouth with the whole enemy&rsquo;s
+fleet behind him; sometimes he, the youngest midshipman, rescued
+the whole crew in a wreck where all the other officers were
+drowned; sometimes he shot a shark through the head, just as it
+was about to make a meal of Prince Alfred!</p>
+<p>He certainly was thus an entertaining companion to those who
+did not pay heed to truth, and liked to hear or laugh at great
+swelling words; and the Grevilles, on their idle day, were glad
+to have him with them, and were rather curious to prove how much
+fact there was in his boast of being a most admirable shot.</p>
+<p>Meddling with guns was absolutely forbidden to all the three,
+except by special permission and with an elder looking on; but
+the Grevilles were not in the habit of obeying, except when they
+were forced to do so; and Henry, having once begun to think no
+one would heed his present doings, was ready to go on rather than
+be accused of minding his governess.</p>
+<p>So the gardener&rsquo;s gun was taken from the hiding-place,
+whither it had been conveyed from the tool-house; and the three
+boys ran off together, their first object being to get out of the
+Greville grounds, where they could be met by any of the
+men.&nbsp; They got quite out into the fields, before they
+ventured to stop that Osmond might load the gun.&nbsp; Each was
+to take a shot in turn; Osmond tried first, at a poor innocent
+young thrush, newly come out for his earliest flight.&nbsp;
+Happily he missed it; Martin claimed the next, and for want of
+anything better to shoot, took aim at the scare-crow in the
+middle of Farmer Grice&rsquo;s beans.&nbsp; He was sure that he
+had hit it, and showed triumphantly the great holes in its hat;
+but the other boys were strongly persuaded that they had been
+there before.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, come away,&rdquo; said Osmond; &ldquo;this is a
+great deal too near old Grice&rsquo;s farm-yard.&nbsp; If we go
+popping about here, we shall have him out upon us, for an old
+tiger as he is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, then,&rdquo; said Martin.</p>
+<p>But Hal had just got the gun, and saw something so black and
+shiny through the hedge, that he was persuaded that a flock of
+rooks were feeding in the next field, and he fired!</p>
+<p>Such a cackling and screeching as arose! and with it one dying
+gobble, and a very loud &ldquo;Hollo! you rascal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My eyes! you&rsquo;ve been and gone and done it!&rdquo;
+cried Osmond.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cut! cut!&rdquo; screamed Martin; and Hal, not exactly
+knowing what he had done, but sure that it was something
+dreadful, and hearing voices in pursuit, threw down the gun, and
+took to his heels; but the others had the start of him, and were
+over the gap long before he could get to it.&nbsp; And even as he
+did reach it, a hand was on his throat, almost choking him, and a
+tremendous voice cried, &ldquo;You young poacher, you
+sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t get off that way!&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll have you
+up to the Bench, that I will, for shooting the poor old
+turkey-cock before my very eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! don&rsquo;t, don&rsquo;t!&nbsp; I didn&rsquo;t mean
+it,&rdquo; cried Hal, turning in the terrible grip; &ldquo;I
+thought it was only a rook!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A rook, I dare say!&nbsp; And what business had you to
+think, coming trespassing here on my ground, and breaking the
+hedges!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d have you up for that, if for nothing
+else, you young vagabond!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t, don&rsquo;t!&nbsp; I&rsquo;m Henry
+Merrifield!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care if you&rsquo;re Henry Merry
+Andrew!&rdquo; said Farmer Grice, who was a surly man, and had a
+grudge of long standing against the Captain, for withstanding him
+at the Board of Guardians.&nbsp; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have the law
+out of you, whoever you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;Mamma is so very ill!&rdquo; cried
+Hal, bursting into tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The more shame for you to be rampaging about the
+country this fashion,&rdquo; said the farmer, giving him a shake
+that seemed to make all his bones rattle in his skin.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Serve you right if I flogged you within an inch of your
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, please don&rsquo;t&mdash;I mean please
+do&mdash;anything but have me up to the magistrates!&nbsp;
+I&rsquo;ll never do it again, never!&rdquo; sobbed Henry in his
+terror.</p>
+<p>Mr. Grice had some pity, and also knew that his wife and all
+the neighbours would be shocked at his prosecuting so young a
+boy, whose parents were in such distress.&nbsp; So he said,
+&ldquo;There, then, I&rsquo;ll overlook it this time, sir, so as
+I have the value of the bird.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what is the value&mdash;&rdquo; asked Henry,
+trembling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Value!&nbsp; Why, the breed came from Norfolk; he was
+three years old; and my missus set great store on him, he was as
+good as a house-dog, to keep idle children out of the yard; and
+it was quite a picture to see him posturing about, and setting up
+his tail!&nbsp; Value! not less than five-and-twenty shillings,
+sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I have not five-and-twenty shillings.&nbsp; I
+can&rsquo;t get them,&rdquo; said Hal, falling back into
+misery.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You should have thought of that before you shot poor
+old Tom Turkey!&rdquo; quoth Farmer Grice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what in the world shall I ever do?&rdquo; said
+Henry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s for you to settle, sir,&rdquo; said the
+farmer, taking up the unlucky gun.&nbsp; &ldquo;I shall take
+this, and keep it out of further harm.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh pray, pray!&rdquo; cried Henry.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is
+not my gun; it is Mr. Greville&rsquo;s; please let me have
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! was it those young dogs, the Master Grevilles,
+that were with you!&rdquo; growled Mr. Grice.&nbsp; &ldquo;If
+I&rsquo;d known that, I&rsquo;d not have let you off so
+easy.&nbsp; Those boys are the plague of the place; I wish it had
+been one of them as I&rsquo;d caught, I&rsquo;d have had some
+satisfaction out of them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry entreated again for the gun, explaining that they had
+not leave to take it; but the farmer was unrelenting.&nbsp; He
+might go to them, he said, to make up the price of the poor
+turkey-cock; how they could have got the gun was no affair of
+his; have it they should not, till the money was brought to him;
+and if it did not come before night, he should carry the gun up
+to the Park, and complain to Mr. Greville.</p>
+<p>With this answer the unhappy Hal was released, and ran after
+his friends to tell them of the terms.&nbsp; He found them
+sitting on a low wall, just within their own grounds, waiting to
+hear what had become of him.&nbsp; When he had told his story,
+they both set upon him for betraying them, and declared that they
+should send him to Coventry ever after, and never do anything
+with him again; but as it was plain that the gun must be
+redeemed, if they wished to avoid severe punishment, there was a
+consultation.&nbsp; Nobody had much money; but Osmond consolingly
+suspected that the farmer would take less; five-and-twenty
+shillings was an exorbitant price to set on a turkey-cock&rsquo;s
+head, and perhaps half would content him.</p>
+<p>The half, however, seemed as impossible as the whole.&nbsp;
+Osmond had three shillings, Martin two, Hal fourpence!&nbsp; What
+was to be done?&nbsp; And the boys declared that if it should
+come to their father&rsquo;s knowledge, Hal, who had given up
+their names, should certainly not be shielded by them.&nbsp; In
+fact, he, who had done the deed, was the only one who ought to
+pay.</p>
+<p>The sound of the servants&rsquo; dinner-bell at the Park broke
+up the consultation; the boys must not be missed at luncheon; and
+they therefore separated, agreeing to meet at that same place at
+four o&rsquo;clock, to hear the result of Hal&rsquo;s negotiation
+with the farmer; for neither of the Grevilles would hear of
+helping him to face the enemy.</p>
+<p>Poor Hal plodded home disconsolately.&nbsp; Once he thought of
+telling Sam, and asking his help; but Sam would be so much
+shocked at such a scrape at such a time, as possibly to lick him
+for it before helping him.&nbsp; Indeed Hal did not see much
+chance of Sam being able to do anything for them; and he had too
+often boasted over his elder brother to like to abase himself by
+such a confession&mdash;when, too, it would almost be owning how
+much better it would have been to have followed Sam&rsquo;s
+advice and have gone safely to church.</p>
+<p>Could he borrow of any one?&nbsp; Had he nothing of his own to
+sell or exchange?&nbsp; Ah! if it had not been for that stupid
+hoard of little David&rsquo;s, he might have had even so
+much!&nbsp; By-the-bye, some of that collection was his
+own.&nbsp; He might quite lawfully take that back again.&nbsp;
+How much could it be?&nbsp; How much did he put in last week? the
+week before?&nbsp; Oh, never mind; some of it was his at all
+events; there was no harm in taking that.&nbsp; Most likely he
+should be able to restore it four-fold when Colonel Carey made
+his present; or, if not, nobody knew exactly what was in Toby
+Fillpot; and after all very likely they would forget all about
+it; people could not think about pigs when Mamma was ill; or,
+maybe, he should go to join his ship, and hear no more of
+it.&nbsp; So he came home, and crossed the paddock just as the
+dinner-bell was ringing, opening the hall-door as the children
+were running across it to the dining-room.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook, who was walking behind them, turned as he came
+in.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Henry,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I have sent Johnnie to
+dine in the nursery, for his disobedience in climbing the
+gate.&nbsp; I certainly shall not give you a less
+punishment.&nbsp; You must have led him into it; and how could
+you be so cruel as to leave the poor little fellow alone in such
+a dangerous place?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stupid little coward! it was not a bit of
+danger!&rdquo; said Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So young a child&mdash;&rdquo; began Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all your London notions,&rdquo; said
+Hal.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why, I climbed up our gate at Stonehouse, which
+was twice as high, when I wasn&rsquo;t near as old as
+that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not going to argue with you, Henry; but after such
+an act of disobedience, I cannot allow you to sit down to dinner
+with us.&nbsp; Go up to the school-room, and Mary shall bring you
+your dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t want to dine with a lot of
+babies and governesses!&rdquo; exclaimed Henry, and bounced
+up-stairs, leaving Miss Fosbrook quite confounded at such an
+outbreak of naughtiness.</p>
+<p>She intended, as soon as dinner should be over, to go up to
+him, and try to lead him to be sorry for his conduct, and to
+think what a wretched moment this was for such audacity; and then
+she feared that she ought to punish him farther, by keeping him
+in all the afternoon.&nbsp; He was so soft and easily impressed,
+that she almost trusted to make him feel that it would be right
+that he should suffer for his misconduct.</p>
+<p>When she went up-stairs, almost as soon as grace had been
+said, he was gone.&nbsp; Nobody could find him, and calling
+produced no answer.&nbsp; She became quite distressed and
+anxious, but could not go far from the house herself, nor send
+Sam, in case the message should arrive.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;no doubt he&rsquo;s after
+something with the Grevilles, and was afraid you would stop him
+in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She tried to believe this, but still felt far from satisfied
+all the afternoon, and was glad to see the boy come back in time
+for tea.</p>
+<p>He said he had been with the Grevilles; he did not see why
+anybody need ask him questions; he should do what he pleased
+without being called to account.&nbsp; Nobody told him not to run
+away after dinner; he was not going to stay to be ordered about
+for nothing.</p>
+<p>This was so bad a temper, that Christabel could not bear to
+try to touch him with the thought of his sick mother.&nbsp; She
+knew that softening must come in time, and believed the best
+thing to do at the moment would be to put a stop to his
+disrespectful speeches to her, and his cross ones to his brothers
+and sisters, by sending him to bed as soon as tea was over, as
+the completion of his punishment.&nbsp; He did not struggle, for
+she had taught him to mind her; but he went up-stairs with a
+gloomy brow, and angry murmurs that it was very hard to be put
+under a stupid woman, who knew nothing about anything, and was
+always cross.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Saturday&rsquo;s</span> post brought a
+letter, and a comfortable one.&nbsp; All Thursday Mrs. Merrifield
+had been in so doubtful a state, that her husband could not bear
+to write, lest he should fill the children with false hopes, or
+alarm them still more; but she had had a good night, was stronger
+on Friday, and when the post went out, the doctors had just
+ventured to say they believed she would recover favourably.&nbsp;
+The letter was finished off in a great hurry; but Captain
+Merrifield did not forget to thank his little Susan warmly for
+her poor scrambling letter, and say he knew all she meant by it,
+bidding her give Miss Fosbrook his hearty thanks for forwarding
+it, and for telling him the children were all behaving well, and
+feeling properly.&nbsp; His love to them all; they must try to
+deserve the great mercy that had been granted to them.</p>
+<p>To the children, this was almost as good as saying that their
+mother was well again; but there was too much awe about them for
+their joy to show itself noisily.&nbsp; Susan ran away to her own
+room, and Bessie followed her; and Sam said no word, only Miss
+Fosbrook remarked that he did not eat two mouthfuls of
+breakfast.&nbsp; She would not take any notice; she knew his
+heart was full; and when she looked round on that little flock,
+and thought of the grievous sorrow scarcely yet averted from
+them, she could hardly keep the tears from blinding her.&nbsp;
+They were all somewhat still and grave, and it was too happy a
+morning to be broken into by the reproofs that Henry deserved,
+even more richly than Christabel knew.&nbsp; She had almost
+forgotten his bad behaviour; and when she remembered something of
+it, she could not but hope that silence, on such a day as this,
+might bring it home to him more than rebuke.&nbsp; Yet when
+breakfast was ever, he was among the loudest of those who,
+shaking off the strange, awed gravity of deep gladness, went
+rushing together into the garden, feeling that they might give
+way to their spirits again.</p>
+<p>Sam shouted and whooped as if he were casting off a burthen,
+and picking little George up in his arms, tossed him and swung
+him round in the air in an ecstasy; while John and Annie and
+David went down on the grass together, and tumbled and rolled one
+over the other like three kittens, their legs and arms kicking
+about, so that it was hard to tell whose property were the black
+shoes that came wriggling into view.</p>
+<p>Susan was quieter.&nbsp; She told Nurse the good news, and
+then laid hold upon Baby, and carried her off into the passage to
+hug all to herself.&nbsp; She could tell no one but Baby how very
+happy she was, and how her heart had trembled at her
+mother&rsquo;s suffering, her father&rsquo;s grief, and at the
+desolateness that had so nearly come on them.&nbsp; Oh, she was
+very happy, very thankful; but she could not scream it out like
+the others, Baby must have it all in kisses.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Christabel,&rdquo; said a little voice, when all the
+others were gone, &ldquo;I shall never be pipy again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must try to fight against it, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, coming close up to her,
+&ldquo;when dear Mamma was so ill, it did seem so silly to mind
+about not having pretty things like Ida, and the boys plaguing,
+and so on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our
+little discontents.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I said so many times yesterday, and the day before,
+that I would never mind things again, if only Mamma would get
+well and come home,&rdquo; said the little girl; &ldquo;and I
+never shall.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not always find it easy not to mind,&rdquo;
+said Christabel; &ldquo;but if you try hard, you will learn how
+to keep from showing that you mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an
+oh! it was,) &ldquo;those things are grown so silly and little
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have seen them in their true light for once, my
+dear.&nbsp; And now that you have so great cause of thankfulness
+to God, you feel that your foolish frets and discontents were
+unthankful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they
+always were when anything of this kind was said to her, as if she
+did not like to meet the look fixed on her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these
+murmurs your thank-offering to God.&nbsp; Suppose every day when
+you say your prayers, you were to add something like
+this&mdash;&rdquo; and she wrote down on a little bit of paper,
+&ldquo;O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her sickness,
+teach me to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard my
+words and thoughts from peevishness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it too small to pray about?&rdquo; said
+Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear.&nbsp; Do
+you think this little midge is too small for God to have made it,
+and given it life, and spread that mother-of-pearl light on its
+wings?&nbsp; Do you think yourself too small to pray? or your
+fault too small to pray about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth cast down her eyes.&nbsp; She did not quite think it
+was a fault, but she did not say so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the
+wilderness?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They tempted God by murmurs,&rdquo; said
+Christabel.&nbsp; &ldquo;They tried His patience by grumbling,
+when His care and blessings were all round them, and by crying
+out because all was not just as they liked.&nbsp; Now, dear
+Bessie, God has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it
+not be tempting Him to go back to complaints over what He has
+ordained for you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall net complain now; I shall not care,&rdquo; said
+Elizabeth.&nbsp; But she took the little bit of paper, and
+Christabel trusted that she would make use of it, knowing that in
+this lay her hope of cure; for whatever she might think in this
+first joy of relief, her little troubles were sure to seem quite
+as unbearable while they were upon her as if she had never feared
+a great one.</p>
+<p>However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and
+happy; but still the influence of their past alarm subdued them
+enough to make them quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and
+Sunday; and Miss Fosbrook had never had so little trouble with
+them.</p>
+<p>In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled
+state that had put the last week out of all common rules, she
+announced on Monday morning that she would excuse all the fines,
+and that all the children should have their allowance
+unbroken.&nbsp; Maybe she was moved to this by the suspicion that
+these four sixpences and three threepennies would make up the
+fund to the price of a &ldquo;reasonable pig;&rdquo; and she
+thought it time that David&rsquo;s perseverance should be
+rewarded, and room made in his mind for something beyond swine
+and halfpence.</p>
+<p>Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks,
+by the boys with a tremendous &ldquo;Three times three for Miss
+Fosbrook!&rdquo; and Bessie was so joyous, that instead of crying
+out against the noise, she joined in with Susan and Annie; but
+they made such a ridiculous little squeaking, that Sam laughed at
+them, and took to mocking their queer thin hurrahs.&nbsp; Yet
+even this Elizabeth could bear!</p>
+<p>David was meanwhile standing by the locker, his fingers at
+work as if he were playing a tune, his lips counting away,
+&ldquo;Ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+me; ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+Jack,&rdquo; and so on; till having plodded up diligently, he
+turned round with a little scream, &ldquo;One hundred and
+twenty!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the pig!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One hundred and twenty pence.&nbsp; Sukey said one
+hundred and twenty pence were ten shillings.&nbsp; That will do
+it!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the pig!&nbsp; Oh, we&rsquo;ve done
+it!&nbsp; May I take it to Purday?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was to be let alone till fair-day, you little
+bother!&rdquo; said Hal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, no,&rdquo; cried many voices; &ldquo;only till
+we had enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I am sure nobody knows if we have,&rdquo; added Hal
+hotly.&nbsp; &ldquo;A lot of halfpence, indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I know, Hal,&rdquo; insisted David.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;There are eighty-nine pence and one farthing in Toby
+Fillpot, and this makes one hundred and twenty-two pence and one
+farthing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d no business to peep,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t peep,&rdquo; said David
+indignantly.&nbsp; &ldquo;There were forty-eight pence at first,
+and then Susie had three, that was fifty-one&mdash;&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And he would have gone on like a little calculating machine, with
+the entire reckoning in his head, if the others had had patience
+to hear; but Annie and Johnnie were urgent to have the sum
+counted out before their eyes.&nbsp; Hal roughly declared it was
+against the rules, and little inquisitives must not have their
+way.&nbsp; But others were also inquisitive; and Sam said it
+would be best to know how much they had, that Purday might be
+told to look out for a pig at the price; besides, he wanted to
+have it over; it was such a bore not to have any money.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not fair!&rdquo; cried Henry
+passionately.&nbsp; &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t keep the rules!&nbsp;
+You sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t have my sixpence, I can tell you; and I
+won&rsquo;t&mdash;I won&rsquo;t stay and see it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody wants you,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know there were any rules,&rdquo; said
+the girls; but Hal was already off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hal has only put in fivepence-halfpenny,&rdquo; said
+David, &ldquo;so no wonder he is ashamed.&nbsp; Such a big boy,
+with sixpence a week!&nbsp; But if he won&rsquo;t let us have his
+sixpence now&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, we will make it up next week,&rdquo; said
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then, who will take Toby down?&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook, unbuttoning one glass door, and undoing the two bolts
+of the second, behind which the cup of money stood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Susie ought, because she is the eldest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Davie ought, because he is the youngest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David stood on a chair to take Toby off his shelf.&nbsp;
+Solemn was the face with which the little boy lifted the mug by
+the handle, putting his other hand to steady the expected weight
+of coppers; but there was at once a frown, a little cry of
+horror.&nbsp; Toby came up so light in his hand, that all his
+great effort was thrown away, and only made him stagger back in
+dismay, falling backward from the chair, and poor Toby crashing
+to pieces on the floor as he fell, while out rolled&mdash;one
+solitary farthing!</p>
+<p>Nobody spoke for some moments; but all stood perfectly still,
+staring as hard as if they hoped the pence would be brought out
+by force of looking for them.</p>
+<p>Then David&rsquo;s knuckles went up into his eyes, and he
+burst forth in a loud bellow.&nbsp; It was the first time Miss
+Fosbrook had heard him cry, and she feared that he had been hurt
+by the fall, or cut by the broken crockery; but he struck out
+with foot and fist, as if his tears were as much anger as grief,
+and roared out, &ldquo;I want the halfpence for my
+pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam, Sam,&rdquo; cried Susan, &ldquo;if you have hid
+them for a trick, let him have them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I play tricks <i>now</i>?&rdquo; exclaimed Sam
+in indignation.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then perhaps Hal has,&rdquo; said Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, Bessie!&rdquo; cried Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I only know,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, half in
+self-defence, half in fright, &ldquo;that one of you must have
+been at the baby-house, for I found the doors open, and shut them
+up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And why should it be one of us?&rdquo; demanded Sam;
+while David stopped crying, and listened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because none of the younger ones can reach to undo the
+doors,&rdquo; said Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was as much as I
+could do to reach the upper bolt, though I stood upon a
+chair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was evident; for the baby-house was really an
+old-fashioned bureau, and below the glass doors there was a
+projecting slope of polished walnut, upon which only a fly could
+stand, and which was always locked.&nbsp; No one whose years were
+less than half a score was tall enough to get a good hold of the
+button, even from the highest chair, far less to jerk down the
+rather stiff upper bolt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It cannot have been a little one, certainly,&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;but you should not be so ready to
+accuse your brothers, Bessie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David, however, had laid hold of a hope, and getting up from
+the floor, hastened out of the room, followed by John; and they
+were presently heard shouting &ldquo;Hal!&rdquo; all over the
+house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What day was it that you found the door open,
+Bessie?&rdquo; asked Miss Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was just after dinner,&rdquo; said Elizabeth,
+recollecting herself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was on Friday.&nbsp; Yes, I remember it was Friday,
+because I went into the school-room to get my pencil, and I was
+afraid Hal would jump out upon me, and looked in first to see
+whether he was going to be tiresome; but he was gone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Susan; &ldquo;it was the day we found
+poor Jack stuck up on the gate, when he and Hal were in
+disgrace.&nbsp; Oh, he never would have played tricks
+then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you go up before me, Bessie?&rdquo; asked Miss
+Fosbrook; &ldquo;for I went up directly after dinner to speak to
+Henry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; said she.&nbsp; &ldquo;I thought if
+you got in first, you would be scolding him ever so long, and
+would let nobody in, so I would get my pencil first; and I
+slipped up before you had left the table.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Just then the two boys were heard stumping up the stairs, and
+ran in, panting with haste and excitement, David with a fiery red
+ear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no; Hal didn&rsquo;t hide it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he boxed Davie&rsquo;s ear for thinking he
+did,&rdquo; added John; &ldquo;and said he&rsquo;d do the same
+for spiteful Bet!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then he never played tricks,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I told you not,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; reiterated David; &ldquo;and he said
+I&rsquo;d no business to ask; and if Bet went prying about
+everywhere, I&rsquo;d better ask her.&nbsp; Have you got it,
+Betty?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I!&rdquo; cried Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;How can you,
+Davie?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have got a secret,&rdquo; exclaimed David;
+&ldquo;and you always were cross about Hannah Higgins&rsquo;s
+pig.&nbsp; You have got it to tease me!&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook, make
+her give it back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, David,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook;
+&ldquo;Bessie is quite to be trusted; and it is wrong to make
+unfounded accusations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind, Betty,&rdquo; added Sam kindly; &ldquo;if
+Davie wasn&rsquo;t a little donkey, he wouldn&rsquo;t say such
+things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Henry?&rdquo; asked the governess.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Why did he not come himself?&nbsp; Call him; I want to
+know if he observed this door being open.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is gone down to Mr. Carey&rsquo;s,&rdquo; said
+John.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And it is high time you were there too, Sam,&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook, starting.&nbsp; &ldquo;If you are late, beg
+Mr. Carey&rsquo;s pardon from me, and tell him that I kept
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam was obliged to run off at full speed; and the other
+children stood about, still aghast and excited.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook, however, told them to take out their books.&nbsp; She
+would not do anything more till she had had time to think, and
+had composed their minds and her own; for she was exceedingly
+shocked, and felt herself partly in fault, for having left the
+hoard in an unlocked cupboard.&nbsp; She feared to do anything
+hastily, lest she should bring suspicion on the innocent; and she
+thought all would do better if time were given for settling
+down.&nbsp; All were disappointed at thus losing the excitement,
+fancying perhaps that instant search and inquiry would hunt up
+the money; and David put himself quite into a sullen fit.&nbsp;
+No, he would not turn round, nor read, nor do anything, unless
+Miss Fosbrook would make stingy Bet give up the pence.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook and Susan both tried to argue with him; but he
+had set his mind upon one point so vehemently, that it was making
+him absolutely stupid to everything else; and he was such a
+little boy (only five years old), that his mind could hardly
+grasp the exceeding unlikelihood of a girl like Elizabeth
+committing such a theft, either in sport or earnest, nor
+understand the injury of such a suspicion.&nbsp; He only knew
+that she had a secret&mdash;a counter secret to his pig; and when
+she hotly assured him that she had never touched the money, and
+Susan backed her up with, &ldquo;There, she says she did
+not,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;She once told a story.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth coloured deep red, and Susan cried out loudly that
+it was a shame in David; then explained that it was a long long
+time ago, that Hal and Bessie broke the drawing-room window by
+playing at ball with little hard apples, and had not told, but
+when questioned had said, &ldquo;No;&rdquo; but indeed they had
+been so sorry then that she knew they would never do so
+again.</p>
+<p>Again David showed that he could not enter into this, and
+sulkily repeated, &ldquo;She told a story.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will have no more of this,&rdquo; said Christabel
+resolutely.&nbsp; &ldquo;You are all working yourselves up into a
+bad spirit: and not another word will I hear on this matter till
+lessons are over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That tone was always obeyed; but lessons did not prosper; the
+children were all restless and unsettled; and David, hitherto for
+his age her best scholar, took no pains, and seemed absolutely
+stupefied.&nbsp; What did he care for fines, if the chance of the
+pig was gone?&nbsp; And he was sullenly angry with Miss Fosbrook
+for using no measures to recover the money, fancied she did not
+care, and remembered the foolish nursery talk about her favouring
+Bessie.</p>
+<p>Once Miss Fosbrook heard a little gasping from the corner, and
+looking round, saw poor Bessie crying quietly over her slate, and
+trying hard to check herself.&nbsp; She would not have noticed
+her, though longing to comfort her, if David had not cried out,
+&ldquo;Bet is crying!&nbsp; A fine!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;but a fine for an
+ill-natured speech that has made her cry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She has got the pig&rsquo;s money,&rdquo; muttered
+David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say that again, and I shall punish you,
+David.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked her full in the face, and said it again.</p>
+<p>She was thoroughly roused to anger, and kept her word by
+opening the door of a small dark closet, and putting David in
+till dinner-time.</p>
+<p>Then she and Susan both tried to soothe Bessie, by reminding
+her how childish David was, how he had caught up some word that
+probably Hal had flung out without meaning it, and how no one of
+any sense suspected her for a moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is so ill-natured and hard,&rdquo; sobbed
+Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;To think I could steal!&nbsp; I think they
+hate me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Susan, &ldquo;if you only would never
+be cross to the boys, Bessie, and not keep out of what they care
+for, they would never think it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Susie is right there,&rdquo; said
+Christabel.&nbsp; &ldquo;If you try to be one with the others,
+and make common cause with them, giving up and forbearing, they
+never will take such things into their heads.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And <i>we</i> don&rsquo;t now,&rdquo; said Susan
+cheerily.&nbsp; &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you hear Sam say nobody but a
+donkey could think it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But Bessie has a secret!&rdquo; said Annie.</p>
+<p>Again stout Susan said, &ldquo;For shame!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what my secret is,&rdquo; began
+Bessie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Susan, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t tell it,
+dear!&nbsp; We&rsquo;ll trust you without; and Sam will say the
+same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie flung her arms round Susan&rsquo;s neck, as if she only
+now knew the comfort of her dear good sister.</p>
+<p>Lessons were resumed; and as soon as these were done, Miss
+Fosbrook resolved on a thorough search.&nbsp; Some strange fit of
+mischief or curiosity might have actuated some one, and the money
+be hidden away; so she brought David out of his cupboard, and
+with Susan&rsquo;s help turned out every drawer and locker in the
+school-room, forbidding the others to touch or assist.&nbsp; They
+routed out queer nests of broken curiosities, disturbed old dusty
+dens of rubbish, peeped behind every row of books; but made no
+discovery worth mentioning, except the left leg of Annie&rsquo;s
+last doll, the stuffing of Johnnie&rsquo;s ball, the tiger out of
+George&rsquo;s Noah&rsquo;s ark, and the first sheet of
+Sam&rsquo;s Latin Grammar, all stuffed together into a mouse-hole
+in the skirting.</p>
+<p>At dinner Christabel forbade the subject to be mentioned, not
+only to hinder quarrelsome speeches, but to prevent the loss
+being talked of among the servants; since she feared that one of
+them must have committed the theft, and though anxious not to put
+it into the children&rsquo;s heads, suspected Rhoda, the little
+nursery-girl, who was quite a child, and had not long been in the
+house.</p>
+<p>Henry ate his dinner in haste, but could not get away till
+Miss Fosbrook had called him away from the rest, and told him
+that if he had been playing a trick on his little brother, it was
+time to put an end to it, before any innocent person fell under
+suspicion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I&rsquo;ve been playing no tricks&mdash;at
+least&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Without any <i>at least</i>, Henry, have you hidden the
+money?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You dined in the school-room on Friday.&nbsp; Were the
+baby-house doors open then!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I&rsquo;m sure I didn&rsquo;t
+notice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t open them to take anything
+out?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What should I want with the things in the
+baby-house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you, or did you not!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t&mdash;at least&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In one word, did you open them? yes or no.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What time did you go out after eating your
+dinner?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bother! how is one to remember!&nbsp; It&rsquo;s all
+nonsense making such a fuss.&nbsp; The children fancied they put
+in ever so much more than they did, and very likely took out
+some.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; David&rsquo;s reckoning was accurate.&nbsp; I wrote
+down all I knew of; and I am sure none was taken out, for early
+that very morning I had put in a sixpence myself, and the cup was
+then full of coppers, with that little silver threepenny of
+David&rsquo;s with the edge turned up upon the top.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you must have left the door undone!&rdquo; said
+Henry delighted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I dare not be positive,&rdquo; said Christabel;
+&ldquo;but I believe I remember bolting it; and if I had not done
+so, it would have flown open sooner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but the wind, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If the doors did open, it would not account for the
+loss of the money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can&rsquo;t help it,&rdquo; said Henry
+ungraciously, trying to move off: but she first required him to
+tell her what he had said to the younger boys to make them
+suspect Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did I?&rdquo; said Henry, &ldquo;I am sure I
+didn&rsquo;t; at least, if I did, I only said Bess peeped
+everywhere, and was very close.&nbsp; I didn&rsquo;t suspect her,
+you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should think not!&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook
+indignantly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now please to come up with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go out,&rdquo; said Henry.</p>
+<p>No, she would not let him go.&nbsp; She thought Elizabeth
+ought to clear herself, so far as it could be done, by making her
+secret known, since that had drawn suspicion on her; and when all
+the children were together, she called the little girl and told
+her so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is very unkind of them,&rdquo; said Bessie, with
+trembling lip; &ldquo;but they shall see, if they want
+<i>that</i> to show I am not a thief!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I said I wouldn&rsquo;t see,&rdquo; said Susan.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You knows Bessie, I trust you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care for
+people&rsquo;s secrets.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t want to pry into
+Bessie&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No one followed their example; all either really suspected, or
+else were full of curiosity, and delighted to gratify it.</p>
+<p>Half a dozen slips of card, with poor little coloured drawings
+on them, and as many lengths of penny ribbon!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo; said Annie, much disappointed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s what Bet made such a fuss about,&rdquo;
+said John; and David&rsquo;s face fell, as if he had really
+expected to see the lost pence.</p>
+<p>The next thing, after the search had been made through all the
+children&rsquo;s bed-rooms, was to go to the nursery: and thither
+Miss Fosbrook allowed only Susan and Sam to follow her.&nbsp;
+Nurse Freeman was very stiff and stately, but she had no
+objection to searching; and the boy and girl began the hunt,
+while Miss Fosbrook meantime cautiously asked whether Nurse were
+sure of Rhoda, and if she were trustworthy.</p>
+<p>This made Mrs. Freeman very angry; and though her words were
+respectful, she showed that she was much offended at the strange
+lady presuming to suspect anyone, especially one under her
+charge.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook wanted to have asked Rhoda whether the doors
+were open or shut when she carried Henry his dinner, but Nurse
+would not consent to call her.&nbsp; &ldquo;I understood the
+nursery and the girl were to be my province,&rdquo; she
+said.&nbsp; &ldquo;If Miss Merrifield heard her mamma say
+otherwise, then it is a different thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Susan cowered into the dark cupboard.&nbsp; Nurse must be in a
+dreadful way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!</p>
+<p>Nothing more could be done.&nbsp; The pence could not be
+found.&nbsp; Nurse would not let Rhoda be examined; and all that
+could be found out from the children had been already
+elicited.</p>
+<p>Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and,
+her head aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet
+be thrown on the matter.&nbsp; There must be pain and grief
+whenever it should be explained; but this would be far better,
+even for the offender, than the present deception: and the whole
+family were in a state of irritation and distrust, that hurt
+their tempers, and made her bitterly reproach herself with not
+having prevented temptation by putting the hoard under lock and
+key.</p>
+<p>She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening,
+and made herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went
+off heavily.&nbsp; The next morning, Susan came back early from
+her housekeeping business, with her honest face grave and
+unhappy, and finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told her she had
+something <i>really</i> to say to her if she might; and this
+being granted began, with the bright look of having found a
+capital notion: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what I wish you would
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you would call every one in all the house, and ask
+them on their word and honour if they took the pence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no
+right to do that; besides, I do not believe it would discover
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! could a thief get in from out of doors!&rdquo;
+said Susan looking at the window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who
+could steal would not scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not
+wish to cause this additional sin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is very horrid; I can&rsquo;t bear it,&rdquo; said
+Susan, puckering up her face for tears.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do you know,
+Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so angry that you said anything
+about Rhoda?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You did not mention it, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no; nor Sam.&nbsp; It was Nurse herself!&nbsp; But
+they all say that you want to take away her character; and they
+won&rsquo;t have strangers put over them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, Susie; don&rsquo;t tell me this.&nbsp; It can do
+no good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but <i>please</i>!&rdquo; cried Susan.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;And then Mary&mdash;I can&rsquo;t think how she
+could&mdash;but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly,
+and that she had been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but
+she was your favourite, and so you vindicated her.&nbsp; And
+Nurse began teasing her to confess, and tell the truth, and told
+her she was a wicked child because she would not; but it was all
+because we were put under strangers!&nbsp; I&rsquo;m sure they do
+set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When was this, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Last night, when we went to the nursery to be
+washed.&nbsp; It was our night, you know.&nbsp; Oh!&nbsp; I wish
+Mamma was well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I do my dear.&nbsp; And how did poor Bessie bear
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She got quite white, and never said a word, even when
+they told her she was sulky.&nbsp; But when we got into bed, and
+I kissed her and cuddled her up, oh! she did cry so; I
+didn&rsquo;t know what to do.&nbsp; So, do you know, I got my
+shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not gone to sleep,
+and he came and sat by her, and told her that he believed her,
+and knew she was as sound a heart of oak as any of us; and we
+both petted her, and Sam was so nice and kind, till she went to
+sleep.&nbsp; Then he went to the nursery, and told Nurse how
+horrid it was in her; but Cook said it only made her worse,
+because she is jealous of our taking part with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I <i>do</i> like to hear of your kindness to
+Bessie; but I wish you would not mind what any of the maids say,
+nor talk to them about it.&nbsp; It only distresses you for
+nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I can&rsquo;t help it,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you
+need not talk to Cook or Mary about it.&nbsp; It is of no use to
+vex ourselves with what people say who don&rsquo;t know half a
+story.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you tell them not?&rdquo; said simple
+Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I cannot interfere.&nbsp; They would only do it the
+more.&nbsp; We can only keep Bessie as much out of the way of the
+maids as we can, and show our confidence in her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Certainly Elizabeth had been known to look infinitely more
+glum when nothing was the matter than under all this vexation,
+even though the servants were really very unkind to her; and her
+two little brothers both behaved as ill as possible to her
+whenever they had the opportunity&mdash;David really believing
+that she had made away with the money, and ought to be tortured
+for it; and Johnnie taking it on his word, and being one of those
+little boys who have a positive taste for ill-nature, and think
+it fun.&nbsp; They pinched her, they bit her, they rubbed out her
+sums, they shut up her lesson-books and lost her place, they put
+bitten crusts into her plate, and did whatever they knew she most
+disliked, whenever Miss Fosbrook or Sam was not in the way; but
+she never told.&nbsp; She did not choose to be called a
+tell-tale; and besides, they really did not succeed in making her
+life miserable, so much was she pleased with the real kindness
+her trouble had brought out from Susan and Sam.&nbsp; Susan could
+not prevent the persecution of the two naughty little boys, but
+she defended her sister to her utmost; and Sam cuffed them if
+they said a word or lifted a finger against Bessie before him;
+and he gave her such notice and kindness as she never had
+received from him before.&nbsp; One afternoon, when he was going
+to walk to Bonchamp, he asked leave for her to come with him, and
+would take nobody else; and hot day as it was, Bessie had never
+had such a charming walk.&nbsp; She kept herself from making one
+single fuss; and in return, he gathered wild strawberries for
+her, showed her a kingfisher, and took her to look in at a very
+grand aquarium in the fishing-tackle maker&rsquo;s window, where
+she saw some gold-fish, and a most comical little newt.&nbsp; And
+going home, they had a real good talk about their father&rsquo;s
+voyage, and how they should get on without him; and Bessie found
+to her great pleasure, that Sam hoped Miss Fosbrook would stay
+when Mamma Came home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For I do think she has put some sense into you,
+Bessie,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>She was so delighted, that instead of preparing to fret if Sam
+did but hold up a finger at her, she looked up with a smile when
+he came in her way, sure of protection, and expecting something
+pleasant, as well as thinking it an honour to be asked to help
+him in anything.&nbsp; The next day, when Mr. Carey had insisted
+on his verifying by the map all the towns which he had been
+contented to say were in Asia Minor (where every place in ancient
+history is always put if its whereabouts be doubtful), she saved
+him so much time and trouble, that he got out into the garden
+full half an hour earlier than he would otherwise have
+done.&nbsp; Thereupon he told her she was a jolly good fellow,
+and gave her such a thump on the back, as a few weeks ago would
+have made her scream and whine; but this time she took it as a
+new form of thanks, and felt highly honoured by being invited to
+help him to fish for minnows, though it almost made her sick to
+stick the raw meat upon his hooks.</p>
+<p>The threatening of a true sorrow, the bearing a real trouble,
+and the opening to her brother&rsquo;s kindness, had done far
+more to make her a happy little girl than all Miss
+Fosbrook&rsquo;s attempts to satisfy her cravings or please her
+tastes.&nbsp; These had indeed done her some good, and taught her
+to find means of enjoyment for those likings that no one else
+cared for; but it had been the <i>spirit</i> of delight that had
+been chiefly wanting; and when thankfulness and love were leading
+her to that, it was much easier to see that the evening clouds or
+the rising moon were lovely, than when she was looking out for
+affronts.</p>
+<p>Nothing was said in public about the loss; and Christabel
+hoped that the bad impression as to Elizabeth would wear out in
+the young minds of the lesser children; but David&rsquo;s whole
+nature seemed to have been disorganized by the
+disappointment.&nbsp; Instead of being a pattern child for
+diligence and good behaviour, very fond of Miss Fosbrook, and not
+only inoffensive, but often keeping John and Anne in order, he
+seemed absolutely stupid and senseless at lessons, became
+stubborn at reproof, seemed to take pleasure in running counter
+to his governess, and rendered the other two, who, though his
+elders, were both of weak natures compared with his own, more
+openly naughty than himself.&nbsp; Sometimes it seemed to
+Christabel that the habit of spiting Bessie was getting so
+confirmed, that it would last even when the cause was forgotten;
+and yet the more she strove to put it down in sight, the more it
+throve out of sight; and when she looked at David, and thought
+how she had once admired him, she could not but remember the text
+that says, &ldquo;Thy goodness is as the morning cloud, and as
+the dew shall it vanish away.&rdquo;&nbsp; She had thought it
+goodness based upon religious feeling, as well as on natural
+gravity and orderliness; and so perhaps it had once been, but the
+little fellow had fixed his whole soul on one purpose, and though
+that was a good one, it had grown into an idol, and swallowed up
+all his other motives, till of late he had only been good for the
+sake of the pig, not because it was right.&nbsp; Being
+disappointed of the pig, he had nothing to fall back upon, but
+felt himself so ill-used, that it seemed to him that it was no
+use to be good; and he revenged himself by naughtiness.</p>
+<p>Such sturdy strong characters as little David&rsquo;s, when
+they are once set on the right object, come to the very best kind
+of goodness; but when they take a wrong turn, they are the very
+worst, both for themselves and others.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Monday after the loss of the
+pence was a pouring wet day.&nbsp; The whole court was like a
+flood, and the drops went splashing up again as if in play;
+Purday wore his master&rsquo;s old southwester coat, and looked
+shiny all over; and when the maids had to cross the court, they
+went click, click, in their pattens under their umbrellas.</p>
+<p>But it was baking day, and Susan and Annie had been down to
+coax the cook into making them a present of a handsome allowance
+of dough, and Miss Fosbrook into letting them manipulate it in
+the school-room.&nbsp; Probably this was the only way of
+preventing the dough from being turned into bullets, and sent
+flying at each other&rsquo;s eyes, or possibly plastered on
+somebody&rsquo;s nose, and the cook and kitchenmaid from being
+nearly driven crazy.</p>
+<p>The dough was justly divided, and an establishment set up in
+each locker.&nbsp; Bessie declined altogether; Sam had lent her
+his beautiful book of <i>The British Songsters</i>, and she was
+hard at work at the table copying a tom-tit, since she no longer
+carried on the work in secret; but at one locker were the other
+three elders, at the other the three lesser ones, and little
+George in a corner by Susan, pegging away at his own private
+lump, and constantly begging for more.&nbsp; Susan&rsquo;s
+ambition was to make a set of real twists, just like
+Cook&rsquo;s; and she pulled out and twisted and plaited, though
+often robbed of her dough by the two boys, whose united efforts
+were endeavouring to produce a likeness of Purday, with his hat
+on his head, plums for eyes, a pipe in his mouth, and driving a
+cow; but unluckily his neck always got pinched off, and his arms
+would not stay on!&nbsp; No matter; the more moulding of that
+soft dough the better!&nbsp; Johnnie and Annie had a whole party
+of white clammy serpents, always being set to bite one another,
+and to melt into each other; and David was hard at work on a
+brood of rabbits with currant eyes, and would let no one
+interfere with him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I hear something!&rdquo; asked Bessie,
+looking up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s only the roller,&rdquo; said Sam;
+&ldquo;Purday always rolls on a wet day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Something, however, made the whole party of little bakers hold
+up their heads to listen.&nbsp; There was a gleam on their faces,
+as a quick alert step sounded on the stairs, and Bessie, the
+nearest to the door, and not cramped like the rest, who were
+sitting on their heels, sprang forward and opened it with a
+scream of joy.</p>
+<p>There he was&mdash;the light, alert, weather-beaten man, with
+his loose wavy hair, and bright sailor face!&nbsp; There was
+Papa!&nbsp; Oh, the hurly-burly of children, tumbling up as well
+as they could on legs crooked under them, and holding out great
+fans of floury doughy paws, all coming to be hugged in his arms
+in turn, so that before he had come to the end of the eight in
+presence, Bessie had had time to whisk off to the nursery, snatch
+Baby up from before Nurse&rsquo;s astonished eyes, rush down with
+her, and put her into his arms.&nbsp; Baby had forgotten him, and
+was taken with such a fit of screaming shyness, that Susan had to
+take her, and Annie to play bo-peep with her, before she would
+let anyone&rsquo;s voice be heard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve taken you by surprise, Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo;
+said the Captain, shaking hands with her in the midst of the
+clatter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is such a pleasure!&rdquo; she began.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I hope you left Mrs. Merrifield much better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Much better, much better, thank you.&nbsp; I hope to
+find her on the sofa when I go back on Thursday.&nbsp; I could
+only run down for a few days, just to settle things, and see the
+children, before I join the <i>Ramilies</i>.&nbsp; Admiral
+Penrose very good-naturedly kept it open for me, till we could
+tell how <i>she</i> was,&rdquo; said the Captain, with rather a
+trembling voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you are going!&nbsp; O Papa!&rdquo; said Susan,
+looking up at him; &ldquo;and Baby will not know you
+till&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hold your tongue, Miss Croaker,&rdquo; said the
+Captain, roughly but kindly; and Miss Fosbrook could see that he
+was as much afraid of crying himself as of letting Susan cry;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve no time for that.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve got a
+gentleman on business down stairs, and your Uncle John and I must
+go down to them again.&nbsp; We sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t want dinner;
+only, Sue, tell them to send in some eggs and bacon, or cold
+meat, or whatever there may be, for tea; and get a room ready for
+your uncle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He would have gone, but Susan called out, &ldquo;O Papa, may
+we drink tea with you, Georgy and all!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to be sure, if you won&rsquo;t make a bear-fight,
+any of you, for your uncle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mayn&rsquo;t I come down with you?&rdquo; added Sam,
+looking at him as if he wanted to make the most of every moment
+of that presence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better not, my boy,&rdquo; said the Captain;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got law business to settle, and we don&rsquo;t
+want you.&nbsp; Better stay and make yourselves decent for
+tea-time.&nbsp; Mamma&rsquo;s love, and she hopes you&rsquo;ll
+not drive Uncle John distracted.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he was
+gone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bother Uncle John!&rdquo; first muttered Sam (I am
+sorry to say).</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t think what he&rsquo;s come for,&rdquo;
+sighed Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To spoil our fun,&rdquo; suggested Johnnie
+disconsolately.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To take Sam to school,&rdquo; added Hal, &ldquo;while I
+go to sea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know that you are going,&rdquo; said
+Elizabeth.&nbsp; &ldquo;Papa said nothing about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! but I know I shall.&nbsp; Admiral Penrose
+promised.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know a great many things that don&rsquo;t
+happen.&nbsp; You knew Colonel Carey would give you two
+sovereigns.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry looked as if he could bite.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I shall finish Purday,&rdquo; said Sam, turning
+away with a sigh; &ldquo;and they shall have him for
+tea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tea will be no fun!&rdquo; repeated Annie.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Oh dear! what does Uncle John come here for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May not he come to be with his brother?&rdquo;
+suggested Christabel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! but they are grown up,&rdquo; said Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t he have him in London, without coming here
+to worry us in our little time!&rdquo; added Johnnie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he will not worry you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! but&mdash;&rdquo; they all cried, and stopped
+short.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He plagues about manners,&rdquo; said Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He wanted Susie and me to be sent to school!&rdquo;
+said Bessie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said it was like dining with young
+Hottentots.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He told Papa it was disgraceful, when we had all been
+sliding on the great pond in the village,&rdquo; added Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he gave Sam a box on the ear, for only just taking
+a dear little river cray-fish in his fishing-net to show Aunt
+Alice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The net was dripping wet,&rdquo; observed Bessie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Anne; &ldquo;but Aunt Alice is so
+finikin and fidgety; she never wets her feet, and can&rsquo;t get
+over a stile, and is afraid of a cow; and he wants us all to be
+like her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he makes Papa and Mamma mind things that they
+don&rsquo;t mind by nature,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma always tells us to be good, and never play at
+hockey in the house when he&rsquo;s there,&rdquo; said Anne.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She has not told us so this time,&rdquo; said John
+triumphantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, but we must mind all the same,&rdquo; said Susan;
+and Sam silenced some independent murmurs, about not minding
+Uncle John, by saying it was minding Mamma.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook herself was a little alarmed, for she gathered
+that Mamma was in some fear of this terrible uncle, that he had
+much influence with his brother, and was rather a severe judge of
+the young family.&nbsp; She sincerely hoped that he would not
+find things much amiss, for the honest goodness of the two eldest
+had won so much regard from her, that she could not bear them to
+be under any cloud; and indeed she felt as if the whole flock
+were her own property, as well as her charge, and that she, as
+well as they, were about to be tried.&nbsp; She would have felt
+it all fair and just before their kindly father, but it seemed
+hard that all should be brought before the school-master uncle;
+and she was disposed to be tender for her children, and
+exceedingly anxious as to the effect they might produce.&nbsp;
+She was resolved that the Captain should hear of the affair of
+the pence; but the presence of his brother would make the
+speaking a much greater effort.&nbsp; Meantime, she saw that all
+the fingers were clean, and all the hair brushed.&nbsp; She
+flattered herself that Susan&rsquo;s yellow locks had learnt that
+it was the business of hair to keep tidy, and had been much less
+unmanageable of late; but she had her fears that they would
+ruffle up again when their owner, at the head of a large
+detachment, rushed out to take the &ldquo;fancy bread&rdquo; out
+of the oven, and she came half-way down stairs, in case it should
+be necessary to capture them, and brush them over again.</p>
+<p>While thus watching, the door of the dining-room (the only
+down stairs room in order) opened suddenly, and the Captain came
+forth.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;please come in here: I was just coming to look for
+you.&nbsp; My brother&mdash;Miss Fosbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To her surprise, Miss Fosbrook received a very pleasant civil
+greeting from a much younger man than she had expected to see,
+looking perhaps more stern about the mouth and sharp about the
+eye than his elder brother, and his clerical dress very precise;
+but somehow he was so curiously like his niece, Elizabeth, that
+she thought that his particularity might spring from the same
+love of refinement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All going on well?&rdquo; asked the Captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fairly well,&rdquo; she answered.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sam and
+Susan are most excellent children.&nbsp; There is only one matter
+on which I should like to speak to you, at some time when it
+might suit you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it about this?&rdquo; he said, putting into her hand
+a sheet written in huge round-hand in pencil, no words misspelt,
+but the breaks in them at the end of the lines perfectly
+regardless of syllables:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>My dear Papa,</p>
+<p>Please let me<br />
+have a poli<br />
+ceman.&nbsp; Bet h<br />
+as got at Toby<br />
+and stole our<br />
+pence which was<br />
+for a secret.&nbsp; Nu<br />
+rse says she is a<br />
+favourite and Miss<br />
+Fosbrook will not<br />
+find them.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">Your affectionate son<br />
+<span class="smcap">David Douglas Merrifield</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! this was the letter David insisted on sealing
+before I put it into mine!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Fosbrook, as
+soon as she had made out the words.&nbsp; &ldquo;We have been in
+great trouble at the loss; but we agreed not to write to you,
+because you had so much on your mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is Bessie in fault?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no; none of us believe it; but I am very anxious
+that you should make an investigation, for the maids suspect her,
+and have made the younger children do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who is Toby?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Toby is only a jug&mdash;called Toby Fillpot, I
+believe&mdash;shaped like a man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know!&rdquo; put in Mr. John Merrifield,
+laughing.&nbsp; &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you remember him, Harry?&nbsp;
+We had the like in our time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; interrogated the Captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just after you left home,&rdquo; said Christabel, as
+shortly and clearly as she could, &ldquo;the children agreed to
+save their allowance to buy a pig for Hannah Higgins.&nbsp; They
+showed great perseverance in their object; and by the third week
+they had about seven shillings in this jug, which, to my grief
+and shame, I let them keep in the glass cupboard, not locked, but
+one door bolted, the other buttoned.&nbsp; On Friday morning, the
+11th, I know the cup was full of coppers and silver, for I took
+it down to add something to it.&nbsp; On the next Monday morning
+the money was gone, all but one farthing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you guess who took it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should prefer saying nothing till you have examined
+the children and servants for yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right!&rdquo; said the Captain.&nbsp; &ldquo;Very
+well.&mdash;I am sorry to treat you to a court-martial, John, but
+I must hold one after tea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Christabel pitied the children for having to speak before this
+formidable uncle; but there could be no help for it, since no
+other sitting-room was habitable, and there were torrents of rain
+out-of-doors.</p>
+<p>There was just time to show the glass cupboard, and the shelf
+where Toby had stood, and to return to the dining-room, before
+the children began to stream in and make their greetings to their
+uncle, Susan with George in one hand, and her plate of bakings in
+the other.&nbsp; Very fancy bread indeed it was! as Uncle John
+said.&nbsp; The edge of Purday&rsquo;s hat had been quite baked
+off, and one of his arms was gone; he was black in the wrong
+places, and was altogether rather an uncomfortable-looking
+object.&nbsp; David&rsquo;s brood of rabbits were much more
+successful, though the ears of many had fallen off.&nbsp; Uncle
+John was very much diverted, and took his full share of admiring
+and tasting the various performances.&nbsp; On the whole, the
+meal went off much better than Christabel had feared it
+would.&nbsp; She had really broken the children of many of the
+habits with which they used to make themselves disagreeable;
+there was no putting of spoons into each other&rsquo;s cups, nor
+reaching out with buttery fingers; lips were wiped, and people
+sat still upon their chairs, even if they fidgeted and sighed;
+and there was only one slop made all tea-time, and that was by
+Johnnie, and not a very bad one.&nbsp; Indeed, it might be hoped
+that Mr. Merrifield did not see it, for he was talking to Sam
+about the change of footpath that Mr. Greville was making.&nbsp;
+There was indeed no fun, but it might be doubted whether Papa
+would have been in a mood for fun even had his brother not been
+there; and Miss Fosbrook was rather glad there was nothing to
+make the children forgetful of propriety.</p>
+<p>As soon as Mary had carried off the tea-things and wiped the
+table, Uncle John put himself as much out of the way as he could
+behind the newspaper in the recess of the window; and Miss
+Fosbrook would have gone to the school-room, but Captain
+Merrifield begged her to stay.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that a very unpleasant
+thing has taken place in my absence, and I wish to learn all that
+I can about it, that the guilty person may be brought to light,
+and the innocent cleared from any suspicion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The children looked at one another, wondering how he had
+heard, or whether Miss Fosbrook had told him; but this was soon
+answered by his calling out, &ldquo;David! come here, and tell me
+what you meant by this letter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David walked stoutly to his father&rsquo;s knee, nothing
+daunted, though his brothers muttered behind him, &ldquo;So he
+wrote!&rdquo; &ldquo;Little sneak!&rdquo; and &ldquo;He knew no
+better!&rdquo;&nbsp; Not that it was wrong to lay the case before
+his father; but boys had usually rather suffer injustice than
+make an accusation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you write this letter, David?&rdquo; said his
+father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I want my pence for the pig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me how you lost them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bess took them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elizabeth sprung up, crimson, and with tears in her eyes, and
+Sam and Susan were both bursting out into an angry &ldquo;No,
+no!&rdquo; but their father made a sign to all to keep still; and
+they obeyed, though each of the elder ones took hold of a hand of
+their sister and squeezed it hard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see her take them?&rdquo; asked the
+Captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why do you say she did?&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t want
+to frighten you, David; I only want to hear why you think she did
+so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David was getting alarmed now, and his childish memory better
+retained the impression than what had produced it.&nbsp; He hung
+down his head, scraped one foot, and finding that he must answer,
+mumbled out at last, &ldquo;Nurse said it, and Hal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Henry, come here.&nbsp; Did you accuse your sister to
+David?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; burst out Henry at once; but there was a
+rounding of everyone&rsquo;s mouth to cry out Oh! and he quickly
+added, in a hasty scared way, &ldquo;At least, when Davie came
+bothering me, I said he had better ask Betty, because she had
+been prying about, and meddling with the baby-house.&nbsp; I
+never meant that she had done it; but Davie is such a little
+jack-ass!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see her meddle with the baby-house!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She said that herself,&rdquo; muttered Henry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Papa,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, starting forward,
+&ldquo;I did find the doors of the baby-house open, and shut them
+up, but I never touched anything in it!&nbsp; Sam and Susie know
+I would not, and that I would not tell a story now, though I once
+did, you know, Papa!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Captain Merrifield still kept his grave set face, and only
+asked, &ldquo;When did you find the doors open?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On Friday, Papa&mdash;Friday week&mdash;St.
+Barnabas&rsquo; Day&mdash;just after dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was no one with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Papa.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You came up-stairs first?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I wanted my pencil before&mdash;&rdquo; and she
+stopped short.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before what?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before Miss Fosbrook went in to speak to Hal,&rdquo;
+said Elizabeth, getting red all over.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hal had been dining in the school-room,&rdquo; said
+Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;on account of a little bit of
+disobedience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Captain Merrifield looked keenly at Henry, who tried to return
+the look, but shuffled uncomfortably under it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then Hal had been dining in the school-room?&nbsp; Was
+he there when you came in?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Were the doors open when you were dining there,
+Henry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;N&mdash;no.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are sure that you did not meddle with
+them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know why I should,&rdquo; said Henry, hastily
+and confusedly.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is only the girls and the babies
+that have things there&mdash;and&mdash;and Miss Fosbrook herself
+had been at the cupboard in the morning; why shouldn&rsquo;t she
+have left it undone herself, and the doors got open?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; cried Susan; &ldquo;if they aren&rsquo;t
+fastened they always burst open directly; and we never could have
+been in the room half the morning without noticing
+them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you are certain that they were closed when you
+went down to dinner?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Everyone was positive that the great glass doors flying out
+must have made themselves observed in that room full of children,
+especially as Susan remembered that she had been making a desk of
+the sloping part under them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does anyone remember how long it was between
+Hal&rsquo;s leaving the room and Bessie&rsquo;s coming
+up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know when he went out,&rdquo; said all
+those who had been in the dining-room; but there spoke up a
+voice, quite proud of having something to tell among the
+others&mdash;&ldquo;I saw Hal go out, and Bessie come up
+directly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You, Johnnie!&nbsp; How was that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook made me dine in the nursery, Papa,
+because Hal and I had been riding on the new iron gate, to see if
+the telegraph would come in while the others were at church; and
+then Hal ran away with the Grevilles, and I couldn&rsquo;t get
+down till Sam came and helped me; and so Miss Fosbrook made me
+dine in the nursery; and when I had done, I went and sat upon the
+top of the garret stairs, to watch when they came out from
+dinner, and ask if I might come down again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what did you see, Johnnie?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;First, I saw a wasp,&rdquo; said Johnnie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind the wasp.&nbsp; Did you see when Henry went
+out?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw him come in first,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;and
+Miss Fosbrook order him up and say she would send him his dinner,
+and come and speak to him presently.&nbsp; So I watched to catch
+her when she was coming up to him, and I saw Mary bring him up
+some mince veal, and the last bit of the gooseberry pie; and
+then, very soon, he bolted right downstairs.&nbsp; I didn&rsquo;t
+think he could have had time to eat the pie; and I was going to
+see if there was a bit left, when I saw Bessie coming up, and I
+whipped up again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then nobody went into the room between Henry and
+Bessie?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; there wasn&rsquo;t any time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The whole room was quite silent.&nbsp; There was no sound but
+a quick short breathing from the Captain: but he had rested his
+brow upon his hand, and his face could not be seen.&nbsp; It was
+as if something terrible had flashed upon him, and he was
+struggling with the first shock, and striving to deal with
+it.&nbsp; If they had seen him in a tempest, with his ship
+driving to pieces on a rock, he would not have been thus shaken
+and dismayed.&nbsp; However, by the time he looked up again, he
+had brought his face back to its resolute firmness, and he spoke
+in a clear, stern, startling voice, that made all the children
+quake, and some catch hold of each other&rsquo;s hands:
+&ldquo;Henry! tell me what you have done with your
+theft!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miserable Henry!&nbsp; He did not try to deny it any longer;
+but burst out into a loud sobbing cry, &ldquo;O Papa!&nbsp;
+Papa!&nbsp; I meant to have put it back again!&nbsp; I
+couldn&rsquo;t help it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me what you have done with it!&rdquo; repeated the
+Captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I paid it to Farmer Grice; I was obliged; and I
+thought I could have put it back again; and some of it was my
+own!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fivepence-farthing!&rdquo; cried David.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You thief, you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The child&rsquo;s fists were clenched, and his young face all
+one scowl of passion, quite shocking to see.&nbsp; His father put
+him aside, and said, &ldquo;Hush, David! no names.&mdash;Now,
+Henry, what do you say to your sister for your false accusation,
+which has thrown your own shame on her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, no, Papa; he never did accuse me!&rdquo; cried
+Bessie, for the first time bursting into tears.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+never said I did it; that was only Davie&rsquo;s fancy; and it
+has made Susie and Sam so kind, I have not minded it at
+all.&nbsp; Please don&rsquo;t mind that, Papa!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come away, Henry!&rdquo; said the Captain; &ldquo;now
+that your sister has been cleared, we had better have the rest
+out of the sight of these tender-hearted little girls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stood up, and without a word, stroked down
+Elizabeth&rsquo;s smooth brown hair, raised her face up by the
+chin, and kissed her forehead, the only place free from tears;
+then he took Henry by the shoulder, and marched him out of the
+room.&nbsp; Bessie could not stop herself from crying, and was
+afraid of letting Uncle John see her; so she flew out after them,
+and straight up-stairs to her own room.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook and
+Susan both longed to follow her, but they had missed this
+opportunity; and the sound of voices outside showed so plainly
+that the Captain and Henry were in the hall that they durst not
+open the door.</p>
+<p>Everyone was appalled, and nothing was said for a few
+seconds.&nbsp; The first to speak was Annie, in a low,
+terror-stricken whisper, yet with some curiosity in it: &ldquo;I
+wonder what Papa will do to him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give him nine dozen, I hope!&rdquo; answered David
+through his small white teeth, all clenched together with
+rage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, Davie!&rdquo; said Susan; &ldquo;you should
+not wish anything so dreadful for your brother.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has been so wicked!&nbsp; I wish it!&nbsp; I
+<i>will</i> wish it!&rdquo; said David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, David!&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook; &ldquo;such
+things must not be said.&nbsp; I will talk to you by and
+by.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad poor Bessie is cleared!&rdquo; added Susan;
+&ldquo;though I always knew she could not have done
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To be sure&mdash;I knew it was Hal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam! you did?&mdash;why didn&rsquo;t you tell?&rdquo;
+cried Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t&mdash;to say&mdash;sure,&rdquo; said
+Sam; &ldquo;and I couldn&rsquo;t go and get him into a
+scrape.&nbsp; I thought he might tell himself, if he could ever
+make up the money again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Susan; &ldquo;he would have done
+that.&nbsp; He always fancied he should get a sovereign from
+Colonel Carey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He talked till he thought so,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what made you guess he had done so, Sam?&rdquo;
+said Miss Fosbrook.&nbsp; &ldquo;I did suspect him myself, but I
+never felt justified in accusing him of such a thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know!&nbsp; I saw he had been getting
+into a fix with those Grevilles, and had been sold somehow.&nbsp;
+They said something, and got out of my way directly, and I was
+sure they had done some mischief, and left him to pay the
+cost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ask him?&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was the use?&nbsp; One never knows where to have
+him.&nbsp; He will eat up his words as fast as he says them, with
+his <i>at least</i>, till he doesn&rsquo;t know what he
+means.&nbsp; Nor I didn&rsquo;t want to know much of
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still I can&rsquo;t think how you could let poor Bessie
+live under such a cloud,&rdquo; said Christabel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t believe it,&rdquo; said Sam,
+&ldquo;nor anyone worth a snap of my finger.&nbsp; Besides, if I
+had known, and had to tell, what a horrid shame it would have
+been if the naval cadetship had been to be had for him!&nbsp; I
+knew Bessie would have thought so too, and then he would have
+been out of the way of the Grevilles, and would have got some
+money to make it up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then is there no chance of the cadetship
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, we should have heard of it long ago if there had
+been!&nbsp; So I mind the coming out the less; but it&rsquo;s
+perfectly abominable to have had all this row, and for Papa to be
+so cut up in this little short time at home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never saw him more grieved,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Merrifield.&nbsp; &ldquo;He was hardly more overcome when your
+mother was at the worst.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They started, for they had forgotten Uncle John, or they would
+never have spoken so freely; but he now put down his newspaper,
+and looked as if he meant to talk.</p>
+<p>Susan ventured to say, &ldquo;And indeed they had all been so
+very good before.&nbsp; The pig made them so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A learned pig, I should think,&rdquo; said her uncle,
+laughing good-naturedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We were obliged to take care,&rdquo; said Susan,
+&ldquo;or we got so many fines.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Christabel, finding that Mr. Merrifield looked at her, helped
+out Susan by explaining that various small delinquencies were
+visited with fines, and that the desire to save for the pig had
+rendered the children very careful.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I was thankful for the
+incentive, but I am afraid that it was over-worked, and did harm
+in the end:&rdquo; and she glanced towards David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the way with secondary motives,&rdquo; was the
+answer.</p>
+<p>Here Captain Merrifield came back alone; and his brother was
+the only person who ventured to say, &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have sent him to his room,&rdquo; said the
+Captain.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is a very bad business, though of course
+he made excuses to himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain then told them Henry&rsquo;s confession.&nbsp; He
+had been too much hurried by the fear of being caught, to take
+out his own share of the hoard, and had therefore emptied the
+whole cupful into his pocket-handkerchief, tied it up, and run
+off with it, intending to separate what was honestly his
+own.&nbsp; What that was he did not know, but his boastful habits
+and want of accuracy had made his memory so careless, that he
+fancied that a far larger proportion was his than really was, and
+his purposes were in the strange medley that falls to the lot of
+all self-deceivers, sometimes fancying he would only take what he
+had a right to (whatever that might be), sometimes that he would
+borrow what he wanted, and replace it when the sovereign should
+be given to him, or that the Grevilles would make it up when they
+had their month&rsquo;s allowance.</p>
+<p>When he came to the farm Mr. Grice was resolved to take
+nothing less than the whole sum that he had with him.&nbsp;
+Perhaps this was less for the value of the turkey-cock than for
+the sake of giving the boys such a lesson as to prevent them from
+ever molesting his poultry again.&nbsp; At any rate, he was
+inexorable till the frightened Henry had delivered up every
+farthing in his possession; and then, convinced that no more was
+forthcoming, he relented so far as to restore the gun, and
+promise to make no complaint to either of the fathers.</p>
+<p>At first Henry lived on hopes of being able to restore the
+money before the hoard should be examined, but Colonel Carey went
+away, and, as might have been expected, left no present to his
+brother&rsquo;s pupils.&nbsp; Still Henry had hopes of the
+Grevilles, and even when the loss was discovered, hoped to
+restore it secretly, and make the whole pass off as a joke; but
+the 1st of August came, Martin and Osmond received their
+pocket-money, but laughed his entreaty to scorn, telling him that
+he had shot the turkey-cock, not they.&nbsp; Since that time, his
+only hope had been in the affair blowing over&mdash;as if a sin
+ever <i>did</i> blow over!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One question I must ask, Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; said the
+Captain, &ldquo;though after such a course of deceit it hardly
+makes it worse.&nbsp; Has he told any direct
+falsehood?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She paused, and recollected.&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; she
+said, &ldquo;I am afraid he did; he flatly told me that he had
+not touched the baby-house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I expected nothing else,&rdquo; said the Captain
+gravely.&nbsp; &ldquo;What has become of Bessie?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She ran up-stairs.&nbsp; May I go and call her?&rdquo;
+said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go myself,&rdquo; said her father.</p>
+<p>He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and
+tear-stained in the face; and he told her affectionately how much
+pleased he was with her patience under this false
+accusation.&nbsp; Delight very nearly set her off crying again,
+but she managed to say, &ldquo;It was Miss Fosbrook and Sam and
+Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so kind.&nbsp; And
+nobody would have believed it, if I wasn&rsquo;t always cross,
+you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not cross now, my little woman,&rdquo; he said
+smiling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&nbsp; I said I never could be cross again, now
+Mamma is better; but Miss Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel
+so, and I do believe she is right, for I was almost cross to
+Georgie to-day.&nbsp; But she says one may <i>feel</i> cross, and
+not <i>be</i> cross!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He did not quite know all that his little girl was thinking
+of; but he patted her fondly, and said, &ldquo;Yes, there is a
+great deal to be thankful for, my dear; and I shall trust to you
+elder ones to give your Mamma no trouble while I am
+afloat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will try,&rdquo; said Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;And
+please, Papa, would you tell Nurse about it?&nbsp; She
+doesn&rsquo;t half believe us, and she is so tiresome about Miss
+Fosbrook!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tiresome! what do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She always thinks what she does is wrong, and she puts
+nonsense into Johnnie&rsquo;s head, and talks about
+favourites.&nbsp; Mary told Susan it was jealousy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain spoke pretty strongly to Nurse Freeman that
+evening, but it is doubtful if she were the better for it.&nbsp;
+She was a very good woman in most things, but she could not bear
+that the children should be under anyone but herself; and just as
+Henry lost the truth by inaccuracy, she lost it by prejudice.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was glad to get away from the dining-room, where
+it was rather awful to sit without her work and be talked to by
+Mr. Merrifield, even though she liked him much better than she
+had expected.</p>
+<p>When David came to bed, she sat by him and talked to him about
+his angry unforgiving spirit.&nbsp; She could not but think he
+was in a fearful temper, and she tried hard to make him sorry for
+his brother, instead of thirsting to see the disappointment
+visited on him; but David could not see what she meant.&nbsp;
+Wicked people ought to be punished; it was wicked to steal and
+tell stories, and he hoped Henry would be punished, so as he
+would never forget it, for hindering poor Hannah from getting her
+pig.</p>
+<p>He would not understand Henry&rsquo;s predicament; he was only
+angry, bitterly angry, and watching for vengeance.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook could not reason or persuade him out of it, nor make him
+see that he could hardly say his prayers in such a mood.&nbsp;
+Indeed, he would rather have gone without his prayers than have
+ceased to hope for Henry&rsquo;s punishment.</p>
+<p>Perhaps in this there was sense of justice and indignation
+against wrong doing, as well as personal resentment.&nbsp; Miss
+Fosbrook tried to think so, and left him, but not without praying
+for him, that a Christian temper of forgiveness might be sent
+upon him.</p>
+<p>All the others were subdued and awe-struck.&nbsp; It was not
+yet known what was to happen to Henry; but there was a notion
+that it would be very terrible indeed, and that Uncle John would
+be sure to make it worse; and they wished Miss Fosbrook
+good-night with very sad faces.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> had as yet befallen Henry,
+for he came down to breakfast in the morning; but his father did
+not greet him, and spoke no word to him all the time they were in
+the room together.&nbsp; The children felt that this was indeed
+terrific.&nbsp; Such a thing had never befallen any of them
+before.&nbsp; They would much rather have been whipped; and even
+David&rsquo;s heart sank.</p>
+<p>Something, however, was soon said that put all else out of his
+sisters&rsquo; minds.&nbsp; The Captain turned to them with his
+merry smile, saying, &ldquo;Pray what would Miss Susie and Miss
+Bessie say to coming up to London with me to see
+Mamma?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The two girls bounded upon their chairs; Susan&rsquo;s eyes
+grew round, and Bessie&rsquo;s long; the one said, &ldquo;O
+Papa!&rdquo; and the other, &ldquo;Oh, thank you!&rdquo; and they
+looked so overwhelmed with ecstasy, and all the three elders
+laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you will behave discreetly, young
+women?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try,&rdquo; said Susan; &ldquo;and Bessie
+always does.&nbsp; Oh, thank you, Papa!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Grandmamma should be thanked; she asked me to bring a
+child or two, to be with Mamma when I go down to
+Portsmouth.&nbsp; We had thought of Susan; but I think Betty
+deserves some amends for what she has undergone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, Papa! thank you!&rdquo; cried Susan, Sam, and
+David, from their hearts; John and Annie because the others did
+so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you won&rsquo;t kick her out if she shares your
+berth, Sue?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am so glad, Papa!&nbsp; It is so nice to go
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Miss Fosbrook, will you be kind enough to rig
+them out?&nbsp; I must drive into Southminster at ten
+o&rsquo;clock; and if you would be so good as to see them
+smartened up for London there, I should be much obliged to
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The mere drive to the country town was a great event in
+itself, even without the almost incredible wonder that it was to
+lead to; and the delights of which Ida and Miss Fosbrook had told
+them in London went so wildly careering through the little
+girls&rsquo; brains, that they hardly knew what they said or did,
+as they danced about the house, and ran up-stairs to get ready,
+long before ten o&rsquo;clock.</p>
+<p>Mr. Carey had been informed that his pupils would not come to
+him during the few days of their father&rsquo;s stay; and Sam
+begged to ride in on his pony by the side of the carriage; but he
+was desired to fetch his books, and call Henry, as his uncle
+wished to give them both an examination.&nbsp; Was this the
+beginning of captivity to Uncle John?&nbsp; David and Johnnie
+were quite angry.&nbsp; They considered it highly proper that Hal
+should be shut up with Uncle John, but they thought it very hard
+that Sam should be so used too; and Sam himself looked very
+round-backed, reluctant, and miserable, partly at the task,
+partly at being deprived of the sight of his father for several
+hours of one of those few precious days.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook wished Susan to have sat on the front seat of
+the old phaeton with her father; but he would not consent to
+this, and putting the two little girls together behind, handed
+the governess to the place of honour beside him, where she felt
+rather shy, in spite of his bright easy manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; he said, after having flourished
+his whip merrily at Johnnie, Annie, and Davie, who were holding
+open the iron gate, &ldquo;that you have had a tough job with
+those youngsters!&nbsp; We never meant you to have been left so
+long to their mercy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know&mdash;I know; I only wish I could have done
+better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have done wonders.&nbsp; My brother hardly knows
+where he is&mdash;never saw those children so
+mannerly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook could not show how delighted she was.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could hardly have ventured on taking those two girls
+to town unless you had broken them in a little.&nbsp; I would say
+nothing last night till I had watched Susan; for my mother is
+particular, and if my wife was to be always worrying herself
+about their manners, they had better be at home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I think you may quite trust to their behaving
+well.&nbsp; Those two and Sam are so thoroughly trustworthy, that
+I had no real difficulty till this unhappy business.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain wanted to talk this over with her, and hear her
+account of it once more.&nbsp; She gave it fully, thinking he
+ought to know exactly how his children had acted in the matter,
+and wishing to explain where she thought she had made
+mistakes.&nbsp; When she had finished, he said, &ldquo;Thank
+you,&rdquo; and considered a little while; then said, &ldquo;A
+thing like this brings out a great deal of character; and a new
+eye sometimes sees more what is in a child than those that bred
+him up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It has been a touchstone, indeed,&rdquo; she
+answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Hal!&rdquo; he said sadly; then resumed,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve said nothing of it yet to the boys&mdash;but
+Admiral Penrose has promised to let me take out one with
+me.&nbsp; I had thought most of Hal; he seemed to me a smarter
+fellow, more likely to make his way than his brother; but this
+makes me doubt whether there can be stuff enough in him.&nbsp; I
+might not be able to look after him, nor do I know what his
+messmates may be; and I should not choose to risk it, except with
+a boy I could thoroughly trust.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those young Grevilles seem to me Hal&rsquo;s bane and
+temptation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, ay; but if a boy is of the sort, he&rsquo;ll find
+someone to be his bane, wherever he goes.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll have
+no more of the Grevilles though.&nbsp; If he should not go with
+me, my brother John would take him into his house, and keep a
+sharp look out after him.&nbsp; Just tell me, if you have no
+objection, how the boy strikes you.&nbsp; Most people think him
+the most taking of the lot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So he is,&rdquo; said Christabel thoughtfully;
+&ldquo;he has more ease and readiness, and he is affectionate and
+warm-hearted; but then he is a great talker, and fond of
+boasting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly.&nbsp; I told him that was the very way he
+learnt falsehood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid, too,&rdquo; she was obliged to add,
+&ldquo;that his resolutions run away in talk.&nbsp; He has not
+much perseverance; and he is easily led.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I believe you are right; but then what&rsquo;s to
+be done?&nbsp; I can hardly afford to lose this chance; but Sam
+was always backward; and I doubt his even caring to go to
+sea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&nbsp; Captain Merrifield!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! has he given you reason to think that he
+does?&rdquo;&nbsp; She told him how she had found Sam struggling
+with his longing for the sea and his father; and how patiently
+the boy had resigned himself to see his brother put before him,
+and himself condemned for being too dull and slow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did I say so?&nbsp; I suppose he had put me past my
+patience with blundering over his lessons.&nbsp; I never meant to
+make any decision; but I did not think he wished it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said it had been his desire from the time he could
+remember, especially when he felt the want of you during your
+last voyage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very odd; how reserved some boys are!&nbsp; I declare I
+was vexed that it had gone out of his head; though I thought it
+might be for the best.&nbsp; You know I was not born to this
+place.&nbsp; I never dreamt of it till my poor brother
+Sam&rsquo;s little boy went off in a fever six years ago, and we
+had to settle down here.&nbsp; Before that, we meant my eldest to
+follow my own profession; but when he seemed to take to the soil
+so kindly, I thought, after all, he might make the happier squire
+for never having learnt the smell of salt water, nor the spirit
+of enterprise; but if it were done already, the first choice is
+due to him.&nbsp; You are sure?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ask the girls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He leant back and shouted out the question, &ldquo;Sue! do you
+know whether Sam wishes to go to sea?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing he ever wished so much,&rdquo;
+was the answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why didn&rsquo;t he say so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because he thought it would be no use,&rdquo; screamed
+Susan back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No use! why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because Hal says Admiral Penrose promised him.&nbsp; O
+Papa! are you going to take Sam?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh dear! we can&rsquo;t get on without him!&rdquo;
+sighed Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure he would like it?&rdquo; said her
+father.&nbsp; &ldquo;I thought he never cared to hear of the
+sea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He can&rsquo;t bear to talk of it, because it makes him
+so sorry,&rdquo; said Susan.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; cried Bessie, &ldquo;he burnt his dear
+little ship, the <i>Victory</i>, because he couldn&rsquo;t bear
+to look at it after you said <i>that</i>, Papa.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After I said what?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That he was not smart enough to learn the
+ropes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very silly of him,&rdquo; said the Captain, &ldquo;to
+take in despair what was only meant to spur him on.&nbsp; I
+suppose now I shall find he has dawdled so much that he
+couldn&rsquo;t get through an examination.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This shut up the mouths of both the girls, who were afraid
+that he might not, since they saw a good deal of his droning
+habits over his lessons, and heard more of Hal&rsquo;s superior
+cleverness.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook ventured to say, &ldquo;You may expect a great
+deal of a boy who works on a pure principle of
+obedience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You think a great deal of that youngster,&rdquo; said
+the Captain, highly gratified.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is the first time
+I ever knew a stranger take to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not take to him as a stranger.&nbsp; I thought
+him uncouth and dull.&nbsp; I only learnt to love and respect
+him, as I felt how perfectly I might rely on him, and how deep
+and true his principles are.&nbsp; If the children have gone on
+tolerably well in your absence, it is because he has always stood
+by me, and his weight of character has told on them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Captain Merrifield did not answer at once; he bit his lip,
+then blew his nose, and cleared his throat, before he said,
+&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook, you have made me very happy; it will make
+his mother so.&nbsp; She always rated him so high, that I half
+thought it was a weakness for her eldest son; but there!&nbsp; I
+suppose he was down-hearted about this fancy of his, poor boy;
+and that hindered him from making the most of himself.&nbsp; I
+wonder what sort of a figure he is cutting before his
+uncle!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The town was at length reached; and the shopping was quite
+wonderful to the sisters.&nbsp; Miss Fosbrook found a shop where
+the marvellous woman undertook to send home two grey frocks
+trimmed with pink, by the next evening; and found two such
+fashionable black silk jackets, that Susie felt quite ashamed of
+herself, though rather pleased; and Bessie only wished she could
+see her own back, it must look so like Ida&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Then
+there were white sleeves, and white collars, that made them feel
+like young women; and little pink silk handkerchiefs for their
+necks; and two straw hats, which Miss Fosbrook undertook to trim
+with puffs of white ribbon, and a pink rosette at each ear.&nbsp;
+Bessie thought they would be the most beautiful things that had
+ever been in her possession, and was only dreading that Sam would
+say they were like those on Ida Greville&rsquo;s donkey&rsquo;s
+best harness; while Susan looked quite frightened at them,
+whispered a hope that Mamma would not think them too fine, and
+that Miss Fosbrook would not let them cost too much money; and
+when assured that all fell within what Papa had given to be laid
+out, she begged that Annie and little Sally might have the
+like.</p>
+<p>But as they were not going to London, Miss Fosbrook could not
+venture on this; and as Bessie had set her affections upon a
+certain white chip hat, with a pink border and a white feather,
+both sisters remained wishing for something&mdash;as is sure to
+happen on such occasions.</p>
+<p>However, Elizabeth recovered from the hat when she was out of
+sight of it; and they went and saw the cathedral, where the
+painted windows and grave grand arches filled her with a truer
+and wiser sense of what was beautiful; and then they walked a
+long time up and down under its buttressed wall, waiting for
+Papa, till they grew tired and hungry; but at last he came in a
+great hurry, and sorry to have been hindered.&nbsp; With naval
+politeness, he gave his arm to Miss Fosbrook, and carried them
+off to a pastry-cook&rsquo;s, where he bade them eat what they
+pleased, and spend the rest of the florin he threw them on buns
+for the little ones, while he fetched the carriage; and so they
+all drove home again, and found the rest of the party ravenous,
+having waited dinner for three-quarters of an hour.</p>
+<p>Wonderful to relate, Uncle John had not eaten anybody up! not
+even Baby; though Papa advised Susan to make sure that she was
+safe, and then sent Sam to ask Purday for a salad.&nbsp; Perhaps
+this was by way of getting rid of this constant follower while he
+asked his brother what he thought of the boys&rsquo;
+attainments.</p>
+<p>Uncle John could not speak very highly of the learning of
+either; but he said, &ldquo;Sam knows thoroughly what he does
+know.&nbsp; As to the other, he thinks he knows everything, and
+makes most awful shots.&nbsp; When I asked them who Dido&rsquo;s
+husband was, Sam told me he did not know, and Hal, that he was
+Diodorus Siculus&mdash;<i>at least</i>, Scipio&mdash;no, he meant
+Sicyon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you think neither could stand an examination for
+the cadetship?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could not be sure of Sam; but I am quite sure that
+Hal could not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here the dinner-bell rang; the hungry populace rushed to the
+dining-room, and the meal was gone through as merrily as could
+be, while still the father never spoke to Henry.&nbsp; Uncle John
+was as pleasant and good-natured as possible.&nbsp; Who would
+have thought of the marked difference he made between dining with
+barbarians, or young gentlefolks!</p>
+<p>Dinner over, Captain Merrifield called Sam,&mdash;or rather,
+since that was not necessary, as Sam was never willingly a yard
+from his elbow, he ordered the others not to follow as they went
+into the garden together.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Admiral Penrose is kind
+enough to offer me a berth in the <i>Ramilies</i> for one of
+you.&nbsp; If you can pass the examination, should you wish to
+avail yourself of the offer?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam grew very red in the face, looked down, and twirled the
+button of his sleeve.&nbsp; He certainly was not a gracious boy,
+for all he said was in a gruff hoarse voice, without even thanks,
+&ldquo;Not if it is for this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For this!&nbsp; What do you mean, Sam?&rdquo; said
+Captain Merrifield, thinking either that the boy was
+faint-hearted, or that his wish had been the mere fancy of the
+girls.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not if it is to punish Hal,&rdquo; said Sam, with
+another effort.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is not the question.&nbsp; Do you wish
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam hung his head, and made his eyebrows come down, as if they
+were to serve as a veil to those horrid tears in his eyes; and
+after all, his voice sounded sulky, as he said,
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo; said the Captain, angry and
+disappointed.&nbsp; &ldquo;Is that the way you take such an
+offer?&nbsp; If you had rather stay here, and be bred up to be a
+country squire, say so at once; don&rsquo;t mince the
+matter!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Papa!&rdquo; cried Sam indignantly, &ldquo;how can
+you think that?&nbsp; Didn&rsquo;t I always want to be like
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then why can&rsquo;t you say so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I can&rsquo;t bear to cut Hal out!&rdquo; said
+Sam, putting his arm over his eyes, as a way he considered secret
+of disposing of his tears.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Put that out of your head, Sam; or if you don&rsquo;t
+fancy the sea, have it out at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Papa! please listen.&nbsp; You know, though Miss
+Fosbrook is very jolly, we couldn&rsquo;t help getting nohow when
+you were away, <i>us</i> two particularly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have no mischief to confess, surely, Sam?&rdquo;
+said his father, really imagining that this preference to Hal was
+acting on him so as to make him mention some concealed
+misdemeanour; &ldquo;if you have, you know truth is the best
+line.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I haven&rsquo;t, Papa,&rdquo; said Sam, looking up,
+quite surprised.&nbsp; &ldquo;You know I am a year older, and
+couldn&rsquo;t help caring more; and Miss Fosbrook is so nice,
+one couldn&rsquo;t bother her; but you see the Grevilles
+<i>would</i> put it into Hal&rsquo;s head that it was stupid and
+like a girl to mind her.&nbsp; It is all their fault; and they
+were sneaks about the turkey-cock, and wouldn&rsquo;t
+pay&mdash;and I know he would have ended by putting the money
+back when he could, only Davie made such a row before he could;
+and he did so reckon on the navy&mdash;he would pay it back the
+first thing.&rdquo;&nbsp; The last sentences came between gasps,
+very like sobs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have done with Hal,&rdquo; said Captain Merrifield,
+still with displeasure.&nbsp; &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t take him
+now on any account.&nbsp; If the Grevilles lead him wrong, what
+would he do among the mids?&nbsp; If he acts dishonourably here,
+we should have him disgracing himself and his profession.&nbsp;
+Since he can&rsquo;t take it, and you won&rsquo;t, I shall try to
+make some exchange of the chance till John or David will be old
+enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But Papa, I&mdash;&rdquo; began Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> don&rsquo;t want to force you to it,&rdquo;
+continued Captain Merrifield, in his vexed voice.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+never mean to force my sons to any profession if I can help it;
+and you have a right to be considered.&nbsp; It has always been a
+disadvantage to me, and to this place, that I was bred to the sea
+instead of to farming; and though you can&rsquo;t live on the
+property without some profession, it may be quite as well that
+you should turn your mind to something else&mdash;only if it be
+the army, I can&rsquo;t help you on in it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had rather go to sea, if you please,&rdquo; said
+Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say so to please me,&rdquo; said his
+father.&nbsp; &ldquo;I tell you, the examinations are a pretty
+deal harder than they were in my time.&nbsp; It is not a trade
+for a youngster to be idle in; and I won&rsquo;t have you, just
+when you&rsquo;ve knocked about a few years, and are getting fit
+to be of use on board and nowhere else, calling yourself heartily
+sick of it, and turning round to say it was my doing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never do that, Papa,&rdquo; said poor Sam,
+unable to understand why his father should speak as though
+scolding him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No?&nbsp; And mind, you must take the rough with the
+smooth, if you sail with me, and not be always running after me,
+Papa-ing me.&nbsp; I can&rsquo;t see after you, and should only
+get you ill will if I tried.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had rather go,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t know what to make of
+you,&rdquo; said his father, looking at him in a puzzle.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;However, if you do mean to go, you may tell Freeman to get
+your things ready to come up with me on Thursday; only if you
+don&rsquo;t really like the notion, find out your own mind, and
+let me know in time, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain turned away, and gave a long whistle&mdash;an
+accustomed signal&mdash;that brought children and dogs all
+rushing and tumbling about him together, to walk with him about
+the farm, and his brother among them; but Sam hung back.&nbsp; He
+had not the heart to go with that merry throng; for he did not
+know whether his father were not displeased with him, and he
+therefore thought he must be to blame.</p>
+<p>People who, like Sam, rather cultivate the habit of gruffness
+and reserve, and prefer to be short and rude, become so utterly
+unable to express what they mean, that on great occasions they
+are misunderstood, and give pain by supposed ingratitude and
+dislike, even when they feel most warmly.&nbsp; Captain
+Merrifield could only judge from looks and words; and even when
+Sam had been satisfied about Henry, he had shown so little
+alacrity or satisfaction, as really to leave a doubt whether he
+were not unwillingly yielding to his father&rsquo;s wishes; which
+would have been a mistaken act, as the Captain thought no one
+ought to be a sailor unless with a very strong desire that
+way.&nbsp; Thus Sam really perplexed and distressed his father,
+when he least intended it; and unable to understand what was the
+matter, yet feeling heavy and sad, he turned aside from the rest,
+and, by way of the quietest place he could find, climbed up a
+tall pear-tree, to the very highest branch he could reach.&nbsp;
+He put himself astride on one bough, his feet upon another below,
+and his back leaning against the main stem.&nbsp; No one could
+see him up so high among the thick leaves; but he could see all
+around the village, and over the house; he could look down into
+the farm-court at the pigs burying themselves in the straw; and
+out beyond at the geese and ducks in the meadow, and the broods
+of chickens pecking and scratching about, or the older poultry
+rolling in the dust-holes they had scraped for themselves.&nbsp;
+He could see Purday among his cabbages in the garden; and further
+off, could watch the walking-party through the fields, his father
+with little George in his arms, and Uncle John as often as
+possible by his side; while the others frisked about, sometimes
+spreading out like a flock of sheep in the pasture land, or when
+they came to the narrow paths in the cornfields, all getting into
+single file, and being lost sight of all but their heads.</p>
+<p>Sam recollected how, the day when he had heard that he was not
+likely to be a sailor, he had felt as if he hated Stokesley, and
+as if it would be a prison to him, and how everything reminding
+him of the sea had been a misery to him.&nbsp; He would not then
+have believed anyone who had told him that he would really hear
+of his appointment and be so little glad.&nbsp; Yet for two whole
+years the loss of the hope had weighed on him, and made him dull
+whenever he thought of grown-up life, heard of the sea, or was
+asked what he was to be: and almost always, at his prayers, he
+had that meaning in his mind, when he said &ldquo;Thy Will be
+done;&rdquo; he had really submitted patiently, and tried to put
+away the longing from his mind, and would, there can be no doubt,
+have been happy and dutiful at home; but at length the wish of
+his heart was suddenly granted.</p>
+<p>And then, wish though it still were, there came all this grief
+and discomfort.&nbsp; The gladness was in him somewhere, but he
+could not get at it, either for his own comfort, or that of his
+father.&nbsp; He missed his mother exceedingly.&nbsp; <i>She</i>
+would know what he meant, and tell Papa that he did care to
+go.&nbsp; Yet, did he care so very much?&nbsp; Only think of
+beginning to be a stranger at this dear old home! and seeing no
+mother, no Susie, nor any of them, for years
+together&mdash;probably not his father after the first
+voyage!&nbsp; However, the sailor was too strong in Sam for that
+grief not to pass off; and his chief trouble was the sense of
+supplanting Henry.&nbsp; He knew the disappointment would be most
+bitter; and he could not get rid of the sense of having taken an
+unfair advantage of the disgrace of Henry&rsquo;s
+adventure.&nbsp; As to his father&rsquo;s manner, he got over
+that more easily, for his conscience was free; he knew that the
+tone of displeasure would be gone at the next meeting, and he was
+too sure of his own love of the sea to fear that he should not
+show it enough.&nbsp; After all, he was to be a naval
+cadet!&nbsp; He could not be sorry.&nbsp; Nay, he felt he had his
+wish; the very wish he had thought it wrong to put into a
+prayer.&nbsp; He thought he ought to be thankful that it was
+granted, in the same way as he had been when his mother began to
+recover.&nbsp; So he put his hands together, and looked up into
+the summer blue sky through the leaves, and his lips moved, as he
+whispered his thanks, and asked to be helped in being a good
+brave sailor, and that something as good might happen to poor
+Henry.</p>
+<p>After this, somehow, the weight was gone, he knew not
+where.&nbsp; All he recollected was, that he should see Mamma in
+two days, and that he was to sail with Papa if he could get
+through his examination.&nbsp; There was a sort of necessity of
+doing something comical; and just then spying Miss Fosbrook with
+a book walking slowly below, he could not resist the temptation
+of sending down on her a shower of little hard pears and
+twigs.</p>
+<p>Bob came one down on her book, and another on her
+bonnet.&nbsp; She looked up, and saw a leg stretching out for a
+branch, apparently in such a dangerous manner, that she did not
+know whether she should not have Sam himself on her head next,
+and started back, watching as he swung himself from branch to
+branch, and then slid down, embracing the trunk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did I hit you!&rdquo; said he.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+couldn&rsquo;t help trying it; it was such fun.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was a great liberty; but she was so good-humoured as to
+laugh, and said he had taken good aim.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; next said he,
+&ldquo;would you hear how many propositions I can
+say!&rdquo;&nbsp; And as she opened her eyes at this holiday
+amusement, he added, &ldquo;Papa has got the appointment after
+all, and means me to have it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am so glad, Sam!&nbsp; I give you joy!&rdquo; she
+said, and took his hand to shake it heartily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish Hal could go too,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Sam,&rdquo; she said kindly, and guessing his
+feelings, as having gone along with them, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+wonder you are sorry for him; but indeed I think it is better for
+him to be sheltered from beginning real life just now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Papa said he would not have taken him,&rdquo; said Sam;
+&ldquo;but it seems so hard to have all his life changed for a
+thing that sounds worse than he meant it to be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sam,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;I once read a
+sermon, that said that our conduct in little things does decide
+the tenor of our lives.&nbsp; You know one moment of hastiness
+cost Moses the Promised Land; and only a little while ago, we
+heard how Joash had but few victories allowed to him, because he
+did not think it worth while to strike the ground as often as
+Elisha told him.&nbsp; It is the little things that show whether
+we are to be trusted with great.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is such a tremendous punishment,&rdquo; said Sam,
+&ldquo;when he would have put it back again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brother knew a banker&rsquo;s clerk who was
+transported for borrowing what he meant to put back again.&nbsp;
+No, Sam; people must bear the result of their doings; and your
+father judges for Hal as much in kindness as in anger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know he knows best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may see it as well as trust.&nbsp; With all his
+grand talk, do you really think that Hal would not be upset at
+the first hardship, or that he could face bullying or
+danger?&nbsp; Remember the bull, that was at least a vicious cow,
+and turned out to be a calf.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sam could not help laughing, as he said, &ldquo;Yes, that
+would never do at sea; and he would be done for if he were
+cowardly there.&nbsp; But I wish I could get out of sight of him
+till I am gone.&nbsp; And please hear my Euclid; I&rsquo;ll get
+the book, if you&rsquo;ll stay out here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Therefore, if the two sides of two triangles be equal
+to one another, and the adjacent angles be equal each to
+each,&rdquo; resounded through the laurels, as the walking party
+returned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo! <i>al fresco</i> Euclid!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle
+John, as Sam with a blush ran after his blotted diagrams, as a
+sudden gust of wind blew them dancing over the garden.&nbsp;
+Captain Merrifield caught one, and restored it to Sam, with a pat
+on the back that made his teeth rattle in his head, but which
+made him as happy as a young sea-king, showing that they
+perfectly understood each other.</p>
+<p>But to be ever so good a boy does not carry one through the
+examinations that stand at the door of every road of life for
+those who are not wealthy.&nbsp; Sam knew he was the dull boy of
+Mr. Carey&rsquo;s four pupils; and though from sheer diligence he
+was less often turned back than the rest, yet they could all
+excel him whenever they chose: his lessons all went against the
+grain, and were a sore trouble to him; and his uncle had shown
+much wrath to-day at his ignorance and backwardness.&nbsp; He was
+therefore in a great fright, and gave himself and Miss Fosbrook
+no peace, running after her every moment with his Euclid, his
+Colenso, or his slate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That boy will stupefy himself and his admirable
+cramming machine!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle John, when coming out
+into the court after tea to talk to Purday, the two brothers
+heard, &ldquo;The complement A E is equal to the complement D
+E,&rdquo; proceeding out of the school-room window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A truce with your complements to-night,&rdquo; shouted
+the Captain; &ldquo;come down, Sam; I must have a game at
+hide-and-seek!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Though hide-and-seek on the lawn with Papa was the supremest
+bliss that life had yet offered to the young Merrifields, and
+though Susan, Bessie, Annie, and Johnnie, had all severally burst
+into the room to proclaim it and summon Sam, he had refused them
+all; but this call settled it; he broke off in the middle of his
+rectangle, and dashed down stairs, to the great relief of kind
+Miss Fosbrook, who, with all her good-will, found her head
+beginning to grow weary of angles and right-angles on a hot
+evening in the height of summer.</p>
+<p>The summer-house was to be <i>home</i>, and there the party
+were assembled&mdash;nine in number, for not only Papa, but Uncle
+John, was going to play; and Henry, though forlorn and unnoticed,
+had wandered about with the rest all day, trying to do as usual,
+to forget the heavy load that pressed on him, and to believe that
+he was not going to be punished for mere unluckiness in
+borrowing, and for not answering impertinent questions.&nbsp; The
+world was very unlike itself to him; and he saw the enjoyment
+without being able to enter into it, just as a sick person sees
+the sunshine without feeling the warmth; but instead of
+penitence, he merely tried to shake off his compunction.</p>
+<p>So there he stood in the ring, as Susan was finding out who
+was to be the first to hide, by pointing to each, at each word of
+the formula,</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,<br />
+Sticks, stocks, stones, dead.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Dead&rdquo; came to Uncle John, as perhaps Susan had
+contrived; and shrugging up his shoulders, he went off to hide,
+and his whoop was presently heard.&nbsp; He was not <i>very</i>
+good game; maybe he did not wish to be very long sought, for he
+was no further than in the tall French beans, generally
+considered as a stupid place to hide in.&nbsp; The children had
+been in hopes that he would catch Papa, which was always a very
+difficult matter, for the sailor was lighter of foot, as well as,
+of course, longer in limb, than any of the children; but they saw
+that Uncle John had not the slightest chance with him, and it was
+Bessie who was caught in her homeward race.</p>
+<p>Bessie was rather a good hider, and was searched for far and
+wide before Sam&rsquo;s &ldquo;I spy!&nbsp; I spy!&rdquo; gave
+the signal that a bit of the spotty cotton had been seen peeping
+out from under Purday&rsquo;s big potato-basket in the
+tool-house, and the whole party flew towards home.&nbsp; Bessie
+would not aim at Papa, for if so, she would certainly catch no
+one; but she hunted down David, who was too sturdy to be a quick
+runner, and who was very well pleased to be caught.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have Papa!&rdquo; he said, as she captured
+him.&nbsp; &ldquo;I know of such a cunning place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David&rsquo;s place proved to be in among his likenesses, the
+cabbages, immediately in front of the summer-house.&nbsp; There
+he lay flat on the very wet mould, among the stout cabbages, all
+of which had a bead of wet in every wrinkle of their great
+leaves, so that when Susan had at length spied him, and he came
+plunging out, his brown-holland&mdash;to say nothing of his
+knees&mdash;was in a state that would have caused most mammas to
+send him to be instantly undressed; but nobody even saw it, and
+he charged instantly towards the door of the summer-house, not
+pursuing anyone in particular, but cutting all off from their
+retreat.&nbsp; He slipped aside, however, and let all the lesser
+game pass by uncaught; his soul soared higher than even Uncle
+John, who looked on exceedingly amused at the small man&rsquo;s
+stratagem, and at the long dodging that took place between him
+and his father, the quick lithe Captain skipping hither and
+thither, and trying to pop in one side while his enemy was on the
+other; and the square, determined, little, puffing, panting boy,
+guarding his door, hands on knees, ever ready for a dart wherever
+the attempt was made.&nbsp; The whole party in the home nearly
+went into fits at the fun, and at the droll remarks Uncle John
+made at this hare and tortoise spectacle; till at last either the
+Captain gave in, or Davie made a cleverer attack than ever, for
+with a great shout he flew upon Papa, and held him fast by the
+legs.&nbsp; Everyone shrieked with delight; Papa hid in such
+clever places, and when found, he roared so splendidly, that it
+struck the little ones with terror, and did the hearts of the
+elders good, to hear him; indeed, the greatest ambition Johnnie
+entertained was to roar like Papa.&nbsp; Then he could make his
+voice sound as if out of any place he chose, so that no one could
+guess by his &ldquo;whoop&rdquo; where to look for him; and this
+time it seemed to be quite out at the other end of the
+kitchen-garden, where they were all looking, when another
+&ldquo;whoop&rdquo; came apparently down from Sam&rsquo;s
+pear-tree on the lawn; and while they were peeping up into it,
+&ldquo;whoop&rdquo; re-echoed from the stables!&nbsp; At last, as
+Annie was gazing up and round as if she even thought it as well
+to look right into the sky for Papa, she suddenly beheld the two
+merriest eyes in the world, on the roof of the summer-house
+itself.&nbsp; He had been lying there on the thatch, watching at
+his ease all the wanderings of the seekers, and uttering those
+wonderful whoops to bewilder them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I spy!&nbsp; I spy!&rdquo; shrieked Annie, flying in,
+even while her father sprang to the ground, and with
+Davie&rsquo;s man&oelig;uvre on a larger scale, seemed to be
+taking his choice of all the fugitives rushing up from all
+parts.</p>
+<p>One elder boy, and one younger, he was hunting down the
+gooseberry-path, when just as he was about to pounce on the
+former, he said that it was not Sam, stood still, and folded his
+arms.&nbsp; A shriek made him look round; little David stood
+sobbing and crying piteously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Davie! what, Davie!&nbsp; What is it, my man?&nbsp;
+Where are you hurt!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no!&nbsp; I&rsquo;m not hurt!&nbsp; Catch Hal,
+Papa.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, David.&nbsp; I do not play with boys that act like
+Henry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Speak to him, Papa; oh, speak!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall, before I go,&rdquo; said the Captain
+gravely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, now!&nbsp; Papa.&nbsp; Oh, do!&nbsp; I did want
+him to be punished, but not like this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, David.&nbsp; If he can expect to play with me, and
+be treated like the others, he is not in the state to receive
+forgiveness.&nbsp; There, have done crying; let us go on with the
+game.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But David could not go on playing; he was too unhappy.&nbsp;
+Not to be forgiven, even if punished, seemed to him too dreadful
+to happen to anyone; and he thought that he had brought it all on
+Henry by his letter of accusation.&nbsp; Tardily and dolefully he
+crept into the house; and Miss Fosbrook met him, looking so
+woe-begone, that she too thought he had hurt himself.&nbsp; She
+took him, dirt and all, on her lap; and there he sobbed out that
+Papa wouldn&rsquo;t speak to Hal, and it was very dreadful; and
+he wished there were no such things as pigs, or money, or
+secrets; they only made people miserable!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Davie, they only make people miserable when they
+care too much about them.&nbsp; Papa will forgive Hal before he
+goes away, I am sure; only he is making him sorry first, that he
+may never do such a thing again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like it.&rdquo;&nbsp; And David cried
+sadly, perhaps because partly he was tired with having been on
+his legs more than usual that day; but his good and loving little
+self was come home again.&nbsp; He at least had forgiven his
+brother the wrong done to himself; and there was no hanging back
+that night from the fulness of prayer; no, he rather felt that he
+had been unkind; and the last thing heard of him that night was,
+that as Sam and Hal were coming up-stairs to bed, a little white
+figure stood on the top of the stairs, and a small voice said,
+&ldquo;Hal, please kiss me!&nbsp; I am so sorry I told Papa
+about&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, hold your tongue,&rdquo; said Hal, cutting him
+short with the desired kiss, &ldquo;if you hadn&rsquo;t told,
+someone else would.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But long after Sam was asleep, Hal was wetting his pillow
+through with tears.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Still</span> the silence lasted.&nbsp;
+Henry had tried at first to persuade himself that it was only by
+chance that he never heard his own name from lips that used to
+call it more often than any other.&nbsp; Indeed, he was so much
+used to favour, that it needed all the awe-struck pity of the
+rest to prove to him its withdrawal; and he was so much in the
+habit of thrusting himself before Samuel, that even the sight and
+sound of the First Book of Euclid, all day long, failed to
+convince him that his brother could be preferred; above all, as
+Nurse Freeman had been collecting his clean shirts as well as
+Sam&rsquo;s, and all the portmanteaus and trunks in the house had
+been hunted out of the roof.&nbsp; Once, either the spirit of
+imitation, or his usual desire of showing himself off, made him
+break in when Sam was knitting his brows frightfully over a sum
+in proportion.&nbsp; Hal could do it in no time!</p>
+<p>So he did; but he put the third term first, and multiplied the
+hours into the minutes, instead of reducing them to the same
+denomination; so that he made out that twenty-five men would take
+longer to cut a field of grass than three, and then could not see
+that he was wrong; but Miss Fosbrook and Sam both looked so much
+grieved for him, that a start of fright went through him.</p>
+<p>Some minds really do not understand a fault till they see it
+severely visited; and &ldquo;<i>at least</i>&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;<i>couldn&rsquo;t help</i>&rdquo; had so blinded
+Henry&rsquo;s eyes that he had thought himself more unlucky than
+to blame, till his father&rsquo;s manner forced it on him that he
+had done something dreadful.&nbsp; Vaguely afraid, he hung about,
+looking so wretched that he was a piteous sight; and it cut his
+father to the heart to spend such a last day together.&nbsp;
+Mayhap the Captain could hardly have held out all that second
+day, if he had not passed his word to his brother.</p>
+<p>The travellers were to set off at six in the morning, to meet
+the earliest train: and it was not till nine o&rsquo;clock at
+night, when the four elder ones said good-night, that the
+Captain, following them out of the room, laid his hand on Henry
+as the others went up-stairs, and said, &ldquo;Henry, have you
+nothing to say to me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry leant against the baluster and sobbed, not knowing what
+else to do.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t be more grieved than I am to have such
+a last day together,&rdquo; said his father, laying his hand on
+the yellow head; &ldquo;but I can&rsquo;t help it, you see.&nbsp;
+If you will do such things, it is my duty to make you repent of
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hal threw himself almost double over the rail, and something
+was heard about &ldquo;sorry,&rdquo; and &ldquo;never.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little lad!&rdquo; said his father aloud to
+himself; &ldquo;he is cut up enough now; but how am I to know if
+his sorrow is good for anything?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Papa!&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll never do such a thing
+again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I knew that, Hal,&rdquo; said the Captain,
+sitting down on the stairs, and taking him between his
+knees.&nbsp; &ldquo;There, let us talk it over together.&nbsp; I
+don&rsquo;t suppose you expected to steal and deceive when you
+got up in the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no, no!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go back to the beginning.&nbsp; See how you came to
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time,
+&ldquo;You said we need not go to church on a
+week-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what of that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t go in case the telegraph should
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are different ways of thinking,&rdquo; said his
+father.&nbsp; &ldquo;Church was the only place where I
+<i>could</i> have gone that St. Barnabas&rsquo; Day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would have gone,&rdquo; said the self-contradictory
+Henry, &ldquo;only the Grevilles are always at one for being like
+a girl.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! now we see daylight!&rdquo; said the Captain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;The Grevilles are at
+one,&rsquo;&mdash;that&rsquo;s more like getting to the bottom of
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Papa,&rdquo; said Hal, glad to make himself out a
+victim to circumstance; &ldquo;you can&rsquo;t think what a pair
+of fellows those are for not letting one alone; Purday says they
+haven&rsquo;t as much conscience between them as a pigeon&rsquo;s
+egg has meat; and going down to Mr. Carey&rsquo;s with them every
+day, they let one have no peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will find people everywhere who will let you have
+no peace, unless you do not care for them; though you will not be
+left to the Grevilles any longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will
+see&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not sail at all: I thought you knew
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought the Admiral must have given you two
+appointments,&rdquo; said Hal timidly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He gave me <i>one</i>, for one of my sons.&nbsp; The
+first choice is Sam&rsquo;s right, even if he had not deserved it
+by his brave patient obedience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hal hung his head; then said, &ldquo;But, Papa, if Sam broke
+down in his examination, please mightn&rsquo;t
+I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Henry.&nbsp; Not only does your uncle say that
+though Sam&rsquo;s success is very doubtful, your inaccuracy
+would make your failure certain; but if your knowledge were ever
+so well up to the mark, I could not put you into the navy.&nbsp;
+Left to yourself here, you have been insubordinate, vain, weak,
+shuffling: can I let you go into greater temptation, where
+disgrace would be public and without remedy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but, Papa!&nbsp; Papa!&nbsp; Away from the
+Grevilles, and not under only a governess&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shall be away from the Grevilles, and not under a
+governess.&nbsp; Your uncle is kind enough to take you with him
+to his house, and will endeavour to make you fit to try to get
+upon the foundation by the time there is a vacancy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Papa! don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; sobbed Henry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it, Hal!&nbsp; You have shown
+yourself unfit either for the sea or for home.&nbsp; What can I
+do with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Try me&mdash;only try me, Papa.&nbsp; I
+would&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you
+are.&nbsp; Deeds, not words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if you won&rsquo;t let me go into the navy, only
+let me be in real school.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Henry; I have not the means of sending you there:
+excepting on the foundation; and if you get admittance there at
+all, it will only be by great diligence, and your uncle&rsquo;s
+kindness in preparing you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry cried bitterly.&nbsp; It was a dreadful prospect to do
+his lessons alone with Uncle John in the boys&rsquo; play-hours,
+and be kept in order by Aunt Alice when his uncle was in
+school.&nbsp; Perhaps his father would not have liked it himself,
+for his voice was very pitying, though cheering, as he said,
+&ldquo;One half year, Hal, very likely no more if you take pains,
+and you&rsquo;ll get into school, and be very happy, so long as
+you don&rsquo;t make a Greville of every idle chap you
+meet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Henry cried as though beyond consolation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hate leaving you this way,&rdquo; continued his
+father; &ldquo;but by the time I come home you will see it was
+the best thing for you; and look up to Uncle John as your best
+friend.&nbsp; Why, Hal, boy, you&rsquo;ll be a tall fellow of
+fourteen!&nbsp; Let me find you godly and manly: you can&rsquo;t
+be one without the other.&nbsp; There now, good night, God bless
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>More might have been said to Henry on his fault and what had
+led to it; but what his father did say was likely to sink deeper
+as he grew older, and had more sense and feeling.</p>
+<p>From him Captain Merrifield went to the school-room, where
+Miss Fosbrook was packing up for the little girls, and putting
+last stitches to their equipments, with hearty good-will and
+kindness, as if she had been their elder sister.</p>
+<p>He thanked her most warmly; and without sending away the
+girls, who were both busy tacking in little white tuckers to the
+evening frocks, he began to settle about the terms on which she
+was to remain at Stokesley.&nbsp; He said that he could not
+possibly have left his wife without a person on whose friendly
+help and good management of the children he could depend.&nbsp;
+Important as it was to him to be employed, he must have refused
+the appointment if Miss Fosbrook had been discontented, or had
+not had the children so well in hand.&nbsp; He explained that he
+had reason to think that Mrs. Merrifield&rsquo;s present illness
+had been the effect of all she had gone through while he was in
+the Black Sea during the Crimean War.&nbsp; She had been a very
+strong person, and had never thought of sparing herself; but she
+and all her little children had had to get into Stokesley in his
+absence; she had to manage the estate and farm, teach the elder
+children, and take care of the babies, with no help but Nurse
+Freeman&rsquo;s: and though he had been wounded when with the
+Naval Brigade, and had been at death&rsquo;s door with cholera,
+the effects had done him no lasting harm at all; while the
+over-strain of the anxiety and exertion that she had undergone
+all alone had so told upon her, that she had never been well
+since, and he much feared, would never be in perfect health
+again.&nbsp; He must depend upon Miss Fosbrook for watching over
+her and saving her, as his little Susie could not yet do; and for
+letting him know from time to time how she was going on, and
+whether he ought to give up everything and come home.</p>
+<p>He had tears in his eyes as he thanked Christabel for her
+earnest promise to watch and tend Mrs. Merrifield with a
+daughter&rsquo;s care; and her heart swelled with strong deep
+feeling of sorrow and sympathy with these two brave-hearted
+loving people, doing their duty at all costs so steadily; and she
+was full of gladness and thankfulness that they could treat her
+as a true and trusty friend.&nbsp; He walked away, feeling far
+too much to bear any eye upon him; and Susan was found to be
+crying quietly, making her thread wet through, and her needle
+squeak at every stitch, at the sad news that Mamma never was to
+be quite well, even though assured that she was likely to be much
+better than she had been for months past.</p>
+<p>Bessie shed no tears; but Miss Fosbrook, who had been hindered
+all day by Sam&rsquo;s Euclid and Colenso, and had sat up till
+half-past eleven o&rsquo;clock to make the two Sunday frocks nice
+enough for the journey, on going into the bed-room to lay them
+out for the morning, saw a little face raised from the pillow of
+one of the small white beds, and found her broad awake.&nbsp;
+Bessie never could go to sleep properly when anything out of the
+common way was coming to pass, so that was the less wonder; but
+she had a great deal in her head, and she was glad to get
+Christabel to kneel down by her, to listen to her whispers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Christabel, I am so sorry.&nbsp; I never cared
+about it before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;About what, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What Papa said about when he was in the Black
+Sea.&nbsp; I never knew Mamma cared so much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say not, my dear; you were much younger
+then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I didn&rsquo;t know all about it,&rdquo; said
+Bessie, &ldquo;or else I&rsquo;ve forgotten.&nbsp; I have been
+trying to remember whether we ever thought about Mamma; and oh,
+Christabel! do you know&mdash;I believe we only thought she was
+cross!&nbsp; Oh dear! it was so naughty and bad of us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can guess how it happened, my dear.&nbsp; You were
+not old enough to be made her friends, and you could not
+understand quiet sorrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To think we should have said she was cross!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was wrong, because it was disrespectful.&nbsp; You
+see, my dear, when grown people are in trouble, you young ones
+can&rsquo;t enter into their feelings, nor always even find out
+that anything is amiss; and you get vexed at there being a cloud
+over the house, and call it crossness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Grown-up people are sometimes cross, aren&rsquo;t
+they?&rdquo; said Bessie.&nbsp; &ldquo;Nurse is; and I heard Papa
+say Aunt Alice was.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have tempers, certainly,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook;
+&ldquo;and unless we have conquered them as children, there will
+be signs of them afterwards; but very few people, and certainly
+no children, can tell when grave looks, or words sharper than
+usual, come from illness or anxiety or sorrow; and it is the only
+way to save great grief and self-reproach to give one&rsquo;s own
+faults the blame, and try to be as unobtrusive and obliging as
+possible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I am older now, and can understand,&rdquo; said
+Bessie; &ldquo;but then, it is Susie that is right hand, and does
+everything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s plenty in your own line,
+Bessie&mdash;plenty of little kindly services that are very
+cheering; and above all&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Attending to your Mamma&rsquo;s troubles will drive
+away your own grievances.&nbsp; Only I will not talk to you any
+more now, for I want you to go to sleep; if you lie awake, you
+will be tired to-morrow, and that will incline you to be
+fretful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fretful to-morrow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bessie could not believe it possible; and indeed Miss Fosbrook
+did not think the chance great, as long as there was amusement
+and excitement.&nbsp; The danger would be in the waitings and
+disappointments that will often occur, even in the height of
+enjoyable schemes.</p>
+<p>It would take too long to tell of all the good-byes.&nbsp; The
+children old enough to enter into the parting were setting off
+too; and Miss Fosbrook felt more for the little ones than they
+did for themselves, as they watched their father and uncle and
+two sisters into the gig, and the boys into the cart, with Purday
+to drive them and the boxes, Sam sitting on his father&rsquo;s
+old midshipman&rsquo;s chest, trying, as well as the jolting
+would let him, to con over that troublesome Thirty-fifth
+Proposition, which nine times repetition to Miss Fosbrook had
+failed to put into his head.</p>
+<p>Johnnie and Annie wished themselves going to sea, or to
+London, or anywhere, rather than having the full force of Miss
+Fosbrook on their lessons!&nbsp; She did not make them do more,
+but she took the opportunity of making everything be done
+thoroughly, and, as they thought, bothered them frightfully about
+pronouncing their words in reading, and holding their pens when
+they wrote.&nbsp; After a little while, however, they found that
+really their hands were much less tired, and their lines much
+smoother and more slanting, than when they crooked their fingers
+close down over the ink.&nbsp; Absolutely they began to know the
+pleasure of doing something well, and they felt so comfortable,
+that they were wonderfully good; and the pig fund might have had
+a chance, but David did not seem to think of reviving it.&nbsp;
+Perhaps his great vehemence had tired itself out; and maybe he
+was ashamed of the great disturbance he had made and all that had
+come upon Henry, and did not wish to think of it again, for St.
+Katherine&rsquo;s fair-day passed over without a word of the
+pig.</p>
+<p>The young ladies were not great letter-writers; and all that
+was known of them was that Mamma was better, they had been to the
+Zoological Gardens and the hyena was so funny, and Mrs. Penrose
+was so nice.&nbsp; Then that Papa and Sam were gone to
+Portsmouth, and that they had telegraphed that Sam had
+succeeded.</p>
+<p>If it had been her own brother, Miss Fosbrook could not have
+been much happier; and in honour of it she and the three children
+all went to drink tea in the wilderness, walking in procession,
+each with a flag in hand, painted by her for the occasion.</p>
+<p>Three days after, when the post came in, there was a letter
+directed to Master David Douglas Merrifield, Stokesley House,
+Bonchamp.&nbsp; It was a great wonder; for David was not baby
+enough, nor near enough to the youngest, to get letters as a pet,
+nor was he old enough to be written to like an elder one.&nbsp;
+He spelt the address all over before he made up his mind to open
+it, and then exclaimed, &ldquo;But it is not a letter!&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s green!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a post-office order, Davie,&rdquo; said Miss
+Fosbrook.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let me look.&nbsp; Yes, for ten
+shillings.&nbsp; Write your name there; and if we take it to the
+post-office at Bonchamp, they will give you ten
+shillings.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ten shillings!&nbsp; Oh, Davie!&rdquo; cried Johnnie,
+&ldquo;I wish it was to me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It just makes up for what Hal took, and more
+too,&rdquo; said Annie.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where can it come from,
+Davie?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From the Queen,&rdquo; said Davie composedly;
+&ldquo;the Queen always does justice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was quite sorry to confess, for truth&rsquo;s
+sake, that she did not think the Queen could have heard of the
+loss of the pig fund, and that it was more likely to be from
+someone who wished to make up for the disaster&mdash;who could it
+be?&nbsp; She looked at the round stamp upon the green-lettered
+paper, and read &ldquo;Portsmouth.&rdquo;&nbsp; Could it be from
+Papa?&nbsp; Then she looked at the cover; but it was not a bit
+like the Captain&rsquo;s writing; it was pretty, lady-like,
+clear-looking hand-writing, and puzzled her a great deal
+more.&nbsp; If the children had once had a secret of their own,
+there was a very considerable one to puzzle them now; and they
+could hardly believe that Miss Fosbrook knew nothing about it,
+any more than themselves.</p>
+<p>So restless and puzzled were they, that she thought they would
+never be able to settle quietly to their lessons, and that it
+would save idleness if she walked with them at once to Bonchamp
+to get the money.&nbsp; It was two miles; but all three were
+stout walkers, and they were delighted to go; indeed, they would
+have fancied that someone else might run away with the ten
+shillings if they had not made haste to secure it.&nbsp; So
+&ldquo;David Douglas Merrifield&rdquo; was written, with much
+difficulty to make it small enough, in the very best and roundest
+hand.&nbsp; The boys were put into clean blouses, Annie&rsquo;s
+striped cotton came to light; and off set the party through the
+lanes, each with sixpence in their hand, for it was poor fun to
+go to Bonchamp, unless one had something to spend there.&nbsp;
+David wanted a knife, Johnnie wanted a whip, Annie nothing in
+particular, only to go into a shop, and buy&mdash;she
+didn&rsquo;t know what.</p>
+<p>But the wonderful affair at the post-office must have the
+first turn; and very grand did David feel as the clerk peeped out
+from his little hole, and looked amused and gracious as the
+little boy stood on tiptoe to give in his green paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you have it in gold or silver, Sir?&rdquo; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In gold, please,&rdquo; said David.</p>
+<p>It was something to have a bit of gold in one&rsquo;s
+possession for the first time in one&rsquo;s life; and David felt
+as if he had grown an inch taller, and were as good as six years
+old, as he walked away with the half sovereign squeezed into his
+hot little palm.</p>
+<p>The toy-shop was at the end of the street, and in they went;
+Johnnie to try all the whistles in the handles of the whips, and
+be much disgusted that all that had a real sound lash cost a
+shilling; David to open and shut the sixpenny knives with the
+gravity of a judge examining their blades; and Annie to gape
+about, and ask the price of everything, after the tiresome
+fashion of people, old or young, when they come out bent on
+spending, but without any aim or object.&nbsp; However, Annie was
+kind, if she were silly, and she was very fond of Johnnie; so it
+ended, after a little whispering, in her sixpence being added to
+his, to buy a real good whip, such as would crack, and not come
+to pieces.</p>
+<p>Just then, what should the children espy, but a nice firm deal
+box, containing a little saw, a little plane, a hammer, a gimlet,
+a chisel, and sundry different sizes of nails.&nbsp; Was there
+ever anything so delightful, especially to David, who loved
+nothing so well as running after George Bowles the carpenter, and
+handling his tools.&nbsp; What was the price of them?</p>
+<p>Just ten shillings and sixpence.&nbsp; They were very cheap,
+the woman of the toy-shop said.&nbsp; They had been ordered by an
+old lady at her grandson&rsquo;s entreaty; but afterwards a
+misgiving had seized her that the young gentleman would cut his
+fingers, and she would not take them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fosbrook,&rdquo; whispered David, &ldquo;may I
+give back the knife? then I could buy it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have bought and paid for it,&rdquo; said
+Christabel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Somebody else will buy the box,&rdquo; said David
+wistfully.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook, within herself, thought this unlikely, for
+nobody went to Bonchamp for costly shopping; and she saw that the
+woman would gladly have had the knife back, if she could have
+sold the tool-box, which, even at this reduced price, was much
+too dear for the little boys who frequented the shop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come away now, my dear,&rdquo; she said
+decidedly.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, another time, thank you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David was as nearly crying as ever he was, as he was forced to
+follow her out of the shop.&nbsp; Those tools were so charming;
+his fingers tingled to be hammering, sawing, boring holes.&nbsp;
+Had he lost the chance for that poor blunt knife?&nbsp; Must he
+wait a whole fortnight for another sixpence, and find the
+delicious tool-chest gone?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Davie, I am very sorry,&rdquo; said Christabel
+when they were in the street.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That nasty knife!&rdquo; cried David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not the knife, Davie,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;but
+that I want to think&mdash;I want you to think&mdash;why these
+ten shillings must have been sent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because we lost the money for the pig,&rdquo; said
+David.&nbsp; &ldquo;But Kattern Hill fair is over, and I
+don&rsquo;t want a pig now; I do want the gimlet to make
+holes&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, David; but you know what was saved for the pig
+came from all of you; you would have had no right to spend it on
+anything else, unless they all had consented.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is my very own,&rdquo; said David; &ldquo;it was
+sent to me&mdash;myself&mdash;me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it seems now; but just suppose you were to have a
+letter to say that someone&mdash;poor Hal himself,
+perhaps&mdash;or Papa&mdash;had sent ten shillings to make up the
+money for the pig, and directed it to you because you cared so
+much, would it not be a shame to have spent the money upon
+yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then they should not have sent it without
+saying,&rdquo; said David.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook thought the same, when she saw how hard the
+trial was to the little boy; but she hoped she was taking the
+kindest course, as she said, &ldquo;Now, David, in nine days
+time, if you are good, you will have had another sixpence.&nbsp;
+I see no chance of the tools being sold; or if they are, I could
+send for such a box from London.&nbsp; By that time, perhaps,
+something will have happened to show who sent the money, and
+why.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if it is all for myself, I may have the
+tools!&rdquo; cried David.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shall have them, if you really think it is right,
+when Monday week comes.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Ideas</span> were slow in both entering or
+dying out of David&rsquo;s mind; but while there they reigned
+supreme.&nbsp; Carpentry had come in as the pig had gone out, and
+with the more force, because a new window was being put into
+Mamma&rsquo;s room; and George Bowles was there, with all his
+delightful tools, letting the little boys amuse themselves
+therewith, till they had hardly three sound fingers between them;
+and Nurse Freeman, when she dressed their wounds, could not think
+what was the use of a lady if she could not keep the children
+from hurting themselves; but Miss Fosbrook thought that it was
+better that boys should get a few cuts and bruises than that they
+should be timid and unhandy.</p>
+<p>One evening, all the party walked to carry to Hannah
+Higgins&rsquo;s little girl a pinafore that Annie had been
+making.&nbsp; She was a nice, tidy woman, but there was little
+furniture in her house, and she looked very poor.&nbsp; The
+garden was large, and in pretty good order; and there was an
+empty pig-sty, into which Annie peeped significantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Miss Annie, we haven&rsquo;t no pig,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Higgins.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ben says, says he, &lsquo;Mother, when
+I&rsquo;m taken on for carter boy, see if I don&rsquo;t get you a
+nice little pig, as will eat the garden stuff, and pay the
+rent.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but&mdash;&rdquo; began Annie, and there she came
+to a sudden stop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he likely soon to be a carter boy?&rdquo; asked Miss
+Fosbrook.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Ma&rsquo;am; he is but ten years old, and they
+don&rsquo;t often take them on under twelve; but he is a good boy
+to his mother, and a terrible one for leasing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was obliged to have it explained to her that
+&ldquo;leasing&rdquo; meant gleaning; and she saw the grand pile
+of small neat bundles of wheat put out to dry on the sunny side
+of the house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O Davie!&rdquo; cried Annie, as soon as they were
+outside the gate, &ldquo;sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t we get the pig for
+Hannah?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is my money, not yours; I shall do what I please
+with it,&rdquo; said David, rather crossly.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook pulled Annie back, and desired her to let David
+alone; herself wondering what would be the effect of what he had
+seen.</p>
+<p>He had been eager to do good to Hannah when no desire of his
+own stood in the way; but a formed wish had arisen in his mind,
+and he loved himself better than Hannah.&nbsp; Christabel dreaded
+the clearing-up of the secret of the post-office order, lest he
+should be proved to love himself more than right and justice.</p>
+<p>There were not many letters from the absent pair of sisters;
+they seemed to be much too busy and happy to write, and appeared
+to be &ldquo;seeing everything,&rdquo; and to be only just able
+to put down the names of the wonders.&nbsp; The chief of all,
+however, was that kind Mrs. Penrose had actually taken them to
+Portsmouth for a couple of nights, to see the <i>Ramilies</i>, in
+which she was going to remain till it sailed.&nbsp; They had sat
+in the Admiral&rsquo;s cabin, and had slept upon &ldquo;dear
+little sofas,&rdquo; where they wished they always slept; they
+had been in Papa&rsquo;s cabin, which was half filled up with a
+great gun, that can only be fired out at the window (scratched
+out, and &ldquo;port-hole&rdquo; put in.)</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, how delightful!&nbsp; I wish I had a big gun in my
+room!&rdquo; cried Johnnie.</p>
+<p>And they had seen Sam&rsquo;s chest; and Sam did look so nice
+in his uniform; and he had dined with them every day.&nbsp; They
+had dined late, with the grown-up people; and the Admiral was so
+kind, only rather funny.</p>
+<p>Annie wished she were as old as Bessie, as much as John wished
+to have a gun filling up his whole bed-room.</p>
+<p>The next day, their Papa had taken them into the country to
+see Lady Seabury, Bessie&rsquo;s godmother, a very old lady
+indeed, older than Grandmamma, and who could not move out of her
+chair.&nbsp; &ldquo;She gave me&mdash;&rdquo; wrote Bessie.&nbsp;
+There again something had been scratched out, and &ldquo;a
+kiss&rdquo; written overhead.</p>
+<p>That something was quite a long word, but it had been very
+completely blotted out; not like the &ldquo;window,&rdquo; which
+had only a couple of cross bars, through which it could be
+plainly read; but there had plainly been first an attempt at
+smearing it out with the finger, and that not succeeding, an
+immense shiny black mess, like the black shade of a chafer grub,
+had been put down on it, and had come off on the opposite side of
+the sheet.</p>
+<p>What could the word be?&nbsp; Annie and David were both sure
+they could read the lines through all the blot.&nbsp; The first
+letter was certainly S.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Miss Fosbrook, &ldquo;do you think it
+is quite honourable to try to read what Bessie did not mean us to
+see?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They did not quite enter into this, but they left off
+trying.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma had been out in the carriage several times; and
+they were all coming home on Saturday week&rdquo;&mdash;that was
+the best news of all&mdash;&ldquo;and then we have a secret too
+for Miss Fosbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David said he was tired of secrets, and would not guess.&nbsp;
+Annie guessed a great deal; but Miss Fosbrook thought more about
+the word she would not try to read.&nbsp; She began to have a
+strong suspicion from whom the post-office order had come, and
+was the more uneasy about the spending of David&rsquo;s half
+sovereign; but she durst say nothing, for she knew it could do no
+good if he felt himself compelled against his own will; and she
+saw that he was full of thought.</p>
+<p>One day the lawn had been mown, and the children where all
+very busy wheeling their little barrows, and loading them with
+the short grass; David was with them at first, but when Purday
+left off work, he marched after the old man in his grave
+deliberate way, and was seen no more till nearly tea-time, when
+he walked into the school-room with a very set look upon his
+solemn face, and sat himself down cross-legged on the locker,
+with a sigh that seemed to come out of the very depths of his
+heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter, David?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made no answer, and Miss Fosbrook let him alone; but Annie
+presently bounced in, crying out, &ldquo;Davie, Davie! where were
+you? we have been hunting for you everywhere!&nbsp; Where did you
+go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I went with Purday.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What, to milk the cows?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I went with him to Farmer Long&rsquo;s, to see his
+little Chinese pigs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you have bought one!&nbsp; O Davie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Purday is to ask the farmer about the price to-morrow
+morning, because he wasn&rsquo;t at home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you won&rsquo;t get the carpenter&rsquo;s
+tools?&rdquo; said Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said David; &ldquo;Purday said tools that
+they make for little boys never will cut.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you told Purday all about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>David nodded his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, do tell me what Purday said!&rdquo; continued
+Annie.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing to you,&rdquo; said David
+bluntly.&nbsp; But by and by, when John came in, and a few more
+questions were asked, David let out that Purday had said,
+&ldquo;Well, he thought sure enough if the money was sent to
+Master David for that intent, he did not ought to spend it no
+other ways; and whether or not, Hannah Higgins was a deserving
+woman; and Master Davie didn&rsquo;t know what it was like never
+to have a bit of bacon ne&rsquo;er a Sunday in the winter.&nbsp;
+He couldn&rsquo;t say but it was hard that those poor folks
+should get nothing but bread and cabbages from week&rsquo;s end
+to week&rsquo;s end, just that Master Davie might spoil bits of
+deal board with making chips of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And when David was sure he shouldn&rsquo;t spoil his wood,
+Purday had told him that them toy-shop young gentleman&rsquo;s
+tools were made to sell, and not made to cut.&nbsp; Best save up
+his money, and buy one real man&rsquo;s tool after another; and
+then he&rsquo;d get a set equal to George Bowles&rsquo;s in
+time!</p>
+<p>Though so young, David was long-sighted and patient enough to
+see the sense of this, and had already made up his mind that he
+would begin with a gimlet.&nbsp; And though he did not say so,
+and the first resolution had cost a very tough struggle, his
+heart seemed to have freed itself in that one great sigh, and he
+was at peace with himself.</p>
+<p>Miss Fosbrook was very glad he had gone to so wise and good an
+adviser as Purday, and was almost as happy as David
+himself.&nbsp; She gave him and John leave to go with Purday the
+next day to bargain for the pig, as David was very anxious for
+one in especial, whose face he said was so jolly fat; and it was
+grand to see the two little boys consequentially walking on
+either aide of Purday, who had put on his whitest round frock for
+the great occasion.</p>
+<p>Farmer Long was at home; he came out and did the honours of
+his ten little pigs; and when he found which was David&rsquo;s
+favourite, he declared that it was the best of the lot, and
+laughed till David blushed, at the young gentleman&rsquo;s having
+got such an eye for a pig.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was a regular little
+Trudgeon,&rdquo; said Purday, (meaning perhaps a Trojan;) and it
+was worth at least twelve shillings, but the farmer in his
+good-nature declared that little Master should have it for the
+ten, as it was for a present.&nbsp; Hannah&rsquo;s boy was
+working for him, and was a right good lad, and he would give him
+some straw for the pig&rsquo;s bed when he went home at
+night.&nbsp; Then he took the two boys into the parlour, and
+while Purday had a glass of beer in the kitchen, Mrs. Long gave
+each of them a big slice of plum-cake, and wanted very much to
+have given them some wine, but that they knew they must not have;
+and she inquired after their Mamma and Papa, and made them so
+much of visitors, that David was terribly shy, and very glad when
+it was over, though John liked it, and talked fast.</p>
+<p>As to the giving the pig, that was a serious business; and
+David felt hot and shy, and wanted to get it over as soon as
+possible without a fuss.</p>
+<p>So he bolted into Mrs. Higgins&rsquo;s cottage, put his hands
+behind his back, and spoke thus:&mdash;&ldquo;Please, Mrs.
+Higgins, put your pig-sty in order!&nbsp; We&rsquo;ve all done
+it&mdash;at least they all wanted to&mdash;and a green order came
+down in a letter&mdash;and we&rsquo;ve bought the pig, and Ben
+will drive it home when he comes from work!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And then, as if he had been in a great fright, he ran away;
+while Johnnie stayed, and, when Hannah understood, received so
+many curtsies, and listened to so much pleasure, that he could
+hardly think of anything else, and felt very glad that
+<i>some</i> pence of his had been in Toby Fillpot.</p>
+<p>Annie said that it was not fair that she had not been at the
+giving the pig; and Miss Fosbrook was a little disappointed too;
+but then it was much better that David should not want to make a
+display, so she would not complain, and comforted Annie by
+putting her in mind that they could go and see the little pig in
+his new quarters.</p>
+<p>A few days more, and the carriage was driving up to the door
+with dear Mamma in it, and&mdash;why, there were three little
+girls, not two!&nbsp; One look, and the colour came into
+Christabel&rsquo;s face.&nbsp; It was her youngest little sister,
+Dora, who sat beside Bessie!&nbsp; Mrs. Merrifield had gone to
+see Mrs. Fosbrook, and ask if she could take anything for her to
+her daughter; and she had been so much shocked at the sight of
+the little pale London faces, that she had begged leave to take
+home one of the children to spend a month with her sister at
+Stokesley, since Miss Fosbrook could not be spared to go home at
+present.&nbsp; Was not that a secret for Christabel?&nbsp; How
+these two sisters did hug each other!</p>
+<p>But the Stokesley secrets have lasted long enough; and there
+is no time to tell of the happy days of Dora&rsquo;s visit, and
+the good care that Johnnie took of her whenever she went out, and
+of her pretty quiet ways that made Bessie take her for her
+dearest of friends.&nbsp; And still less can be told of the
+smooth, peaceful, free spirit that seemed to have come home with
+Mamma, even though she was still able to do little among the
+children, for the very having her in the house appeared to keep
+things from going wrong.</p>
+<p>One thing must be told, however, and that is, that when Annie
+told all the wonderful story of the post-office order and the
+Chinese pig, Bessie grew redder and redder in the face, and Susan
+squeezed both her hands tight together, and said &ldquo;May I
+tell, Bessie!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKESLEY SECRET***</p>
+<pre>
+
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+
+
+
+This etext was produced from the 1902 Macmillan and Co. edition by
+David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STOKESLEY SECRET
+
+by Charlotte M. Yonge
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+"How can a pig pay the rent?"
+
+The question seemed to have been long under consideration, to judge
+by the manner in which it came out of the pouting lips of that sturdy
+young five-year-old gentleman, David Merrifield, as he sat on a volume
+of the great Latin Dictionary to raise him to a level with the tea-table.
+
+Long, however, as it had been considered, it was unheeded on account
+of one more interesting to the general public assembled round the table.
+
+"I say!" hallooed out a tall lad of twelve holding aloft a slice
+taken from the dish in the centre of the table, "I say! what do you
+call this, Mary?"
+
+"Bread and butter, Master Sam," replied rather pettishly the maid who
+had brought in the big black kettle.
+
+"Bread and butter!  I call it bread and scrape!" solemnly said Sam.
+
+"It only has butter in the little holes of it, not at the top, Miss
+Fosbrook," said, in an odd pleading kind of tone, a stout good-
+humoured girl of thirteen, with face, hair, and all, a good deal like
+a nice comfortable apricot in a sunny place, or a good respectable
+Alderney cow.
+
+"I think it would be better not to grumble, Susan, my dear," replied,
+in a low voice, a pleasant dark-eyed young lady who was making tea;
+but the boys at the bottom of the table neither heard nor heeded.
+
+"Mary, Mary, quite contrary," was Sam's cry, in so funny a voice,
+that Miss Fosbrook could only laugh; "is this bread and scrape the
+fare for a rising young family of genteel birth?"
+
+"Oh!" with a pathetic grimace, cried the pretty-faced though sandy-
+haired Henry, the next to him in age, "if our beloved parents knew
+how their poor deserted infants are treated--"
+
+"A fine large infant you are, Hal!" exclaimed Susan.
+
+"I'm an infant, you're an infant, Miss Fosbrook is an infant--a
+babby."
+
+"For shame, Hal!" cried the more civilized Sam, clenching his fist.
+
+"No, no, Sam," interposed Miss Fosbrook, laughing, "your brother is
+quite right; I am as much an infant in the eye of the law as little
+George."
+
+"There, I said I would!" cried Henry; "didn't I, Sam?"
+
+"Didn't you what?" asked Susan, not in the most elegant English.
+
+"Why, Martin Greville twitted us with having a girl for a governess,"
+said Henry; "he said it was a shame we should be taken in to think
+her grown up, when she was not twenty; and I said I would find out,
+and now I have done it!" he cried triumphantly.
+
+"Everybody is quite welcome to know my age," said Miss Fosbrook, the
+colour rising in her cheek.  "I was nineteen on the last of April;
+but I had rather you had asked me point blank, Henry, than tried to
+find out in a sidelong way."
+
+Henry looked a little surly; and Elizabeth, a nice-looking girl, who
+sat next to him and was nearest in age, said, "Oh! but that would
+have been so rude, Miss Fosbrook."
+
+"Rude, but honest," said Miss Fosbrook; and Susan's honest eyes
+twinkled, as much as to say, "I like that;" but she said, "I don't
+believe Hal meant it."
+
+"I don't care!" said Sam.  "Come, Mary, this plate is done--more
+bread and butter; d'ye hear? not bread and gammon!" and he began the
+chant, in which six voices joined till it became a roar, pursuing
+Mary down to the lower regions:-
+
+
+"Thick butter and thin bread,
+Or it shall be thrown at Mary's head;
+Thick bread and thin butter,
+Is only fit for the ducks in the gutter."
+
+
+Elizabeth looked appealingly at Miss Fosbrook; but Miss Fosbrook was
+leaning back in her chair, her handkerchief up to her mouth, in fits
+of laughing, seeing which, the children bawled louder and louder; and
+Elizabeth only abstained from stopping her ears because she knew that
+was the sure way to be held fast, and have it bellowed into them.
+
+Little Annie blundered in her eagerness upon
+
+
+"Thick bread and thin butter,"
+
+
+whereupon there was a general outcry.  "Nanny likes thick bread and
+thin butter, let her have it!" and Sam, Henry, and Johnnie directed a
+whole battery of their remaining crusts towards her cup, which would
+presently have been upset into her lap but for Miss Fosbrook, who
+recovered herself, and said gravely, "This must not be, Sam; I shall
+send you away from the table if you do."
+
+Sam wanted to see whether she would, and threw the crust.
+
+"Sam," she said very decidedly, though there was a quiver in her
+voice, as if she were frightened.
+
+Sam looked up, and did not move.
+
+"Oh, Miss Fosbrook!" cried Susan, "we were all just as bad.  Don't
+punish Sam!"
+
+"It is time that Sam should show that he has the feelings of a manly
+boy," said Miss Fosbrook, looking full at him.  "He knows that I must
+keep my word, and that I have no strength to fight with him.--Sam, go
+and finish your tea on the window-seat."
+
+Her clear brown eyes looked full at him as she spoke, and all the
+young population watched to see what he would do.  He hesitated a
+moment, then took up his cup and plate, and sat down in the window-
+seat.
+
+Miss Fosbrook breathed freely, and she had almost said, "Thank you,
+Sam," but she did not think this was the time; and collecting
+herself, she said, "Fun is all very well, and I hope we shall have
+plenty, but we ought not to let it grow riotous; and I don't think it
+was of a good sort when it was complaining of the food provided for
+us."
+
+The children were all rather subdued by what she said; some felt a
+little cross, and some rather ashamed; and when Mary brought back the
+dish replenished with slices, no one said a word as to whether the
+butter were thick or thin.  The silence seemed to David a favourable
+occasion for renewing the great question, "How does a pig pay the
+rent?"
+
+There was a general giggle, and again Miss Fosbrook was as bad as
+any:  while David, looking affronted, tapped the table with the
+handle of his spoon, and repeated, "I want to know."
+
+"I'll tell you, Davy man," began Henry, first recovering.  "The pig
+is a very sagacious animal, especially in Hampshire, and so he smells
+out wherever the bags of money are sown underground, and digs them up
+with his nose.  Then he swings them on his back, and gives a curl of
+his tail and a wink of his eye, and lays them down just before the
+landlord's feet; and he's so cunning, that not an inch will he budge
+till he's got the receipt, with a stamp upon it, on his snout."
+
+"No; now is that a true story?" cried little Annie, who was the only
+person except David grave enough to speak; while Sam, exploding in
+the window, called out, "Why, don't you know that's why pigs have
+rings in their noses?"
+
+
+"There was a lady loved a swine;
+   'Honey,' says she,
+I'll give you a silver trough.'
+   'Hunks!' says he,"
+
+
+continued Hal; "that shows his disinterestedness.  Oh, werry
+sagacious haminals is pigs!"
+
+"For shame, Hal," cried Elizabeth, "to confuse the children with such
+nonsense."
+
+"Why, don't you think I know how the rent is paid?  I've seen Papa on
+rent-day hundreds of times."
+
+"But the pigs, Hal; did you ever see the pigs?"
+
+"Thousands of times."
+
+"Bringing bags of gold?  O Hal!  Hal!"
+
+"I want to know," continued David, who had been digesting the
+startling fact, "how the pig swings the bag on his back? I don't
+think ours could do it."
+
+"It's a sort made on purpose," said Hal.
+
+"Made on purpose by Mr. Henry Merrifield," said Susan, at last able
+to speak.  "Don't believe one word, David dear; Hal is laughing at
+you."
+
+"But how does a pig do it?" asked David, returning to the charge.
+
+"Why do you want to know, my dear?" asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Mary's sister said so."
+
+"I know," exclaimed Susan; "Davy went out with the nursery children
+to-day, and they went to see Mary's sister.  Her husband is drowned
+because he was a sailor; and the Mermaid went to South America; and
+there are five little tiny children."
+
+"Of the mermaid's?" cried Harry.
+
+"No, no; the Mermaid was the ship, and it was wrecked, and they have
+noticing to live upon; and she takes in washing, and is such a nice
+woman.  Mamma said we might take them our old winter frocks, and so
+David went there."
+
+"And she said if she had a pig to pay the rent she should be quite
+happy," said David.  "How could he?"
+
+"I suppose," said Miss Fosbrook, "the pig would live on her garden-
+stuff, her cabbage-leaves and potato-skins; and that when he was fat
+she would sell him, and pay the rent with the money.  Am I right,
+Sam? you know I am a Cockney."
+
+"You could not be more right if you were a Hampshire beg," said Sam.
+"Jack Higgins was her husband's name, and a famous fellow he was; he
+once rigged a little boat for me."
+
+"And he sailed with Papa once, long ago," added Susan; to which Sam
+rejoined,
+
+"More fool he to go into the merchant service and get drowned, with
+nothing for his widow to live upon."
+
+"I say," cried Hal, "why shouldn't we give her a pig?"
+
+"Oh, do!" earnestly exclaimed David.
+
+"I'll catch one," broke from John and Annie at once; "such lots as
+there are in the yard!"
+
+"You would catch it, I believe," said Sam disdainfully; while Susan
+explained,
+
+"No; those are Papa's pigs.  Purday would not let you give them
+away."
+
+"Of course," said Henry, "that was only those little geese.  I meant
+to make a subscription among ourselves, and give her the pig; and
+won't she be surprised!"
+
+"Oh! yes, yes," shouted the children; "let's do it all ourselves!"
+
+"I've got one-and-threepence, and sixpence next Saturday," cried Hal.
+
+"And I've eightpence," quoth Annie.
+
+"And I've a whole shilling," said David.
+
+"I've fourpence," said Johnnie.
+
+"I've not much, I'm afraid," said Susan, feeling in her pocket, with
+rather black looks.
+
+"Oh!" said Sam, "everybody knows simple Sukey never has a farthing in
+her pocket by any chance!"
+
+"Yes, but I have, Sam;" and with an air of great triumph, Susan held
+up three-halfpence, whereat all the party screamed with laughter.
+
+"Well, but Bessie always has lots!  She's as rich as a little Jew.
+Come, Bet, Elizabeth, Elspeth, Betsy, and Bess, what will you give?--
+what have you got?"--and one hand came on her shoulder, and another
+on her arm but she shook herself free, and answered rather crossly,
+
+"Don't--I can't--I've got something else to do with my money."
+
+"Oh! you little stingy avaricious crab!" was the outcry beginning;
+but Miss Fosbrook stopped it before Elizabeth had time to make the
+angry answer that was rising on her lips.
+
+"No, my dears, you must not tease her.  Each of you has a full right
+to use your own money as you may think best; and it is not right to
+force gifts in this manner."
+
+"She's a little affected pussy-cat," said Hal, much annoyed; "I know
+what she wants it for--to buy herself a ridiculous parasol like Ida
+Greville, when she would see poor Hannah Higgins starving at her
+feet."
+
+Elizabeth bit her lip, and tossed up her head; the tears were in her
+eyes, but she made no answer.
+
+"Come, never mind," said Sam; "she's as obstinate as a male when she
+gets a thing into her head.  Let's see what we've got without her.
+I've only sevenpence:  worse luck that I bought ball of string
+yesterday."
+
+The addition amounted to three shillings and elevenpence halfpenny:
+a sum which looked so mighty when spread out, chiefly in coppers, on
+the window-seat, that Annie and David looked on it as capable of
+buying any amount of swine; but Sam looked rather blank at it, and
+gazing up and down, said, "But what does a pig cost?"
+
+"Miss Fosbrook, what does a pig cost?"
+
+Miss Fosbrook shook her head and laughed, saying that she knew much
+less of pigs than they did; and Susan exclaiming, "There's Purday in
+the court," they all tumbled to the window, one upon the top of the
+other.
+
+The window was a large heavily-framed sash, with a deep window-seat,
+and a narrow ledge within the sill--as if made on purpose, the first
+for the knees the second for the elbows of the gazers therefrom.
+
+As to the view, it was into a walled kitchen court, some high
+chestnut and lime trees just looking over the grey roofs of the
+offices.  On the ground lay a big black Newfoundland dog, and a
+couple of graceful greyhounds, one of them gnawing a bone, cunningly
+watched by a keen-looking raven, with his head on one side; while
+peeping out from the bars of the bottle-rack was the demure face of
+the sandy cat, on the watch for either bones or sparrows.
+
+A stout, stumpy, shrewd-looking labourer, in a short round frock,
+high buskins, an old wide-awake, short curly hair, and a very large
+nose, stood in front of the dairy door, mixing a mess of warm milk
+for the young calves.
+
+"Purday!  Master Purday!" roared nearly the whole young population
+above; but he was so intent on his mixture, that he went on as if he
+were deaf, till a second explosion of "Purday!  Purday!  I say!" made
+him turn up his face in an odd half-awake kind of manner.
+
+"Purday, what's the price of a pig?" and, "What does a pig cost,
+Purday?"
+
+"What d'ye all holler at once for?  A body can't hear a word," was
+all the answer they got; whereupon they all started together again,
+and Purday went on with his mixture as if they had been so many hens
+cackling.
+
+Then Sam got up his breath again and called alone, "Purday!" and Hal
+and Susan by pats and pinches strangled the like outcry from Annie
+and John, so as to leave the field clear for the great question,
+"Purday, what does a pig cost?"
+
+"More than your voices up there, sir," growled Purday, making some
+laugh; but Henry cried impatiently,
+
+"Now, Purday, we really do want to know what is the price of pigs."
+
+"They was high last market," began Purday.
+
+"I don't care if they were high or low," said Hal; "I want to know
+what money they cost."
+
+"Different pigs cost different prices," quoth the oracle, so
+sententiously, that Miss Fosbrook's shoulders shook with laughing as
+she stood a little in the background of the eager heap in the window.
+
+"A nice little pig, such as you'd give--"
+
+"Hush, hush, Hal, it's a secret," cried Susan.
+
+"A pretty sort of secret--known to eight already, and bawled out all
+over the yard," said Sam.
+
+"But don't tell him what it's for; you can ask him without that."
+
+"A nice little young pig," said Sam, "such as you'd keep all the
+summer, and fat in the winter."
+
+"Mind, it ain't for you, Purday," cried Hal.
+
+"Never fear my being disappointed, sir," said the free-spoken Purday,
+with a twinkle of his eye, which Hal understood so well that he burst
+out,
+
+"Ah! you think I can never do what I say I will; but you'll see,
+Purday, if we don't give a pig to--"
+
+He was screamed at, and pulled into order and silence, ere the words,
+"Hannah Higgins" had quite come out; and Sam repeated his question.
+
+"Well," said Purday at last, "if pigs was reasonable, you might get a
+nice little one to fat, at Kattern Hill fair, somewhere about ten
+shillings, or maybe twelve--sometimes more, sometimes less."
+
+"Ten shillings!"  The community stood round and looked at one another
+at the notion of such an awful sum; but Hal was the first to cast a
+ray of hope on the gloom.  "Kattern Hill fair ain't till Midsummer,
+and perhaps Grandmamma will send us some money before that.  If
+anybody's birthday was but coming!"
+
+"Better save it out of our allowance," said Sam.  "How long is it to
+the fair?"
+
+Miss Fosbrook's pocket-book declared it to be four weeks.
+
+"Well, then," said Hal, "we three big ones have sixpence a week each,
+that's six shillings, leaving out stingy Bess, and the little ones
+threepence, that's three times three is nine, and three times nine is
+thirty-six, that's three shillings, and six is nine, and very near
+four is fourteen.  We shall do the pig yet."
+
+"Yes, Hal; but if pigs are reasonable, I am afraid three times nine
+never yet were so much so as to make thirty-six," objected Miss
+Fosbrook.
+
+Sam whistled.
+
+"Twenty-seven--that's three and twopence--it's all the same," said
+Hal; then at the scream of the rest, "at least two and threepence.
+Well, any way there's plenty for piggy-wiggy, and it shall be a jolly
+secret to delight Hannah Higgins, and surprise Papa and Mamma:
+hurrah!"
+
+"Yes," said Sam; "but then nobody must have any fines."
+
+"Ay, and Sue must keep her money.  That will be a wonder!" shouted
+Harry.
+
+"Well, I'll try," said Susan.  "I'll try not to have a single fine,
+and I'll not buy a single lump of sugar-candy, for I do want poor
+Hannah to have her pig."
+
+"And so will we!" cried the younger ones with one voice.
+
+"Only," added Susan, "I must buy Dicky's canary seed."
+
+"And I must have a queen's head to write to Mamma," said Annie.
+
+"Oh! never mind that, such trumpery as your letters are," said Hal.
+"Mamma could say them by heart before she gets them.  What does she
+care for them?"
+
+Little Annie looked very deplorable.
+
+"Never mind, my dear," said Miss Fosbrook, "mammas always care for
+little girls' letters, and you are quite right to keep a penny for
+your stamp for her.--You see, Hal, this scheme will never come to
+good if you sacrifice other duties to it."
+
+Henry twirled round impatiently.
+
+"Now suppose," said Miss Fosbrook, "that we set up a treasury, and
+put all in that we can properly afford, and then break it open on the
+day before the fair, and see how much we have."
+
+"Oh! yes, yes," cried the children in raptures.
+
+"Will you help, Miss Fosbrook?" said Susan, clasping her hands.
+
+"I should like to do a very little, if you will take this silver
+threepenny; but I do not think it would be right for me to spare one
+penny more, for all I can afford is very much wanted at home."
+
+"What shall we have for treasury?" said Hal, looking round.
+
+"I know!" cried Susan.  "Here, in the baby-house; here's the Toby,
+let's put it inside him."
+
+The so-called baby-house was an old-fashioned cupboard with glass
+doors, where certain tender dolls, and other curiosities, playthings
+too frail to be played with and the like, were ranged in good order,
+and never taken out except when some one child was unwell, and had to
+stay in-doors alone.
+
+Toby Fillpot was a present from Nurse Freeman.  It was a large mug,
+representing a man with a red coat, black hat, and white waistcoat,
+very short legs, and top-boots.  The opening of the cup was at the
+top of his head, and into this was dropped all the silver and pence
+at present mustered, and computed to be about four shillings.
+
+"And, Miss Fosbrook, you'll not be cross about fines?" said Johnnie,
+looking coaxing.
+
+"I hope I shall not be cross," she answered; "but I do not engage to
+let you off any.  I think having so good a use to put your money to
+should make you more careful against forfeiting it."
+
+"Yes," said Johnnie disconsolately.
+
+"Well, I never get fined," cried Hal joyfully.
+
+"Except for running up stairs in dirty shoes," said Sam.
+
+"Oh! there's no dirt now."
+
+"Let me see, what are the fines?" said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Here's the list," said Susan; and sighing, she said, "I'm afraid I
+shall never do it!  If Bessie only would help!"
+
+The fines of the Stokesley schoolroom were these for delinquencies--
+each value a farthing -
+
+
+For being dressed later than eight o'clock.
+For hair not properly brushed.
+For coming to lessons later than five minutes after ten.
+For dirty hands.
+For being turned back twice with any lesson.
+For elbows on the table.
+For foolish crying.
+For unnecessary words in lesson-time.
+For running up stairs in wet shoes.
+For leaving things about.
+
+
+Each of these bits of misbehaviour caused the forfeit of a farthing
+out of the weekly allowance.  Susan looked very gloomy over them; but
+Hal exclaimed, "Never mind, Susie; we'll do it all without you, never
+fear!"
+
+"And now," said Sam, "I vote we have some fun in the garden."
+
+Some readers may be disposed to doubt, after this specimen, whether
+the young Merrifields could be really young ladies and gentlemen; but
+indeed their birth might make them so; for there had been Squire
+Merrifields at Stokesley as long as Stokesley had been a parish, and
+those qualities of honour and good breeding that mark the gentleman
+had not been wanting to the elder members of the family.  The father
+of these children was a captain in the navy, and till within the last
+six years the children had lived near Plymouth; but when he inherited
+the estate they came thither, and David and the two little ones had
+been born at Stokesley.  The property was not large; and as Captain
+Merrifield was far from rich, it took much management to give all
+this tribe of boys and girls a good education, as well as plenty of
+bread and butter, mutton, and apple-pudding.  There was very little
+money left to be spent upon ornament, or upon pleasuring; so they
+were brought up to the most homely dress suited to their station, and
+were left entirely to the country enjoyments that spring up of
+themselves.  Company was seldom seen, for Papa and Mamma had little
+time or means for visiting; and a few morning calls and a little
+dining out was all they did; which tended to make the young ones more
+shy and homely, more free and rude, more inclined to love their own
+ways and despise those of other people, than if they had seen more of
+the world.  They were a happy, healthy set of children, not faulty in
+essentials, but, it must be confessed, a little wild, rough and
+uncivil, in spite of the code of fines.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+
+Mrs. Merrifield had taught her children herself, till Samuel and
+Henry began going to the Curate for a couple of hours every day, to
+be prepared for school.  Lessons were always rather a scramble; so
+many people coming to speak to her, and so many interruptions from
+the nursery; and then came a time when Mamma always was tired, and
+Papa used to come out and scold if the noises grew very loud indeed,
+and was vexed if the children gave Mamma any trouble of any kind.
+Next they were told they were to have a governess--a sort of piece of
+finery which the little savages had always despised--and thereupon
+came Miss Fosbrook; but before she had been a week in the house Mamma
+was quite ill and in her bed-room, and Papa looked graver than he had
+ever done before; and Mr. Braddon, the doctor, came very often:  and
+at last Susan was called into Mamma's room, and it was explained to
+her that Mamma was thought so ill, that she must go to be under a
+London doctor, and would be away, she could not tell how long; so
+that meantime the children must all be left to Miss Fosbrook, with
+many many injunctions to be good and obedient, for hearing that they
+were going on well would be poor Mamma's only comfort.
+
+It was three days since Captain and Mrs. Merrifield had gone; and
+Miss Fosbrook stood at the window, gazing at the bright young green
+of the horse-chestnut trees, and thinking many various thoughts in
+the lull that the children had left when they rushed out of doors.
+
+She thought herself quite alone, and stood, sometimes smiling over
+the odd ways of her charges, and at what they put her in mind of,
+sometimes gravely thinking whether she had said or done the wisest
+things for them, or what their mother would have most approved.  She
+was just going to move away from the window, when she saw a little
+figure curled up on the floor, with her head on the window-seat.
+"Bessie, my dear, what are you doing here?  Why are not you gone
+out?"
+
+"I don't want to go out."
+
+"I thought they were to have a great game at whoop-hide."
+
+"I don't like whoop-hide.  Johnnie pulls the clothes off my back."
+
+"My dear, I hope you are not staying in because they called you those
+foolish names.  It was all in good humour."
+
+"It was not kind," said Elizabeth, her throat swelling.  "It was not
+true."
+
+"Perhaps not; but you did not speak to give your reasons; and who
+could tell how good they might be?"
+
+"I've a right to my secrets as well as they have," said the little
+maiden.
+
+Miss Fosbrook looked kindly at her, and she turned wistful eyes on
+the young governess.
+
+"Miss Fosbrook, will you keep a secret?"
+
+"That I will."
+
+"I want my money to buy some card-board--and some ribbon--and some
+real true paints.  I've got some vermilion, but I want some real good
+blue.  And then I want to make some beautiful bands with ties--like
+what Papa has for his letters--for all Mamma's letters in her desk.
+There's a bundle of Papa's when he was gone out to the Crimean War,
+and that's to have a frigate on it, because of the Calliope--his
+ship, you know; and there's one bundle of dear Aunt Sarah's--that's
+to have a rose, because I always think her memory is like the rose in
+my hymn, you know; and Grandmamma, she's to have--I think perhaps I
+could copy a bit of the tower of Westminster Abbey out of the print,
+because one sees it out of her window; and, oh! I thought of so many
+more, but you see I can't do it without a real good paint-box, and
+that costs three and sixpence.  Now, Miss Fosbrook, is it stingy to
+wish to do that?"
+
+"Not at all, my dear; but you could not expect the others to
+understand what they never were told."
+
+"I'd have said something if they had not called me stingy," said
+Bessie.
+
+"It certainly was rude and hasty; but if we bear such things good-
+naturedly, they become better; and they were very eager about their
+own plan."
+
+"Such a disagreeable thing as a pig!" continued Bessie.  "If it had
+been anything nice, I should not have minded so much."
+
+"Yes; but, my dear, you must remember that the pig will be a more
+useful present than even your pretty contrivances.  You cannot call
+them doing good, as the other will be."
+
+"Then you are like them!  You think I ought to spend all my money on
+a great horrid pig, when Mamma--" and the tears were in the little
+girl's eyes.
+
+"No, indeed, my dear.  I don't think anyone is called on to give
+their all, and it is very nice and quite right for a little girl to
+try to make a pretty present to please her mamma.  There is plenty of
+time before you, and I think you will manage to have some share in
+the very kind action your brothers and sisters are contriving."
+
+Elizabeth had not forgiven, as she should have done, the being called
+stingy; it rankled on her feelings far more than those who said the
+word understood; and she presently went on, "If they knew ever so
+much, they would only laugh at me, and call it all Bessie's nonsense.
+Miss Fosbrook, please, what is affectation?"
+
+"I believe it is pretending to seem what we are not by nature," said
+Miss Fosbrook; "putting on manners or feelings that do not come to us
+of themselves."
+
+"Then I shall tell them they make me affected," exclaimed she.  "If I
+like to be quiet and do things prettily, they teaze me for being
+affected, and I'm forced to be as plain and blunt as their are, and I
+don't like it!  I wish I was grown up.  I wish I was Ida Greville!"
+
+"And why, my dear?"
+
+"Because then things might be pretty," said Elizabeth.  "Everything
+is so plain and ugly, and one gets so tired of it!  Is it silly to
+like things to be pretty?"
+
+"No, far from it; that is, if we do not sacrifice better things to
+prettiness."
+
+Elizabeth looked up with a light in her dark eyes, and said, "Miss
+Fosbrook, I like you!"
+
+Miss Fosbrook was very much pleased, and kissed her.
+
+She paused a moment, and then said, "Miss Fosbrook, may I ask one
+question?  What is your name?  Mamma said it must be Charlotte,
+because you signed your letter Ch. A. Fosbrook, but your little
+sister's letter that you showed us began 'My dear Bell.'  If it is a
+secret, indeed I will keep it."
+
+"It is no secret at all," said Miss Fosbrook, laughing.  "My name is
+Christabel Angela."
+
+Elizabeth opened her eyes, and said it by syllables.  "Christabel
+Angela! that's a prettier name than Ida.  Does it make you very glad
+to have it?"
+
+"I like it for some reasons," said Miss Fosbrook, smiling.
+
+"Oh, tell me!" cried Bessie.  "Mamma always says we should not be a
+bit happier if our names were pretty ones; but I don't know, I feel
+as if one would; only the others like to make things plainer and
+uglier than they are."
+
+"I never could call your name ugly; it is such a dignified, old,
+respectable name."
+
+"Yes; but they call me Betty!"
+
+"And they call me Bell, and sometimes Jelly-bag and Currant-jelly,"
+said Miss Fosbrook, laughing and sighing, for she would have liked to
+have heard those funny names again.
+
+"Then it is no good to you!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
+
+"I don't know that we talk of good in such a matter.  I like my name
+because of the reason it was given to me."
+
+"Oh, why?" eagerly asked the little girl.
+
+"When I was born, my papa was a very young man, and he was very fond
+of reading poetry."
+
+"Why, I thought your papa was a doctor."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"I thought only ladies, and poets, and idle silly people, cared for
+poetry."
+
+"They can hardly be silly if they care rightly for real poetry,
+Bessie," said Miss Fosbrook; "at least, so my papa would say.  It has
+been one of his great helps.  Well, in those days he was very fond of
+a poem about a lady called Christabel, who was so good and sweet,
+that when evil came near, it could not touch her so as to do her any
+harm; and so he gave his little daughter her name."
+
+"How very nice!" cried Elizabeth.
+
+"You must not envy me, my dear, for I have been a good deal laughed
+at for my pretty name, and so has Papa; and I do not think he would
+have chosen anything so fanciful if he had been a little older."
+
+"Then isn't he--what is it you call it--poetical now?"
+
+"Indeed he is, in a good way;" and as the earnest eyes looked so
+warmly at her, Christabel Fosbrook could not help making a friend of
+the little maiden.  "He has very little time to read it; for you know
+he is a parish surgeon in a great parish in London, full of poor
+people, worse off than you can imagine, and often very ill.  He is
+obliged to be always hard at work in the narrow close streets there,
+and to see everything sad, and dismal, and disagreeable, that can be
+found; but, do you know, Bessie, he always looks for the good and
+beautiful side; he looks at one person's patience, and another
+person's kindness, and at some little child's love for its mother or
+sister, that hinders it from being too painful for him."
+
+"But is that poetry?  I thought poetry meant verses."
+
+"Verses are generally the best and most suitable way of expressing
+our feelings about what is good and beautiful; but they are not
+always poetry, any more than the verses they sang to-night about the
+bread and butter, because, you know, wanting thick butter was not
+exactly a beautiful feeling.  I think the denying themselves their
+little indulgences for the sake of giving the poor woman a pig, is
+much more poetical, though nobody said a word in verse."
+
+They both laughed; and Elizabeth said, "That wasn't what you meant
+about your papa.  Susy cares for goodness."
+
+"No, it was not all I meant; but it was seeing high and noble
+thoughts expressed in beautiful verses that gives him pleasure; and
+when he has a little bit of leisure, it is his great treat to open a
+book of that sort, and read a little bit to us, and tell us why we
+like it.  He says it makes him young again, and takes him out of the
+dingy streets, and from all his cares as to how the bills are to be
+paid."
+
+"Did you like coming here?" was Bessie's home question; and Miss
+Fosbrook winked away a little moisture, as she said,
+
+"I was glad to be growing a woman, and to be able to help about some
+of those bills; and then I was glad to come into the beautiful
+country that Papa has so often told us about."
+
+"I did not know there was anything beautiful here."
+
+"O Bessie, you never lived in London!  You can't think how many
+things are beautiful to me here!  I want to be writing about them to
+Papa and Kate all day long."
+
+"Are they?" said Bessie.  "Mamma has pretty things in the drawing-
+room, but she keeps them out of the way; and everything here is so
+dull and stupid!" and the little girl gave a yawn.
+
+Miss Fosbrook understood her.  The wainscoted room in which they were
+sitting had been painted of a uniform creamy brown; the chairs were
+worn; the table was blistered and cracked; the carpet only covered
+the middle of the room, and was so threadbare, that only a little red
+showed here and there.  All that was needful was there, but of the
+plainest kind; and where the other children only felt ease and
+freedom, and were the more contented and happy for the homely good
+sense of all around them, this little girl felt a want that she
+scarcely understood, but which made her uncomfortable and
+discontented, even when she had so much to be thankful for.
+
+Miss Fosbrook moved nearer to the window.  Down below there was
+certainly not much to be seen; only Pierce cleaning the knives in the
+knife-house, and Martha washing out her pans before the dairy-door;
+but that was not where she looked.  She turned the little half-
+fretful face upwards.  "Look there!" she said; "and talk of seeing
+nothing pretty!"
+
+"I see nothing--"
+
+"Do you not see the pale clear green of those noble horse-chestnut
+leaves just sprung into their full summer dress--not in the least
+worn nor stained yet?  And those fine spikes of white blossom, all
+tending up--up--while the masses of those leaves fall so gracefully
+down, as if lifting them up, and then falling back to do them
+honour."  Bessie smiled, and her eye lighted up.  "And see the colour
+against the sky--look at the contrast of that bright light green with
+the blue, so very deep, of the sky--and oh! see that train of little
+clouds, red with soft sunny light, like a little soft flock of rosy
+lambs, if there were such things, lying across the sky. O Bessie! you
+can't talk of wanting the sight of pretty things while you have that
+sky."
+
+Bessie was coming closer to her, when in burst Sam and Johnnie.
+
+"Hello, Bess! moping here, I declare!  I suppose you and Miss
+Fosbrook are telling each other all your secrets."
+
+"I was just coming out," said Miss Fosbrook.  "I want to make out
+something about those noble flowers of the horse-chestnut, and why
+they don't look whiter.  Could you gather one for me, Sam?"
+
+Sam was only too glad of an excuse for climbing a tree, however
+cheaply he might hold one who cared for flowers; and by the time
+Bessie had put on her lilac-spotted sun-bonnet--a shapeless article
+it must be confessed, with a huge curtain serving for a tippet, very
+comfortable, and no trouble at all--he had scrambled into the fork,
+and brought down a beautiful spire of blossoms, with all the grand
+leaves hanging round in their magnificent fans.
+
+"What will you do with it?" said the children, standing round.
+
+"Do you think you could ask Mary to spare us a jug, Susan?  If I
+might put it in water in the schoolroom fireplace, it would look
+fresh and cheerful for Sunday."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Susan, pleased with the commission, "that I will;"
+and away she ran, while Miss Fosbrook examined the spike to her own
+great enjoyment.  "I see," she said, "the flowers are not really
+white, they each have a patch of pink or yellow on them, which gives
+them their softness.  Yes; and do you see, Bessie, they are in
+clusters of three, and each three has one flower with a pink spot,
+and two with a yellow one."
+
+"That is very curious," said Bessie:  the fretfulness was very much
+gone out of her tone, and she stood looking at the beautiful flower,
+without a word, till Susan came back, when she began to show her what
+Miss Fosbrook had pointed out.  Susan smiled with her really good
+nature, and said, "How funny!" but was more intent on telling Miss
+Fosbrook that she had brought the jug, and then on hauling Elizabeth
+away to a game at Tom Tittler's ground.
+
+Miss Fosbrook said she would put away the flower and come back again;
+and she settled the branch in the chimney, where it looked very
+graceful, and really did enliven the room, and then walked out
+towards the lawn.
+
+There was a lawn in front of the house, part of which had been
+formerly levelled for a bowling-green, and was kept clear of shrubs
+or flower-beds.  Beyond was a smooth, rather rapid slope towards a
+quiet river, beyond which there rose again a beautiful green field,
+crowned above by a thick wood, ending at the top in some scraggy
+pine-trees, with scanty dark foliage at the top of their rude russet
+arms.  Fine trees stood out here and there upon the slope of the
+field; and Captain Merrifield's fine sleeked cows were licking each
+other, or chewing the cud, under them.
+
+There was a white Chinese bridge, the rails all zigzags, and patterns
+running this way and that, so that it must have been very ugly and
+glaring before the white paint had faded so much.
+
+The house was a respectable old stone building, rather brown and
+grey, and the stone somewhat disposed to peel off in flakes; the
+windows large sashes, set in great projecting squared stones, the
+tallest and biggest at the top.  It was a house of a very sober
+pleasant countenance, that looked as if it had always been used to
+have a large family in it; and there was a vine, with all its
+beauteous leaves, trained all across the garden front, making a
+pleasant green summer-blind over the higher half of the drawing-room
+windows, that now stood open, telling of the emptiness within.
+
+Christabel stood for a few moments looking round, and thinking what a
+paradise of green rest this would be to her hard-worked father and
+anxious mother; and how she should like to see her little brothers
+and sisters have one free run and roll on that delicious greensward,
+instead of now and then walking to one of the parks as a great
+holiday.  Yet hers was a very happy home, and, except her being
+absent from it, nothing had befallen her to sadden her merry young
+spirits; so when she heard the joyous cry behind her -
+
+
+"I'm on Tommy Tittler's ground,
+Picking up gold and silver,"
+
+
+she turned about, and laughed as she saw the gold-finders stooping
+and clawing at the grass, with eyes cast round about them for Hal,
+who was pursuing Susan in and out, up and down till, with screams of
+exultation, she was safely across the ridge of the bowling-green,
+that served as "home."
+
+When Hal turned back, Miss Fosbrook was as heedfully and warily
+picking up gold and silver as any of the rest of them.  He was
+resolved on capturing her; but first David was such a tempting prize,
+with his back so very near, and so unconscious, that he must be made
+prisoner.  A catch at the brown-holland blouse--a cry--a shout of
+laughter, and Davy is led up behind the standard maiden-blush rose,
+always serving as the prison.  And now the tug of war rages round it,
+he darts here and there within his bounds, holding out his hand to
+any kind deliverer whose touch may set him free; and all the others
+run backwards and forwards, trying to circumvent the watchful jailor,
+Tom Tittler, who, in front of the rose-bush, flies instantly at
+whoever is only coming near his captive.
+
+Ha!  Susan had nearly--all but done it, while Hal was chasing away
+Annie.  No, not she; Hal is back again, and with a shriek away she
+scours.  Sam! oh, he is very near; if that stupid little Davy would
+only look round, he would be free in another moment; but he only
+gapes at the pursuit of Susan, and Sam will touch him without his
+being aware!  No--here's Hal back again.  Sam's off.  What a scamper!
+Now's the time--here's Miss Fosbrook, lighter-footed than any of the
+children, softly stealing on tip-toe, while Hal is scaring Johnnie.
+Her fingers just touch Davy's.  "Freed!  Freed!" is the cry; and off
+goes he, pounding for home! but Hal rushes across the path, he
+intercepts Miss Fosbrook, and, with a shout of triumph--There is the
+sound of a rent.  Everybody stands a little aghast.
+
+"It is only the gathers," says Miss Fosbrook good-humouredly.  "I'll
+tuck them up and sew them in by and by; but really, Hal, you need not
+pull so furiously; I would have yielded to something short of that."
+
+"Gowns are such stuff!" said Hal, really meaning it for an apology,
+though it did not sound like one, for her good-natured face abashed
+him a little.
+
+"Touch and take used to be our rule," said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Bessie eagerly said that would be the best way, the boys were so
+rude; but all the rest with one voice cried out that it would be very
+stupid; and Miss Fosbrook did not press it, but only begged in a
+droll way that some one would take pity on her; and come to release
+her; and so alert was she in skipping towards her allies from behind
+the rose-bush, that Bessie presently succeeded in giving the rescuing
+touch, and she flew back quick as a bird to the safe territory,
+dragging Bessie with her, who otherwise would have assuredly been
+caught; and who, warm with the spirit of the game, felt as if she
+should have been quite glad to be made prisoner for her dear
+Christabel's sake.
+
+An hour after, and all the children were in bed.  Susan and Annie
+agreeing that a governess was no such great bother after all; and
+Elizabeth lying awake to whisper over to herself, "Christabel Angela,
+Christabel Angela!  That's my secret!" in a sort of dream of pleasure
+that will make most people decide on her being a very silly little
+girl.
+
+And Christabel Angela herself sat mending her gathers, and thinking
+over her first week of far greater difficulties than she had
+contemplated when she had left home with the understanding that she
+was to be entirely under Mrs. Merrifield's direction.  Poor Mrs.
+Merrifield had said much of regret at leaving her to such a crew of
+little savages, and she had only tried to set the mother's mind at
+rest by being cheerful; and though she felt that it was a great
+undertaking to manage those great boys out of lesson-hours, she knew
+that when a thing cannot be helped, strength and aid is given to
+those who seek for it sincerely.
+
+And on the whole, she felt thankful to the children for having
+behaved even as well as they had done.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+
+"Grant to us, Thy humble servants, that by Thy holy inspiration we
+may think those things that be good, and by Thy merciful guiding may
+perform the same," spelt out David with some trouble and difficulty,
+as he stood by Miss Fosbrook on Sunday morning.
+
+"Miss Fosbrook?"
+
+"Well, my dear."
+
+"Miss Fosbrook?"
+
+Another "Well."
+
+"Is wanting to buy a pig one of the 'things that be good'?'
+
+"Anything kind and right is good, my dear," said Miss Fosbrook, a
+little vexed at a sort of snorting she heard from the other end of
+the room.
+
+"Davy thinks the pig is in his Collect," said Sam.
+
+He was one of those who were especially proud of being downright, and
+in him it often amounted to utter regardlessness of people's
+feelings, yet not out of ill-nature; and when Susan responded, "Don't
+teaze Davy--he can't bear it," he was silent; but the mischief was
+done; and when Miss Fosbrook went on saying that the wish to help the
+poor woman was assuredly a good thought, which the little boy might
+well ask to be aided in fulfilling, David had grown ashamed, and
+would not listen.  But the mention of the pig had set off Master
+Henry, who was sitting up in the window-seat with Annie, also
+learning the Collect, and he burst out into descriptions of the
+weight of money that would be found in Toby, and how he meant to go
+to the fair with Purday, and help him to choose the pig, and drive it
+home.
+
+"More likely to hinder," muttered Sam.
+
+"Besides, Papa wouldn't let you," added Bessie; but Hal did not
+choose to hear, and went on as to how the pig should ran away with
+Purday, and jump into a stall full of parliament gingerbread (whereat
+Annie fell into convulsions of laughing), and Hal should be the first
+to stop it, and jump on its back, and ride out of the fair holding it
+by the ears; and then they should pop it into the sty unknown to
+Hannah Higgins, and all lie in wait to hear what would happen; and
+when it squealed, she would think it the baby crying; but there Susan
+burst out at the notion of any one thinking a child could scream like
+a pig, taking it as an affront to all babyhood; and Miss Fosbrook
+took the opportunity of saying,
+
+"Hadn't you better hatch your chickens before you count them, Henry?
+If you prevent everyone from learning the Collect, I fear there will
+be the less hope of Mr. Piggy."
+
+"Oh! we don't have fines on Sundays," said Henry.
+
+"Mamma says that on Sundays naughtiness is not such a trifle that we
+can be fined for it," said Susan.
+
+"It is not naughtiness we are ever fined for," added Elizabeth:
+"THAT we are punished and talked to for:  but the fines are only for
+bad habits."
+
+"Oh!  I hope I sha'n't have any this week," sighed Susan.
+
+"You may hope," said Sam.  "You're sure of them for everything
+possible except crying."
+
+"Yes, Bessie gets all the crying fines," said Hal; "and I hope she'll
+have lots, because she won't help the pig."
+
+Bessie started up from her place and rushed out of the room; while
+Miss Fosbrook indignantly exclaimed,
+
+"Really, boys, I can't think how you can be so ill-natured!"
+
+They looked up as though it were quite a new light to them; and Susan
+exclaimed,
+
+"Oh, Miss Fosbrook! they don't mean it:  Sam and Hal never were ill-
+natured in their lives."
+
+"I don't know what you call ill-natured," said Miss Fosbrook, "unless
+it is saying the very things most likely to vex another."
+
+"I don't mean to vex anybody," said Henry, "only we always go on so,
+and nobody is such a baby as to mind, except Bessie."
+
+And Sam muttered, "One can't be always picking one's words."
+
+"I am not going to argue about it," said Miss Fosbrook; "and it is
+time to get ready for church.  Only I thought manliness was shown in
+kindness to the weak, and avoiding what can pain them."
+
+She went away; and Susan was the first to exclaim,
+
+"I didn't think she'd have been so cross!"
+
+"Stuff, Sue!" said Sam; "it's not being cross.  I like her for having
+a spirit; but one can't be finikin and mealy-mouthed to suit her
+London manners.  I like the truth."
+
+It would have been well if any one had been by to tell Mr. Samuel
+that truth of character does not consist in disagreeable and
+uncalled-for personalities.
+
+Miss Fosbrook did not wonder at little Elizabeth for her discomfort
+under the rude homeliness of Stokesley, where the children made a bad
+copy of their father's sailor bluntness, and the difficulties of
+money matters kept down all indulgences.  She knew that Captain
+Merrifield was as poor a man for an esquire as her father was for a
+surgeon, and that if he were to give his sons an education fit for
+their station, he must make his household live plainly in every way;
+but without thinking them right feelings, she had some pity for
+little Bessie's weariness and discontent in never seeing anything
+pretty.  The three girls came in dressed for church, in the plainest
+brown hats, black capes, and drab alpaca frocks, rather long and not
+very full; not a coloured bow nor handkerchief, not a flounce nor
+fringe, to relieve them; even their books plain brown.  Bessie looked
+wistfully at Miss Fosbrook's pretty Church-service, and said she and
+Susan both had beautiful Prayer-Books, but Mamma said they could not
+be trusted with them yet--Ida Greville had such a beauty.
+
+Was it the effect of Miss Fosbrook's words, that Sam forbore to teaze
+Bessie about Ida Greville?--whose name was a very dangerous subject
+in the schoolroom.  Also, he let Bessie take hold of Miss Fosbrook's
+hand in peace, though in general the least token of affection was
+scouted by the whole party.
+
+It was a pretty walk to church, over a paddock, where the cows were
+turned out, and then along a green lane; and the boys had been
+trained enough in Sunday habits to make them steady and quiet on the
+way, especially as Henry was romancing about the pig.
+
+By and by Elizabeth gave Miss Fosbrook's hand a sudden pull; and she
+perceived, in the village street into which they were emerging, a
+party on the way to church.  There were two ladies, one in stately
+handsome slight mourning, the other more quietly dressed, and two or
+three boys; but what Elizabeth wanted her to look at was a little
+girl of nine years old, who was walking beside the lady.  Her hat was
+black chip, edged and tied with rose-coloured ribbon, and adorned
+with a real bird, with glass eyes, black plumage, except the red
+crest and wings.  She wore a neatly-fitting little fringed black
+polka, beneath which spread out in fan-like folds her flounced pink
+muslin, coming a little below her knees, and showing her worked
+drawers, which soon gave place to her neat stockings and dainty
+little boots.  She held a small white parasol, bordered with pink,
+and deeply fringed, over her head, and held a gold-clasped Prayer-
+Book in her hand; and Miss Fosbrook heard a little sigh, which told
+her that this was the being whom Elizabeth Merrifield thought the
+happiest in the world.  She hoped it was not all for the fine
+clothes; and Sam muttered,
+
+"What a little figure of fun!"
+
+Martin and Osmond Greville went daily to Mr. Carey's, like Sam and
+Hal, so the boys ran on to them; and Mrs. Greville, turning round,
+showed a very pleasant face as she bowed to Miss Fosbrook, and
+shaking hands with Susan and Elizabeth, asked with much solicitude
+after their mamma, and how lately they had heard of her.
+
+Susan was too simple and straightforward to be shy, and answered
+readily, that they had had letters, and Mamma had been sadly tired by
+the journey, but was better the next day.  The little girls shook
+hands; and Mrs. Greville made a kind of introduction by nodding
+towards her companion, and murmuring something about "Fraulein
+Munsterthal;" and Miss Fosbrook found herself walking beside a lady
+with the least of all bonnets, a profusion of fair hair, and a good-
+humoured, one-coloured face, no doubt Miss Ida's German governess.
+She said something about the fine day, and received an answer, but
+what it was she could not guess, whether German, French, or English,
+and her own knowledge of the two first languages was better for
+reading than for speaking; so after an awkward attempt or two, she
+held her peace and looked at her companions.
+
+Susan and Mrs. Greville seemed to be getting on very well together;
+but Elizabeth's admiration of Ida seemed to be speechless, for they
+were walking side by side without a word, perhaps too close to their
+elders to talk.
+
+Annie and David were going on steadily hand in hand a little way off;
+and Miss Fosbrook chiefly heard the talk of the boys, who had fallen
+behind; perhaps her ears were quickened by its personality, for
+though Sam was saying, "I'll tell you what, she's a famous fellow!"
+the rejoinder was, "What! do you mean to say that you mind her?"
+
+"Doesn't he?" said Hal's voice; "why, she sent him away from tea last
+night, just for shying crusts."
+
+"And did he go?" and there was a disagreeable sounding laugh, in
+which she was sorry that Hal joined.
+
+"Catch the Fraulein serving me so!"
+
+"She never tries!"
+
+"She knows better!"
+
+"I say, Sam, I thought you had more spirit.  You'll be sitting up
+pricking holes in a frill by the time the Captain comes back."
+
+"And Hal will be mincing along with his toes turned out like a
+dancing-master!" continued an affected voice.
+
+"No such thing!" cried Hal angrily:  "I'm not a fellow to be ordered
+about!"
+
+The Grevilles laughed; and one of them said, "Well, then, why don't
+you show it?  I'd soon send her to the right-about if she tried to
+interfere with me!"
+
+Miss Fosbrook could bear it no longer; and facing suddenly round,
+looked the speaker full in the face, and said, "I am very much
+obliged to you--but you should not speak quite so loud."
+
+The boys shrank back out of countenance; and Sam, who alone had not
+spoken, looked up into her face with a merry air, as if he were
+gratified by her spirited way of discomfiting them.
+
+Osmond tried to recover, and muttered, "What a sell!" rather
+impudently; but they were now near the churchyard, and Mrs. Greville
+turning round, all was hushed.
+
+Christabel felt much vexed that all this should have happened just
+before going into church; she felt a good deal ruffled herself, and
+feared that Bessie's head was filled with nonsense, if Hal's were not
+with something worse.
+
+The church looked pretty outside, with the old weather-boarded wooden
+belfry rising above the tiled roof and western gable; and it was
+neatly kept but not pretty within, the walls all done over with pale
+buff wash, and the wood-work very clumsy.  Sam and Susan behaved well
+and attentively; but Bessie fidgeted into her mamma's place, and
+would stand upon a hassock.  Miss Fosbrook was much afraid it was to
+keep in sight of the beautiful bird.  Hal yawned; and Johnnie not
+only fidgeted unbearably himself, but made his sister Annie do the
+same, till Miss Fosbrook scarcely felt as if she was at church, and
+made up her mind to tell Johnnie that she should leave him at home
+with the babies unless he changed his ways.  Little David went on
+most steadily with his Prayer-Book, and scarcely looked off it till
+the sermon, when he fell asleep.
+
+Miss Fosbrook had one pleasure as she was going home.  The children
+had all gone on some steps before her, chattering eagerly among
+themselves, when Sam turned back and said abruptly, "Miss Fosbrook,
+you didn't mind THAT, I hope?"
+
+"What those boys were saying? It depends on you whether you make me
+mind it."
+
+"I don't mean to make any rows if I can help it," said Sam.
+
+"I am sure I hope you will be able to help it!  I don't know what I
+should do if you did!"
+
+Sam gave an odd smile with his honest face.  "Well, you've got a good
+spirit of your own.  It would take something to cow you."
+
+"Pray don't try!"
+
+Sam laughed, and said, "I did promise Papa to be conformable."
+
+"And I was very much obliged to you yesterday evening.  The behaviour
+of the other boys depends so much on you."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Sam; "and I don't mind it so much now I see you
+can stand up for yourself."
+
+"Besides, what would it be if I had to write to your father that I
+could not manage such a bear-garden?"
+
+"I'll take care that sha'n't happen," exclaimed Sam.  "It would
+hinder all the good to Mamma!  I'll tell you what," he added, after a
+confidential pause, "if we get beyond you, there's Mr. Carey."
+
+"I thought you did not mean to get beyond me."
+
+Sam looked a little disconcerted, and it struck her that, though he
+would not say so, he was doubtful whether the Greville influence
+might not render Henry unmanageable; but he quickly gave it another
+turn.  "Only you must not plague us about London manners."
+
+"I don't know what you mean by London manners.  Do you mean not
+bawling at tea? for I mean to insist upon that, I assure you, and I
+want you to help me."
+
+"Oh! not being finikin, and mincing, and nonsensical!"
+
+"I hope I'm not so!" said Miss Fosbrook, laughing heartily; "but I'll
+tell you one thing, Sam, that I do wish you would leave off--and that
+is teazing.  I don't know whether that is country manners, but I
+don't like to see a sensible kind fellow like you just go out of your
+way to say something mortifying to a younger one."
+
+"You don't know," said Sam.  "It is fun.  They like it."
+
+"If they really like it, there is no objection.  I know I should like
+very much to have my brother here quizzing me; but you know very well
+there are two sorts of such fun, and one that is only sport to the
+stronger side."
+
+"Bessie is so ridiculous."
+
+"She is the very one I want to protect.  I don't think that teazing
+her does any good; it only gives her cross feelings.  And she really
+has more right on her side than you think.  You might be just as
+honest and bold if you were less rude and bearish."
+
+"I can't bear to see her so affected and perked up."
+
+"It is not affectation.  She is really more gentle and quiet than you
+are; you don't think it so in your Mamma, and she is like her."
+
+"Mamma is not like Bessie."
+
+"And then about Davy.  How could you go and stop the poor little boy
+when he was trying to think and feel rightly?"
+
+"He was so funny," repeated Sam.
+
+"I hope you will think another time whether your fun is safe and
+kind."
+
+"One can't be so particular," he said impatiently.
+
+"I am sorry to hear it.  I thought the only way to do right was to be
+particular."
+
+He grunted, and flung away from her.  She was vexed to have sent him
+off in such a mood; but, unmannerly as he was, she saw so much good
+in him, that she could not but hope he would be her friend and ally.
+
+Dinner went off very peaceably, and then Susan fetched her two
+darlings from the nursery, George and Sarah, of three years and
+eighteen months old.  Her great perfection was as a motherly elder
+sister; and even Sam was gentle to these little things, and played
+with them very nicely.
+
+Miss Fosbrook reminded Hal of his Collect; but he observed that there
+was plenty of time, and continued to stand by the window, pursuing
+the flies with his finger, not killing them, but tormenting them and
+David very seriously, by making them think he would--not a very
+pretty business for the day when all things should be happy, more
+like that which is always found "for idle hands to do."
+
+Evening service-time put an end to this sport; but Miss Fosbrook
+could not set off till after a severe conflict with Johnnie.  She had
+decreed that he should not go again that day, after his behaviour in
+the morning; and perhaps he would not have minded this punishment
+much if David had not been going, which made him think it a disgrace.
+So, in the most independent manner be put on his hat, and was
+marching off, when Miss Fosbrook stood in front of him, and ordered
+him back.
+
+He repeated, "I'm going to church."  It was plain enough that he had
+heard what those boys had said about not submitting.
+
+"Church is not the place to go to in a fit of wilfulness, Johnnie,"
+she said; and his sisters broke out, "O Johnnie!" but the naughty
+boy, fancying, perhaps, that want of time would lead to his getting
+his own way, marched on, sticking up his toes very high in the air.
+
+Hal laughed.
+
+"Johnnie, Johnnie dear," entreated Susan, "what would Mamma say?"
+
+John would not hear, and walked on.
+
+"John," said Miss Fosbrook, "if you do not come back directly, I must
+carry you."
+
+She had measured her strength with his:  he was only eight years old,
+and she believed that she could carry him; but he heard the church-
+bells ringing, and thought he should have his way.
+
+She laid hold of him, and he began fighting and kicking, in stout
+shoes, whose thumps were no joke.  She held fast, but she felt
+frightened, and doubtful of the issue of the struggle; and again
+there was Hal laughing.
+
+"For-shame, Henry!" burst out Sam; and the same moment those two feet
+were secured, and John was a prisoner.  Miss Fosbrook called out to
+the rest to go on to church, and she and Sam dragged the boy up to
+the nursery, and shut him in there, roaring passionately.
+
+Nurse Freeman, knowing nothing about it, could not believe but that
+the stranger lady had made her child naughty, and said something
+about their Mamma letting him go to church; and "when the child
+wished to go to church, it seemed strange he should not."
+
+Miss Fosbrook would not defend herself, for she was in great haste;
+but Sam exclaimed, "Stuff! he was as naughty as could be all this
+morning, and only wanted to go now because he was told not."
+
+Johnnie bellowed out something else, but Miss Fosbrook would not let
+Sam go on; she touched his arm, and drew him off with her, he
+exclaiming, "Foolish old Freeman! she will pet and spoil him all
+church-time, till he is worse than ever."
+
+It was lucky for her that she was too much hurried to dwell on this
+vexation; she almost ran to save herself from being late, and
+scarcely heard Sam's mutterings about wishing to break Martin
+Greville's head.
+
+"You need not hurry so much," he said; "there's a shorter cut, only I
+suppose you can't get through a gap."
+
+"Can't I?" she laughed; and he led her on straight through the Short-
+horns.  Some of them looked at her more than she fancied, but she
+knew she might give up all hopes of Sam if he detected her fears.
+Then came the gap, where a tree had been cut down in the hedge, and
+such a jump down from it!  But she gathered up her muslin, and made
+her leap so gallantly, that the boy cried,
+
+"Hurrah! well done!" and came and walked close to her, saying
+confidentially, "I say, do you think we shall ever do the pig?"
+
+"I am sure it might be done.  If you are likely to do it you must
+know better than I."
+
+"I don't know that I much care about it.  It will be rather a bother;
+only now we have said it, I shall hate it if we don't do it."
+
+"I think the pleasure of giving it will be a delightful reward for a
+little self-command."
+
+"Only Hal and the girls will make such a work about it.  I'm glad,
+after all, that Bessie has nothing to do with it, or she would want
+to dress it up in flowers and ribbons.  Ha-ha!  But what a little
+crab it is!"
+
+"Don't be too sure of that.  People may have other designs."
+
+"Bessie's can't be anything but trumpery."
+
+"Sometimes present trumpery is a step to something better.  'A was an
+Archer' is not very wise, but it is the road to reading--and even if
+it were not so, Sam, it is not right to shame people into giving; for
+what is not bestowed for the true reasons, does no good to giver nor
+to receiver.
+
+Sam looked up with a frown of attention, as if he were trying to take
+in the new light; but he did take it in, and smacking his hands
+together with a noise like a pistol-shot, said, "Ay, that's it!  We
+don't want what is grudged."
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought of words that would another time be more
+familiar to Sam.  "Not grudgingly, nor of necessity, for God loveth a
+cheerful giver."
+
+What she said was, "You see, if you plague Bessie too much, to make
+her like ourselves, when she is really so different, you are driving
+her to the shamming you despise so much."
+
+"But ought not she to be cured of being silly?"
+
+"When we have quite made up our minds upon what silliness is.  There,
+the bell has stopped."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+
+The most part of church-time Johnnie was eating Nurse Freeman's plum-
+cake.  Perhaps this did not make him any easier in the conscience,
+but he had a very unlucky sentiment, that as he was already naughty
+and in disgrace, it was of no use to take the trouble of being good
+till he could make a fresh beginning; and after what the Grevilles
+had said, he did not think that would be till Papa and Mamma came
+home; he did not at all mean to give in to a girl that was not even
+twenty.  So he would not turn to the only wise thing he could have
+done, the learning of his Collect, but he teased Nurse out of more
+cake and more, and got what play he could out of little George, and
+that was not much, for Johnnie was not in a temper to be pleasant
+with a little one.
+
+Coming home from church, Collects were to be learnt and said before
+tea:  but Hal, after glancing over his own, took up his cap and said,
+"Come along, Sam, Purday will be feeding the pigs; I want to choose
+the size of ours."
+
+"I've not done," said Sam.
+
+"Papa never said we were to say them to Miss Fosbrook."
+
+"He meant it though," was all Sam's answer.  "Don't hinder me."
+
+"Well, I've no notion of being bound by what people mean," continued
+Hal; and no one could imagine the torment he made himself, neither
+going nor staying, arguing the matter with his elder brother, as if
+Sam's coming would justify him, and interrupting everyone; till at
+last Miss Fosbrook gathered all her spirit, and ordered him either to
+sit down and learn properly at once, or to go quite away.  She was
+very much vexed, for Henry had been the most obliging and good-
+natured of all at first, and likely to be fond of her; but such a
+great talker could not fail to be weak, and his vanity had been set
+against her.  He looked saucy at first, and much inclined to resist;
+if he had seen any sympathy for him in Sam he might have done so, but
+Miss Fosbrook's steady eye was too much for him, so he saved his
+dignity, as he thought, by exclaiming, "I'm sure I don't want to stay
+in this stuffy hole with such a set of owls; I shall go to Purday."
+And off he marched.
+
+The others stayed, and said their Collects and Catechism very
+respectably, all but John, who had not learned the Collect at all,
+and was sent into another room to finish it, to which he made no
+resistance; he had had enough of actual fighting with Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Then she offered to read a story to the others, but she found that
+this was distasteful even to her friend Sam; he thought it stupid to
+be read to, and said he should see after Hal; David trotted after
+him, and Susan and Anne repaired to the nursery to play with the
+little ones and the baby.  She minded it the less, as they all had
+some purpose; but she had already been vexed to find that all but
+Davy preferred the most arrant vacant idleness to anything rational.
+To be sure, Susan sometimes, Bessie and Hal always, would read any
+book that made no pretensions to be instructive, but even a fact
+about a lion or an elephant made them detect wisdom in disguise, and
+throw it aside.  She thought, however, she would make the most of
+Bessie, and asked whether she would like to hear reading, or read to
+herself.
+
+"To myself," said Bessie; and there was a silence, while Miss
+Fosbrook, glad of the quiet, began reading her Christian Year.
+Presently she heard a voice so low that it seemed at a distance and
+it made her start, for it was saying "Christabel!" then she almost
+laughed, for it seemed to have been an audacious experiment, to judge
+by little Elizabeth's scared looks and the glow on her cheeks.
+
+"May I say it sometimes when we are alone together?" she said
+timidly.  "I do like it so much!"
+
+"If it is such a pleasure to you, I would not deprive you of it,"
+said Miss Fosbrook, laughing; "but don't do so, except when we are
+alone, for your Mamma would not like me to seem younger still."
+
+"Oh, thank you!  Isn't it a nice secret?" cried Bessie, clinging to
+her hand:  "and will you let me hug you sometimes?"
+
+A little love was pleasant to Miss Fosbrook, when she was feeling
+lonely, and she took Bessie in her lap, and they exchanged caresses,
+to the damage of the collar that Miss Fosbrook's sister had worked
+for her.
+
+"And you don't call me silly?" cried Bessie.
+
+"That depends," was the answer, with some arch fun; but Bessie had
+not much turn for fun, and presently went on -
+
+"And you saw Ida Greville?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you think of her?"
+
+"I had not much opportunity of learning what to think."
+
+"But her parasol, and her bird!  Did you think her mama very silly to
+give her pretty things?"
+
+"No, certainly not, unless she wore them at unsuitable times, or
+thought too much about them."
+
+"Ida has so many, she does not think of them at all.  And she has
+shells, and such a lovely work-box, and picture-books; she has all
+she wants."
+
+"Are you quite sure?"
+
+"Oh, yes, quite sure! and they don't tease her for liking pretty
+things; her brothers keep quite away, and never bother about the
+schoolroom; but she learns Italian and German, and drawing and
+singing.  Mr. Greville said something about our spending the day
+there.  Oh! if we do but go!  Won't you, Miss Fosbrook?"
+
+"If I am asked, and if your Mamma would wish it."
+
+"Oh, Mamma always lets us go, except once--when--when--"
+
+"When what?"
+
+"When I cried," said Elizabeth, hanging down her head; "I couldn't
+help it.  It did seem so tiresome here, and she said I was learning
+to be discontented; but nobody can help wishing, can they?"
+
+"There must be a way of not breaking the Tenth Commandment."
+
+"I don't covet; I don't want to take things away from Ida, only to
+have the same."
+
+"Yes; but what does the explanation at the end of the Duty to our
+Neighbour say, filling out that Commandment?"
+
+"I think I'll go and see what Susie is doing," said Elizabeth.
+
+Christabel sighed as the little girl walked off, displeased at having
+her repinings set before her in a graver light than that in which she
+had hitherto chosen to regard them.
+
+She saw no more of her charges till tea-time, when the bell brought
+them from different quarters, Johnnie with such a grimy collar and
+dirty hands, that he was a very un-Sunday-like figure, and she would
+have sent him away to make himself decent, but that she was desirous
+of not over-tormenting him.
+
+Sunday was always celebrated by having treacle with the bread, so the
+butter riot was happily escaped; and Bessie was not in a gracious
+mood, and the corners of her mouth provoked the boys to begin on what
+they knew would make her afford them sport.  Hal first:  "I say, Bet,
+didn't Purday want his gun to-day at church?"
+
+Elizabeth put out her lip in expectation that something unpleasant
+was intended, and other voices were not slow to ask an explanation.
+
+"Shooting the cocky-olly birds!"
+
+A general explosion of laughter.
+
+"I say (always the preface to the boy's wit), shall I get a jay down
+off the barn to stick into your hat, Betty?"
+
+"Don't, Hal," said such a deplorable offended voice, that Sam, who
+had really held his tongue at first, could not help chiming in,
+
+"No, no; a cock-sparrow, for her London manners."
+
+"No, that's for me, Sam," said Christabel good-humouredly.  "A
+London-bred sparrow; a pert forward chit."
+
+She really had found a safety-valve; the boys were entertained, and
+diverted from their attack on their favourite victim, by finding
+everyone an appropriate bird; and when they came to "Tomtits" and
+"Dishwashers," were so astonished at Miss Fosbrook's never having
+seen either, that they instantly fell into the greatest haste to
+finish their tea, and conduct her into the garden, and through a
+course of birds, eggs, and nests, about which, as soon as she was
+assured that there was to be no bird's-nesting, she was very eager.
+
+Bessie ought to have been thankful that her persecutors were called
+off, but she was in a dismal mood, and was taken with a fit of
+displeasure that her own Christabel Angela was following the rabble
+rout into the garden, instead of staying in the school-room at her
+service.
+
+The reason of her gloom was, that Miss Fosbrook had spoken a word
+that she did not choose to take home, and yet which she could not
+shake off.  So she would neither stay in nor go out cheerfully, and
+sauntered along looking so piteous, that Johnnie could not help
+making her worse by plucking at her dress, by suddenly twisting her
+cape round till the back was in front, and pushing her hat over her
+eyes, till "Don't Johnnie," in a dismal whine, alternated with "I'll
+tell Miss Fosbrook."
+
+Christabel did not see nor hear.  She had gone forward with a boy on
+either side of her, and Susan walking backwards in front, all telling
+the story of a cuckoo,--or gowk, as Sara called it in Purday's
+language,--which they had found in a water-wagtail's nest in a heap
+of stones; how it sat up, constantly gaping with its huge mouth,
+while the poor little foster-parents toiled to their utmost to keep
+it supplied with caterpillars, and the last time it was seen, when
+full-fledged, were trying to lure it to come out of the nest by
+holding up green palmers at some little distance before it.  This was
+in the evening; by morning it was gone, having probably taken flight
+at sunrise.
+
+Miss Fosbrook listened with all the pleasure the boys could desire.
+She had read natural history, and looked at birds stuffed in the
+British Museum, or alive at the Zoological Gardens, on the rare days
+when her father had time to give himself and his children a treat;
+and her fresh value and interest in all these country things were
+delightful to the boys.
+
+It was a lovely summer evening.  The sun was low enough to make the
+shadows long and refreshing, as they lay upon the blooming grass of
+the wilderness, softly swaying in the breeze, all pale with its
+numerous chaffy blossoms, and varied by the tall buttercups that
+raised up their shining yellow heads, or by white clouds of bold-
+faced ox-eye daisies.
+
+The pear-trees were like white garlands; the apple-trees covered with
+white blossoms and rosy buds; the climbing roses on the wall were
+bursting into blossom; the sky was one blue vault without a cloud.
+
+Surely Elizabeth had no lack here of what was pretty.  Then why did
+she lag behind, unseeing, unheeding of all, but peevishly pushing off
+John and Anne, thinking that they always teased her worst on Sundays,
+and very much discomfited that Miss Fosbrook was not attending to
+her?  Surely the fault was not altogether in what was outside her.
+
+"See!" cry the boys.  Miss Fosbrook must first look up there, high
+upon the side of the house, niched behind that thick stem of the
+vine.  What, can't she see those round black eyes and little beak?
+They see her plain enough.  Ah! now she has them.  That's a fly-
+catcher.  By and by they shall be able to show her the old birds
+flying round, catching flies on the wing, and feeding the young ones,
+all perched in a row.
+
+Now, can she scramble up the laurels?  Yes, she hopes so; though she
+wished she had known what was coming, for she would have changed her
+Sunday muslin.  But a look of anxiety came on Sam's face as he peeped
+into the clump of laurels; he signed back the others, sprang upon the
+dark scraggy bough of the tree, and Hal called out,
+
+"Gone! has Ralph been there?"
+
+"Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so.  Not an egg left, and
+they would have hatched this week!"
+
+"Well, Purday calls him his best friend," said Harry.  "He says we
+should not get a currant or a gooseberry if it wasn't for that there
+raven, as Papa won't have the small birds shot."
+
+"Bring down the nest, Sam," cried Susan; "Georgy will like to have
+it."
+
+The children behind, who never could hear of anything to be had
+without laying a claim to it, shouted that they wanted the nest; but
+Sam said Sue had spoken first, and they fell back discontented, and
+more bent on their unkind sport.  Miss Fosbrook was rather shocked at
+the tearing out the nest, and asked if the old bird would not have
+another brood there; but it was explained that a thrush would never
+return to a forsaken nest; and when Sam came down with it in his
+hand, she was delighted with the wonderful cup that formed the
+lining, so smooth and firm a bason formed of dried mud set within the
+grassy wall.  She had thought that swallows alone built with mud, and
+had to learn that the swallows used their clay for their outer walls,
+and down for their lining, whereas the thrush is a regular plasterer.
+
+Sam promised her another thrush to make up for her disappointment,
+and meantime conducted her to a very untidy old summer-house, the
+moss of whose roof hung down loose and rough over a wild collection
+of headless wooden horses, little ships with torn sails, long sticks,
+battered watering-pots, and old garden tools.  She was desired to
+look up to one of the openings in the ragged moss, and believe that
+it housed a kitty wren's family of sixteen or eighteen; but she had
+to take this on trust, for to lay a finger near would lead to
+desertion; in fact, Sam was rather sorry to be able to point out to
+her, on coming out, the tiny, dark, nutmeg, cock-tailed father kitty,
+popping in and out of the thorn hedge, spying at the party.
+
+Now then for a wonder as they came out.  Sam waved everybody away--
+nay, waved is a small word for what he did--shouted, pushed, ordered,
+would be more like it.  He was going to give Miss Fosbrook such a
+proof of his esteem as hardly any one enjoyed, not even Hal, twice in
+the summer.
+
+Everybody submitted to his violent demonstrations, and Christabel
+followed him to the back of the summer-house.  There stood a large
+red flower-pot upside down.
+
+"Now, Miss Fosbrook!"
+
+Sam's finger hooked into the hole at the top.  Off came the flower-
+pot, and disclosed something flying off with rushing wings, and
+something confused remaining,--a cluster of grey wings all quill,
+with gaping yellow mouths here and there opening, a huddling movement
+always going on in the forlorn heap, as if each were cold, and wanted
+to be undermost.
+
+"Tits, my tits!" said Sam triumphantly; "they've built their nest
+here three years following."
+
+"But how do they get in and out?"
+
+"Through the hole.  Take care, I'll show you one."
+
+"Won't you frighten away the bird?"
+
+"Oh dear no!  Ox-eyes aren't like wrens; I go to them every day.
+See!" and he took up in his hand a creature that could just be seen
+to be intended for a bird, though the long skinny neck was bare, and
+the tiny quills of the young wings only showed a little grey
+sprouting feather, as did the breast some primrose-coloured down.
+Miss Fosbrook had to part with some favourite cockney notions of the
+beauty of infant birds, and on the other hand to gain a vivid idea of
+what is meant by "callow young."
+
+Sam quickly put his nestling back, and showed her the parent.  She
+could hardly believe that the handsome bird in the smooth grey coat
+and bright straw-coloured waistcoat, with the broad jet-black line
+down the centre, the great white cheeks edged with black, and the
+bold knowing look, could be like what the little bits of deformity in
+the nest would soon become.
+
+"Ay, that's an ox-eye," said Sam.  "You'll hear them going on peter--
+peter--peter--all the spring."
+
+But Sam was cut short by a loud and lamentable burst of roaring where
+they had left the party.
+
+Miss Fosbrook hurried back, hearing Hal's rude laugh as she came
+nearer, it was Elizabeth, sobbing in the passionate way in which it
+is not good to see a child cry, and violently shaking off Susan, who
+was begging her to stop herself before Miss Fosbrook should come.
+
+What WAS the matter?
+
+"Oh!  Betty's nonsense."
+
+"Johnnie DID--"
+
+"Johnnie only--"
+
+"Now, Hal!"
+
+"Tell-tale!"  "Cry-baby!"
+
+"She only cried that Miss Fosbrook might hear."
+
+So shouted the little Babel, Bessie sobbing resentfully between her
+words, till Miss Fosbrook, insisting that everybody should be quiet,
+desired her to tell what had happened.
+
+"Johnnie--Johnnie called me a toad."
+
+The others all burst out laughing, and Miss Fosbrook, trying to
+silence them with a frown, said it was very rude of John, but she saw
+no reason why a girl of Bessie's age should act so childish a part.
+
+"He's been teasing me, and so has Anne, all this time!" cried Bessie.
+"They've been at me ever since I came out, pulling me and plaguing
+me, and--"
+
+"Well," said Susan, "I told you to walk in front of Miss Fosbrook,
+where they could not."
+
+"I didn't do anything to her," said John.
+
+"Now, Johnnie!"
+
+"He only pulled her frock and poked her ankles," said Anne pleadingly
+
+"Only--and why did you do what she did not like?"
+
+Johnnie looked sturdy and cross.  Anne hung her head; and Elizabeth
+burst out again,
+
+"They always do--they always are cross to me!  I said I'd tell you,
+and now they said Ida was a conceited little toad, and stingy Bet was
+another;" and out burst her howls again.
+
+"A very sad and improper way of spending a Sunday evening," said Miss
+Fosbrook, who had really grown quite angry.  "Anne and John, I WILL
+put an end to this teasing.  Go to bed this instant."
+
+They did not dare to disobey, but went off slowly with sulky
+footsteps, muttering to one another that Miss Fosbrook always took
+pipy Betty's part; Nurse said so, and they wished Mamma was at home.
+And when they came up to the nursery, Nurse pitied them.  She had
+never heard of a young lady doing such a thing as ordering off two
+poor dear children to bed for only just saying a word; but it seemed
+there were to be favourites now.  No, she could not put them to bed;
+they must wait till Mary came in from her walk; she wasn't going to
+put herself out of the way for any fine London governess.
+
+So Johnnie had another conquest over Miss Fosbrook; but Anne was
+uncomfortable, and went and sat in a corner, wishing she had had her
+punishment properly over, and kicking her brother away when he wanted
+to play with her.
+
+As for Bessie, she only cried the more for Miss Fosbrook's trying to
+talk to her.  It was a way of hers, perhaps from being less strong
+than the others, if once she started in a cry she could not leave
+off.
+
+Susan told Miss Fosbrook so; and the boys tried to drag her on with a
+promise of a blackbird's nest; but she thought them unfeeling to such
+woeful distress, and first tried to reason with Bessie, then to
+soothe her, till at last, finding all in vain, she thought bed the
+only place for the child, and led her into the house, helped her,
+still shaking with sobs, to undress, and was going to see her lie
+down in the bed which she shared with Susan.  Elizabeth was still
+young enough to say her prayers aloud.  The words came out in the
+middle of choking sobs, not as if she were much attending to them.
+Miss Fosbrook knelt down by her as she was going to rise, and said in
+her own words,
+
+"Most merciful God, give unto this Thy child the spirit of content,
+and the spirit of love, that she may bear patiently all the little
+trials that hurt and vex her, and win her way as Thy good soldier and
+servant.  Amen."
+
+Elizabeth held her breath to listen.  It was new and odd.  She did
+not like to say Amen; she did not know if the governess were not
+taking a liberty.  Perhaps it was a new way of telling her she was
+wrong--Christabel, whom she had thought on her side.
+
+The bad temper woke up, and would not let her offer a friendly kiss.
+She hid her face in the pillow, and as soon as Miss Fosbrook had shut
+the door, went off into a fresh gust of piteous sobs, because Miss
+Elizabeth Merrifield was the most miserable ill-used child in all the
+world.
+
+She might be one of the most miserable, but it was not because of her
+ill-usage, but because she had no spirit to be cheerful, and had
+turned away from comfort of the right kind.  She was in such a frame
+as to prefer thinking everyone against her, to supposing that
+anything she could do would mend matters.
+
+Christabel was much grieved at this unfortunate end to the Sunday
+evening.  She looked over all the boys' birds' eggs--they were
+allowed to keep two of every sort as curiosities--and listened to
+some wonderful stories of Henry's about climbing trees, and shooting
+partridges, and she kept the remaining children quiet and amused; but
+she was not happy in her mind.
+
+She thought she must have been wrong in not watching them more
+closely, and she felt more dislike and indignation against Johnnie
+than she feared was altogether right in his governess.  Also, she
+feared to make too much of Elizabeth, and was almost afraid that
+notice taught her to be still more fretful.  And yet there was a
+sense of being drawn to her by their two minds understanding each
+other, by likeness of tastes, by pity, and by a wish to protect one
+whom her little world oppressed.
+
+Nurse Freeman could not be more afraid of Miss Fosbrook making
+favourites than she was herself.
+
+All she could do in the matter was that which she had already done at
+Bessie's bedside, and much more fully than when the little girl was
+listening to her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+
+With Monday morning began the earning of the pig.  Miss Fosbrook's
+first business after prayers was to deal out the week's allowance--
+sixpence to each of the four elders, threepence apiece to the three
+younger ones.
+
+"May there be no fines," she said.
+
+"I'll not have the hundredth part of a fine!" shouted Henry, tossing
+his money into the air.
+
+Little David's set lips expressed the same purpose.
+
+"Please let me have a whole sixpence," said Susan.  "If I haven't any
+change, I sha'n't spend it."
+
+"You, Sukey! you'd better have the four farthings," laughed Sam.
+"You'll be the first to want them."
+
+Susan laughed; and Miss Fosbrook, partly as an example to the
+plaintive Elizabeth, said, "You are so good-humoured, Susie, that I
+can't find it in my heart to demand a fine--or--your hair; and
+there," pointing to the stout red fingers, "did you ever behold such
+a black little row?"
+
+"Oh dear!" cried Susan, in her good-humoured hearty voice, "how
+tiresome, when they were SO clean this morning, and I've only just
+been feeding the chicken, and up in the hay-loft for the eggs, and
+pulling the radishes!"
+
+"Well, go and wash and brush, and to-morrow remember the pig," said
+Miss Fosbrook, unable to help comparing the radishes and the fingers
+for redness and for earthiness.
+
+It was a more difficult matter when, as Elizabeth put her silver coin
+into her purse, John must needs repeat the stupid old joke, "There
+goes stingy Bet!" and Bessie put on her woeful appealing face.
+
+"John, I shall punish you if I hear those words again."
+
+"I don't mind.  Nurse says you have no business to punish me!  She
+did not put me to bed; and I had such fun!  Oh, such fun!" and the
+boy looked up with a grin that set all the others laughing.
+
+Christabel resolutely kept silence, and hoped her looks did not show
+her annoyance, as the boy went on, "I got lots of goodies, for Nurse
+said she had no notion of no stranger punishing her children.  Oh!
+Oh!  Oh!"  For Samuel had hold of his ear, and was tweaking it
+sharply.
+
+"There!  Go and tell Nurse, if you like, baby!"
+
+"Sam, indeed I can't have my battles fought in that way!" cried the
+governess, much distressed, as Johnnie roared, perhaps that old Nurse
+might hear, and, to all attempts to find out whether he were hurt,
+offered only heels and fists, till Susan came back and hugged him
+into quiet.
+
+"Now Johnnie has cried before breakfast on a Monday morning," said
+Annie, "all the rest of the week will go wrong with him."
+
+"Indeed," said Miss Fosbrook, "I hope no such thing.--Suppose we try
+and show Annie she is wrong, Johnnie!"
+
+But Johnnie was sulky, and even Susan looked as if she thought this a
+new and dangerous notion.  Sam laughed, and said, "I wish you joy,
+Miss Fosbrook.  Now he'll think he must be naughty."
+
+"Johnnie," said David solemnly, "the pig."
+
+The pig was a very good master of the ceremonies, and kept all elbows
+off the table at breakfast-time; and Bessie, who was apt to stick
+fast in the midst of her bread and milk, and fall into disgrace for
+daintiness and dawdling, finished off quietly and prosperously.
+
+Then every one was turned loose till nine o'clock.  Susan had charge
+of Mamma's keys, and had to go down to the kitchen, see what the cook
+wanted, and put it out, but only on condition that no brother or
+sister ever went with her to the store-closet.  Susan was highly
+trustworthy, but Mamma was too wise to let her be tempted by voices
+begging for one plum, one almond, or the last spoonful of Jam.  It
+took away a great deal of the pleasure of jingling the keys, and
+having a voice in choosing the pudding.
+
+The two elder boys went to their tutor, the other children to the
+nursery, except Elizabeth, who was rummaging in her little box, and
+David, whom Miss Fosbrook found perched on the ledge of the window,
+reading a book that did not look as if it were meant for men of his
+size.
+
+But Miss Fosbrook thought David like the oldest person in the house--
+infinitely older than John, who could do nothing better than he
+except running and bawling, and a good deal older than even Hal and
+Sam.  Nay, there were times when he raised his steady eyes and slowly
+spoke out his thoughts, when she felt as if he were much more wise
+and serious than her twenty-years old self.
+
+"Well, Davy," she asked, as at the sound of the lesson-bell the
+little old man uncrossed his sturdy legs, closed his book, and arose
+with a sigh, "have you found out all about it?"
+
+"I have found out why a pig is a profitable investment," he answered
+gravely.
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because he will feed upon refuse, and fatten upon cheap food," said
+David, in the words of his book; "only I can't make out why.  Do you
+know, Miss Fosbrook?"
+
+"I don't quite see what you want to know, Davy."
+
+"I want to know why a pig gets fat on barley-meal, when an ox wants
+mange, and oil-cake and hay.  I asked Nurse, and she said little boys
+mustn't ask questions; and I asked Purday, and he said it was because
+pigs is pigs, and oxen is oxen.  Why do you think it is, Miss
+Fosbrook?"
+
+"I don't think; I know it is because the great God has made one sort
+of creature to be easily fed, and made good for poor people to live
+upon," said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+David's eyes were fixed on her as if he still had questions to ask,
+and she was quite afraid of her powers of answering them, for he was
+new in the world, and saw the strangeness of many things to which
+older people become used by living with them, but which are not the
+less strange for all that.
+
+However, the trampling of many feet put an end to question and
+answer, and the day's work had to begin with the Psalms, and reading
+the Morning Lessons.  Bessie was by far the best reader; and David
+did very well, though he made very long stops to look deliberately at
+any long new word, and could not bear to be told before he had
+mastered it for himself.  Even Susan was sadly given to gabbling and
+missing the little words that she thought beneath her attention; and
+the other two stumbled so horribly, that it was pain to hear them.
+
+This beginning might be taken as the sign of how all would do their
+lessons.  It is only a child here and there, generally a lonely one,
+to whom lessons can be anything but a toil and an obligation.  Even
+with clever ones, who may be interested in some part of their study,
+some other branch will be disagreeable; and there is nothing in the
+whole world to be learnt without drudgery, so it would be
+unreasonable to expect lessons to be regarded as delightful; but
+there is one thing that is to be expected of any good child--not to
+enjoy lessons; not to surpass others; not to do anything surprising;
+only to make a conscience of doing what is required as well as
+possible.
+
+Now do not many children seem to think that they are to receive as
+little as they can possibly take in without being punished; or that,
+if they make any exertion, their teachers ought to be so much obliged
+to them, that some great praise or reward is due to them?
+
+Let us see whether anyone in Stokesley school-room was making a
+conscience of the day's tasks.  It is not of much use to ask for any
+at present in Johnnie--not for a whole week, as Annie would declare;
+he does not know his single Latin declension; his spelling, is all
+abroad; his geography wild; yet though turned back once, he misses
+the fine by just saying his lessons passably the last time.  They
+perhaps ought, in strict justice, to have been sent back; but Miss
+Fosbrook was very glad to be saved the uproar that would have ensued,
+and almost wondered whether she were not timidly merciful to the
+horrible copy and the greasy slate.  But Johnnie had no fine, and was
+as proud of it as if he had been a good boy.  "She hadn't caught him
+out," he said, as if his kind governess had been his enemy.
+
+As to Annie, her French verbs were always dreadful things to hear,
+and the little merry face, usually so bright, used to grow quite
+deplorable with the trouble she took not to use her mind.  Using her
+memory was bad enough, but saying things by heart was an affliction
+she was used to, and it was very shocking of Miss Fosbrook to require
+her to find out HOW many years Richard II. had reigned, if he began
+in 1377 and ended in 1399.  Susan prompted her, however; so she
+really got a triumph over Miss Fosbrook, and was quite saved from
+thinking.  Oh, but the teasing woman! she silenced Susan, and would
+have this poor injured Annie tell how old the tiresome man was.
+"Began to reign at eleven years old, dethroned after twenty-two
+years; how old was he?"  Annie found bursting out crying easier than
+thinking, and then they all cried out, "O Nanny, the pig!" and Miss
+Fosbrook had the barbarity to call that FOOLISH crying!  What might
+one cry for, if not at being asked how old Richard II. was?  If the
+fine must be paid, there was no use in stopping; so Annie howled till
+Miss Fosbrook turned her out to finish on the stairs; and as Nurse
+Freeman was out with the little ones, there was no one to comfort
+her; so she cried till she was tired, and when the noise ceased,
+Susan was allowed to come and coax her, and fetch her back to go on
+with her copy, as soon as her hand was steady enough.  She felt very
+foolish by this time, and thought David eyed her rather angrily and
+contemptuously; so she crept quietly to her corner, and felt sad and
+low-spirited all the rest of the morning.  Now that thirty-three had
+come into her head, it seemed so stupid not to have thought of it in
+time; and then she would have saved her farthing, and her eyes would
+not have been so hot.
+
+Maybe, too, Susan's French phrases would not have been turned back.
+Miss Fosbrook would have given a great deal not to have been obliged
+to do it, but she had prompted flagrantly already, and a teacher is
+obliged to have a conscience quite as much as a scholar; so the book
+was given back, and Susan spent twelve minutes in see-sawing herself,
+and going over the sentences in a rapid whispering gabble, a serious
+worry to the governess in listening to Bessie's practising and
+David's reading, but she thought it would be a hardship to be
+forbidden to learn in her own way at that moment, and forbore.  David
+was interrupted in his "Little Arthur's History," and looked rather
+cross about it, for Susan to try again.  She made all the same
+blunders--and more too!  Back again!  Poor Susie!  Once, twice,
+thrice, has she read those stupid words over, and knows less of them
+than before.  Davy's loud voice will go into her understanding
+instead of those French phrases.  She looks up in dull stupefaction.
+
+William Rufus is disposed of, and David, as grave as a judge, is
+taking up his slate, looking a little fussed because there is a
+scratch in the corner.  "Well, Susan," says Miss Fosbrook.
+
+Susan jumps up in desperation, and puts her hands behind her.  Oh
+dear! oh dear! all that the gentlemen on a journey were saying to one
+another has gone clean out of her head!
+
+She cannot recollect the three first words.  She only remembers that
+this is the third time, and another farthing is gone!  She stands and
+stares.
+
+"Susan," says Miss Fosbrook severely, "you never tried to learn
+this."
+
+Susan gives a little gasp; and Elizabeth, who has said her French
+without a blunder, puts in an unnecessary and not very sisterly word:
+"Susan never will learn her French."
+
+Susan's honest eyes fill with tears, but she gulps them back.  She
+will not cry away another farthing, but she does feel it very cross
+in Bessie, and she is universally miserable.
+
+Christabel feels heated, wearied, and provoked, and as if she were
+fast losing her own temper; and that made her resolve on mercy.
+
+"Susie," she said with an effort, "run twice to the great lime-tree
+and back.  Then take the book into my room, read this over three
+times, and we will try again."
+
+Susan looked surprised, but she obeyed, came back, and repeated the
+phrases better than she had ever said French before.  She was
+absolutely surprised and highly pleased, and she finished off her
+other lessons swimmingly; but oh, she was glad to be rid of them!
+Yes, they were off her mind, and so she deserved that they should be!
+She flew away to the nursery, and little Sarah was soon crowing in
+her arms.
+
+Elizabeth?  Not a blunder in French verbs or geography--very tidy
+copy.  French reading good; English equally so, only it ended in a
+pout, because there was not time for her to go on to see what became
+of Carthage; and she was a most intolerable time in learning her
+poetry out of the book of Readings, or rather she much preferred
+reading the verses in other parts of the book to getting perfect in
+her lesson, and then being obliged to turn her mind to arithmetic.
+Miss Fosbrook called her three times; and at last she turned round
+peevishly at being interrupted in the middle of the "Friar of Orders
+Gray," and repeated her twenty lines of Cowper's "Winter's Walk" in a
+doleful whine, though without a blunder.
+
+It was one of the horrible novelties that Miss Fosbrook was bringing
+in, that she expected people to understand their sums as well as work
+them.  She gave much shorter ones, to be sure, than Mamma, who did
+sometimes set a long multiplication sum of such a huge size, that it
+looked as if it were meant to keep the victim out of the way; but who
+would not prefer casting up any length of figures, to being required
+to explain the meaning of "carrying"?
+
+Really, if it had not been for the pig, that shocking question might
+have led to a mutiny in the school-room.  When it was bad enough to
+do the thing, how could anyone ask what was meant by the operation,
+and why it was performed?
+
+What did Bessie do when her sum was being overlooked?  Miss Fosbrook
+read on:  "4 from 8, 4; 7 from 1--how's this, Bessie?  7 from 10 are-
+-"
+
+"3, and 1 are 4," dolorously, as her 3 was changed.
+
+"Now then, what next?"
+
+"Carry one."
+
+"What did I tell you was meant by carry one?"
+
+"The tens," said Bessie, not in the least thinking "the tens" had
+anything to do with the matter, but only that she had heard something
+about them, and could thus get rid of the subject.
+
+"Now, Bessie, what tens can you possibly mean?  Think a little."
+
+"I'm sure you said tens once," said injured innocence.
+
+"That was in an addition sum.  See, here it is quite different.  I
+told you."
+
+Bessie put on a vacant stare.  She was not going to attend to what
+she did not like.
+
+Miss Fosbrook saw the face.  She absolutely shrank from provoking
+another fit of crying, and went quickly through the explanation.  She
+saw that her words might as well have been spoken to the slate.
+Bessie neither listened nor took them in.  Not all her love for her
+dear Christabel Angela could stir her up to make one effort contrary
+to her inclinations.  The slate was given back to her, she wiped out
+the sum in a pet, and ran away.
+
+Miss Fosbrook turned round, David, whose lessons had been perfectly
+repeated an hour ago, was sitting cross-legged in the window, with
+his slate and pencil, and a basket of bricks, his great delight,
+which he was placing in rows.
+
+"Miss Fosbrook," said he, "isn't this it?  Twelve bricks; take away
+those seven, then--l, 2, 3, 4, 5--the twelve is only 5:  the 10 is
+gone, isn't it? so you must leave one out of the next figure in the
+upper line of the sum."
+
+Now Davy had only begun arithmetic on the governess's arrival, but he
+had learnt numeration and addition in her way.  She was so delighted,
+that she stooped down and kissed him, saying, "Quite right, my little
+man."
+
+Davy rather disapproved of the kiss, and rubbed his brown-holland
+elbow over his face, as if to clear it off.
+
+"Well," thought Christabel, as she hurried away for five minutes'
+peace in her own room before the dinner-bell, "it is a comfort to
+have one pupil whose whole endeavour is not to frustrate one's
+attempts to educate him."
+
+Poor young thing! that one little bit of sense had quite cheered her
+up.  Otherwise she was not one whit less weary than the children.
+She had been learning a very tough lesson too--much harder than any
+of theirs; and she was not at all certain that she had learnt it
+right.
+
+Now, readers, of all the children, who do you think had used the most
+conscience at the lessons?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+
+What an entirely different set of beings were those Stokesley
+children in lesson-time and out of it!  Talk of the change of an old
+thorn in winter to a May-bush in spring! that was nothing to it!
+
+Poor, listless, stolid, deplorable logs, with bowed backs and crossed
+ankles, pipy voices and heavy eyes!  Who would believe that these
+were the merry, capering, noisy creatures, full of fun and riot,
+clattering and screeching, and dancing about with ecstasy at Sam's
+information that there was a bonfire by the potato-house!
+
+"A bonfire!" said the London governess, thinking of illuminations;
+"what can that be for?"
+
+"Oh, it is not FOR anything," said Susan; "it is Purday burning
+weeds.  Don't you smell them?  How nice they are!  I was afraid it
+was only Farmer Smith burning couch."
+
+All the noses were elevated to scent from afar a certain smoky odour,
+usually to be detected in July breezes, and which reminded Miss
+Fosbrook of a brick-field.
+
+"Potatoes!  Potatoes!  We'll roast some potatoes, and have them for
+tea!" bellowed all the voices; so that Miss Fosbrook could hardly
+find a space for very unwillingly saying,
+
+"But, my dears, I don't know whether I ought to let you play with
+fire."
+
+"Oh, we always do," roared the children; and Susan added,
+
+"We always roast potatoes when there's a bonfire.  Mamma always lets
+us; it is only Purday that is cross."
+
+"Yes, yes; Mamma lets us."
+
+"Well, if Sam and Susan say it is right, I trust to them," said Miss
+Fosbrook gladly; "only you must let me come out and see what it is.
+I am too much of a Londoner to know."
+
+"Oh yes; and we'll roast you some potatoes."
+
+So the uproarious population tumbled upstairs, there to be invested
+with rougher brown-holland garments than those that already concealed
+the sprigged cottons of the girls; and when the five came down again,
+they were so much alike in dress, that it was not easy to tell girls
+from boys.  Susan brought little George down with her, and off the
+party set.  Sam and Hal, who had been waiting in the hall, took Miss
+Fosbrook between them, as if they thought it their duty to do the
+honours of the bonfire, and conducted her across the garden, through
+the kitchen-garden, across which lay a long sluggish bar of heavy and
+very odorous smoke, to a gate in a quickset hedge.  Here were some
+sheds and cart-houses, a fagot pile, various logs of timber, a
+grindstone, and--that towards which all the eight children rushed
+with whoops of ecstasy--a heap of smoking rubbish, chiefly dry
+leaves, and peas and potato haulm, with a large allowance of cabbage
+stumps--all extremely earthy, and looking as if the smouldering smoke
+were a wonder from so mere a heap of dirt.
+
+No matter!  There were all the children round it, some on their
+knees, some jumping; and voices were crying on all sides,
+
+"O jolly, jolly!"  "I'll get some potatoes!"  "Oh, you must have some
+sticks first, and make some ashes."  "There's no flame--not a bit!"
+"Get out of the way, can't you?  I'll make a hot place."  "We'll each
+have our own oven, and roast our own potatoes!"  "Don't, Sam; you're
+pushing me into the smoke!"
+
+This of course was from Elizabeth; and there followed, "Don't,
+Bessie, you will tread upon Georgie.--Yes, Georgie, you SHALL have a
+place."
+
+"Sticks, sticks!" shouted Henry; while Sam was on his knees, poking
+out a species of cavern in the fire, where some symptoms of red
+embers appeared, which he diligently puffed with his mouth, feeding
+it with leaves and smaller chips in a very well practised way.
+"Sticks, Annie!  Johnnie!  Davy! get sticks, I say, and we'll make an
+oven."
+
+Annie obeyed; but the two little boys were intent on imitating Sam on
+another side of the fire, and Johnnie uttered a gruff "Get 'em
+yourself," while David took no notice at all.
+
+Perhaps Hal would have betaken himself to no gentle means if Susan
+had not hastily put in his way a plentiful supply of dead wood, which
+she had been letting little George think he picked up all himself;
+and there was keen excitement, which Christabel could not help
+sharing, while under Sam's breath the red edges of the half-burnt
+chip glowed, flushed, widened, then went sparkling doubtfully,
+slowly, to the light bit of potato-stalk that he held to it, glowing
+as he blew--fading, smoking, when he took breath.  Try again--puff,
+puff, puff diligently; the fire evidently has a taste for the
+delicate little shaving that Annie has found for it; it seizes on it;
+another--another; a flame at last.  Hurrah! pile on more; not too
+much.  "Don't put it out!"  Oh, there! strong flame--coming crackling
+up through those smothering heaps of stick and haulm; it won't be
+kept down; it rises in the wind; it is a red flaring banner.  The
+children shriek in transports of admiration, little George loudest of
+all, because Susan is holding him tight, lest he should run into the
+brilliant flame.  Miss Fosbrook is rather appalled, but the children
+are all safe on the windward side, and seem used to it; so she
+supposes it is all right, and the flame dies down faster than it
+rose.  It is again an innocent smouldering heap, like a volcano after
+an eruption.
+
+"We must not let it blaze again just yet," said Sam; "keep it down
+well with sticks, to make some nice white ashes for the potatoes.
+See, I'll make an oven."
+
+They were all stooping round this precious hot corner, some kneeling,
+some sitting on the ground, David with hands on his sturdy knees--all
+intent on nursing that creeping red spark, as it smouldered from chip
+to chip, leaving a black trace wherever it went, when through the
+thick smoke, that was like an absolute curtain hiding everything on
+the farther side, came headlong a huge bundle of weeds launched
+overwhelmingly on the fire, and falling on the children's heads in an
+absolute shower, knocking Johnnie down, but on a soft and innocent
+side of the fire among the cabbage-stumps, and seeming likely to bury
+Sam, who leant over to shelter his precious oven, and puffed away as
+if nothing was happening, amid the various shouts around him, in
+which "Purday" was the most audible word.
+
+"Ah, so you've got at he, after all," said Purday, leaning on the
+fork with which he had thrown on the weeds.  "Nothing is safe from
+you."
+
+"What, you thought you had a new place, Purday, and circumvented us!"
+cried Hal; "but we smelt you out, you old rogue; we weren't going to
+be baulked of our bonfire."
+
+Miss Fosbrook here ventured on asking if they were doing mischief;
+and Purday answered with an odd gruff noise, "Mischief enough--ay, to
+be sure--hucking the fire all abroad.  It's what they're always
+after.  I did think I'd got it safe out of their way this time."
+
+"Then," in rather a frightened voice, for she felt that it would be a
+tremendous trial of her powers, "should I make them come away?"
+
+"Catch her!" muttered Hal.
+
+There was horror and disapprobation on Susan's face.  Annie stood
+with her mouth open; while John, throwing himself on the ground with
+fury, rolled over, crying out something about, "I won't," and "very
+cross;" and David lay flat on his face, puffing at his own particular
+oven, like a little Wind in an old picture.  Sam waited, leaning on
+the ashen stick that served him as a poker.  It was the most
+audacious thing he had ever heard.  Rob them of their bonfire!  Would
+that old traitor of a Purday abet her?
+
+Perhaps Purday was as much astonished as the rest; but, after all,
+much as the children tormented his bonfires, overset his haycocks,
+and disturbed his wood-pile, he did not like anyone to scold them but
+himself, much less the new London Lady; so he made up an odd sort of
+grin, and said, "No, no, Ma'am, it ain't that they do so much harm;
+let 'em bide;" and he proceeded to shake on the rest of his
+barrowful, tumbling the weeds down over David's cherished oven in
+utter disregard; but the children cried with one voice, "Hurrah!
+hurrah!  Purday, we don't do any harm, so don't ever grumble again.
+Hurrah!"
+
+"And I don't care for HER, the crosspatch," said Johnnie to Annie,
+never hearing or heeding Miss Fosbrook's fervent "I am so glad!"
+
+And as long as the foolish boy remembered it, he always did believe
+that Miss Fosbrook was so cross as to want to hinder them from their
+bonfire, only Purday would not let her.
+
+Miss Fosbrook did not trouble herself to be understood; she was
+relieved to have done her duty, and be free to rejoice in and share
+the pleasure.  She ran about and collected materials for Sam till she
+was out of breath, and joined in all the excitement as the fire
+showed symptoms of reviving, after being apparently crushed out by
+Purday.  Sam and Susan, at least, believed that she had only spoken
+to Purday because she thought it right; but even for them to forgive
+interference with their bonfire privileges was a great stretch.
+
+At last she thought it time to leave them to their own devices, and
+seize the moment for some quiet reading; but she had not reached the
+house before little steps came after her, and she saw Elizabeth
+running fast.
+
+"They are so tiresome," she said.  "Sam won't let me stand anywhere
+but where the smoke gets into my eyes, and George plagues so!  May I
+come in with you, dear Christabel?"
+
+"You are very welcome," said Miss Fosbrook, "but I am sorry to hear
+so many complaints."
+
+"They are so cross to me," said Bessie; "they always are."
+
+"You must try to be cheerful and good-humoured with them, and they
+will leave off vexing you."
+
+"But may I come in?  It will be a nice time for my secret."
+
+Christabel saw little hope for her intended reading, but she was
+always glad of a space for making Bessie happy, so she kindly
+consented to the bringing out of the little girl's treasury, and the
+dismal face grew happy and eager.  The subjects of the drawings were
+all clear in her head; that was not the difficulty, but the
+cardboard, the ribbon, the real good paints.  One little slip of card
+Miss Fosbrook hunted out of her portfolio; she cut a pencil of her
+own, and advised the first attempt to be made upon a piece of paper.
+The little bird that Bessie produced was really not at all bad, and
+her performance was quite fair enough to make it worth while to go
+on, since Miss Fosbrook well knew that mammas are pleased with works
+of their children, showing more good-will than skill.  For why?
+Their value is in the love and thought they show.
+
+The little bird was made into a robin with the colours in a paint-box
+that Bessie had long ago bought; but they were so weak and muddy,
+that the result was far from good enough for a present, and it was
+agreed that real paints must be procured as well as ribbon.  Miss
+Fosbrook offered to commission her sisters to buy the Prussian blue,
+lake, and gamboge in London, and send them in a letter.  This was a
+new idea to Bessie, and she was only not quite decided between the
+certainty that London paints must be better than country ones, and
+the desire of the walk to Bonchamp to buy some; but the thought that
+the ribbon, after all, might be procured there, satisfied her.  The
+little doleful maid was changed into an eager, happy, chattering
+child, full of intelligence and contrivance, and showing many pretty
+fancies, since there was no one to tease her and laugh at her; and
+her governess listened kindly and helpfully.
+
+Miss Fosbrook could not help thinking how much happier her little
+companion would have been as an only child, or with one sister, and
+parents who would have made the most of her love of taste and
+refinement, instead of the hearty busy parents, and the rude brothers
+and sisters, who held her cheap for being unlike themselves.  But
+then she bethought her, that perhaps Bessie might have grown up vain
+and affected, had all these tastes been petted and fostered, and that
+perhaps her little hardships might make her the stronger, steadier,
+more useful woman, instead of living in fancies.  It was the
+unkindness on one side, and the temper on the other, that made Miss
+Fosbrook uneasy.
+
+The work had gone on happily for nearly an hour, and Bessie was
+copying a forget-me-not off a little painted card-board pincushion of
+her own, when steps were heard, little trotting steps, and Susan came
+in with little George.  He had been pushed down by Johnnie, and was
+rather in a fretful mood; and Susan had left all her happy play to
+bring him in to rest and comfort him, coming to the school-room
+because Nurse Freeman was out.  Before Elizabeth had time to hide
+away her doings, George had seen the bright pincushion, and was
+holding out his hands for it.  Bessie hastily pocketed it.  George
+burst out crying; and Susan, without more ado, threw herself on her
+sister, and, pinioning Bessie's slight arm by the greater strength of
+her firm one, was diving into her pocket in spite of her struggles.
+
+"Susan, leave off," said Miss Fosbrook; "let your sister alone.  She
+has a right to do what she likes with her own."
+
+"It is so cross in her," said Susan, obeying however, but only to
+snatch up little George, and hug and kiss him.  "Poor dear little
+man! is Betty cross to him?  There! there! come with Sue, and SHE'LL
+get him something pretty."
+
+"Susie, Susie, indeed it's only that I don't want him to spoil it,"
+said Elizabeth, distressed.
+
+"A foolish thing like that!  Why, the only use of it is to please the
+children; but you are just such a baby as he is," said Susan, still
+pitying George.
+
+"You had better put your things away, Bessie," said Miss Fosbrook,
+interfering to stop the dispute; and as soon as Elizabeth was gone,
+and George a little pacified by an ivory ribbon-measure out of Miss
+Fosbrook's work-box, she observed to Susan, "My dear, you must not
+let your love for the little ones make you unjust and unkind to
+Bessie."
+
+"She always is so unkind to them," said Susan resentfully.
+
+"I don't think she feels unkindly; but if you tyrannize over her, and
+force her to give way to them, you cannot expect her to like it."
+
+"Mamma says the elder must give way to the younger," said Susan.
+
+"You did not try whether she would give way."
+
+"No, because I knew she wouldn't; and I could not have my little
+Georgie vexed."
+
+"And I could not see my little Susie violent and unjust," said Miss
+Fosbrook cheerfully.  "Justice first, Susan; you had no right to rob
+Bessie for George, any more than I should have to give away a dinner
+of your papa's because he had refused a beggar."
+
+"Papa never would," said Susan, rather going off from the point.
+
+"Very likely; but do you understand me, Susan?  I will not have
+Bessie FORCED out of her rights for the little ones.  Not Bessie
+only, but nobody is to be tyrannized over; it is not right."
+
+"Bessie is so nonsensical," was all Susan said, looking glum.
+
+"Very likely she may seem so to you; but if you knew more, you would
+see that all is not nonsense that seems so to you.  Some people would
+admire her ways."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Susan.  "Mrs. Greville told Mrs. Brownlow that
+Bessie was the only one among us that was capable of civilisation;
+but Mrs. Greville is a fine lady, and we always laugh at her."
+
+"And now," as Bessie returned, "you want to go out to your play
+again, my dear.  Will you leave Georgie with us?"
+
+Susan was a little doubtful about trusting her darling with anyone,
+especially one who could take Bessie's part against him; but she
+wished exceedingly to be present at the interesting moment of seeing
+whether the potatoes were done enough, and George was perfectly
+contented with measuring everything on the ribbon, so she ran quickly
+off, without the manners to thank Miss Fosbrook, but to assure the
+rest of the party that the governess really was very good-natured,
+and that she would save her biggest and best potato for Miss
+Fosbrook's tea.
+
+Christabel managed very happily with little George, though not quite
+without offending Elizabeth, who thought it very hard to be desired
+to put away her painting instead of tantalizing her little brother
+with the sight of what he must not have.  Miss Fosbrook could not
+draw her into the merry game with little George, which made his
+shouts of glee ring out through the house, and meet Nurse Freeman's
+ear as she came in-doors with the baby, and calling at the school-
+room door, summoned him off to his tea, as if she were in a pet with
+Miss Fosbrook for daring to meddle with one of HER own nursery
+children.
+
+Nothing more was heard of the others, and Christabel and Elizabeth
+both read in peace till the tea-bell rang, and they went down and
+waited and waited, till Miss Fosbrook accepted Bessie's offer of
+going out to call the rest.  But Bessie returned no more than the
+rest; and the governess set forth herself, but had not made many
+steps before the voices of the rabble rout were heard, and they all
+were dancing and clattering about her, while Susan and Hal each
+carried aloft a plate containing articles once brown, now black, and
+thickly powdered with white ashes, as were the children themselves up
+to their very hair.
+
+As a slight concession to grown-up people's prejudices, they did, at
+the risk of their dear potatoes getting cold, scamper up to perform a
+species of toilette, and then sat down round the tea-table, Susie,
+David, and Sam each vociferous that Miss Fosbrook should eat "my
+potato that I did on purpose for her."  Poor Miss Fosbrook! she would
+nearly as soon have eaten the bonfire itself as those cinder-coated
+things, tough as leather outside, and within like solid smoke.
+Indeed the children, who had been bathing in smoke all day, had
+brought in the air of it with them; but their tongues ran fast on
+their adventures, and their taste had no doubt that their own bonfire
+potatoes were the most perfect cookery in art!  Miss Fosbrook picked
+out the most eatable bits of each of the three, and managed to
+satisfy the three cooks, all zealous for their own.  Other people's
+potatoes might be smoky, but each one's own was delicious--"quite
+worthy of the pig when he was bought," thought Miss Fosbrook; but she
+made her real pleasure at the kind feeling to cover her dislike of
+the black potatoes, and thus pleased the children without being
+untrue.
+
+"Line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little, and there a
+little."  That is the way habits are formed and characters made; not
+all at once.  So there had been an opportunity for Susan to grow
+confirmed in her kindness and unselfishness, as well as to learn that
+tyranny is wrong, even on behalf of the weak; and Bessie, if she
+would take home the lesson, had received one in readiness to be
+cheerful, and to turn from her own pursuits to oblige others.
+Something had been attempted toward breaking her habit of being
+fretful, and thinking herself injured.  It remained to be seen
+whether the many little things that were yet to happen to the two
+girls would be so used as to strengthen their good habits or their
+bad ones.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+
+It is not worth while to go on describing every day at Stokesley,
+since lessons were far too much alike; and play-times, though varied
+enough for the house of Merrifield, might be less entertaining to the
+readers.
+
+Enough to say, that by Saturday afternoon John had not only forfeited
+his last farthing, but was charged with another into next week, for
+the poor pleasure of leaving his hat on the school-room floor because
+Elizabeth had told him of it.  At about four o'clock it set in for
+rain, catching the party at some distance from home, so that, though
+they made good speed, the dust turned into mud, and clung fast to
+their shoes.
+
+David, never the best runner, was only in time to catch Johnnie by
+the skirt upon the third step of the staircase, crying out, "The
+pig!" but Johnnie, tired of the subject, and in a provoking mood,
+twitched away his pinafore, crying, "Bother the pig!" and rushed up
+after the four who had preceded him, leaving such lumps of dirt on
+the edge of every step, that when Miss Fosbrook came after with
+Elizabeth she could not but declare that a shower was a costly
+article.
+
+"You see," observed Susan, "when it's such fine weather it puts one's
+feet out of one's head."
+
+While Sam, Henry, and Bessie were laughing at Susan for this speech,
+little George trotted in, crying out, "Halty man come, Halty man
+come; Georgie want sweetie!"
+
+"The Gibraltar man!" cried John and Annie with one voice, and they
+were at the bottom of the stairs with a bound.
+
+"Oh, send him away, send him away.  They'll spend all their money,
+and there will be none left!" was David's cry; while George kept
+dragging his eldest sister's frock, with entreaties of "Susie, Susie,
+come."
+
+"They call him the Gibraltar man, because he sells Gibraltar rock,
+and gingerbread, and all those things," said Henry in explanation.
+"We have always dealt with him; and he is very deserving; and his
+wife makes it all--at least I know she makes ginger-beer--so we must
+encourage him."
+
+So Henry hastened downstairs to encourage the Gibraltar man; and
+Susan, saying soothingly, "Yes, yes, Georgie;--never mind Davie,
+we'll make up for it; I can't vex him," had taken the little fellow
+in her arms and followed.
+
+"Pigs enough here, without sending to the fair," muttered Sam.
+
+"Please, Sam, please, Miss Fosbrook, send the Gibraltar man away, and
+don't let him come," cried David quite passionately.  "Nasty man! he
+will come every Saturday, and they'll always spend all their money."
+
+"But, my friend," said Miss Fosbrook good-humouredly, "suppose we
+have no right to banish the Gibraltar man?"
+
+"_I_ don't wan't him," said Bessie; "it makes my fingers sticky."
+
+"You're no good," said David vehemently.  "I don't like you, and I
+hate the Gibraltar man, taking away all our money from poor Hannah."
+
+"Gently, gently, Davie; nobody makes you spend your money; and
+perhaps the poor man has children of his own who want food as much as
+Hannah's do."
+
+"Then can't they eat the Gibraltar rock and bulls' eyes?"
+
+Sam suggested that this diet would make them sick; to which poor
+little earnest David answered, that when once the pig was bought, he
+would give all his money for a whole month to the Gibraltar man, if
+he would not come for the next four weeks.
+
+And Christabel thought of what she had once read, that people would
+often gladly put away from their children friends the very trials
+that are sent by Heaven to prove and strengthen their will and power
+of resisting self-indulgence.  Before she had quite thought it out,
+the quick steps were back again, and Sam greeted the entrance of John
+thus:  "Well, if that isn't a shame!  Have you been and done Sukey
+out of all that, Jack?"
+
+"It was only three bulls' eyes," said Susan, following.  "You know he
+had nothing of his own, and it was so hard, and Annie gave him some."
+
+"And Nurse some," added Hal.  "Trust Jackie for taking care of
+himself."  Well he might say so, considering how full were John's
+mouth, hands, and pockets.
+
+"And Davie has had nothing!" said kind Susan.  "Here, Davie!" holding
+out to him an amber-like piece of barley-sugar.
+
+"I don't want your stuff," said David roughly.  "You've spent all
+away from the pig."
+
+"No, Davie, indeed, only twopence," said Susan; "pray have a bit."
+
+"You might at least say thank you," said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+But how difficult is that middle road which is the only right one!
+David, being too much set on one single purpose, good though it was,
+could see nothing else.  It was right and generous to abstain from
+sweets with this end in view; but it was wrong to be rude and
+unthankful to the sister who meant all so kindly, and was the most
+unselfish of all.  She turned round to Elizabeth with the kind offer
+of the dainty she had not even tasted herself, but was not more
+graciously treated.
+
+"How can you, Susie? it is all pulled about with your fingers."
+
+This was a matter on which the Misses and Masters Merrifield were not
+wont to be particular; and with one of the teasing laughs that Bessie
+hated, Sam exclaimed as Susan turned to him, "Yes, thank you, Sukey,
+_I_ don't mind finger sauce," but not before John was stretching out
+a hand glazed with sugar, and calling out, "Oh, give it to me!" and
+as it disappeared in his brother's mouth, he burst out angrily, "How
+cross, Sam!  You did that on purpose!"
+
+"Yes," said Sam, "I did; for though pigs on four legs are all very
+well, I don't like pigs on two."
+
+"Here, Jackie, never mind," said Susan, seeing him about to begin to
+cry, and offering him her last sugar-plum.
+
+"I don't want sugar-plums, I want barley-sugar," said John devouring
+it nevertheless.
+
+"I haven't one bit more," said Susan regretfully.
+
+"Have you had any yourself, Susan?" asked Sam.
+
+"No; but I didn't want any."
+
+"Oh then, here Susie, I always keep a reserve," said Henry.  "No, no,
+not you, Jack; I don't feed little pigs, whatever Susie does."
+
+And in spite of Susan, both the elder brothers set on John, teasing
+him about his greediness, till he burst out crying, and ran away to
+the nursery.  Miss Fosbrook hated the teasing, but she thought it
+served John so rightly, that she would not save him from it; and she
+only interfered to remind the others that their fingers would bring
+them in for fines unless they were washed before tea.
+
+"And how much have you spent?" reproachfully asked that rigid young
+judge, David; but all the answer he got was a pull by the hair from
+Hal, and "Hollo, young one! am I to give my accounts to you?"
+
+David gravely put up his hand and smoothed his ruffled locks,
+repeating, in his manful way, "I want to know what you have left for
+the pig?"
+
+Whereupon Hal laid hold of him, pulled him off the locker, and rolled
+him about on the floor like a puppy dog, crying, "I'll tell you what,
+if you make such a work about it, I'll spend all my allowance, and
+not subscribe at all."
+
+"Sam!" cried the tormented David, and "Sam!" cried the governess,
+really afraid the little boy would be hurt; but Sam only stood
+laughing with his back to the shutter, and Christabel herself hurried
+to the rescue, to pick Henry off his victim, holding an arm tight,
+while the child got up, and ran away to get his hair re-brushed for
+tea.
+
+"Now, Hal, you might have hurt him," argued the governess.
+
+"Very good thing for him too," said the brothers with one voice.
+
+She was very much shocked; but when she thought it over she perceived
+that though Hal might be to blame, yet in the long run even this
+rough discipline might be more useful to her dear little David than
+being allowed to take upon him with his elder brothers, and grow
+conceited and interfering.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was not surprised when, next morning, a frightful
+bellowing was heard instead of Johnnie being seen, and she learnt
+that Master John was in the hands of Nurse Freeman, who was
+administering to him a dose in consequence of his having been greatly
+indisposed all night.  It must be confessed that Christabel was not
+very sorry to hear it, nor that Nurse would keep him to herself all
+day; for bad company as Johnnie had been on the week-days, he had
+been worse on the Sunday.
+
+And when John came out on Monday, he looked like a different boy; he
+had lost his fractious, rebellious look; he spoke as civilly as could
+be expected of a small Merrifield, and showed no signs of being set
+against his lessons.  To be sure it was a bad way of spending a
+Sunday, to be laid up with ailments brought on by over-eating; but
+even this was better than spending it, like the former one, in wilful
+misbehaviour; and John, who knew that Papa, Mamma, brothers, and
+sisters all alike detested and despised real greediness, had been
+heartily ashamed of himself, both for this and his forfeits.  A new
+week was a new starting-point, and he meant to spend this one well.
+For indeed it is one of the blessings of our lives that we have so
+many stages--days, weeks, years, and the like--from each of which we
+may make fresh starts, feel old things left behind, and go on to lead
+a new life.
+
+Besides, Johnnie was quite well now; and perhaps no child, so well
+brought up, could have been so constantly naughty the whole week
+without some degree of ailment, suspected neither by himself nor
+others.  For this is one of our real troubles, when either young or
+old, that sometimes there is a feeling of discomfort and vexation
+about us that, without knowing why, makes everything go amiss, causes
+everybody else to appear cross, and all tasks, all orders, all
+misadventures, to become great grievances.  Grown-up people feel this
+as well as children; but they have gone through it often enough to
+know what is the matter, and they have, or ought to have, more self-
+command.  But children have yet to learn by experience that the outer
+things are not harder and more untoward, so much as that they
+themselves are out of sorts.  This is poor comfort; and certainly it
+is dangerous to say to ourselves that being poorly is any excuse for
+letting ourselves be cross, or for not doing our best.  If Mrs.
+Merrifield had thought so, what miserable lives her husband and
+children would have led!  No, the way to use the certain fact that
+the state of our bodies affects our tempers and spirits, is to say to
+ourselves, "Well, if this person or this thing do seem disagreeable,
+or if this work, or even this little bit of obedience, be very
+tiresome, perhaps it may really be only a fancy of mine, and if I go
+to it with a good will, I may work off the notion;" or, "Perhaps I am
+cross to-day, let me take good care how I answer."  And a little
+prayer in our hearts will be the best help of all.  Self-command and
+goodness will not come by nature as we grow up, but we must work for
+them in childhood.
+
+When the Monday allowances were brought out, and the pig's chance
+inquired into, David alone produced his whole sum, untouched by
+forfeiture or waste, and dropped it into "Toby Fillpot."  Elizabeth
+had her entire sixpence; but a penny had been spent on a letter to
+Mamma, and she gave but one to the fund, in spite of the black looks
+she met from David.  Sam had lost a farthing by the shower, and had
+likewise bought a queen's head, to write to his father.  The rest,
+fourpence-three farthings, he paid over.  Poor Johnnie! his last
+week's naughtiness had exceeded his power of paying fines, and a
+halfpenny was subtracted from this week's threepence; while the
+Gibraltar man had consumed all that fines had spared to little Annie,
+had left Susan only threepence, and Henry but twopence-halfpenny.
+This, with twopence that Miss Fosbrook had found in her travelling-
+bag, made one shilling and fourpence-farthing--a very poor collection
+for one week.  David was quite melancholy.
+
+"Never mind," said Henry; "Mr. Carey's brother, the Colonel, is
+coming to stay here the last week in July, and he gives us boys half-
+a-sovereign each, so that we might buy a stunning pig all ourselves
+twice over."
+
+"Always?  He never did so but once," said Sam.
+
+"That was the only time he saw us, though," said Hal; "and we were
+quite little boys then.  I'll tell you what, Sam, he'll give us each
+a sovereign this time, and then I'll buy a bow and arrows."
+
+"Stuff!" said Sam.  "I hope he won't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I hate it!  I hate saying thank you; I shall get out of the way, if
+I can."
+
+"Sam has no manners!" said Hal, turning round to Miss Fosbrook.  "To
+think that he had rather go without a sovereign or two than say thank
+you!"
+
+"I'M too much of a gentleman to lay myself out for presents!"
+retorted Samuel; and the two boys fell on each other, buffeting one
+another, all in good part on Sam's side, though there was some temper
+and annoyance on Henry's.
+
+When Sam was out of hearing, Hal discoursed very grandly on the
+sovereign he intended Colonel Carey to give him, and the prodigious
+things he meant to do with it.  A gentleman once gave Osmond Greville
+two sovereigns; why should not Colonel Carey be equally liberal?  And
+to hear the boy, those two sovereigns would buy everything in the
+world, from the pig to a double-barrelled gun.  David began to grow
+hurt, and to fear the Toby fund would be lost in this magnificence;
+but Hal assured him that it would be a help, and they should all have
+a share in the pig, promising presents to everybody, which Susan and
+Annie expected with the more certainty that Sam was never present to
+laugh down these fine projects.
+
+Indeed Miss Fosbrook had laughed at them once or twice, and observed
+that she thought money earned or spared a better thing than money
+given; and this caused Hal to cease to try to dazzle her, though he
+could not give up the pleasure of regaling his sisters in private
+with the wonders to be done with Colonel Carey's possible sovereigns.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+
+The second week was prosperous:  the treasury made progress; and
+Christabel began to feel as if her pupils were not beyond her
+management, as at first she had feared.  Collectively they were less
+uncouth and bearish, not so noisy at their meals, nor so needlessly
+rude to one another; and the habit of teasing Elizabeth whenever
+there was nothing else to do was greatly lessened.  Indeed Sam did
+not plague her himself, nor let his brothers do so, unless she
+tempted him by some very foolish whine or bit of finery; and in such
+eases a little friendly merriment is a sound cure, very unlike the
+hateful fault of tormenting for tormenting's sake.
+
+Nor did Elizabeth give nearly so much cause for their rough laughter,
+since Miss Fosbrook had given wholesome food to her tastes and
+likings, partly satisfying the longing for variety, beauty, or
+interest which had made her discontented and restless.  Her head was
+full of HER secret, and her pretty plans for her gift.  Such lovely
+drawings she saw in her mind's eye, such fairies, such delightful
+ships, kittens, babies in the cradle!  But when the pencil was in her
+hand, the lines went all ways but the right; her fairy was a grimy
+little object, whose second wing could never be put on; the ships
+were saucers; the kitten might have been the pig; the baby was an owl
+in an ivy-bush; and to look at the live baby in the cradle only
+puzzled her the more.  Miss Fosbrook gave her real drawing lessons;
+but boxes, palings, and tumble-down sheds, done with a broad black
+pencil, did not seem to help her to what she wished.  Yet sometimes
+her fingers produced what surprised and pleased herself and
+Christabel; and she never was happier than when safely shut into Miss
+Fosbrook's bed-room with her card and her paints.  She used to bolt
+herself in, with a little parade of mystery that made Annie
+exceedingly curious, though the others generally let it alone as
+"Betty's fancy."
+
+Christabel wanted to learn botany for her own pleasure.  She found a
+book which Susan and Bessie pronounced to be horridly stupid (indeed
+Annie called it nasty, and was reproved for using such a word), but
+when the information in it was minced up small, and brought out in a
+new form, Bessie enjoyed it extremely.  The whole party were
+delighted to gather flowers for Miss Fosbrook--the wetter or the
+steeper places they grew in the better; but the boys thought it
+girlish to know the names; and Susan, though liking gardening, did
+not in the least care for the inside of a flower.  Elizabeth,
+however, was charmed at the loveliness that was pointed out to her;
+and even Annie, when the boys were not at hand, thought it very
+entertaining to look at petals, stamens, and pistils, and to see that
+a daisy is made up of a host of tiny flowers.  Both little sisters
+were having their eyes opened to see some of the wonder and some of
+the glory of this earth of ours.  It made Bessie much less often
+tired of everything and everybody; though after all there is but one
+spirit that is certain never to be weary or dissatisfied, and into
+that she had yet to grow.
+
+Fines were much less frequent:  there were no foolish tears; only one
+lesson of John's turned back, two of Annie's, one of Susan's; some
+unbrushed hair of Susan's too--an unlucky mention of the raven by
+Annie in lesson-time--and some books left about by Sam.  Henry's
+fines were the serious ones:  he had two for incorrect sums, one for
+elbows on the table, three for talking, one for not putting his
+things away; and besides, he COULD NOT go without a pennyworth of
+string; and the Grevilles would have laughed at him if he had not
+bought some more marbles.
+
+But what did that signify when Colonel Carey was coming? and a
+sovereign would buy a pig three times over--at least, if it was quite
+a little one.  Christabel wished the hope of that sovereign had never
+occurred to him, for he seemed to think it quite set him free from
+the little self-restraints by which the others were earning the
+pleasure of making the gift; and though he still talked the most
+about the pig, he denied himself the least for it.
+
+One evening the boys came in with a great piece of news.  Their tutor
+had read in the paper that Admiral Penrose was appointed to the
+Ramilies, to take command in the Mediterranean.  He was a great
+friend of their father, and, said the boys, was most likely to make
+him his flag-captain.
+
+"And me a naval cadet!" said Hal.  "He said he would, when he was
+here!"
+
+"One of you, he said," put in Susan.
+
+"I know it will be me!" said Hal.  "He looked at the rigging of my
+frigate, and said I knew all the ropes quite well; and he told Papa
+he might be proud of such a son!"
+
+"Oh! oh!" groaned the aggrieved multitude.
+
+"Well--such a family; but he was looking at me; and I know he will
+give me the appointment; and I shall sail in his ship--you'll see.
+And when I get to the Mediterranean, I'll tell you what I'll do--I
+shall kill a shark all my own self!"
+
+"A shark in the Mediterranean!"
+
+"Well, why shouldn't they get in by the Straits of Magellan?  Oh! is
+that the other place?  Well, never mind--I'll shoot the shark."
+
+"Stuff, Hal!" said Sam rather gruffly.
+
+Hal went off on another tack.  "Well, at least he has set me down by
+this time; and Papa will have me up to London for my outfit."
+
+"I hope you will have leave, and come and see us," said Annie.
+
+"I'll try; but, you see, I shall be an officer on duty, and I dare
+say Admiral Penrose will hardly be able to spare me; but I'll send
+you all presents out of my pay."
+
+"You'll spend all your pay on yourself," said David.
+
+"Out of my prize-money then."
+
+"You can't get prize-money without a war," said Elizabeth.
+
+"Oh! don't let there be a war!" cried Susan.
+
+"Yes, but there is!" said Harry in a tremendous tone; and as Miss
+Fosbrook held up her hands, "at least there was one in the Black Sea;
+and I know there was a battle in the newspaper--at least, Mr. Carey
+read about Palermo."
+
+"I don't think Garibaldi in Sicily will put much prize-money into
+your pocket, Hal," said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Oh! but there's sure to be a war! and I shall get promoted, and be a
+man before any of you.  I shall go about, and see condors, and lions,
+and elephants, and wear a sword--at least, a dirk--while you are
+learning Latin and Greek at Uncle John's!"
+
+"Don't make such a noise about it!" said Sam crossly.
+
+"I don't know why you should be the one to go," said Elizabeth.  "Sam
+is the eldest."
+
+"Yes; but Sam is such a slow-coach.  Papa said I was the only one fit
+to make a sailor of--at least, he said I was smart, and--Hollo!  Sam,
+I won't have you kicking my legs!"
+
+"Don't keep up such a row then!" growled Sam; but Hal was in too full
+swing to be reached by slight measures.  He pushed his chair back,
+tucked up his feet like a tailor's, out of reach, and went on:  "Then
+I shall come home in my cocked hat, like Papa's--at least, my cap--
+and come and ask for a holiday for you all at Uncle John's."
+
+Uncle John was an under-master at one of the great public schools,
+and the children were all a good deal in awe of him.
+
+"Uncle John won't give one for YOU!" said Sam.
+
+"Come, boys, I can't have this bickering," said Miss Fosbrook.  "I
+can't see you trying which can be most provoking.  Stand up.  Now,
+David, say grace.  There, Annie, finish that bit of bread out of
+doors.  Go out, and let us have no more of this."
+
+She spoke now with much less fear of not being minded; and having
+seen one of the quarrelsome parties safe out of the school-room, she
+went to fetch from her own room a glove that wanted mending; and on
+her return found Sam alone there, curled up over his lesson-books on
+the locker, looking so gloomy, that she was afraid she had made him
+sulky, for which she would have been very sorry, since she had a
+respect for him.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked; and his "Nothing" did not at all
+assure her that he was in a right mood.  She doubted whether to leave
+him alone; but presently thought he looked more unhappy than ill-
+tempered, and ventured to speak.  "Have you a hard piece to learn?
+Perhaps I could help you."
+
+He let her come and look at his book; but, to her surprise, he had
+before him a very easy problem in Euclid.
+
+"Indeed, if you only gave your mind to this," she said, "you would
+soon make it out."
+
+"Stupid stuff!" exclaimed Sam.  "It is all along of that, and the
+rest of it, that I have got to be a land-lubber!" and he threw the
+book to the other end of the room.
+
+"Have you no chance?" said Miss Fosbrook, without taking notice of
+this rudeness, for she saw that the boy could hardly contain himself.
+
+"No!  The Admiral did take notice of Hal; and one day when I was slow
+at a proposition, my father said I was too block-headed to beat
+navigation into, and that Hal is a smart fellow, worth two of me.  I
+know he is!  I know that; only if he would not make such an
+intolerable crowing--"
+
+"Then you wish it very much?"
+
+"Wish it!  Of course I do.  Why, my father is a sailor; and I
+remember the Fury, and I saw the Calliope--his ship that he had in
+the war time.  Before I was as big as little George I always thought
+I should be a sailor.  And now if Papa goes out with Admiral Penrose,
+and Hal too--oh! it will be so horrid home!"
+
+"But can't you both go?"
+
+"No; my father said he couldn't ask to have two of us put down,
+unless perhaps some younger one had a chance by and by.  And Hal is
+the sharpest, and does everything better than I can when he has a
+mind.  My father says, among so many all can't choose; and if this
+place is to be mine, Hal may want to be in the navy more than I.
+Yes, it is all right, and Hal must go.  But--but--when my father is
+gone--"and Sam fairly burst out crying.  "I didn't hardly know how
+different it is with him away till this month.  I was such a little
+fellow when he went to the Black Sea; but now--never mind, though!"
+and he stamped his foot on the floor.  "Papa said it, and it must be.
+Don't tell the others, Miss Fosbrook;" and he resolutely went and
+picked up his Euclid, and began finding the place.
+
+"You will do your duty like a man, wherever you are, Sam," said
+Christabel heartily.
+
+Sam looked as if he had rather that she had not said it, but it was
+comfortable to him for all that; and though she kept further
+compliments to herself, she could not but think that there was no
+fear but that he would be a man, in the best sense of the word,
+before Hal, when she saw him so manfully put his sore grievance out
+of his head, and turn to the present business of conquering his
+lesson.  Nor did she hear another word from him about his
+disappointment.
+
+It made her dislike Henry's boasts more than ever; and she used to
+cut them short as fast as she could, till the young chatterer decided
+that she was "cross," and reserved all his wonderful "at leasts" for
+his sisters, and his proofs of manliness for the Grevilles.
+
+The Gibraltar man did not come on Saturday; and Miss Fosbrook had
+been the saving of several stamps by sending some queer little
+letters in her own to Mrs. Merrifield, so that on Monday morning the
+hoard was increased to seven-and-sixpence; although between fines and
+"couldn't helps," Henry's sixpence had melted down to a halfpenny,
+which "was not worth while."
+
+On this day arrived a servant from the Park, bringing a delicate
+little lilac envelope, stamped with a tiny rose, and directed to Miss
+Merrifield.  There was another rose on the top of the lilac paper;
+and the writing was in a very neat hand.
+
+
+My dear Susan,
+
+Mamma desires me to say that she hopes you and Bessie and Annie will
+come to dine early to-morrow, and play with me, and that Miss Fosbury
+will come with you.  She hopes your Mamma is better, and would be
+glad to have her address in London.
+
+I am your affectionate
+IDA ARABELLA GREVILLE.
+
+
+"Oh!  Miss Fosbrook, may we go?" cried the girls with sparkling eyes.
+
+Mrs. Merrifield had written that one or two such invitations might be
+accepted, but she had rather it did not happen too often, as visits
+at the Park were unsettling to some of the children.  So as this was
+the first, Christabel gladly consented, rather curious and rather shy
+on her own account.
+
+Elizabeth begged for the rose, to copy it, and as there were no
+little ones present to seize it, she was allowed to have it; while
+Susan groaned and sighed over the misfortune of having to write a
+"horrible note" just at play-time; and the boys treated it as a sort
+of insult to the whole family that Ida should have mistaken their
+governess's name.
+
+"Tell her you won't go till she has it right," said Sam; at which
+Annie made a vehement outcry of "No, no!" such as made them all laugh
+at her thinking him in earnest.
+
+Susan's note began -
+
+
+My dear Ida,
+
+We shuold -
+
+
+But then perceiving that something was the matter with her word,
+Susan sat and looked at it, till at last, perceiving that her u and o
+had changed places, she tried putting a top to the u, and made it
+like an a; while the filling up the o made it become a blot, such as
+caught Bessie's eye.
+
+"O Susie, you won't send such a thing as that up to Ida?"
+
+"No--that WOULD be a 'horrible note,'" said her governess; and she
+ruled the lines again.
+
+"Dear me," said Susan impatiently; "can't one send a message up by
+the man that we'll all come, without this fuss?"
+
+But Miss Fosbrook said that would be very uncivil; and Susan,
+groaning, stretched every finger till the lines were finished, and
+began again, in her scraggy round-hand--getting safely through the
+"should," and also through "like to come very much;" but when Miss
+Fosbrook looked up next, she saw that the rest of the note consisted
+of -
+
+
+Mamma is at Grandmamma's, No. 12, St., Grovensor Place.
+
+I am your affectionate
+SUSANNA MERRIFIELD.
+
+
+"My dear, I am very sorry."
+
+"What! won't that do?" sighed Susan, beginning to get into despair.
+
+Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word "Grovensor."
+
+"Oh dear! oh dear!  I thought I had got that tiresome word this time.
+Why can't it put its ss and ns into their proper sensible places?"
+cried poor Susan, to whom it was a terrible enemy.  She used to try
+them in different places all the way round, in hopes that one might
+at last be right.
+
+"Can't you remember what I told you, that the first Grosvenor was the
+grand huntsman?  Grosveneur in French; that would show you where to
+put the s--gros, great."
+
+But Susan never wished to remember anything French; and Sam observed
+that "the man deserved to be spelt wrong if he called himself by a
+French name.  Why couldn't he be content to be Mr. Grandhunter?"
+
+"But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs. Greville
+will be shocked," said Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Please can't you scratch it out?" said the disconsolate Susan.
+
+"_I_ should not like to send a note with a scratch in it.  Besides,
+yours is hardly civil."
+
+"No, indeed," said Elizabeth; "don't you know how people answer
+invitations, Susie?  I'll tell you.  'Miss Susanna, and Miss
+Elizabeth, and Miss Annie Merrifield will be very happy to do the
+honour of dining with--' Sam, why do you laugh at me always?"
+
+"Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by dining with her."
+
+"People always do honour when they dine," said Elizabeth.  "I know
+they do."
+
+"They profess to receive the honour, not confer it, Bessie," said
+Miss Fosbrook, laughing; "but I don't think that is the model for
+Susie's note.  It would be as much too formal as hers was too blunt."
+
+"Must I do it again?" said Susan.  "I had rather not go, if it is to
+be such a plague."
+
+"Indeed, I fear you must, Susie.  It is quite needful to learn how to
+write a respectable note; really a more difficult thing than writing
+a long letter.  I am sorry for you; but if you were not so careless
+in your letters to Mamma this would come more easily to you."
+
+But this time Miss Fosbrook not only ruled another sheet, but wrote,
+in fair large-hand on a slate, the words, that Susan might copy them
+without fresh troubles:
+
+
+We are much obliged to your Mamma for her kind invitation, and shall
+have much pleasure in coming with Miss Fosbrook to dine with you and
+spend the day.  I am sorry to say that Mamma was not quite so well
+when last we heard.  Her address is--No. 12,--St., Grosvenor-place.
+
+
+Susan thought that here were a very serious number of words, and
+begged hard for leave to leave out her sorrow.  Of course she was
+sorry, but what was the use of telling Ida so?
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought it looked better, but Susan might do as she
+pleased.
+
+"I wouldn't say it, then," said Sam.  "I wouldn't say it only to look
+better to Ida."  With which words he and Hal walked off to the
+garden.
+
+Would it be believed?  Susan, in her delight at being near the end,
+forgot the grand huntsman, and made the unlucky Place "Grovesnor,"
+and then, in her haste to mend it, put her finger into the wet ink,
+and smeared not only that word, but all the line above!
+
+It was a shame and a wonder that a girl of her age should be so
+incapable of producing a creditable note; and Miss Fosbrook was very
+near scolding her but she had pity on the tearful eyes and weary
+fingers, and spoke cheerfully:  "There, that was almost the thing.
+One more trial, Susan, and you need never be afraid of Ida's notes
+again."
+
+If Susan could not write notes, at least she was not cross; and it
+would be well if many who could send off a much better performance
+with far less difficulty could go to work as patiently as she did,
+without one pettish word to Miss Fosbrook, though that lady seemed to
+poor Susie as hard a task mistress as if she could have helped it.
+This time Miss Fosbrook authorized the leaving out of the spending
+the day, and suggested that S. would be enough without the whole
+Susanna, and she mercifully directed the cover to Miss Greville.
+
+"There, my dear, you have worked hard for your pleasure," she said,
+as Susan extended each hand to its broadest stretch to uncramp them,
+and stretched herself backwards as if she wanted to double her head
+down to her heels.  "I shall give you a good mark, Susie, as if it
+had been a lesson."
+
+Susan deserved it, for her patient perseverance had been all out of
+obedience, not in the mere desire of having her note admired.
+Indeed, good child, at the best it was a very poor affair for a girl
+of twelve, and Miss Fosbrook was ashamed of it when she looked at
+Ida's lady-like little billet.
+
+"But I wonder," said she to herself, "whether I shall feel as if I
+would change my dear stupid Susan for Miss Ida?"
+
+Meanwhile Susan flew screaming and leaping out into the garden in a
+mad tom-boy fashion; but that could well be pardoned, as there were
+only her sisters to see her; and the pleasure of having persevered
+and done her best was enough to make her heart and her limbs dance
+for merriment.
+
+Depend upon it, however wretched and miserable hard application to
+what we do not like may seem at the moment, it is the only way to
+make play-times really delicious.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+
+Miss Fosbrook soon knew what Mrs. Merrifield meant by saying that
+visits at the Park unsettled the children.  Susan indeed, though
+liking anything that shortened lessons by an hour, and made a change,
+was not so fond of being on her good behaviour at the Park as to be
+greatly exalted at the prospect; but Elizabeth and Annie were changed
+beings.  They were constantly breaking out with some new variety of
+wonder.  They wondered whether they should dine in the school-room,
+or at Mrs. Greville's luncheon; they wondered if Mr. Greville would
+speak to them; they wondered whether Fraulein Munsterthal would be
+cross; they wondered if Ida still played with dolls; and they looked
+as if they thought themselves wonderful, too, for going out for a
+day!
+
+Nay, the wonders were at their tongues' end even when lessons began,
+and put their farthings in great peril; and when they had nothing
+else to wonder at, they wondered when it would be twelve o'clock, and
+took no pains to swallow enormous yawns.  Once, over her copy,
+Elizabeth exclaimed, "Now! yes, this is necessary, Miss Fosbrook!
+May not we wear our white frocks?"
+
+"They are not ironed," answered Susan.
+
+"Oh, do let me go and tell Mary!  There's lots of time," said Bessie,
+who had lately thought it cruel of the clock to point only to half-
+past ten, and never bethought herself how Mary would like to be
+called off from her scrubbing to iron three white frocks.
+
+"Would your Mamma wish it?" asked Christabel.
+
+"Oh dear no," was Susan's answer; "we always wear clean ones of our
+every-day frocks.  Our white ones are only for dinner-parties and
+Christmas-trees."
+
+Bessie grumbled.  "How cross!  I hate those nasty old spotty
+cottons;" and Johnnie returned to the old story--"Little vain pussy-
+cat."
+
+Up went Miss Fosbrook's warning pencil, she shook her head, and held
+out her hand for two fines.  Elizabeth began to gulp and sob.
+
+"Oh, don't, Betty!" cried Susan.  "Stop while you can.  You won't
+like going up with red eyes.  There, I'll pay your fine; and there's
+another for my speaking."
+
+"No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind words," said Miss
+Fosbrook; "but no more now; go on, Annie."
+
+But Annie, who was reading a little history of St. Paul, would call
+Cilicia, Cicilia, and when told to spell it she began to cry too
+decidedly for Susan's good-nature to check her tears.  And not only
+did Elizabeth's copy look as if she had written it with claws instead
+of fingers, but she was grieving over her spotted cotton instead of
+really seeking for places in her map.  Thus the Moselle obstinately
+hid itself; and she absolutely shed tears because Miss Fosbrook
+declared that Frankfort WAS on the Maine.  For the first time she had
+her grammar turned back upon her hands.  How many mistakes Annie made
+would be really past telling; for these two little girls had their
+whole minds quite upset by the thought of a day's pleasure; and as
+they never tried to restrain themselves, and to "be sober, be
+vigilant," they gave way before all the little trials in their paths-
+-were first careless, and then fractious.  Perhaps when they were
+older they would find out that this uplifted sense of excited
+expectation is the very warning to be heedful.
+
+If Miss Fosbrook had been a strict governess, she would have told
+them they did not deserve to go at all; or at any rate, that Bessie
+must repeat her grammar better, and re-write her copy, and that
+Annie's unlucky addition sum must be made to prove; but she had seen
+her little sisters nearly as bad in prospect of a pantomime, so she
+was merciful, and sent them in good time to brush their hair, put on
+their spotted cottons, and wash off as much as possible of the red
+mottling left by those foolish tears.
+
+Their spirits rose again as fast as they had sunk; and it was a
+lively walk through the park to the great house, with a good deal of
+skipping and jumping at first, and then, near the door, a little awe
+and gravity.
+
+They were taken through a side-door of the hall to the school-room,
+where Ida and her governess received them.  It was the first time
+that Christabel had seen her out of her beplumed hat, and she thought
+her a pleasant, bright-looking little girl, not at all set up or
+conceited.  Her mauve muslin, flounced though it was up to her waist,
+showed that it had been wise to withstand Bessie's desire for the
+white muslins; but Miss Fosbrook had enough to do on her own account
+with the endeavour to understand the German governess's foreign
+accent, without attending to the children more than was necessary.
+
+It was not a very remarkable day, and the pleasures of it seemed
+hardly enough to justify the little girls' great excitement.  There
+was first the dinner at the luncheon of the parents, where the
+children sat up rather formal and subdued, and not quite certain what
+all the dishes might contain, a little afraid of getting what they
+COULD not eat, though desirous of making experiments in this land of
+wonders.  None of them had forgotten, and they thought no one else
+had, how Bessie had once come to disgrace by bursting out crying over
+the impossibility of finishing some terrible rice-bordered greenish
+yellow stuff that burnt her mouth beyond bearing, and which Ida
+called curry, and said people in the East Indies liked.  However,
+that was when Bessie had been a very little girl; and she still
+continued adventurous, saying, "Yes, if you please," to cutlets set
+round in a wreath, with all their bones sticking up, and covered with
+a reddish incrustation that Susan and Annie thought so unnatural,
+that they preferred the boiled chicken that at least they could
+understand, though it had funny-hooking accompaniments in the sauce.
+And Hal's report of some savoury jelly which he had once encountered
+would have deterred them from the pink transparency in the shape of a
+shell, if they had not seen Bessie getting on very well with it, Miss
+Fosbrook happily perceiving and cutting short Annie's intended
+inquiry whether it were nice.  To her great relief, this was the only
+want of manners betrayed by her little savages, and she was able to
+keep her attention tolerably free from them, so as to look at the
+pictures on the walls, observe the two boys, Hal's friends, and talk
+to Mrs. Greville, who made conversation with her very pleasantly.
+
+She was much grieved to perceive, from what that lady said, that Mrs.
+Merrifield was thought to be much more ill, and in a far more
+alarming state, than she had at all understood.  The girls were too
+young to enter into the tone of sad sympathy with which Mrs. Greville
+spoke, and the manner in which a doubt was expressed whether the
+Captain would be able to sail with Admiral Penrose if he should have
+the offer; and as soon as she saw that they and their governess were
+in ignorance, she turned it off; but she had said enough to fill
+Christabel with anxiety and desire to know more; and as soon as the
+dinner was over, and the little girls had run off together to visit
+Ida's beautiful cockatoo in the conservatory, she turned to Fraulein
+Munsterthal, and begged to hear whether she knew more than had been
+said.
+
+Fraulein Munsterthal did not quite know that such a person as Mrs.
+Merrifield was in existence; but she was very amiable and warm-
+hearted, and said how sad it was to think of the trouble that hung
+over "these so careless children," and was doubly kind to the girls
+when they came back from their conversation with pretty "Cocky," who
+set up his lemon-coloured crest, coughed, sneezed, and said "Cocky
+want a biscuit!" to admiration, till the boys were seen approaching;
+when Ida, knowing that some torment would follow, took herself and
+her visitors back to the protection of the governesses in time to
+prevent the cockatoo from being made to fly at the girls, and powder
+them with the white dust under his feathers.
+
+The afternoon was spent in the garden, the little girls betaking
+themselves to a pretty moss-covered arbour, where there was a grand
+doll's feast.  Ida had no less than twenty-three dolls, ranging from
+the magnificent Rosalind, who had real hair that could be brushed,
+and was as large as little Sally at home, down to poor little china
+Mildred, whose proper dwelling-place was a bath, and who had with
+great difficulty been put into petticoats enough to make her fit to
+be seen out of it.  Now nobody at home could have saved the life of a
+doll for a single day, and Susan and Elizabeth were both thought far
+above them; but these beautifully arrayed young ladies had always
+been the admiration of the heart of Bessie as well as of Annie, and
+they were not too old for extreme satisfaction in handling their
+elegant ladyships, and still more their beautiful dinner and tea-
+service of pink and white ware.
+
+Susan, though she could not write a note, or do lessons like Ida, was
+older in the ways of life, and played rather as she did with the
+little ones at home than for her own amusement.  She would much
+rather have had the fun of "cats and mice" with her brothers; and but
+for the honour of the thing, so perhaps would Annie.  However, they
+were all very happy, getting the dolls up in the morning, giving
+Mildred washing enough for all the twenty-three, making them
+breakfast, hearing lessons, in which Ida was governess, and made them
+talk so many languages that Annie was alarmed.  Of course one of the
+young ladies was very naughty, and was treated with extreme severity;
+then there was dinner, a walk, an illness, and a dinner-party.  While
+all the time the two real governesses sat in the shade outside, and
+talked in English or German as best they might, the Fraulein
+understanding Christabel's English the best, as did Christabel the
+Fraulein's German.  They began to make friends, and to wish to see
+more of one another.
+
+There was a walk round the garden, and admiration of the beautiful
+flowers, and the fountain and pond of gold-fish, till the boys came
+home, and got hold of the garden-engine for watering, crying out,
+"Fire! fire!" and squirting out the showers of water very much in the
+direction of the girls.
+
+Ida became quite crimson red, and got hold of Susan's hand to drag
+her away; then, as the foremost drops of another shower touched her,
+she faced about, and said, "Osmond! don't, or I'll tell Mamma."
+There was a great rude laugh, as of boys who well knew the threat was
+never put in execution; and poor Fraulein Munsterthal only shook her
+head at Miss Fosbrook's look of amaze, and said in German that "die
+Knaben" were far too unartig for her to keep in order.  She pitied
+Miss Fosbrook for having so many in charge as to destroy all peace.
+And if Sam and Hal had been like these two, Christabel felt that she
+could have done nothing with them.  To her dismay, Osmond and Martin
+came in to the school-room tea; and she never had thought to feel so
+thankful for poor dear Susan's slowness of comprehension, for, from
+their whispers among themselves, and from their poor tormented
+sister's blushes, she was clear that the "fire" was a piece of bad
+wit on Susan's red hair.  Boys who could so basely insult a guest,
+and that a girl, she was sure must be bad companions for Sam and
+Henry.  Such little gentlemen as they had been at dinner too, so
+polite and well-behaved before their father and mother!  There could
+be no doubt that something must be very wrong about them, or they
+would not change so entirely when out of sight.  It is not always
+true that a child must be deceitful who is less good in the absence
+of the authorities; because their presence is a help and a restraint,
+checking the beginning of mischief, and removing temptation; but one
+who does not fall by weakness, but intentionally alters his conduct
+the instant the elder is gone, shows that his will has been
+disobedient all along
+
+By and by Mr. Greville's voice was heard calling, "Martin!  Osmond!"
+As they went out to meet him in the passage, Miss Fosbrook clearly
+overheard, "Here is the spring of the garden-engine spoilt.  Do you
+know anything about it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You have not been meddling with it?"
+
+"No."  And they ran downstairs.
+
+The colour flushed into Christabel's cheeks with horror.  She was
+glad that her little girls were all in Ida's room, listening to a
+musical-box, and well out of hearing of such fearfully direct
+falsehoods, as it seemed to her, not knowing that the boys excused it
+to their own minds by the notion that it was not the SPRING of the
+engine that they had been meddling with, and that so they did not
+know how the harm had been done--as if it made it any better that
+they lied to themselves as well as their father!  The German saw her
+dismay, and began to say how unlike her Ida was to her brothers--so
+truthful, so gentle, and courteous; but poor Christabel could not get
+over the thought of the ease and readiness with which deceit came to
+these boys.  Could their daily companions, Samuel and Henry, have
+learnt the same effrontery, and be deceiving her all this time?  No,
+no, she could not, would not think it!  Assuredly not of Sam!  She
+was very glad not to see the boys again, and went home with her
+pupils, rather heavy-hearted, at eight o'clock, just as Ida was to
+put on her white muslin and pink ribbons, and go down after dinner
+for half an hour.
+
+There were many kisses at parting, and a whole box of sweets, done up
+in beautifully coloured and gold and silver paper, presented to the
+little visitors; but it might be supposed that the girls were tired,
+for there was a fretful snarling all the way across the park, because
+Elizabeth insisted that the gifts should be called bon-bons, and the
+others would hear of nothing but goodies.  Nobody looked at the
+beautiful evening sky, nor at the round red moon coming up like a
+lamp behind the trees, nor at the first stars peeping out, nor even
+at the green light of the glow-worm--all which were more beautiful
+than anything Ida had shown them, except perhaps the hothouse
+flowers; and at last two such cross ill-tempered voices sounded from
+Bessie and Annie, that Christabel turned round and declared that she
+should not let the sugar-plums be touched for a week if another word
+were said about them.
+
+She hoped that when the visit was over it would be done with; but no
+such thing.  Though Susan was her own good hearty self, Elizabeth had
+not recovered either on that day of the next from the effects of the
+pleasuring.  On each she cried over her lessons, and was cross at
+whatever the boys said to her, made a fuss about keeping the
+ornamental cases of the bon-bons, and went about round-backed,
+peevish, and discontented, finding everything flat and ugly after her
+one peep at the luxuries of the Park.  Her farthings melted away
+fast; but she seemed to think this her misfortune, not her fault.
+She did not try to talk to Miss Fosbrook, feeling perhaps that she
+was in a naughty mood, which she would not try to shake off; and she
+made no attempt to go on with her present for her Mamma, it looked so
+poor and trumpery after the beautiful things she had seen.
+
+Nor did Christabel like to remind her of it, fearing that the
+occasion for giving it might never come; but she did feel that it was
+a mournful thing to see the child, who was in danger of so fearful a
+sorrow, wasting her grief in pining after foolish fancies, and
+turning what should have been a refreshing holiday into an occasion
+of longing after what she thus made into pomps and vanities of this
+wicked world.  Christabel had heard that people who murmur among
+blessings often have those blessings snatched away, and this made her
+tremble for poor little discontented Elizabeth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+
+"There!" exclaimed Susan, "I really have got a letter from Papa
+himself.  What a prize!"
+
+"You'll have to mind your Grosvenor when you answer HIM," said Sam;
+"but hollo, what's the matter?"
+
+For Susan's eyes had grown large, and her whole face scarlet, and she
+gave a little cry as she read.
+
+"Your Mamma, my dear?" asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Oh, Mamma--Mamma is so very ill!" and Susan throw the letter down,
+and broke into a fit of sobbing.
+
+Sam caught it up, and Elizabeth came to read it with him, both
+standing still and not speaking a word, but staring at the letter
+with their eyes fixed.
+
+"What is it, my dear?" said Miss Fosbrook, tenderly putting her arm
+round Susan; but she sobbed too much to make a word distinct, and
+Bessie held out the letter to her governess, looking white, and too
+much awed to speak.
+
+Captain Merrifield wrote in short, plain, sad words, that he thought
+it right that his children should know how matters stood.  The
+doctors' treatment, for which their mother had been taken to London,
+had not succeeded, but had occasioned such terrible illness, that
+unless by the mercy of God she became much better in the course of a
+day or two, she could not live.  If she should be worse, he would
+either write or telegraph, and Susan and Sam must be ready to set out
+at once on the receipt of such a message, and come up by the next
+train to London, where they should be met at the station.  He had
+promised their mother that in case of need he would send for them.
+
+
+God bless you, my poor children, and have mercy on us all!
+Your loving father,
+H. MERRIFIELD.
+
+
+That was all; and Christabel felt, more than even the children did,
+from how full and heavy a heart those words had been written.
+
+Though she hardly knew how to speak, she tried to comfort Susan by
+showing her that her father had evidently not given up all hope; but
+Susan was crying more at the thought of her Mamma's present illness
+and pain than with fear of the future; and Sam said sadly, "He would
+not have written at all unless it had been very bad indeed."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Fosbrook; "but I believe, in cases like this, there
+is often great fear, and then very speedy improvement."
+
+"Oh dear," said Bessie, speaking for the first time, "I know it will
+be.  Little girls in story-books always do have their mammas--die!"
+
+"Story-books are all nonsense, so it won't happen," said Sam; and
+really it seemed as if the habit of contradicting Bessie had
+suggested to him the greatest consolation that had yet occurred.
+
+Just then Henry and the younger ones came in, and learnt the tidings.
+Henry wept as bitterly as his elder sister, and John and Annie both
+did the same; but David did not speak one word, as if he hardly took
+in what was the matter, and, going to the window, took up his lesson-
+books as usual.
+
+"It is nine o'clock, Hal," said Sam presently.
+
+"Oh, we can't go to Mr. Carey to-day," said Hal.
+
+"Yes, we shall," returned Sam.
+
+"Oh don't," cried Susan.  "Suppose a telegraph should come!"
+
+"Well, then you can send for me," said Sam.  "Come, Hal."
+
+"How can you, Sam?" said Henry crossly; "I know Mr. Carey will give
+us leave when he knows."
+
+"I don't want leave," said Sam; "I don't want to kick up a row, as
+you'll do if you stay at home."
+
+"Well then, if the message comes, I shall take Susie to London
+instead of you.  I'm sure they want me most!"
+
+"No, go down to Mr. Carey's with your brother, if you please, Hal,"
+said Miss Fosbrook decidedly.  "If he should tell you not to stay, I
+can't help it; but you will none of you do any good by hanging about
+without doing your daily duties."
+
+Hal saw he had no chance, and marched off, muttering about its being
+very hard.  Sam picked up his books, and turned to go, with a grave
+steady look that was quite manly in its sadness, only stopping to
+say, "Now, Jackie, you be good!--Please Miss Fosbrook, let him run
+down after me if the message comes, and I'll be back before the horse
+is out."
+
+Miss Fosbrook promised, and could not help shaking hands with the
+brave boy, if only to show that she felt with him.
+
+"Then must we all do our lessons?" asked Annie disconsolately, when
+he was gone.
+
+"Yes, my dear; I think we shall all be the better for not neglecting
+what we ought to do.  But there is one thing that we can do for your
+dear Mamma; you know what I mean.  Suppose you each went away alone
+for five minutes, and were to come back when I ring the little bell?"
+
+The first to come back was Annie, with the question in a low whisper,
+"Miss Fosbrook, will God make Mamma better if we are very good?"
+
+Miss Fosbrook kissed her, saying, "My dear little girl, I cannot
+tell.  All I can certainly tell you is, that He hears the prayers of
+good children, and if it be better for her and for you He will give
+her back to you."
+
+Annie did not quite understand, but she entered into what Miss
+Fosbrook said enough to wish to be good; so she took up her book, and
+began to learn with all her might.
+
+Elizabeth would have thought it much more like a little girl in a
+book to have done no lessons, but have sat thinking, and perhaps
+reading the Bible all day; but on the whole Elizabeth had hardly
+thoughts enough to last her so long; nor was she deep or serious
+enough to have done herself much good by keeping the Bible open
+before her.  In fact she did lose her verse in merely reading the
+chapter for the day!  So it was just as well that she had something
+to do that was not play, and that was a duty, and thus might give the
+desire to be good something to bear upon.
+
+But Christabel saw by Susan's face, and heard in the shaken voice
+with which she took her turn in the reading, that she could not have
+given her mind to her tasks, and did not need them to keep her out of
+mischief.  It would have been cruel to have required her to sit down
+to them just then, and her governess was glad to be able to excuse
+her on account of the packing-up.  All her things and Sam's must be
+got ready in case of an immediate start, and she was sent up to the
+nursery to take care of the little ones, while Nurse and Mary mended,
+ironed, and packed.
+
+To be sure Nurse Freeman made poor Susan unnecessarily unhappy by
+being sure that it was all the fault of the London doctors; but she
+was a kind, tender old woman, and her petting was a great comfort to
+the poor girl.  What did her most good, however, was sitting quite
+quiet with the little ones while they were asleep, and all alone; it
+seemed to rest and compose her, and she always loved to be in charge
+of them.  Poor child! she might soon have to be their little mother!
+She was able to play with them when they awoke, and cheered herself
+up with their pretty ways, and by finding how quickly Baby was
+learning to walk.  Ah! but would Mamma ever see her walk?
+
+If any of the children thought it unjust that Susan's lessons should
+be let off, they were wrong.  Parents and teachers must have the
+power of doing such things without being judged.  Sometimes they see
+that a child is really unable to learn, when the others perceive no
+difference; and it would be very harsh and cruel to oppress one who
+is out of order for fear little silly, idle, healthy things should
+think themselves hardly used.
+
+At any rate, the lessons were capitally done; and when the children
+met again, they were all so much brighter and more hopeful, that they
+quite believed that their Mamma was going to get better very fast.
+Bessie especially was so resolved that thus it should be, that she
+shut herself into Miss Fosbrook's room, and drew and painted with all
+her might, as if preparing for Mamma's birthday made it certain that
+it would be kept.
+
+The boys brought word that they would have a holiday the next day, as
+it was the Feast of St.  Barnabas, and after morning service Mr.
+Carey was going to meet his brother and bring him home.
+
+"I shall be all the more certain to get the sovereign, or two
+sovereigns," said Henry to David, the only person whom he could find
+to listen to him, "if Sam is gone; and everyone will be caring about
+me."
+
+"And then you'll give it to the pig," said David.
+
+"Oh yes, to be sure.  You will grow into a pig yourself if you go on
+that way, David."
+
+However, David, partaking the family distrust of Hal's birds-in-the-
+bush, and being started on the subject of the hoard, ran up to Sam,
+who was learning his lessons by way of something to do, and said, "If
+you go to London, Sam, may I have your sixpence on Monday for the
+pig?"
+
+"I don't know that I am going."
+
+"But if you do--or we sha'n't get the pig."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"Don't you care if we don't get the pig?"
+
+"No.  Be off with you."
+
+David next betook himself to his eldest sister, who was trying to
+write to her father, and finding such a letter harder and sadder work
+than that to Ida Greville, though no one teased her about writing,
+blots, or spelling.
+
+"If you go to London, Susie," said he, in the very same words, "may I
+have your sixpence on Monday for the pig?"
+
+"Oh, Davie, don't be tiresome!"
+
+David only said it over again in the same words, and put his hand
+down on her letter in his earnestness.
+
+"Come away, Davie," said Miss Fosbrook; "don't tease your sister."
+
+"I want her to say I may have her sixpence on Monday for the pig."
+
+"No, you sha'n't, then," said Susan angrily; "you care for the nasty
+pig more than for poor Mamma or anyone else, and you sha'n't have
+it."
+
+So seldom did Susan say anything cross, that everyone looked up
+surprised.  Miss Fosbrook saw that it was sheer unhappiness that made
+her speak sharply, and would not take any notice, except by gently
+taking away the pertinacious David.
+
+He was very much distressed at the refusal; and when Miss Fosbrook
+told him that his brother and sister could not think of such things
+when they were in such trouble, he only answered, "But Hannah Higgins
+won't get her pig."
+
+Miss Fosbrook was vexed herself that her friend David should seem
+possessed with this single idea, as if it shut out all others from
+his mind.  He was consoled fast enough; for Susan, with another great
+sob, threw down her pen, and coming up to stroke him down with her
+inky fingers, cried out, "O Davie, Davie, I didn't mean it; I don't
+know why I said it.  You shall have my sixpence, or anything!  But,
+oh dear, I wish the message was come, and we were going to dear
+Mamma, for I can't write, and I don't know what to do."
+
+Then she went back to her place, and tried to write, and sat with her
+head on her hand, and dawdled and cried and blotted till it grew so
+near post-time that at last Miss Fosbrook took the longest of her
+scrawls, and writing three lines at the bottom to say how it was with
+them all, directed it to Captain Merrifield, thinking that he would
+like it better than nothing from home, sent it off, and made Susan
+come out to refresh her hot eyes and burning head in the garden.
+
+Sam presently came and walked on her other side, gravely and in
+silence, glad to be away from the chatter and disputes of the younger
+ones.  That summons had made them both feel older, and less like
+children, than ever before; but they did not speak much, only, when
+they sat down on a garden bench, as Miss Fosbrook held Susan's hand,
+she presently found some rough hard young fingers stealing into her
+own on the other side, and saw Sam's eyes glistening with unshed
+tears.  She stroked his hand, and they dropped fast:  but he was
+ashamed to cry, and quickly dried them.
+
+"I think," she said, "that you will be a man, Sam; take care of
+Susan, and be a comfort to your father."
+
+"I hope I shall," said Sam; "but I don't know how."
+
+"Nobody can tell how beforehand," she said.  "Only watch to see what
+he may seem to want to have done for him.  Sit quietly by, and don't
+get in the way."
+
+"Were you ever so unhappy, Miss Fosbrook?" asked Susan.
+
+"Yes, once I was, when my father was knocked down by an omnibus, and
+was very ill."
+
+"Tell us about it?" said Susan.
+
+She did tell them of her week of sorrow and anxious care of the
+younger children, and the brightening ray of hope at last.  It seemed
+to freshen both up, and give them hopes, for each drew a long sigh of
+relief; and then Sam said, "Papa wrote to Mr. Carey.  She is to be
+prayed for in church to-morrow."
+
+"Oh," said Susan, with a sound as of dismay, which made Christabel
+ask in wonder why she was sorry, when, from Susan's half-uttered
+words, she found that the little girl fancied that a "happy issue out
+of all her afflictions" meant death.
+
+"Oh no, my dear," she said.  "What it means is, that the afflictions
+may end happily in whatever way God may see to be best; it may be in
+getting well; it may be the other way:  at any rate, it is asking
+that the distress may be over, not saying how."
+
+"Isn't there some other prayer in the Prayer-book about it?" said
+Sam, looking straight before him.
+
+"I will show you where to find it, in the Visitation of the Sick.  I
+dare say it has often been read to her."
+
+The boy and girl came in with her, and brought their Prayer-books to
+her room, that she might mark them.
+
+This had been a strange, long, sad day of waiting and watching for
+the telegram, and the children even fancied it might come in the
+middle of the night; but Miss Fosbrook thought this unlikely, and
+looked for the morrow's post.  There was no letter.  It was very
+disappointing, but Miss Fosbrook thought it a good sign, since at
+least the danger could not be more pressing, and delay always left
+room for hope.
+
+The children readily believed her; they were too young to go on
+dwelling long on what was not in sight; and even Susan was cheerful,
+and able to think about other things after her night's rest, and the
+relief of not hearing a worse account.
+
+The children might do as they pleased about going to church on
+saints' days, and on this day all the three girls wished to go, as
+soon as it had been made clear that even if the message should come
+before the short service would be over, there would be ample time to
+reach the station before the next train.  Miss Fosbrook was glad to
+prove this, for not only did she wish to have them in church, but she
+thought the weary watching for the telegram was the worst thing
+possible for Susan.  Sam was also going to church, but Henry hung
+back, after accompanying them to the end of the kitchen-garden.  "I
+wouldn't go, Sam; just suppose if the message came without anyone at
+home, and you had to set out at once!"
+
+"We couldn't," said Sam; "there's no train."
+
+"Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever anyone is ill."
+
+"Then there would be plenty!"
+
+"At least they did when Mr. Greville's mother was ill, so they will
+now; and then you may ride upon the engine, for there won't be any
+carriages, you know.  I say, Sam, if you go to church, and the
+telegraph comes, I shall set off."
+
+"You'll do no such thing," said Sam.  "You had much better come to
+church."
+
+"No, I sha'n't.  It is like a girl to go to church on a week-day."
+
+"It is much more like a girl to mind what a couple of asses, like the
+Grevilles, say," returned Sam, taking up his cap and running after
+his sisters and their governess.
+
+"It is quite right," observed Henry to John and David, who alone
+remained to listen to him, "that one of us should stay in case the
+telegraph comes in, and there are any orders to give.  I can catch
+the pony, you know, and ride off to Bonchamp, and if the special
+train is there, I shall get upon the engine."
+
+"But it is Sam and Susan who are going."
+
+"Oh, that's only because Sam is eldest.  I know Mamma would like to
+have me much better, because I don't walk hard like Sam; and when I
+get there, she will be so much better already, and we shall be all
+right; and Admiral Penrose will be so delighted at my courage in
+riding on the engine and putting out the explosion, or something,
+that he will give me my appointment as naval cadet at once, and I
+shall have a dirk and a uniform, and a chest of my own, and be an
+officer, and get promoted for firing red-hot shot out of the
+batteries at Gibraltar."
+
+"Master Hal!" exclaimed Purday, "don't throw them little apples
+about."
+
+"They are red-hot shot, Purday!"
+
+"I'll red-hot shot you if you break my cucumber frames, young
+gentleman!  Come, get out with you."
+
+Probably anxiety made Purday cross as well as everyone else, or else
+he distrusted Henry's discretion without Sam, for he hunted the
+little boys away wherever they went.  Now they would break the
+cucumber frames; now they would meddle with the gooseberries, or
+trample on the beds; and at last he only relented so far as to let
+David stay with him on condition of being very good, and holding the
+little cabbages as he planted them out.
+
+"Master Davie was a solemn one," Purday said, and they were great
+friends; but Hal and Johnnie were fairly turned out, as their idle
+hands were continually finding fresh mischief to do in their
+sauntering desultory mood.
+
+"I think," said Hal, "since Purday is so savage, we'll go and look
+out at the gate, and then we shall see if the telegraph comes."
+
+Johnnie had no clear idea what a telegraph was, and was curious to
+know how it would come, rather expecting it to be a man in a red coat
+on horseback, blowing a horn--a sight that certainly was not to be
+missed; so he willingly strolled down after Henry to the gate leading
+to the lane.
+
+"I can't see any way at all," said Henry, looking out into the lane.
+"I shall get up, and so see over into the bend of the road;" and Hal
+mounted to the topmost bar of the gate, and sat astride there, John
+scrambling after him not quite so easily, his legs being less long,
+and his dress less convenient.  Both knew that their Papa strongly
+objected to their climbing on this iron gate, the newest and
+handsomest thing about the place; but thought Hal, "Of course no one
+will care what I do when I am so anxious about poor Mamma!" and
+thought Johnnie, "What Hal does, of course I may do!"
+
+So there the two young gentlemen sat perched, each with one leg on
+either side of the new iron gate.  It was rather like sitting on the
+edge of a knife; and John could scarcely reach his toes down to rest
+them on the bar below, but he held on by the spikes, and it was so
+new and glorious a position, that it made up for a good deal to be
+five feet above the road; moreover, Hal said it was just like the
+mast-head of a man-of-war--at LEAST, when the waves didn't dash right
+overhead, like the picture of the Eddystone Lighthouse.
+
+"Hollo! what, a couple of cherubs aloft!" cried a voice from the
+road; and looking round, Henry beheld the two Grevilles.
+
+"Yes," he answered; "it's very jolly up here."
+
+"Eh! is it?  Riding on a razor, to my mind.  Come down, and have a
+lark," said Osmond; while Martin, undoing the gate, proceeded to
+swing it backwards and forwards, to John's extreme terror; but the
+more he clung to the spikes, and cried for mercy, the quicker Martin
+swung it, shouting with laughter at his fright.  Henry meanwhile
+scrambled and tumbled to the ground, and caught the gate and held it
+fast, while he asked what his friends had been about.  One held up a
+scarlet flask of powder, the other a bag of shot.
+
+"You haven't got a gun!"
+
+"No, but we know where gardener keeps his; and the governor's out for
+the day.  Come along, Hal:  you shall have your turn."
+
+"I don't want to go far from home to-day."
+
+"Oh, stuff!  What was it Mamma heard, Osmond?  That your mother was
+ever so much better, wasn't it?"
+
+"I thought it was worse," said Osmond.
+
+"Well, never mind:  your hanging about here won't do her any good, I
+suppose."
+
+"No; but--"
+
+"Oh, he'll catch it from the governess!--I say, how many seams shall
+you have to sew to-day, Hal?"
+
+"I don't sew seams:  I do as I please."
+
+"Ha!  Is that them coming out of church!"
+
+"Oh, it is! it is!" cried John from his elevation.  "Oh, help me
+down, Hal!"
+
+But Henry did not want Miss Fosbrook to find him partaking in gate-
+climbing; and either that desire, or the general terror a bad
+conscience, made him and the Grevilles run helter-skelter the
+opposite way, leaving poor little John stuck on the top of the gate,
+quite giddy at the thought of coming down alone, and almost as much
+afraid of being there caught by Miss Fosbrook coming home from
+church.
+
+It was a false alarm after all, that the congregation were coming
+out.  John would have been glad if they had; for nothing could be
+more miserable than sitting up there, his fingers tired of clutching
+the spikes, his feet strained with reaching down to the bar, his legs
+chilled with the wind, his head almost giddy when he thought of
+climbing down.  He would have cried, could he have spared a hand to
+rub his eyes with; he had a great mind to have roared for help,
+especially when he heard feet upon the road; but these turned out to
+belong to five little village boys, still smaller than himself, who,
+when they saw the young gentleman on his perch, all stood still in a
+row, with their mouths wide open, staring at him.  Johnnie scorned to
+let them think he was not riding there for his own pleasure; so he
+tried to put a bold face of the matter, and look as much at ease and
+indifferent as he could, under great bodily fear and discomfort, the
+injury of his brother's desertion, the expectation of disgrace, and
+the reflection that he was being disobedient to his parents in the
+height of their trouble!
+
+There is nothing in grief that of necessity makes children or grown
+people good.  Sometimes, especially when there is suspense, it fills
+them with excitement, as well as putting them out of their usual
+habits; and thus it often happens that there are tremendous
+explosions of naughtiness just when some one is ill in a house, and
+the children ought to be most good.  But it is certain that unless
+trouble be taken in the right way, it makes people worse instead of
+better
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+
+Hal had got into a mood in which he was tired of fears and of waiting
+for tidings, and was glad to shake off the thought, and be carried
+along to something new, he and the Grevilles were rather fond of one
+another's company, in an idle sort of way.  They "put him up to
+things," as he said; they made a variety; and he was always glad of
+listeners to his wonderful stories, which rather diverted the other
+boys, who, though they sometimes made game of them, were much less
+apt to pick them to pieces than was Sam.
+
+Poor Captain Merrifield! what had not befallen him, according to his
+son?  He had been stuck on to a rock of loadstone; he had been bitten
+by mosquitos as big as jackdaws--at least as jack-snipes; he had sat
+down to rest on the trunk of a fallen tree, and it whisked him over
+on his face, and turned out to he a rattle-snake--at least, a boa-
+constrictor!  Nay, Henry discoursed on the ponies he had himself
+tamed, the rabbits he had shot, the trees he had climbed, the nests
+he had found, the rats he had killed, in terms he durst not use when
+his brother was by; or if he did, and Sam brought him to book, he
+always said "it was all fun."  It often seemed as if he did not
+himself know whether he meant to be believed or otherwise; and as to
+his intentions for his sailor life, they were, as has been already
+seen, of the most splendid character!  Sometimes he shot the French
+admiral dead from the mast-head; sometimes he sailed into Plymouth
+with the whole enemy's fleet behind him; sometimes he, the youngest
+midshipman, rescued the whole crew in a wreck where all the other
+officers were drowned; sometimes he shot a shark through the head,
+just as it was about to make a meal of Prince Alfred!
+
+He certainly was thus an entertaining companion to those who did not
+pay heed to truth, and liked to hear or laugh at great swelling
+words; and the Grevilles, on their idle day, were glad to have him
+with them, and were rather curious to prove how much fact there was
+in his boast of being a most admirable shot.
+
+Meddling with guns was absolutely forbidden to all the three, except
+by special permission and with an elder looking on; but the Grevilles
+were not in the habit of obeying, except when they were forced to do
+so; and Henry, having once begun to think no one would heed his
+present doings, was ready to go on rather than be accused of minding
+his governess.
+
+So the gardener's gun was taken from the hiding-place, whither it had
+been conveyed from the tool-house; and the three boys ran off
+together, their first object being to get out of the Greville
+grounds, where they could be met by any of the men.  They got quite
+out into the fields, before they ventured to stop that Osmond might
+load the gun.  Each was to take a shot in turn; Osmond tried first,
+at a poor innocent young thrush, newly come out for his earliest
+flight.  Happily he missed it; Martin claimed the next, and for want
+of anything better to shoot, took aim at the scare-crow in the middle
+of Farmer Grice's beans.  He was sure that he had hit it, and showed
+triumphantly the great holes in its hat; but the other boys were
+strongly persuaded that they had been there before.
+
+"Well, come away," said Osmond; "this is a great deal too near old
+Grice's farm-yard.  If we go popping about here, we shall have him
+out upon us, for an old tiger as he is!"
+
+"Come along, then," said Martin.
+
+But Hal had just got the gun, and saw something so black and shiny
+through the hedge, that he was persuaded that a flock of rooks were
+feeding in the next field, and he fired!
+
+Such a cackling and screeching as arose! and with it one dying
+gobble, and a very loud "Hollo! you rascal!"
+
+"My eyes! you've been and gone and done it!" cried Osmond.
+
+"Cut! cut!" screamed Martin; and Hal, not exactly knowing what he had
+done, but sure that it was something dreadful, and hearing voices in
+pursuit, threw down the gun, and took to his heels; but the others
+had the start of him, and were over the gap long before he could get
+to it.  And even as he did reach it, a hand was on his throat, almost
+choking him, and a tremendous voice cried, "You young poacher, you
+sha'n't get off that way!  I'll have you up to the Bench, that I
+will, for shooting the poor old turkey-cock before my very eyes."
+
+"Oh! don't, don't!  I didn't mean it," cried Hal, turning in the
+terrible grip; "I thought it was only a rook!"
+
+"A rook, I dare say!  And what business had you to think, coming
+trespassing here on my ground, and breaking the hedges!  I'd have you
+up for that, if for nothing else, you young vagabond!"
+
+"Oh, don't, don't!  I'm Henry Merrifield!"
+
+"I don't care if you're Henry Merry Andrew!" said Farmer Grice, who
+was a surly man, and had a grudge of long standing against the
+Captain, for withstanding him at the Board of Guardians.  "I'll have
+the law out of you, whoever you are."
+
+"But--but--Mamma is so very ill!" cried Hal, bursting into tears.
+
+"The more shame for you to be rampaging about the country this
+fashion," said the farmer, giving him a shake that seemed to make all
+his bones rattle in his skin.  "Serve you right if I flogged you
+within an inch of your life."
+
+"Oh, please don't--I mean please do--anything but have me up to the
+magistrates!  I'll never do it again, never!" sobbed Henry in his
+terror.
+
+Mr. Grice had some pity, and also knew that his wife and all the
+neighbours would be shocked at his prosecuting so young a boy, whose
+parents were in such distress.  So he said, "There, then, I'll
+overlook it this time, sir, so as I have the value of the bird."
+
+"And what is the value--" asked Henry, trembling.
+
+"Value!  Why, the breed came from Norfolk; he was three years old;
+and my missus set great store on him, he was as good as a house-dog,
+to keep idle children out of the yard; and it was quite a picture to
+see him posturing about, and setting up his tail!  Value! not less
+than five-and-twenty shillings, sir."
+
+"But I have not five-and-twenty shillings.  I can't get them," said
+Hal, falling back into misery.
+
+"You should have thought of that before you shot poor old Tom
+Turkey!" quoth Farmer Grice.
+
+"But what in the world shall I ever do?" said Henry.
+
+"That's for you to settle, sir," said the farmer, taking up the
+unlucky gun.  "I shall take this, and keep it out of further harm."
+
+"Oh pray, pray!" cried Henry.  "It is not my gun; it is Mr.
+Greville's; please let me have it!"
+
+"What! was it those young dogs, the Master Grevilles, that were with
+you!" growled Mr. Grice.  "If I'd known that, I'd not have let you
+off so easy.  Those boys are the plague of the place; I wish it had
+been one of them as I'd caught, I'd have had some satisfaction out of
+them!"
+
+Henry entreated again for the gun, explaining that they had not leave
+to take it; but the farmer was unrelenting.  He might go to them, he
+said, to make up the price of the poor turkey-cock; how they could
+have got the gun was no affair of his; have it they should not, till
+the money was brought to him; and if it did not come before night, he
+should carry the gun up to the Park, and complain to Mr. Greville.
+
+With this answer the unhappy Hal was released, and ran after his
+friends to tell them of the terms.  He found them sitting on a low
+wall, just within their own grounds, waiting to hear what had become
+of him.  When he had told his story, they both set upon him for
+betraying them, and declared that they should send him to Coventry
+ever after, and never do anything with him again; but as it was plain
+that the gun must be redeemed, if they wished to avoid severe
+punishment, there was a consultation.  Nobody had much money; but
+Osmond consolingly suspected that the farmer would take less; five-
+and-twenty shillings was an exorbitant price to set on a turkey-
+cock's head, and perhaps half would content him.
+
+The half, however, seemed as impossible as the whole.  Osmond had
+three shillings, Martin two, Hal fourpence!  What was to be done?
+And the boys declared that if it should come to their father's
+knowledge, Hal, who had given up their names, should certainly not be
+shielded by them.  In fact, he, who had done the deed, was the only
+one who ought to pay.
+
+The sound of the servants' dinner-bell at the Park broke up the
+consultation; the boys must not be missed at luncheon; and they
+therefore separated, agreeing to meet at that same place at four
+o'clock, to hear the result of Hal's negotiation with the farmer; for
+neither of the Grevilles would hear of helping him to face the enemy.
+
+Poor Hal plodded home disconsolately.  Once he thought of telling
+Sam, and asking his help; but Sam would be so much shocked at such a
+scrape at such a time, as possibly to lick him for it before helping
+him.  Indeed Hal did not see much chance of Sam being able to do
+anything for them; and he had too often boasted over his elder
+brother to like to abase himself by such a confession--when, too, it
+would almost be owning how much better it would have been to have
+followed Sam's advice and have gone safely to church.
+
+Could he borrow of any one?  Had he nothing of his own to sell or
+exchange?  Ah! if it had not been for that stupid hoard of little
+David's, he might have had even so much!  By-the-bye, some of that
+collection was his own.  He might quite lawfully take that back
+again.  How much could it be?  How much did he put in last week? the
+week before?  Oh, never mind; some of it was his at all events; there
+was no harm in taking that.  Most likely he should be able to restore
+it four-fold when Colonel Carey made his present; or, if not, nobody
+knew exactly what was in Toby Fillpot; and after all very likely they
+would forget all about it; people could not think about pigs when
+Mamma was ill; or, maybe, he should go to join his ship, and hear no
+more of it.  So he came home, and crossed the paddock just as the
+dinner-bell was ringing, opening the hall-door as the children were
+running across it to the dining-room.
+
+Miss Fosbrook, who was walking behind them, turned as he came in.
+
+"Henry," she said, "I have sent Johnnie to dine in the nursery, for
+his disobedience in climbing the gate.  I certainly shall not give
+you a less punishment.  You must have led him into it; and how could
+you be so cruel as to leave the poor little fellow alone in such a
+dangerous place?"
+
+"Stupid little coward! it was not a bit of danger!" said Hal.
+
+"So young a child--" began Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"Oh, that's all your London notions," said Hal.  "Why, I climbed up
+our gate at Stonehouse, which was twice as high, when I wasn't near
+as old as that!"
+
+"I am not going to argue with you, Henry; but after such an act of
+disobedience, I cannot allow you to sit down to dinner with us.  Go
+up to the school-room, and Mary shall bring you your dinner."
+
+"I'm sure I don't want to dine with a lot of babies and governesses!"
+exclaimed Henry, and bounced up-stairs, leaving Miss Fosbrook quite
+confounded at such an outbreak of naughtiness.
+
+She intended, as soon as dinner should be over, to go up to him, and
+try to lead him to be sorry for his conduct, and to think what a
+wretched moment this was for such audacity; and then she feared that
+she ought to punish him farther, by keeping him in all the afternoon.
+He was so soft and easily impressed, that she almost trusted to make
+him feel that it would be right that he should suffer for his
+misconduct.
+
+When she went up-stairs, almost as soon as grace had been said, he
+was gone.  Nobody could find him, and calling produced no answer.
+She became quite distressed and anxious, but could not go far from
+the house herself, nor send Sam, in case the message should arrive.
+
+"Oh," said Sam, "no doubt he's after something with the Grevilles,
+and was afraid you would stop him in."
+
+She tried to believe this, but still felt far from satisfied all the
+afternoon, and was glad to see the boy come back in time for tea.
+
+He said he had been with the Grevilles; he did not see why anybody
+need ask him questions; he should do what he pleased without being
+called to account.  Nobody told him not to run away after dinner; he
+was not going to stay to be ordered about for nothing.
+
+This was so bad a temper, that Christabel could not bear to try to
+touch him with the thought of his sick mother.  She knew that
+softening must come in time, and believed the best thing to do at the
+moment would be to put a stop to his disrespectful speeches to her,
+and his cross ones to his brothers and sisters, by sending him to bed
+as soon as tea was over, as the completion of his punishment.  He did
+not struggle, for she had taught him to mind her; but he went up-
+stairs with a gloomy brow, and angry murmurs that it was very hard to
+be put under a stupid woman, who knew nothing about anything, and was
+always cross.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+
+Saturday's post brought a letter, and a comfortable one.  All
+Thursday Mrs. Merrifield had been in so doubtful a state, that her
+husband could not bear to write, lest he should fill the children
+with false hopes, or alarm them still more; but she had had a good
+night, was stronger on Friday, and when the post went out, the
+doctors had just ventured to say they believed she would recover
+favourably.  The letter was finished off in a great hurry; but
+Captain Merrifield did not forget to thank his little Susan warmly
+for her poor scrambling letter, and say he knew all she meant by it,
+bidding her give Miss Fosbrook his hearty thanks for forwarding it,
+and for telling him the children were all behaving well, and feeling
+properly.  His love to them all; they must try to deserve the great
+mercy that had been granted to them.
+
+To the children, this was almost as good as saying that their mother
+was well again; but there was too much awe about them for their joy
+to show itself noisily.  Susan ran away to her own room, and Bessie
+followed her; and Sam said no word, only Miss Fosbrook remarked that
+he did not eat two mouthfuls of breakfast.  She would not take any
+notice; she knew his heart was full; and when she looked round on
+that little flock, and thought of the grievous sorrow scarcely yet
+averted from them, she could hardly keep the tears from blinding her.
+They were all somewhat still and grave, and it was too happy a
+morning to be broken into by the reproofs that Henry deserved, even
+more richly than Christabel knew.  She had almost forgotten his bad
+behaviour; and when she remembered something of it, she could not but
+hope that silence, on such a day as this, might bring it home to him
+more than rebuke.  Yet when breakfast was ever, he was among the
+loudest of those who, shaking off the strange, awed gravity of deep
+gladness, went rushing together into the garden, feeling that they
+might give way to their spirits again.
+
+Sam shouted and whooped as if he were casting off a burthen, and
+picking little George up in his arms, tossed him and swung him round
+in the air in an ecstasy; while John and Annie and David went down on
+the grass together, and tumbled and rolled one over the other like
+three kittens, their legs and arms kicking about, so that it was hard
+to tell whose property were the black shoes that came wriggling into
+view.
+
+Susan was quieter.  She told Nurse the good news, and then laid hold
+upon Baby, and carried her off into the passage to hug all to
+herself.  She could tell no one but Baby how very happy she was, and
+how her heart had trembled at her mother's suffering, her father's
+grief, and at the desolateness that had so nearly come on them.  Oh,
+she was very happy, very thankful; but she could not scream it out
+like the others, Baby must have it all in kisses.
+
+"Christabel," said a little voice, when all the others were gone, "I
+shall never be pipy again."
+
+"You must try to fight against it, my dear."
+
+"Because," said Elizabeth, coming close up to her, "when dear Mamma
+was so ill, it did seem so silly to mind about not having pretty
+things like Ida, and the boys plaguing, and so on."
+
+"Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our little
+discontents."
+
+"I said so many times yesterday, and the day before, that I would
+never mind things again, if only Mamma would get well and come home,"
+said the little girl; "and I never shall."
+
+"You will not always find it easy not to mind," said Christabel; "but
+if you try hard, you will learn how to keep from showing that you
+mind."
+
+"Oh!" said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an oh! it was,) "those
+things are grown so silly and little now."
+
+"You have seen them in their true light for once, my dear.  And now
+that you have so great cause of thankfulness to God, you feel that
+your foolish frets and discontents were unthankful."
+
+"Yes," said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they always were when
+anything of this kind was said to her, as if she did not like to meet
+the look fixed on her.
+
+"Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these murmurs your
+thank-offering to God.  Suppose every day when you say your prayers,
+you were to add something like this--" and she wrote down on a little
+bit of paper, "O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her
+sickness, teach me to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard
+my words and thoughts from peevishness."
+
+"Isn't it too small to pray about?" said Elizabeth.
+
+"Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear.  Do you think this
+little midge is too small for God to have made it, and given it life,
+and spread that mother-of-pearl light on its wings?  Do you think
+yourself too small to pray? or your fault too small to pray about?"
+
+Elizabeth cast down her eyes.  She did not quite think it was a
+fault, but she did not say so.
+
+"Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the wilderness?"
+
+The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.
+
+"They tempted God by murmurs," said Christabel.  "They tried His
+patience by grumbling, when His care and blessings were all round
+them, and by crying out because all was not just as they liked.  Now,
+dear Bessie, God has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it
+not be tempting Him to go back to complaints over what He has
+ordained for you?"
+
+"I shall net complain now; I shall not care," said Elizabeth.  But
+she took the little bit of paper, and Christabel trusted that she
+would make use of it, knowing that in this lay her hope of cure; for
+whatever she might think in this first joy of relief, her little
+troubles were sure to seem quite as unbearable while they were upon
+her as if she had never feared a great one.
+
+However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and happy;
+but still the influence of their past alarm subdued them enough to
+make them quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and Sunday; and
+Miss Fosbrook had never had so little trouble with them.
+
+In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled state
+that had put the last week out of all common rules, she announced on
+Monday morning that she would excuse all the fines, and that all the
+children should have their allowance unbroken.  Maybe she was moved
+to this by the suspicion that these four sixpences and three
+threepennies would make up the fund to the price of a "reasonable
+pig;" and she thought it time that David's perseverance should be
+rewarded, and room made in his mind for something beyond swine and
+halfpence.
+
+Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks, by the
+boys with a tremendous "Three times three for Miss Fosbrook!" and
+Bessie was so joyous, that instead of crying out against the noise,
+she joined in with Susan and Annie; but they made such a ridiculous
+little squeaking, that Sam laughed at them, and took to mocking their
+queer thin hurrahs.  Yet even this Elizabeth could bear!
+
+David was meanwhile standing by the locker, his fingers at work as if
+he were playing a tune, his lips counting away, "Ninety-two, ninety-
+three, ninety-four--that's me; ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven-
+-that's Jack," and so on; till having plodded up diligently, he
+turned round with a little scream, "One hundred and twenty!  That's
+the pig!"
+
+"What?" cried Annie.
+
+"One hundred and twenty pence.  Sukey said one hundred and twenty
+pence were ten shillings.  That will do it!  That's the pig!  Oh,
+we've done it!  May I take it to Purday?"
+
+"It was to be let alone till fair-day, you little bother!" said Hal.
+
+"No, no, no," cried many voices; "only till we had enough."
+
+"And I am sure nobody knows if we have," added Hal hotly.  "A lot of
+halfpence, indeed!"
+
+"But I know, Hal," insisted David.  "There are eighty-nine pence and
+one farthing in Toby Fillpot, and this makes one hundred and twenty-
+two pence and one farthing."
+
+"You'd no business to peep," said Sam.
+
+"I didn't peep," said David indignantly.  "There were forty-eight
+pence at first, and then Susie had three, that was fifty-one--"  And
+he would have gone on like a little calculating machine, with the
+entire reckoning in his head, if the others had had patience to hear;
+but Annie and Johnnie were urgent to have the sum counted out before
+their eyes.  Hal roughly declared it was against the rules, and
+little inquisitives must not have their way.  But others were also
+inquisitive; and Sam said it would be best to know how much they had,
+that Purday might be told to look out for a pig at the price;
+besides, he wanted to have it over; it was such a bore not to have
+any money.
+
+"It's not fair!" cried Henry passionately.  "You don't keep the
+rules!  You sha'n't have my sixpence, I can tell you; and I won't--I
+won't stay and see it."
+
+"Nobody wants you," said Sam.
+
+"I didn't know there were any rules," said the girls; but Hal was
+already off.
+
+"Hal has only put in fivepence-halfpenny," said David, "so no wonder
+he is ashamed.  Such a big boy, with sixpence a week!  But if he
+won't let us have his sixpence now--"
+
+"Never mind, we will make it up next week," said Susan.
+
+"Now, then, who will take Toby down?" said Miss Fosbrook, unbuttoning
+one glass door, and undoing the two bolts of the second, behind which
+the cup of money stood.
+
+"Susie ought, because she is the eldest."
+
+"Davie ought, because he is the youngest."
+
+David stood on a chair to take Toby off his shelf.  Solemn was the
+face with which the little boy lifted the mug by the handle, putting
+his other hand to steady the expected weight of coppers; but there
+was at once a frown, a little cry of horror.  Toby came up so light
+in his hand, that all his great effort was thrown away, and only made
+him stagger back in dismay, falling backward from the chair, and poor
+Toby crashing to pieces on the floor as he fell, while out rolled--
+one solitary farthing
+
+Nobody spoke for some moments; but all stood perfectly still, staring
+as hard as if they hoped the pence would be brought out by force of
+looking for them.
+
+Then David's knuckles went up into his eyes, and he burst forth in a
+loud bellow.  It was the first time Miss Fosbrook had heard him cry,
+and she feared that he had been hurt by the fall, or cut by the
+broken crockery; but he struck out with foot and fist, as if his
+tears were as much anger as grief, and roared out, "I want the
+halfpence for my pig."
+
+"Sam, Sam," cried Susan, "if you have hid them for a trick, let him
+have them."
+
+"I--I play tricks NOW?" exclaimed Sam in indignation.  "No, indeed!"
+
+"Then perhaps Hal has," said Elizabeth.
+
+"For shame, Bessie!" cried Sam.
+
+"I only know," said Elizabeth, half in self-defence, half in fright,
+"that one of you must have been at the baby-house, for I found the
+doors open, and shut them up."
+
+"And why should it be one of us?" demanded Sam; while David stopped
+crying, and listened.
+
+"Because none of the younger ones can reach to undo the doors," said
+Elizabeth.  "It was as much as I could do to reach the upper bolt,
+though I stood upon a chair."
+
+This was evident; for the baby-house was really an old-fashioned
+bureau, and below the glass doors there was a projecting slope of
+polished walnut, upon which only a fly could stand, and which was
+always locked.  No one whose years were less than half a score was
+tall enough to get a good hold of the button, even from the highest
+chair, far less to jerk down the rather stiff upper bolt.
+
+"It cannot have been a little one, certainly," said Miss Fosbrook;
+"but you should not be so ready to accuse your brothers, Bessie."
+
+David, however, had laid hold of a hope, and getting up from the
+floor, hastened out of the room, followed by John; and they were
+presently heard shouting "Hal!" all over the house.
+
+"What day was it that you found the door open, Bessie?" asked Miss
+Fosbrook.
+
+"It was just after dinner," said Elizabeth, recollecting herself.
+
+"It was on Friday.  Yes, I remember it was Friday, because I went
+into the school-room to get my pencil, and I was afraid Hal would
+jump out upon me, and looked in first to see whether he was going to
+be tiresome; but he was gone."
+
+"Yes," said Susan; "it was the day we found poor Jack stuck up on the
+gate, when he and Hal were in disgrace.  Oh, he never would have
+played tricks then."
+
+"Did you go up before me, Bessie?" asked Miss Fosbrook; "for I went
+up directly after dinner to speak to Henry."
+
+"Yes, I did," said she.  "I thought if you got in first, you would be
+scolding him ever so long, and would let nobody in, so I would get my
+pencil first; and I slipped up before you had left the table."
+
+Just then the two boys were heard stumping up the stairs, and ran in,
+panting with haste and excitement, David with a fiery red ear.
+
+"No, no; Hal didn't hide it!"
+
+"But he boxed Davie's ear for thinking he did," added John; "and said
+he'd do the same for spiteful Bet!"
+
+"Then he never played tricks," said Susan.
+
+"I told you not," said Sam.
+
+"No," reiterated David; "and he said I'd no business to ask; and if
+Bet went prying about everywhere, I'd better ask her.  Have you got
+it, Betty?"
+
+"I!" cried Elizabeth.  "How can you, Davie?"
+
+"You have got a secret," exclaimed David; "and you always were cross
+about Hannah Higgins's pig.  You have got it to tease me!  Miss
+Fosbrook, make her give it back."
+
+"Nonsense, David," said Miss Fosbrook; "Bessie is quite to be
+trusted; and it is wrong to make unfounded accusations."
+
+"Never mind, Betty," added Sam kindly; "if Davie wasn't a little
+donkey, he wouldn't say such things."
+
+"Where is Henry?" asked the governess.  "Why did he not come himself?
+Call him; I want to know if he observed this door being open."
+
+"He is gone down to Mr. Carey's," said John.
+
+"And it is high time you were there too, Sam," said Miss Fosbrook,
+starting.  "If you are late, beg Mr. Carey's pardon from me, and tell
+him that I kept you."
+
+Sam was obliged to run off at full speed; and the other children
+stood about, still aghast and excited.  Miss Fosbrook, however, told
+them to take out their books.  She would not do anything more till
+she had had time to think, and had composed their minds and her own;
+for she was exceedingly shocked, and felt herself partly in fault,
+for having left the hoard in an unlocked cupboard.  She feared to do
+anything hastily, lest she should bring suspicion on the innocent;
+and she thought all would do better if time were given for settling
+down.  All were disappointed at thus losing the excitement, fancying
+perhaps that instant search and inquiry would hunt up the money; and
+David put himself quite into a sullen fit.  No, he would not turn
+round, nor read, nor do anything, unless Miss Fosbrook would make
+stingy Bet give up the pence.
+
+Miss Fosbrook and Susan both tried to argue with him; but he had set
+his mind upon one point so vehemently, that it was making him
+absolutely stupid to everything else; and he was such a little boy
+(only five years old), that his mind could hardly grasp the exceeding
+unlikelihood of a girl like Elizabeth committing such a theft, either
+in sport or earnest, nor understand the injury of such a suspicion.
+He only knew that she had a secret--a counter secret to his pig; and
+when she hotly assured him that she had never touched the money, and
+Susan backed her up with, "There, she says she did not," he answered,
+"She once told a story."
+
+Elizabeth coloured deep red, and Susan cried out loudly that it was a
+shame in David; then explained that it was a long long time ago, that
+Hal and Bessie broke the drawing-room window by playing at ball with
+little hard apples, and had not 'told, but when questioned had said,
+"No;" but indeed they had been so sorry then that she knew they would
+never do so again.
+
+Again David showed that he could not enter into this, and sulkily
+repeated, "She told a story."
+
+"I will have no more of this," said Christabel resolutely.  "You are
+all working yourselves up into a bad spirit:  and not another word
+will I hear on this matter till lessons are over."
+
+That tone was always obeyed; but lessons did not prosper; the
+children were all restless and unsettled; and David, hitherto for his
+age her best scholar, took no pains, and seemed absolutely stupefied.
+What did he care for fines, if the chance of the pig was gone?  And
+he was sullenly angry with Miss Fosbrook for using no measures to
+recover the money, fancied she did not care, and remembered the
+foolish nursery talk about her favouring Bessie.
+
+Once Miss Fosbrook heard a little gasping from the corner, and
+looking round, saw poor Bessie crying quietly over her slate, and
+trying hard to check herself.  She would not have noticed her, though
+longing to comfort her, if David had not cried out, "Bet is crying!
+A fine!"
+
+"No," said Miss Fosbrook; "but a fine for an ill-natured speech that
+has made her cry."
+
+"She has got the pig's money," muttered David.
+
+"Say that again, and I shall punish you, David."
+
+He looked her full in the face, and said it again.
+
+She was thoroughly roused to anger, and kept her word by opening the
+door of a small dark closet, and putting David in till dinner-time.
+
+Then she and Susan both tried to soothe Bessie, by reminding her how
+childish David was, how he had caught up some word that probably Hal
+had flung out without meaning it, and how no one of any sense
+suspected her for a moment.
+
+"It is so ill-natured and hard," sobbed Bessie.  "To think I could
+steal!  I think they hate me."
+
+"Ah," said Susan, "if you only would never be cross to the boys,
+Bessie, and not keep out of what they care for, they would never
+think it."
+
+"Yes, Susie is right there," said Christabel.  "If you try to be one
+with the others, and make common cause with them, giving up and
+forbearing, they never will take such things into their heads."
+
+"And WE don't now," said Susan cheerily.  "Didn't you hear Sam say
+nobody but a donkey could think it?"
+
+"But Bessie has a secret!" said Annie.
+
+Again stout Susan said, "For shame!"
+
+"I'll tell you what my secret is," began Bessie.
+
+"No," said Susan, "don't tell it, dear!  We'll trust you without; and
+Sam will say the same."
+
+Bessie flung her arms round Susan's neck, as if she only now knew the
+comfort of her dear good sister.
+
+Lessons were resumed; and as soon as these were done, Miss Fosbrook
+resolved on a thorough search.  Some strange fit of mischief or
+curiosity might have actuated some one, and the money be hidden away;
+so she brought David out of his cupboard, and with Susan's help
+turned out every drawer and locker in the school-room, forbidding the
+others to touch or assist.  They routed out queer nests of broken
+curiosities, disturbed old dusty dens of rubbish, peeped behind every
+row of books; but made no discovery worth mentioning, except the left
+leg of Annie's last doll, the stuffing of Johnnie's ball, the tiger
+out of George's Noah's ark, and the first sheet of Sam's Latin
+Grammar, all stuffed together into a mouse-hole in the skirting.
+
+At dinner Christabel forbade the subject to be mentioned, not only to
+hinder quarrelsome speeches, but to prevent the loss being talked of
+among the servants; since she feared that one of them must have
+committed the theft, and though anxious not to put it into the
+children's heads, suspected Rhoda, the little nursery-girl, who was
+quite a child, and had not long been in the house.
+
+Henry ate his dinner in haste, but could not get away till Miss
+Fosbrook had called him away from the rest, and told him that if he
+had been playing a trick on his little brother, it was time to put an
+end to it, before any innocent person fell under suspicion.
+
+"I--I've been playing no tricks--at least--"
+
+"Without any AT LEAST, Henry, have you hidden the money?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You dined in the school-room on Friday.  Were the baby-house doors
+open then!"
+
+"I--I'm sure I didn't notice."
+
+"You didn't open them to take anything out?"
+
+"What should I want with the things in the baby-house?"
+
+"Did you, or did you not!"
+
+"I--I didn't--at least--"
+
+"In one word, did you open them? yes or no."
+
+"No."
+
+"What time did you go out after eating your dinner?"
+
+"Bother! how is one to remember!  It's all nonsense making such a
+fuss.  The children fancied they put in ever so much more than they
+did, and very likely took out some."
+
+"No; David's reckoning was accurate.  I wrote down all I knew of; and
+I am sure none was taken out, for early that very morning I had put
+in a sixpence myself, and the cup was then full of coppers, with that
+little silver threepenny of David's with the edge turned up upon the
+top."
+
+"Then you must have left the door undone!" said Henry delighted.
+
+"I dare not be positive," said Christabel; "but I believe I remember
+bolting it; and if I had not done so, it would have flown open
+sooner."
+
+"Oh, but the wind, you know."
+
+"If the doors did open, it would not account for the loss of the
+money."
+
+"Well, I can't help it," said Henry ungraciously, trying to move off:
+but she first required him to tell her what he had said to the
+younger boys to make them suspect Elizabeth.
+
+"Did I?" said Henry, "I am sure I didn't; at least, if I did, I only
+said Bess peeped everywhere, and was very close.  I didn't suspect
+her, you know."
+
+"I should think not!" said Miss Fosbrook indignantly.  "Now please to
+come up with me."
+
+"I want to go out," said Henry.
+
+No, she would not let him go.  She thought Elizabeth ought to clear
+herself, so far as it could be done, by making her secret known,
+since that had drawn suspicion on her; and when all the children were
+together, she called the little girl and told her so.
+
+"It is very unkind of them," said Bessie, with trembling lip; "but
+they shall see, if they want THAT to show I am not a thief!"
+
+"I said I wouldn't see," said Susan.  "You knows Bessie, I trust
+you."
+
+"And I," said Sam; "I don't care for people's secrets.  I don't want
+to pry into Bessie's."
+
+No one followed their example; all either really suspected, or else
+were full of curiosity, and delighted to gratify it.
+
+Half a dozen slips of card, with poor little coloured drawings on
+them, and as many lengths of penny ribbon!
+
+"Is that all?" said Annie, much disappointed.
+
+"So that's what Bet made such a fuss about," said John; and David's
+face fell, as if he had really expected to see the lost pence.
+
+The next thing, after the search had been made through all the
+children's bed-rooms, was to go to the nursery:  and thither Miss
+Fosbrook allowed only Susan and Sam to follow her.  Nurse Freeman was
+very stiff and stately, but she had no objection to searching; and
+the boy and girl began the hunt, while Miss Fosbrook meantime
+cautiously asked whether Nurse were sure of Rhoda, and if she were
+trustworthy.
+
+This made Mrs. Freeman very angry; and though her words were
+respectful, she showed that she was much offended at the strange lady
+presuming to suspect anyone, especially one under her charge.
+
+Miss Fosbrook wanted to have asked Rhoda whether the doors were open
+or shut when she carried Henry his dinner, but Nurse would not
+consent to call her.  "I understood the nursery and the girl were to
+be my province," she said.  "If Miss Merrifield heard her mamma say
+otherwise, then it is a different thing."
+
+Susan cowered into the dark cupboard.  Nurse must be in a dreadful
+way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!
+
+Nothing more could be done.  The pence could not be found.  Nurse
+would not let Rhoda be examined; and all that could be found out from
+the children had been already elicited.
+
+Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and, her head
+aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet be thrown on
+the matter.  There must be pain and grief whenever it should be
+explained; but this would be far better, even for the offender, than
+the present deception:  and the whole family were in a state of
+irritation and distrust, that hurt their tempers, and made her
+bitterly reproach herself with not having prevented temptation by
+putting the hoard under lock and key.
+
+She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening, and
+made herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went off
+heavily.  The next morning, Susan came back early from her
+housekeeping business, with her honest face grave and unhappy, and
+finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told her she had something REALLY to say
+to her if she might; and this being granted began, with the bright
+look of having found a capital notion:  "I'll tell you what I wish
+you would do."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"If you would call every one in all the house, and ask them on their
+word and honour if they took the pence."
+
+"My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no right to do
+that; besides, I do not believe it would discover it."
+
+"What! could a thief get in from out of doors!" said Susan looking at
+the window.
+
+"Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who could steal would
+not scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not wish to cause this
+additional sin."
+
+"It is very horrid; I can't bear it," said Susan, puckering up her
+face for tears.  "Do you know, Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so
+angry that you said anything about Rhoda?"
+
+"You did not mention it, my dear?"
+
+"Oh no; nor Sam.  It was Nurse herself!  But they all say that you
+want to take away her character; and they won't have strangers put
+over them."
+
+"Pray, Susie; don't tell me this.  It can do no good."
+
+"Oh, but PLEASE!" cried Susan.  "And then Mary--I can't think how she
+could--but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly, and that
+she had been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but she was your
+favourite, and so you vindicated her.  And Nurse began teasing her to
+confess, and tell the truth, and told her she was a wicked child
+because she would not; but it was all because we were put under
+strangers!  I'm sure they do set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to
+her."
+
+"When was this, my dear?"
+
+"Last night, when we went to the nursery to be washed.  It was our
+night, you know.  Oh!  I wish Mamma was well!"
+
+"Indeed I do my dear.  And how did poor Bessie bear it!"
+
+"She got quite white, and never said a word, even when they told her
+she was sulky.  But when we got into bed, and I kissed her and
+cuddled her up, oh! she did cry so; I didn't know what to do.  So, do
+you know, I got my shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not
+gone to sleep, and he came and sat by her, and told her that he
+believed her, and knew she was as sound a heart of oak as any of us;
+and we both petted her, and Sam was so nice and kind, till she went
+to sleep.  Then he went to the nursery, and told Nurse how horrid it
+was in her; but Cook said it only made her worse, because she is
+jealous of our taking part with you."
+
+"My dear, I DO like to hear of your kindness to Bessie; but I wish
+you would not mind what any of the maids say, nor talk to them about
+it.  It only distresses you for nothing."
+
+"But I can't help it," said Susan.
+
+"You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you need not talk
+to Cook or Mary about it.  It is of no use to vex ourselves with what
+people say who don't know half a story."
+
+"Can't you tell them not?" said simple Susan.
+
+"No, I cannot interfere.  They would only do it the more.  We can
+only keep Bessie as much out of the way of the maids as we can, and
+show our confidence in her."
+
+Certainly Elizabeth had been known to look infinitely more glum when
+nothing was the matter than under all this vexation, even though the
+servants were really very unkind to her; and her two little brothers
+both behaved as ill as possible to her whenever they had the
+opportunity--David really believing that she had made away with the
+money, and ought to be tortured for it; and Johnnie taking it on his
+word, and being one of those little boys who have a positive taste
+for ill-nature, and think it fun.  They pinched her, they bit her,
+they rubbed out her sums, they shut up her lesson-books and lost her
+place, they put bitten crusts into her plate, and did whatever they
+knew she most disliked, whenever Miss Fosbrook or Sam was not in the
+way; but she never told.  She did not choose to be called a tell-
+tale; and besides, they really did not succeed in making her life
+miserable, so much was she pleased with the real kindness her trouble
+had brought out from Susan and Sam.  Susan could not prevent the
+persecution of the two naughty little boys, but she defended her
+sister to her utmost; and Sam cuffed them if they said a word or
+lifted a finger against Bessie before him; and he gave her such
+notice and kindness as she never had received from him before.  One
+afternoon, when he was going to walk to Bonchamp, he asked leave for
+her to come with him, and would take nobody else; and hot day as it
+was, Bessie had never had such a charming walk.  She kept herself
+from making one single fuss; and in return, he gathered wild
+strawberries for her, showed her a kingfisher, and took her to look
+in at a very grand aquarium in the fishing-tackle maker's window,
+where she saw some gold-fish, and a most comical little newt.  And
+going home, they had a real good talk about their father's voyage,
+and how they should get on without him; and Bessie found to her great
+pleasure, that Sam hoped Miss Fosbrook would stay when Mamma Came
+home.
+
+"For I do think she has put some sense into you, Bessie," said Sam.
+
+She was so delighted, that instead of preparing to fret if Sam did
+but hold up a finger at her, she looked up with a smile when he came
+in her way, sure of protection, and expecting something pleasant, as
+well as thinking it an honour to be asked to help him in anything.
+The next day, when Mr. Carey had insisted on his verifying by the map
+all the towns which he had been contented to say were in Asia Minor
+(where every place in ancient history is always put if its
+whereabouts be doubtful), she saved him so much time and trouble,
+that he got out into the garden full half an hour earlier than he
+would otherwise have done.  Thereupon he told her she was a jolly
+good fellow, and gave her such a thump on the back, as a few weeks
+ago would have made her scream and whine; but this time she took it
+as a new form of thanks, and felt highly honoured by being invited to
+help him to fish for minnows, though it almost made her sick to stick
+the raw meat upon his hooks.
+
+The threatening of a true sorrow, the bearing a real trouble, and the
+opening to her brother's kindness, had done far more to make her a
+happy little girl than all Miss Fosbrook's attempts to satisfy her
+cravings or please her tastes.  These had indeed done her some good,
+and taught her to find means of enjoyment for those likings that no
+one else cared for; but it had been the SPIRIT of delight that had
+been chiefly wanting; and when thankfulness and love were leading her
+to that, it was much easier to see that the evening clouds or the
+rising moon were lovely, than when she was looking out for affronts.
+
+Nothing was said in public about the loss; and Christabel hoped that
+the bad impression as to Elizabeth would wear out in the young minds
+of the lesser children; but David's whole nature seemed to have been
+disorganized by the disappointment.  Instead of being a pattern child
+for diligence and good behaviour, very fond of Miss Fosbrook, and not
+only inoffensive, but often keeping John and Anne in order, he seemed
+absolutely stupid and senseless at lessons, became stubborn at
+reproof, seemed to take pleasure in running counter to his governess,
+and rendered the other two, who, though his elders, were both of weak
+natures compared with his own, more openly naughty than himself.
+Sometimes it seemed to Christabel that the habit of spiting Bessie
+was getting so confirmed, that it would last even when the cause was
+forgotten; and yet the more she strove to put it down in sight, the
+more it throve out of sight; and when she looked at David, and
+thought how she had once admired him, she could not but remember the
+text that says, "Thy goodness is as the morning cloud, and as the dew
+shall it vanish away."  She had thought it goodness based upon
+religious feeling, as well as on natural gravity and orderliness; and
+so perhaps it had once been, but the little fellow had fixed his
+whole soul on one purpose, and though that was a good one, it had
+grown into an idol, and swallowed up all his other motives, till of
+late he had only been good for the sake of the pig, not because it
+was right.  Being disappointed of the pig, he had nothing to fall
+back upon, but felt himself so ill-used, that it seemed to him that
+it was no use to be good; and he revenged himself by naughtiness.
+
+Such sturdy strong characters as little David's, when they are once
+set on the right object, come to the very best kind of goodness; but
+when they take a wrong turn, they are the very worst, both for
+themselves and others.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+
+The Monday after the loss of the pence was a pouring wet day.  The
+whole court was like a flood, and the drops went splashing up again
+as if in play; Purday wore his master's old southwester coat, and
+looked shiny all over; and when the maids had to cross the court,
+they went click, click, in their pattens under their umbrellas.
+
+But it was baking day, and Susan and Annie had been down to coax the
+cook into making them a present of a handsome allowance of dough, and
+Miss Fosbrook into letting them manipulate it in the school-room.
+Probably this was the only way of preventing the dough from being
+turned into bullets, and sent flying at each other's eyes, or
+possibly plastered on somebody's nose, and the cook and kitchenmaid
+from being nearly driven crazy.
+
+The dough was justly divided, and an establishment set up in each
+locker.  Bessie declined altogether; Sam had lent her his beautiful
+book of The British Songsters, and she was hard at work at the table
+copying a tom-tit, since she no longer carried on the work in secret;
+but at one locker were the other three elders, at the other the three
+lesser ones, and little George in a corner by Susan, pegging away at
+his own private lump, and constantly begging for more.  Susan's
+ambition was to make a set of real twists, just like Cook's; and she
+pulled out and twisted and plaited, though often robbed of her dough
+by the two boys, whose united efforts were endeavouring to produce a
+likeness of Purday, with his hat on his head, plums for eyes, a pipe
+in his mouth, and driving a cow; but unluckily his neck always got
+pinched off, and his arms would not stay on!  No matter; the more
+moulding of that soft dough the better!  Johnnie and Annie had a
+whole party of white clammy serpents, always being set to bite one
+another, and to melt into each other; and David was hard at work on a
+brood of rabbits with currant eyes, and would let no one interfere
+with him.
+
+"Didn't I hear something!" asked Bessie, looking up.
+
+"Oh, it's only the roller," said Sam; "Purday always rolls on a wet
+day."
+
+Something, however, made the whole party of little bakers hold up
+their heads to listen.  There was a gleam on their faces, as a quick
+alert step sounded on the stairs, and Bessie, the nearest to the
+door, and not cramped like the rest, who were sitting on their heels,
+sprang forward and opened it with a scream of joy.
+
+There he was--the light, alert, weather-beaten man, with his loose
+wavy hair, and bright sailor face!  There was Papa!  Oh, the hurly-
+burly of children, tumbling up as well as they could on legs crooked
+under them, and holding out great fans of floury doughy paws, all
+coming to be hugged in his arms in turn, so that before he had come
+to the end of the eight in presence, Bessie had had time to whisk off
+to the nursery, snatch Baby up from before Nurse's astonished eyes,
+rush down with her, and put her into his arms.  Baby had forgotten
+him, and was taken with such a fit of screaming shyness, that Susan
+had to take her, and Annie to play bo-peep with her, before she would
+let anyone's voice be heard.
+
+"I've taken you by surprise, Miss Fosbrook," said the Captain,
+shaking hands with her in the midst of the clatter.
+
+"Oh, it is such a pleasure!" she began.  "I hope you left Mrs.
+Merrifield much better."
+
+"Much better, much better, thank you.  I hope to find her on the sofa
+when I go back on Thursday.  I could only run down for a few days,
+just to settle things, and see the children, before I join the
+Ramilies.  Admiral Penrose very good-naturedly kept it open for me,
+till we could tell how SHE was," said the Captain, with rather a
+trembling voice.
+
+"Then you are going!  O Papa!" said Susan, looking up at him; "and
+Baby will not know you till--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Miss Croaker," said the Captain, roughly but
+kindly; and Miss Fosbrook could see that he was as much afraid of
+crying himself as of letting Susan cry; "I've no time for that.  I've
+got a gentleman on business down stairs, and your Uncle John and I
+must go down to them again.  We sha'n't want dinner; only, Sue, tell
+them to send in some eggs and bacon, or cold meat, or whatever there
+may be, for tea; and get a room ready for your uncle."
+
+He would have gone, but Susan called out, "O Papa, may we drink tea
+with you, Georgy and all!"
+
+"Yes, to be sure, if you won't make a bear-fight, any of you, for
+your uncle."
+
+"Mayn't I come down with you?" added Sam, looking at him as if he
+wanted to make the most of every moment of that presence.
+
+"Better not, my boy," said the Captain; "I've got law business to
+settle, and we don't want you.  Better stay and make yourselves
+decent for tea-time.  Mamma's love, and she hopes you'll not drive
+Uncle John distracted."  And he was gone.
+
+"Bother Uncle John!" first muttered Sam (I am sorry to say).
+
+"I can't think what he's come for," sighed Annie.
+
+"To spoil our fun," suggested Johnnie disconsolately.
+
+"To take Sam to school," added Hal, "while I go to sea."
+
+"You don't know that you are going," said Elizabeth.  "Papa said
+nothing about it."
+
+"Oh! but I know I shall.  Admiral Penrose promised."
+
+"You know a great many things that don't happen.  You knew Colonel
+Carey would give you two sovereigns."
+
+Henry looked as if he could bite.
+
+"Well, I shall finish Purday," said Sam, turning away with a sigh;
+"and they shall have him for tea."
+
+"Tea will be no fun!" repeated Annie.  "Oh dear! what does Uncle John
+come here for?"
+
+"May not he come to be with his brother?" suggested Christabel.
+
+"Oh! but they are grown up," said Annie.
+
+"Can't he have him in London, without coming here to worry us in our
+little time!" added Johnnie.
+
+"Perhaps he will not worry you."
+
+"Oh! but--" they all cried, and stopped short.
+
+"He plagues about manners," said Annie.
+
+"He wanted Susie and me to be sent to school!" said Bessie.
+
+"He said it was like dining with young Hottentots."
+
+"He told Papa it was disgraceful, when we had all been sliding on the
+great pond in the village," added Annie.
+
+"And he gave Sam a box on the ear, for only just taking a dear little
+river cray-fish in his fishing-net to show Aunt Alice."
+
+"The net was dripping wet," observed Bessie.
+
+"Yes," said Anne; "but Aunt Alice is so finikin and fidgety; she
+never wets her feet, and can't get over a stile, and is afraid of a
+cow; and he wants us all to be like her."
+
+"And he makes Papa and Mamma mind things that they don't mind by
+nature," said Susan.
+
+"Mamma always tells us to be good, and never play at hockey in the
+house when he's there," said Anne.
+
+"She has not told us so this time," said John triumphantly.
+
+"No, but we must mind all the same," said Susan; and Sam silenced
+some independent murmurs, about not minding Uncle John, by saying it
+was minding Mamma.
+
+Miss Fosbrook herself was a little alarmed, for she gathered that
+Mamma was in some fear of this terrible uncle, that he had much
+influence with his brother, and was rather a severe judge of the
+young family.  She sincerely hoped that he would not find things much
+amiss, for the honest goodness of the two eldest had won so much
+regard from her, that she could not bear them to be under any cloud;
+and indeed she felt as if the whole flock were her own property, as
+well as her charge, and that she, as well as they, were about to be
+tried.  She would have felt it all fair and just before their kindly
+father, but it seemed hard that all should be brought before the
+school-master uncle; and she was disposed to be tender for her
+children, and exceedingly anxious as to the effect they might
+produce.  She was resolved that the Captain should hear of the affair
+of the pence; but the presence of his brother would make the speaking
+a much greater effort.  Meantime, she saw that all the fingers were
+clean, and all the hair brushed.  She flattered herself that Susan's
+yellow locks had learnt that it was the business of hair to keep
+tidy, and had been much less unmanageable of late; but she had her
+fears that they would ruffle up again when their owner, at the head
+of a large detachment, rushed out to take the "fancy bread" out of
+the oven, and she came half-way down stairs, in case it should be
+necessary to capture them, and brush them over again.
+
+While thus watching, the door of the dining-room (the only down
+stairs room in order) opened suddenly, and the Captain came forth.
+"Oh, Miss Fosbrook," he said, "please come in here:  I was just
+coming to look for you.  My brother--Miss Fosbrook."
+
+To her surprise, Miss Fosbrook received a very pleasant civil
+greeting from a much younger man than she had expected to see,
+looking perhaps more stern about the mouth and sharp about the eye
+than his elder brother, and his clerical dress very precise; but
+somehow he was so curiously like his niece, Elizabeth, that she
+thought that his particularity might spring from the same love of
+refinement.
+
+"All going on well?" asked the Captain.
+
+"Fairly well," she answered.  "Sam and Susan are most excellent
+children.  There is only one matter on which I should like to speak
+to you, at some time when it might suit you."
+
+"Is it about this?" he said, putting into her hand a sheet written in
+huge round-hand in pencil, no words misspelt, but the breaks in them
+at the end of the lines perfectly regardless of syllables:-
+
+
+My dear Papa,
+
+Please let me
+have a poli
+ceman.  Bet h
+as got at Toby
+and stole our
+pence which was
+for a secret.  Nu
+rse says she is a
+favourite and Miss
+Fosbrook will not
+find them.
+
+Your affectionate son
+
+DAVID DOUGLAS MERRIFIELD.
+
+
+"Oh! this was the letter David insisted on sealing before I put it
+into mine!" exclaimed Miss Fosbrook, as soon as she had made out the
+words.  "We have been in great trouble at the loss; but we agreed not
+to write to you, because you had so much on your mind."
+
+"Is Bessie in fault?"
+
+"No, no; none of us believe it; but I am very anxious that you should
+make an investigation, for the maids suspect her, and have made the
+younger children do so."
+
+"And who is Toby?"
+
+"Toby is only a jug--called Toby Fillpot, I believe--shaped like a
+man."
+
+"I know!" put in Mr. John Merrifield, laughing.  "Don't you remember
+him, Harry?  We had the like in our time."
+
+"Well?" interrogated the Captain.
+
+"Just after you left home," said Christabel, as shortly and clearly
+as she could, "the children agreed to save their allowance to buy a
+pig for Hannah Higgins.  They showed great perseverance in their
+object; and by the third week they had about seven shillings in this
+jug, which, to my grief and shame, I let them keep in the glass
+cupboard, not locked, but one door bolted, the other buttoned.  On
+Friday morning, the 11th, I know the cup was full of coppers and
+silver, for I took it down to add something to it.  On the next
+Monday morning the money was gone, all but one farthing."
+
+"Can you guess who took it?"
+
+"I should prefer saying nothing till you have examined the children
+and servants for yourself."
+
+"Right!" said the Captain.  "Very well.--I am sorry to treat you to a
+court-martial, John, but I must hold one after tea."
+
+Christabel pitied the children for having to speak before this
+formidable uncle; but there could be no help for it, since no other
+sitting-room was habitable, and there were torrents of rain out-of-
+doors.
+
+There was just time to show the glass cupboard, and the shelf where
+Toby had stood, and to return to the dining-room, before the children
+began to stream in and make their greetings to their uncle, Susan
+with George in one hand, and her plate of bakings in the other.  Very
+fancy bread indeed it was! as Uncle John said.  The edge of Purday's
+hat had been quite baked off, and one of his arms was gone; he was
+black in the wrong places, and was altogether rather an
+uncomfortable-looking object.  David's brood of rabbits were much
+more successful, though the ears of many had fallen off.  Uncle John
+was very much diverted, and took his full share of admiring and
+tasting the various performances.  On the whole, the meal went off
+much better than Christabel had feared it would.  She had really
+broken the children of many of the habits with which they used to
+make themselves disagreeable; there was no putting of spoons into
+each other's cups, nor reaching out with buttery fingers; lips were
+wiped, and people sat still upon their chairs, even if they fidgeted
+and sighed; and there was only one slop made all tea-time, and that
+was by Johnnie, and not a very bad one.  Indeed, it might be hoped
+that Mr. Merrifield did not see it, for he was talking to Sam about
+the change of footpath that Mr. Greville was making.  There was
+indeed no fun, but it might be doubted whether Papa would have been
+in a mood for fun even had his brother not been there; and Miss
+Fosbrook was rather glad there was nothing to make the children
+forgetful of propriety.
+
+As soon as Mary had carried off the tea-things and wiped the table,
+Uncle John put himself as much out of the way as he could behind the
+newspaper in the recess of the window; and Miss Fosbrook would have
+gone to the school-room, but Captain Merrifield begged her to stay.
+
+"I hear," he said, "that a very unpleasant thing has taken place in
+my absence, and I wish to learn all that I can about it, that the
+guilty person may be brought to light, and the innocent cleared from
+any suspicion."
+
+The children looked at one another, wondering how he had heard, or
+whether Miss Fosbrook had told him; but this was soon answered by his
+calling out, "David! come here, and tell me what you meant by this
+letter."
+
+David walked stoutly to his father's knee, nothing daunted, though
+his brothers muttered behind him, "So he wrote!" "Little sneak!" and
+"He knew no better!"  Not that it was wrong to lay the case before
+his father; but boys had usually rather suffer injustice than make an
+accusation.
+
+"Why did you write this letter, David?" said his father.
+
+"Because I want my pence for the pig."
+
+"Tell me how you lost them?"
+
+"Bess took them!"
+
+Elizabeth sprung up, crimson, and with tears in her eyes, and Sam and
+Susan were both bursting out into an angry "No, no!" but their father
+made a sign to all to keep still; and they obeyed, though each of the
+elder ones took hold of a hand of their sister and squeezed it hard.
+
+"Did you see her take them?" asked the Captain.
+
+"No!"
+
+"Then why do you say she did?  I don't want to frighten you, David; I
+only want to hear why you think she did so."
+
+David was getting alarmed now, and his childish memory better
+retained the impression than what had produced it.  He hung down his
+head, scraped one foot, and finding that he must answer, mumbled out
+at last, "Nurse said it, and Hal."
+
+"Henry, come here.  Did you accuse your sister to David?"
+
+"No!" burst out Henry at once; but there was a rounding of everyone's
+mouth to cry out Oh! and he quickly added, in a hasty scared way, "At
+least, when Davie came bothering me, I said he had better ask Betty,
+because she had been prying about, and meddling with the baby-house.
+I never meant that she had done it; but Davie is such a little jack-
+ass!"
+
+"Did you see her meddle with the baby-house!"
+
+"She said that herself," muttered Henry.
+
+"Yes, Papa," said Elizabeth, starting forward, "I did find the doors
+of the baby-house open, and shut them up, but I never touched
+anything in it!  Sam and Susie know I would not, and that I would not
+tell a story now, though I once did, you know, Papa!"
+
+Captain Merrifield still kept his grave set face, and only asked,
+"When did you find the doors open?"
+
+"On Friday, Papa--Friday week--St. Barnabas' Day--just after dinner."
+
+"Was no one with you?"
+
+"No, Papa."
+
+"You came up-stairs first?"
+
+"Yes; I wanted my pencil before--" and she stopped short.
+
+"Before what?"
+
+"Before Miss Fosbrook went in to speak to Hal," said Elizabeth,
+getting red all over.
+
+"Hal had been dining in the school-room," said Miss Fosbrook, "on
+account of a little bit of disobedience."
+
+Captain Merrifield looked keenly at Henry, who tried to return the
+look, but shuffled uncomfortably under it.
+
+"Then Hal had been dining in the school-room?  Was he there when you
+came in?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Were the doors open when you were dining there, Henry?"
+
+"N--no."
+
+"You are sure that you did not meddle with them?"
+
+"I do not know why I should," said Henry, hastily and confusedly.
+"It is only the girls and the babies that have things there--and--and
+Miss Fosbrook herself had been at the cupboard in the morning; why
+shouldn't she have left it undone herself, and the doors got open?"
+
+"No, no!" cried Susan; "if they aren't fastened they always burst
+open directly; and we never could have been in the room half the
+morning without noticing them!"
+
+"Then you are certain that they were closed when you went down to
+dinner?"
+
+Everyone was positive that the great glass doors flying out must have
+made themselves observed in that room full of children, especially as
+Susan remembered that she had been making a desk of the sloping part
+under them.
+
+"Does anyone remember how long it was between Hal's leaving the room
+and Bessie's coming up?"
+
+"I don't know when he went out," said all those who had been in the
+dining-room; but there spoke up a voice, quite proud of having
+something to tell among the others--"I saw Hal go out, and Bessie
+come up directly."
+
+"You, Johnnie!  How was that?"
+
+"Miss Fosbrook made me dine in the nursery, Papa, because Hal and I
+had been riding on the new iron gate, to see if the telegraph would
+come in while the others were at church; and then Hal ran away with
+the Grevilles, and I couldn't get down till Sam came and helped me;
+and so Miss Fosbrook made me dine in the nursery; and when I had
+done, I went and sat upon the top of the garret stairs, to watch when
+they came out from dinner, and ask if I might come down again."
+
+"And what did you see, Johnnie?"
+
+"First, I saw a wasp," said Johnnie.
+
+"Never mind the wasp.  Did you see when Henry went out?"
+
+"I saw him come in first," said John, "and Miss Fosbrook order him up
+and say she would send him his dinner, and come and speak to him
+presently.  So I watched to catch her when she was coming up to him,
+and I saw Mary bring him up some mince veal, and the last bit of the
+gooseberry pie; and then, very soon, he bolted right downstairs.  I
+didn't think he could have had time to eat the pie; and I was going
+to see if there was a bit left, when I saw Bessie coming up, and I
+whipped up again."
+
+"Then nobody went into the room between Henry and Bessie?"
+
+"No; there wasn't any time."
+
+The whole room was quite silent.  There was no sound but a quick
+short breathing from the Captain:  but he had rested his brow upon
+his hand, and his face could not be seen.  It was as if something
+terrible had flashed upon him, and he was struggling with the first
+shock, and striving to deal with it.  If they had seen him in a
+tempest, with his ship driving to pieces on a rock, he would not have
+been thus shaken and dismayed.  However, by the time he looked up
+again, he had brought his face back to its resolute firmness, and he
+spoke in a clear, stern, startling voice, that made all the children
+quake, and some catch hold of each other's hands:  "Henry! tell me
+what you have done with your theft!"
+
+Miserable Henry!  He did not try to deny it any longer; but burst out
+into a loud sobbing cry, "O Papa!  Papa!  I meant to have put it back
+again!  I couldn't help it!"
+
+"Tell me what you have done with it!" repeated the Captain.
+
+"I--I paid it to Farmer Grice; I was obliged; and I thought I could
+have put it back again; and some of it was my own!"
+
+"Fivepence-farthing!" cried David.  "You thief, you!"
+
+The child's fists were clenched, and his young face all one scowl of
+passion, quite shocking to see.  His father put him aside, and said,
+"Hush, David! no names.--Now, Henry, what do you say to your sister
+for your false accusation, which has thrown your own shame on her?"
+
+"Oh, no, no, Papa; he never did accuse me!" cried Bessie, for the
+first time bursting into tears.  "He never said I did it; that was
+only Davie's fancy; and it has made Susie and Sam so kind, I have not
+minded it at all.  Please don't mind that, Papa!"
+
+"Come away, Henry!" said the Captain; "now that your sister has been
+cleared, we had better have the rest out of the sight of these
+tender-hearted little girls."
+
+He stood up, and without a word, stroked down Elizabeth's smooth
+brown hair, raised her face up by the chin, and kissed her forehead,
+the only place free from tears; then he took Henry by the shoulder,
+and marched him out of the room.  Bessie could not stop herself from
+crying, and was afraid of letting Uncle John see her; so she flew out
+after them, and straight up-stairs to her own room.  Miss Fosbrook
+and Susan both longed to follow her, but they had missed this
+opportunity; and the sound of voices outside showed so plainly that
+the Captain and Henry were in the hall that they durst not open the
+door.
+
+Everyone was appalled, and nothing was said for a few seconds.  The
+first to speak was Annie, in a low, terror-stricken whisper, yet with
+some curiosity in it:  "I wonder what Papa will do to him?"
+
+"Give him nine dozen, I hope!" answered David through his small white
+teeth, all clenched together with rage.
+
+"For shame, Davie!" said Susan; "you should not wish anything so
+dreadful for your brother."
+
+"He has been so wicked!  I wish it!  I WILL wish it!" said David.
+
+"Hush, David!" said Miss Fosbrook; "such things must not be said.  I
+will talk to you by and by."
+
+"I am glad poor Bessie is cleared!" added Susan; "though I always
+knew she could not have done it."
+
+"To be sure--I knew it was Hal!"
+
+"Sam! you did?--why didn't you tell?" cried Annie.
+
+"I wasn't--to say--sure," said Sam; "and I couldn't go and get him
+into a scrape.  I thought he might tell himself, if he could ever
+make up the money again!"
+
+"Yes," said Susan; "he would have done that.  He always fancied he
+should get a sovereign from Colonel Carey."
+
+"He talked till he thought so," said Sam.
+
+"But what made you guess he had done so, Sam?" said Miss Fosbrook.
+"I did suspect him myself, but I never felt justified in accusing him
+of such a thing."
+
+"I don't know!  I saw he had been getting into a fix with those
+Grevilles, and had been sold somehow.  They said something, and got
+out of my way directly, and I was sure they had done some mischief,
+and left him to pay the cost."
+
+"Did you ask him?" said Susan.
+
+"What was the use?  One never knows where to have him.  He will eat
+up his words as fast as he says them, with his AT LEAST, till he
+doesn't know what he means.  Nor I didn't want to know much of it."
+
+"Still I can't think how you could let poor Bessie live under such a
+cloud," said Christabel.
+
+"You didn't believe it," said Sam, "nor anyone worth a snap of my
+finger.  Besides, if I had known, and had to tell, what a horrid
+shame it would have been if the naval cadetship had been to be had
+for him!  I knew Bessie would have thought so too, and then he would
+have been out of the way of the Grevilles, and would have got some
+money to make it up."
+
+"Then is there no chance of the cadetship now?"
+
+"Oh, we should have heard of it long ago if there had been!  So I
+mind the coming out the less; but it's perfectly abominable to have
+had all this row, and for Papa to be so cut up in this little short
+time at home."
+
+"I never saw him more grieved," said Mr. Merrifield.  "He was hardly
+more overcome when your mother was at the worst."
+
+They started, for they had forgotten Uncle John, or they would never
+have spoken so freely; but he now put down his newspaper, and looked
+as if he meant to talk.
+
+Susan ventured to say, "And indeed they had all been so very good
+before.  The pig made them so."
+
+"A learned pig, I should think," said her uncle, laughing good-
+naturedly.
+
+"We were obliged to take care," said Susan, "or we got so many
+fines."
+
+Christabel, finding that Mr. Merrifield looked at her, helped out
+Susan by explaining that various small delinquencies were visited
+with fines, and that the desire to save for the pig had rendered the
+children very careful.
+
+"Indeed," she said, "I was thankful for the incentive, but I am
+afraid that it was over-worked, and did harm in the end:" and she
+glanced towards David.
+
+"It is the way with secondary motives," was the answer.
+
+Here Captain Merrifield came back alone; and his brother was the only
+person who ventured to say, "Well?"
+
+"I have sent him to his room," said the Captain.  "It is a very bad
+business, though of course he made excuses to himself."
+
+The Captain then told them Henry's confession.  He had been too much
+hurried by the fear of being caught, to take out his own share of the
+hoard, and had therefore emptied the whole cupful into his pocket-
+handkerchief, tied it up, and run off with it, intending to separate
+what was honestly his own.  What that was he did not know, but his
+boastful habits and want of accuracy had made his memory so careless,
+that he fancied that a far larger proportion was his than really was,
+and his purposes were in the strange medley that falls to the lot of
+all self-deceivers, sometimes fancying he would only take what he had
+a right to (whatever that might be), sometimes that he would borrow
+what he wanted, and replace it when the sovereign should be given to
+him, or that the Grevilles would make it up when they had their
+month's allowance.
+
+When he came to the farm Mr. Grice was resolved to take nothing less
+than the whole sum that he had with him.  Perhaps this was less for
+the value of the turkey-cock than for the sake of giving the boys
+such a lesson as to prevent them from ever molesting his poultry
+again.  At any rate, he was inexorable till the frightened Henry had
+delivered up every farthing in his possession; and then, convinced
+that no more was forthcoming, he relented so far as to restore the
+gun, and promise to make no complaint to either of the fathers.
+
+At first Henry lived on hopes of being able to restore the money
+before the hoard should be examined, but Colonel Carey went away,
+and, as might have been expected, left no present to his brother's
+pupils.  Still Henry had hopes of the Grevilles, and even when the
+loss was discovered, hoped to restore it secretly, and make the whole
+pass off as a joke; but the 1st of August came, Martin and Osmond
+received their pocket-money, but laughed his entreaty to scorn,
+telling him that he had shot the turkey-cock, not they.  Since that
+time, his only hope had been in the affair blowing over--as if a sin
+ever DID blow over!
+
+"One question I must ask, Miss Fosbrook," said the Captain, "though
+after such a course of deceit it hardly makes it worse.  Has he told
+any direct falsehood?"
+
+She paused, and recollected.  "Yes, Sir," she said, "I am afraid he
+did; he flatly told me that he had not touched the baby-house."
+
+"I expected nothing else," said the Captain gravely.  "What has
+become of Bessie?"
+
+"She ran up-stairs.  May I go and call her?" said Susan.
+
+"I will go myself," said her father.
+
+He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and tear-stained
+in the face; and he told her affectionately how much pleased he was
+with her patience under this false accusation.  Delight very nearly
+set her off crying again, but she managed to say, "It was Miss
+Fosbrook and Sam and Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so
+kind.  And nobody would have believed it, if I wasn't always cross,
+you know."
+
+"Not cross now, my little woman," he said smiling.
+
+"Oh!  I said I never could be cross again, now Mamma is better; but
+Miss Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel so, and I do believe she is
+right, for I was almost cross to Georgie to-day.  But she says one
+may FEEL cross, and not BE cross!"
+
+He did not quite know all that his little girl was thinking of; but
+he patted her fondly, and said, "Yes, there is a great deal to be
+thankful for, my dear; and I shall trust to you elder ones to give
+your Mamma no trouble while I am afloat."
+
+"I will try," said Bessie.  "And please, Papa, would you tell Nurse
+about it?  She doesn't half believe us, and she is so tiresome about
+Miss Fosbrook!"
+
+"Tiresome! what do you mean?"
+
+"She always thinks what she does is wrong, and she puts nonsense into
+Johnnie's head, and talks about favourites.  Mary told Susan it was
+jealousy."
+
+The Captain spoke pretty strongly to Nurse Freeman that evening, but
+it is doubtful if she were the better for it.  She was a very good
+woman in most things, but she could not bear that the children should
+be under anyone but herself; and just as Henry lost the truth by
+inaccuracy, she lost it by prejudice.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was glad to get away from the dining-room, where it was
+rather awful to sit without her work and be talked to by Mr.
+Merrifield, even though she liked him much better than she had
+expected.
+
+When David came to bed, she sat by him and talked to him about his
+angry unforgiving spirit.  She could not but think he was in a
+fearful temper, and she tried hard to make him sorry for his brother,
+instead of thirsting to see the disappointment visited on him; but
+David could not see what she meant.  Wicked people ought to be
+punished; it was wicked to steal and tell stories, and he hoped Henry
+would be punished, so as he would never forget it, for hindering poor
+Hannah from getting her pig.
+
+He would not understand Henry's predicament; he was only angry,
+bitterly angry, and watching for vengeance.  Miss Fosbrook could not
+reason or persuade him out of it, nor make him see that he could
+hardly say his prayers in such a mood.  Indeed, he would rather have
+gone without his prayers than have ceased to hope for Henry's
+punishment.
+
+Perhaps in this there was sense of justice and indignation against
+wrong doing, as well as personal resentment.  Miss Fosbrook tried to
+think so, and left him, but not without praying for him, that a
+Christian temper of forgiveness might be sent upon him.
+
+All the others were subdued and awe-struck.  It was not yet known
+what was to happen to Henry; but there was a notion that it would be
+very terrible indeed, and that Uncle John would be sure to make it
+worse; and they wished Miss Fosbrook good-night with very sad faces.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+
+Nothing had as yet befallen Henry, for he came down to breakfast in
+the morning; but his father did not greet him, and spoke no word to
+him all the time they were in the room together.  The children felt
+that this was indeed terrific.  Such a thing had never befallen any
+of them before.  They would much rather have been whipped; and even
+David's heart sank.
+
+Something, however, was soon said that put all else out of his
+sisters' minds.  The Captain turned to them with his merry smile,
+saying, "Pray what would Miss Susie and Miss Bessie say to coming up
+to London with me to see Mamma?"
+
+The two girls bounded upon their chairs; Susan's eyes grew round, and
+Bessie's long; the one said, "O Papa!" and the other, "Oh, thank
+you!" and they looked so overwhelmed with ecstasy, and all the three
+elders laughed.
+
+"Then you will behave discreetly, young women?"
+
+"I'll try," said Susan; "and Bessie always does.  Oh, thank you,
+Papa!"
+
+"Grandmamma should be thanked; she asked me to bring a child or two,
+to be with Mamma when I go down to Portsmouth.  We had thought of
+Susan; but I think Betty deserves some amends for what she has
+undergone."
+
+"Oh yes, Papa! thank you!" cried Susan, Sam, and David, from their
+hearts; John and Annie because the others did so.
+
+"Then you won't kick her out if she shares your berth, Sue?"
+
+"Oh, I am so glad, Papa!  It is so nice to go together."
+
+"Then, Miss Fosbrook, will you be kind enough to rig them out?  I
+must drive into Southminster at ten o'clock; and if you would be so
+good as to see them smartened up for London there, I should be much
+obliged to you."
+
+The mere drive to the country town was a great event in itself, even
+without the almost incredible wonder that it was to lead to; and the
+delights of which Ida and Miss Fosbrook had told them in London went
+so wildly careering through the little girls' brains, that they
+hardly knew what they said or did, as they danced about the house,
+and ran up-stairs to get ready, long before ten o'clock.
+
+Mr. Carey had been informed that his pupils would not come to him
+during the few days of their father's stay; and Sam begged to ride in
+on his pony by the side of the carriage; but he was desired to fetch
+his books, and call Henry, as his uncle wished to give them both an
+examination.  Was this the beginning of captivity to Uncle John?
+David and Johnnie were quite angry.  They considered it highly proper
+that Hal should be shut up with Uncle John, but they thought it very
+hard that Sam should be so used too; and Sam himself looked very
+round-backed, reluctant, and miserable, partly at the task, partly at
+being deprived of the sight of his father for several hours of one of
+those few precious days.
+
+Miss Fosbrook wished Susan to have sat on the front seat of the old
+phaeton with her father; but he would not consent to this, and
+putting the two little girls together behind, handed the governess to
+the place of honour beside him, where she felt rather shy, in spite
+of his bright easy manner.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, after having flourished his whip merrily at
+Johnnie, Annie, and Davie, who were holding open the iron gate, "that
+you have had a tough job with those youngsters!  We never meant you
+to have been left so long to their mercy."
+
+"I know--I know; I only wish I could have done better."
+
+"You have done wonders.  My brother hardly knows where he is--never
+saw those children so mannerly."
+
+Miss Fosbrook could not show how delighted she was.
+
+"I could hardly have ventured on taking those two girls to town
+unless you had broken them in a little.  I would say nothing last
+night till I had watched Susan; for my mother is particular, and if
+my wife was to be always worrying herself about their manners, they
+had better be at home."
+
+"Indeed, I think you may quite trust to their behaving well.  Those
+two and Sam are so thoroughly trustworthy, that I had no real
+difficulty till this unhappy business."
+
+The Captain wanted to talk this over with her, and hear her account
+of it once more.  She gave it fully, thinking he ought to know
+exactly how his children had acted in the matter, and wishing to
+explain where she thought she had made mistakes.  When she had
+finished, he said, "Thank you," and considered a little while; then
+said, "A thing like this brings out a great deal of character; and a
+new eye sometimes sees more what is in a child than those that bred
+him up."
+
+"It has been a touchstone, indeed," she answered.
+
+"Poor Hal!" he said sadly; then resumed, "I've said nothing of it yet
+to the boys--but Admiral Penrose has promised to let me take out one
+with me.  I had thought most of Hal; he seemed to me a smarter
+fellow, more likely to make his way than his brother; but this makes
+me doubt whether there can be stuff enough in him.  I might not be
+able to look after him, nor do I know what his messmates may be; and
+I should not choose to risk it, except with a boy I could thoroughly
+trust."
+
+"Those young Grevilles seem to me Hal's bane and temptation."
+
+"Ay, ay; but if a boy is of the sort, he'll find someone to be his
+bane, wherever he goes.  I'll have no more of the Grevilles though.
+If he should not go with me, my brother John would take him into his
+house, and keep a sharp look out after him.  Just tell me, if you
+have no objection, how the boy strikes you.  Most people think him
+the most taking of the lot."
+
+"So he is," said Christabel thoughtfully; "he has more ease and
+readiness, and he is affectionate and warm-hearted; but then he is a
+great talker, and fond of boasting."
+
+"Exactly.  I told him that was the very way he learnt falsehood."
+
+"I am afraid, too," she was obliged to add, "that his resolutions run
+away in talk.  He has not much perseverance; and he is easily led."
+
+"Well, I believe you are right; but then what's to be done?  I can
+hardly afford to lose this chance; but Sam was always backward; and I
+doubt his even caring to go to sea."
+
+"Oh!  Captain Merrifield!"
+
+"What! has he given you reason to think that he does?"  She told him
+how she had found Sam struggling with his longing for the sea and his
+father; and how patiently the boy had resigned himself to see his
+brother put before him, and himself condemned for being too dull and
+slow.
+
+"Did I say so?  I suppose he had put me past my patience with
+blundering over his lessons.  I never meant to make any decision; but
+I did not think he wished it."
+
+"He said it had been his desire from the time he could remember,
+especially when he felt the want of you during your last voyage."
+
+"Very odd; how reserved some boys are!  I declare I was vexed that it
+had gone out of his head; though I thought it might be for the best.
+You know I was not born to this place.  I never dreamt of it till my
+poor brother Sam's little boy went off in a fever six years ago, and
+we had to settle down here.  Before that, we meant my eldest to
+follow my own profession; but when he seemed to take to the soil so
+kindly, I thought, after all, he might make the happier squire for
+never having learnt the smell of salt water, nor the spirit of
+enterprise; but if it were done already, the first choice is due to
+him.  You are sure?"
+
+"Ask the girls."
+
+He leant back and shouted out the question, "Sue! do you know whether
+Sam wishes to go to sea?"
+
+"There's nothing he ever wished so much," was the answer.
+
+"Then why didn't he say so?"
+
+"Because he thought it would be no use," screamed Susan back.
+
+"No use! why?"
+
+"Because Hal says Admiral Penrose promised him.  O Papa! are you
+going to take Sam?"
+
+"Oh dear! we can't get on without him!" sighed Elizabeth.
+
+"Are you sure he would like it?" said her father.  "I thought he
+never cared to hear of the sea."
+
+"He can't bear to talk of it, because it makes him so sorry," said
+Susan.
+
+"And," cried Bessie, "he burnt his dear little ship, the Victory,
+because he couldn't bear to look at it after you said THAT, Papa."
+
+"After I said what?"
+
+"That he was not smart enough to learn the ropes."
+
+"Very silly of him," said the Captain, "to take in despair what was
+only meant to spur him on.  I suppose now I shall find he has dawdled
+so much that he couldn't get through an examination."
+
+This shut up the mouths of both the girls, who were afraid that he
+might not, since they saw a good deal of his droning habits over his
+lessons, and heard more of Hal's superior cleverness.
+
+Miss Fosbrook ventured to say, "You may expect a great deal of a boy
+who works on a pure principle of obedience."
+
+"You think a great deal of that youngster," said the Captain, highly
+gratified.  "It is the first time I ever knew a stranger take to
+him."
+
+"I did not take to him as a stranger.  I thought him uncouth and
+dull.  I only learnt to love and respect him, as I felt how perfectly
+I might rely on him, and how deep and true his principles are.  If
+the children have gone on tolerably well in your absence, it is
+because he has always stood by me, and his weight of character has
+told on them."
+
+Captain Merrifield did not answer at once; he bit his lip, then blew
+his nose, and cleared his throat, before he said, "Miss Fosbrook, you
+have made me very happy; it will make his mother so.  She always
+rated him so high, that I half thought it was a weakness for her
+eldest son; but there!  I suppose he was down-hearted about this
+fancy of his, poor boy; and that hindered him from making the most of
+himself.  I wonder what sort of a figure he is cutting before his
+uncle!"
+
+The town was at length reached; and the shopping was quite wonderful
+to the sisters.  Miss Fosbrook found a shop where the marvellous
+woman undertook to send home two grey frocks trimmed with pink, by
+the next evening; and found two such fashionable black silk jackets,
+that Susie felt quite ashamed of herself, though rather pleased; and
+Bessie only wished she could see her own back, it must look so like
+Ida's.  Then there were white sleeves, and white collars, that made
+them feel like young women; and little pink silk handkerchiefs for
+their necks; and two straw hats, which Miss Fosbrook undertook to
+trim with puffs of white ribbon, and a pink rosette at each ear.
+Bessie thought they would be the most beautiful things that had ever
+been in her possession, and was only dreading that Sam would say they
+were like those on Ida Greville's donkey's best harness; while Susan
+looked quite frightened at them, whispered a hope that Mamma would
+not think them too fine, and that Miss Fosbrook would not let them
+cost too much money; and when assured that all fell within what Papa
+had given to be laid out, she begged that Annie and little Sally
+might have the like.
+
+But as they were not going to London, Miss Fosbrook could not venture
+on this; and as Bessie had set her affections upon a certain white
+chip hat, with a pink border and a white feather, both sisters
+remained wishing for something--as is sure to happen on such
+occasions.
+
+However, Elizabeth recovered from the hat when she was out of sight
+of it; and they went and saw the cathedral, where the painted windows
+and grave grand arches filled her with a truer and wiser sense of
+what was beautiful; and then they walked a long time up and down
+under its buttressed wall, waiting for Papa, till they grew tired and
+hungry; but at last he came in a great hurry, and sorry to have been
+hindered.  With naval politeness, he gave his arm to Miss Fosbrook,
+and carried them off to a pastry-cook's, where he bade them eat what
+they pleased, and spend the rest of the florin he threw them on buns
+for the little ones, while he fetched the carriage; and so they all
+drove home again, and found the rest of the party ravenous, having
+waited dinner for three-quarters of an hour.
+
+Wonderful to relate, Uncle John had not eaten anybody up! not even
+Baby; though Papa advised Susan to make sure that she was safe, and
+then sent Sam to ask Purday for a salad.  Perhaps this was by way of
+getting rid of this constant follower while he asked his brother what
+he thought of the boys' attainments.
+
+Uncle John could not speak very highly of the learning of either; but
+he said, "Sam knows thoroughly what he does know.  As to the other,
+he thinks he knows everything, and makes most awful shots.  When I
+asked them who Dido's husband was, Sam told me he did not know, and
+Hal, that he was Diodorus Siculus--AT LEAST, Scipio--no, he meant
+Sicyon."
+
+"Then you think neither could stand an examination for the
+cadetship?"
+
+"I could not be sure of Sam; but I am quite sure that Hal could not."
+
+Here the dinner-bell rang; the hungry populace rushed to the dining-
+room, and the meal was gone through as merrily as could be, while
+still the father never spoke to Henry.  Uncle John was as pleasant
+and good-natured as possible.  Who would have thought of the marked
+difference he made between dining with barbarians, or young
+gentlefolks!
+
+Dinner over, Captain Merrifield called Sam,--or rather, since that
+was not necessary, as Sam was never willingly a yard from his elbow,
+he ordered the others not to follow as they went into the garden
+together.
+
+"Sam," he said, "Admiral Penrose is kind enough to offer me a berth
+in the Ramilies for one of you.  If you can pass the examination,
+should you wish to avail yourself of the offer?"
+
+Sam grew very red in the face, looked down, and twirled the button of
+his sleeve.  He certainly was not a gracious boy, for all he said was
+in a gruff hoarse voice, without even thanks, "Not if it is for
+this."
+
+"For this!  What do you mean, Sam?" said Captain Merrifield, thinking
+either that the boy was faint-hearted, or that his wish had been the
+mere fancy of the girls.
+
+"Not if it is to punish Hal," said Sam, with another effort.
+
+"That is not the question.  Do you wish it?"
+
+Sam hung his head, and made his eyebrows come down, as if they were
+to serve as a veil to those horrid tears in his eyes; and after all,
+his voice sounded sulky, as he said, "Yes."
+
+"Is that all?" said the Captain, angry and disappointed.  "Is that
+the way you take such an offer?  If you had rather stay here, and be
+bred up to be a country squire, say so at once; don't mince the
+matter!"
+
+"O Papa!" cried Sam indignantly, "how can you think that?  Didn't I
+always want to be like you?"
+
+"Then why can't you say so?"
+
+"Because I can't bear to cut Hal out!" said Sam, putting his arm over
+his eyes, as a way he considered secret of disposing of his tears.
+
+"Put that out of your head, Sam; or if you don't fancy the sea, have
+it out at once."
+
+"O Papa! please listen.  You know, though Miss Fosbrook is very
+jolly, we couldn't help getting nohow when you were away, US two
+particularly."
+
+"You have no mischief to confess, surely, Sam?" said his father,
+really imagining that this preference to Hal was acting on him so as
+to make him mention some concealed misdemeanour; "if you have, you
+know truth is the best line."
+
+"But I haven't, Papa," said Sam, looking up, quite surprised.  "You
+know I am a year older, and couldn't help caring more; and Miss
+Fosbrook is so nice, one couldn't bother her; but you see the
+Grevilles WOULD put it into Hal's head that it was stupid and like a
+girl to mind her.  It is all their fault; and they were sneaks about
+the turkey-cock, and wouldn't pay--and I know he would have ended by
+putting the money back when he could, only Davie made such a row
+before he could; and he did so reckon on the navy--he would pay it
+back the first thing."  The last sentences came between gasps, very
+like sobs.
+
+"Have done with Hal," said Captain Merrifield, still with
+displeasure.  "I wouldn't take him now on any account.  If the
+Grevilles lead him wrong, what would he do among the mids?  If he
+acts dishonourably here, we should have him disgracing himself and
+his profession.  Since he can't take it, and you won't, I shall try
+to make some exchange of the chance till John or David will be old
+enough."
+
+"But Papa, I--" began Sam.
+
+"_I_ don't want to force you to it," continued Captain Merrifield, in
+his vexed voice.  "I never mean to force my sons to any profession if
+I can help it; and you have a right to be considered.  It has always
+been a disadvantage to me, and to this place, that I was bred to the
+sea instead of to farming; and though you can't live on the property
+without some profession, it may be quite as well that you should turn
+your mind to something else--only if it be the army, I can't help you
+on in it."
+
+"I had rather go to sea, if you please," said Sam.
+
+"Don't say so to please me," said his father.  "I tell you, the
+examinations are a pretty deal harder than they were in my time.  It
+is not a trade for a youngster to be idle in; and I won't have you,
+just when you've knocked about a few years, and are getting fit to be
+of use on board and nowhere else, calling yourself heartily sick of
+it, and turning round to say it was my doing."
+
+"I'll never do that, Papa," said poor Sam, unable to understand why
+his father should speak as though scolding him.
+
+"No?  And mind, you must take the rough with the smooth, if you sail
+with me, and not be always running after me, Papa-ing me.  I can't
+see after you, and should only get you ill will if I tried."
+
+"I had rather go," said Sam.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know what to make of you," said his father, looking
+at him in a puzzle.  "However, if you do mean to go, you may tell
+Freeman to get your things ready to come up with me on Thursday; only
+if you don't really like the notion, find out your own mind, and let
+me know in time, that's all."
+
+The Captain turned away, and gave a long whistle--an accustomed
+signal--that brought children and dogs all rushing and tumbling about
+him together, to walk with him about the farm, and his brother among
+them; but Sam hung back.  He had not the heart to go with that merry
+throng; for he did not know whether his father were not displeased
+with him, and he therefore thought he must be to blame.
+
+People who, like Sam, rather cultivate the habit of gruffness and
+reserve, and prefer to be short and rude, become so utterly unable to
+express what they mean, that on great occasions they are
+misunderstood, and give pain by supposed ingratitude and dislike,
+even when they feel most warmly.  Captain Merrifield could only judge
+from looks and words; and even when Sam had been satisfied about
+Henry, he had shown so little alacrity or satisfaction, as really to
+leave a doubt whether he were not unwillingly yielding to his
+father's wishes; which would have been a mistaken act, as the Captain
+thought no one ought to be a sailor unless with a very strong desire
+that way.  Thus Sam really perplexed and distressed his father, when
+he least intended it; and unable to understand what was the matter,
+yet feeling heavy and sad, he turned aside from the rest, and, by way
+of the quietest place he could find, climbed up a tall pear-tree, to
+the very highest branch he could reach.  He put himself astride on
+one bough, his feet upon another below, and his back leaning against
+the main stem.  No one could see him up so high among the thick
+leaves; but he could see all around the village, and over the house;
+he could look down into the farm-court at the pigs burying themselves
+in the straw; and out beyond at the geese and ducks in the meadow,
+and the broods of chickens pecking and scratching about, or the older
+poultry rolling in the dust-holes they had scraped for themselves.
+He could see Purday among his cabbages in the garden; and further
+off, could watch the walking-party through the fields, his father
+with little George in his arms, and Uncle John as often as possible
+by his side; while the others frisked about, sometimes spreading out
+like a flock of sheep in the pasture land, or when they came to the
+narrow paths in the cornfields, all getting into single file, and
+being lost sight of all but their heads.
+
+Sam recollected how, the day when he had heard that he was not likely
+to be a sailor, he had felt as if he hated Stokesley, and as if it
+would be a prison to him, and how everything reminding him of the sea
+had been a misery to him.  He would not then have believed anyone who
+had told him that he would really hear of his appointment and be so
+little glad.  Yet for two whole years the loss of the hope had
+weighed on him, and made him dull whenever he thought of grown-up
+life, heard of the sea, or was asked what he was to be:  and almost
+always, at his prayers, he had that meaning in his mind, when he said
+"Thy Will be done;" he had really submitted patiently, and tried to
+put away the longing from his mind, and would, there can be no doubt,
+have been happy and dutiful at home; but at length the wish of his
+heart was suddenly granted.
+
+And then, wish though it still were, there came all this grief and
+discomfort.  The gladness was in him somewhere, but he could not get
+at it, either for his own comfort, or that of his father.  He missed
+his mother exceedingly.  SHE would know what he meant, and tell Papa
+that he did care to go.  Yet, did he care so very much?  Only think
+of beginning to be a stranger at this dear old home! and seeing no
+mother, no Susie, nor any of them, for years together--probably not
+his father after the first voyage!  However, the sailor was too
+strong in Sam for that grief not to pass off; and his chief trouble
+was the sense of supplanting Henry.  He knew the disappointment would
+be most bitter; and he could not get rid of the sense of having taken
+an unfair advantage of the disgrace of Henry's adventure.  As to his
+father's manner, he got over that more easily, for his conscience was
+free; he knew that the tone of displeasure would be gone at the next
+meeting, and he was too sure of his own love of the sea to fear that
+he should not show it enough.  After all, he was to be a naval cadet!
+He could not be sorry.  Nay, he felt he had his wish; the very wish
+he had thought it wrong to put into a prayer.  He thought he ought to
+be thankful that it was granted, in the same way as he had been when
+his mother began to recover.  So he put his hands together, and
+looked up into the summer blue sky through the leaves, and his lips
+moved, as he whispered his thanks, and asked to be helped in being a
+good brave sailor, and that something as good might happen to poor
+Henry.
+
+After this, somehow, the weight was gone, he knew not where.  All he
+recollected was, that he should see Mamma in two days, and that he
+was to sail with Papa if he could get through his examination.  There
+was a sort of necessity of doing something comical; and just then
+spying Miss Fosbrook with a book walking slowly below, he could not
+resist the temptation of sending down on her a shower of little hard
+pears and twigs.
+
+Bob came one down on her book, and another on her bonnet.  She looked
+up, and saw a leg stretching out for a branch, apparently in such a
+dangerous manner, that she did not know whether she should not have
+Sam himself on her head next, and started back, watching as he swung
+himself from branch to branch, and then slid down, embracing the
+trunk.
+
+"Did I hit you!" said he.  "I couldn't help trying it; it was such
+fun."
+
+It was a great liberty; but she was so good-humoured as to laugh, and
+said he had taken good aim.
+
+"Please, Miss Fosbrook," next said he, "would you hear how many
+propositions I can say!"  And as she opened her eyes at this holiday
+amusement, he added, "Papa has got the appointment after all, and
+means me to have it."
+
+"I am so glad, Sam!  I give you joy!" she said, and took his hand to
+shake it heartily.
+
+"I wish Hal could go too," said Sam.
+
+"Dear Sam," she said kindly, and guessing his feelings, as having
+gone along with them, "I don't wonder you are sorry for him; but
+indeed I think it is better for him to be sheltered from beginning
+real life just now."
+
+"Papa said he would not have taken him," said Sam; "but it seems so
+hard to have all his life changed for a thing that sounds worse than
+he meant it to be."
+
+"Sam," said Miss Fosbrook, "I once read a sermon, that said that our
+conduct in little things does decide the tenor of our lives.  You
+know one moment of hastiness cost Moses the Promised Land; and only a
+little while ago, we heard how Joash had but few victories allowed to
+him, because he did not think it worth while to strike the ground as
+often as Elisha told him.  It is the little things that show whether
+we are to be trusted with great."
+
+"It is such a tremendous punishment," said Sam, "when he would have
+put it back again."
+
+"My brother knew a banker's clerk who was transported for borrowing
+what he meant to put back again.  No, Sam; people must bear the
+result of their doings; and your father judges for Hal as much in
+kindness as in anger."
+
+"I know he knows best."
+
+"You may see it as well as trust.  With all his grand talk, do you
+really think that Hal would not be upset at the first hardship, or
+that he could face bullying or danger?  Remember the bull, that was
+at least a vicious cow, and turned out to be a calf."
+
+Sam could not help laughing, as he said, "Yes, that would never do at
+sea; and he would be done for if he were cowardly there.  But I wish
+I could get out of sight of him till I am gone.  And please hear my
+Euclid; I'll get the book, if you'll stay out here."
+
+"Therefore, if the two sides of two triangles be equal to one
+another, and the adjacent angles be equal each to each," resounded
+through the laurels, as the walking party returned.
+
+"Hallo! al fresco Euclid!" exclaimed Uncle John, as Sam with a blush
+ran after his blotted diagrams, as a sudden gust of wind blew them
+dancing over the garden.  Captain Merrifield caught one, and restored
+it to Sam, with a pat on the back that made his teeth rattle in his
+head, but which made him as happy as a young sea-king, showing that
+they perfectly understood each other.
+
+But to be ever so good a boy does not carry one through the
+examinations that stand at the door of every road of life for those
+who are not wealthy.  Sam knew he was the dull boy of Mr. Carey's
+four pupils; and though from sheer diligence he was less often turned
+back than the rest, yet they could all excel him whenever they chose:
+his lessons all went against the grain, and were a sore trouble to
+him; and his uncle had shown much wrath to-day at his ignorance and
+backwardness.  He was therefore in a great fright, and gave himself
+and Miss Fosbrook no peace, running after her every moment with his
+Euclid, his Colenso, or his slate.
+
+"That boy will stupefy himself and his admirable cramming machine!"
+exclaimed Uncle John, when coming out into the court after tea to
+talk to Purday, the two brothers heard, "The complement A E is equal
+to the complement D E," proceeding out of the school-room window.
+
+"A truce with your complements to-night," shouted the Captain; "come
+down, Sam; I must have a game at hide-and-seek!"
+
+Though hide-and-seek on the lawn with Papa was the supremest bliss
+that life had yet offered to the young Merrifields, and though Susan,
+Bessie, Annie, and Johnnie, had all severally burst into the room to
+proclaim it and summon Sam, he had refused them all; but this call
+settled it; he broke off in the middle of his rectangle, and dashed
+down stairs, to the great relief of kind Miss Fosbrook, who, with all
+her good-will, found her head beginning to grow weary of angles and
+right-angles on a hot evening in the height of summer.
+
+The summer-house was to be HOME, and there the party were assembled--
+nine in number, for not only Papa, but Uncle John, was going to play;
+and Henry, though forlorn and unnoticed, had wandered about with the
+rest all day, trying to do as usual, to forget the heavy load that
+pressed on him, and to believe that he was not going to be punished
+for mere unluckiness in borrowing, and for not answering impertinent
+questions.  The world was very unlike itself to him; and he saw the
+enjoyment without being able to enter into it, just as a sick person
+sees the sunshine without feeling the warmth; but instead of
+penitence, he merely tried to shake off his compunction.
+
+So there he stood in the ring, as Susan was finding out who was to be
+the first to hide, by pointing to each, at each word of the formula,
+
+
+"Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,
+Sticks, stocks, stones, dead."
+
+
+"Dead" came to Uncle John, as perhaps Susan had contrived; and
+shrugging up his shoulders, he went off to hide, and his whoop was
+presently heard.  He was not VERY good game; maybe he did not wish to
+be very long sought, for he was no further than in the tall French
+beans, generally considered as a stupid place to hide in.  The
+children had been in hopes that he would catch Papa, which was always
+a very difficult matter, for the sailor was lighter of foot, as well
+as, of course, longer in limb, than any of the children; but they saw
+that Uncle John had not the slightest chance with him, and it was
+Bessie who was caught in her homeward race.
+
+Bessie was rather a good hider, and was searched for far and wide
+before Sam's "I spy!  I spy!" gave the signal that a bit of the
+spotty cotton had been seen peeping out from under Purday's big
+potato-basket in the tool-house, and the whole party flew towards
+home.  Bessie would not aim at Papa, for if so, she would certainly
+catch no one; but she hunted down David, who was too sturdy to be a
+quick runner, and who was very well pleased to be caught.
+
+"I'll have Papa!" he said, as she captured him.  "I know of such a
+cunning place."
+
+David's place proved to be in among his likenesses, the cabbages,
+immediately in front of the summer-house.  There he lay flat on the
+very wet mould, among the stout cabbages, all of which had a bead of
+wet in every wrinkle of their great leaves, so that when Susan had at
+length spied him, and he came plunging out, his brown-holland--to say
+nothing of his knees--was in a state that would have caused most
+mammas to send him to be instantly undressed; but nobody even saw it,
+and he charged instantly towards the door of the summer-house, not
+pursuing anyone in particular, but cutting all off from their
+retreat.  He slipped aside, however, and let all the lesser game pass
+by uncaught; his soul soared higher than even Uncle John, who looked
+on exceedingly amused at the small man's stratagem, and at the long
+dodging that took place between him and his father, the quick lithe
+Captain skipping hither and thither, and trying to pop in one side
+while his enemy was on the other; and the square, determined, little,
+puffing, panting boy, guarding his door, hands on knees, ever ready
+for a dart wherever the attempt was made.  The whole party in the
+home nearly went into fits at the fun, and at the droll remarks Uncle
+John made at this hare and tortoise spectacle; till at last either
+the Captain gave in, or Davie made a cleverer attack than ever, for
+with a great shout he flew upon Papa, and held him fast by the legs.
+Everyone shrieked with delight; Papa hid in such clever places, and
+when found, he roared so splendidly, that it struck the little ones
+with terror, and did the hearts of the elders good, to hear him;
+indeed, the greatest ambition Johnnie entertained was to roar like
+Papa.  Then he could make his voice sound as if out of any place he
+chose, so that no one could guess by his "whoop" where to look for
+him; and this time it seemed to be quite out at the other end of the
+kitchen-garden, where they were all looking, when another "whoop"
+came apparently down from Sam's pear-tree on the lawn; and while they
+were peeping up into it, "whoop" re-echoed from the stables!  At
+last, as Annie was gazing up and round as if she even thought it as
+well to look right into the sky for Papa, she suddenly beheld the two
+merriest eyes in the world, on the roof of the summer-house itself.
+He had been lying there on the thatch, watching at his ease all the
+wanderings of the seekers, and uttering those wonderful whoops to
+bewilder them.
+
+"I spy!  I spy!" shrieked Annie, flying in, even while her father
+sprang to the ground, and with Davie's manoeuvre on a larger scale,
+seemed to be taking his choice of all the fugitives rushing up from
+all parts.
+
+One elder boy, and one younger, he was hunting down the gooseberry-
+path, when just as he was about to pounce on the former, he said that
+it was not Sam, stood still, and folded his arms.  A shriek made him
+look round; little David stood sobbing and crying piteously.
+
+"Davie! what, Davie!  What is it, my man?  Where are you hurt!"
+
+"No, no!  I'm not hurt!  Catch Hal, Papa."
+
+"No, David.  I do not play with boys that act like Henry."
+
+"Speak to him, Papa; oh, speak!"
+
+"I shall, before I go," said the Captain gravely.
+
+"Now, now!  Papa.  Oh, do!  I did want him to be punished, but not
+like this."
+
+"No, David.  If he can expect to play with me, and be treated like
+the others, he is not in the state to receive forgiveness.  There,
+have done crying; let us go on with the game."
+
+But David could not go on playing; he was too unhappy.  Not to be
+forgiven, even if punished, seemed to him too dreadful to happen to
+anyone; and he thought that he had brought it all on Henry by his
+letter of accusation.  Tardily and dolefully he crept into the house;
+and Miss Fosbrook met him, looking so woe-begone, that she too
+thought he had hurt himself.  She took him, dirt and all, on her lap;
+and there he sobbed out that Papa wouldn't speak to Hal, and it was
+very dreadful; and he wished there were no such things as pigs, or
+money, or secrets; they only made people miserable!
+
+"Dear Davie, they only make people miserable when they care too much
+about them.  Papa will forgive Hal before he goes away, I am sure;
+only he is making him sorry first, that he may never do such a thing
+again."
+
+"I don't like it."  And David cried sadly, perhaps because partly he
+was tired with having been on his legs more than usual that day; but
+his good and loving little self was come home again.  He at least had
+forgiven his brother the wrong done to himself; and there was no
+hanging back that night from the fulness of prayer; no, he rather
+felt that he had been unkind; and the last thing heard of him that
+night was, that as Sam and Hal were coming up-stairs to bed, a little
+white figure stood on the top of the stairs, and a small voice said,
+"Hal, please kiss me!  I am so sorry I told Papa about--"
+
+"There, hold your tongue," said Hal, cutting him short with the
+desired kiss, "if you hadn't told, someone else would."
+
+But long after Sam was asleep, Hal was wetting his pillow through
+with tears.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+
+Still the silence lasted.  Henry had tried at first to persuade
+himself that it was only by chance that he never heard his own name
+from lips that used to call it more often than any other.  Indeed, he
+was so much used to favour, that it needed all the awe-struck pity of
+the rest to prove to him its withdrawal; and he was so much in the
+habit of thrusting himself before Samuel, that even the sight and
+sound of the First Book of Euclid, all day long, failed to convince
+him that his brother could be preferred; above all, as Nurse Freeman
+had been collecting his clean shirts as well as Sam's, and all the
+portmanteaus and trunks in the house had been hunted out of the roof.
+Once, either the spirit of imitation, or his usual desire of showing
+himself off, made him break in when Sam was knitting his brows
+frightfully over a sum in proportion.  Hal could do it in no time!
+
+So he did; but he put the third term first, and multiplied the hours
+into the minutes, instead of reducing them to the same denomination;
+so that he made out that twenty-five men would take longer to cut a
+field of grass than three, and then could not see that he was wrong;
+but Miss Fosbrook and Sam both looked so much grieved for him, that a
+start of fright went through him.
+
+Some minds really do not understand a fault till they see it severely
+visited; and "at least" and "couldn't help" had so blinded Henry's
+eyes that he had thought himself more unlucky than to blame, till his
+father's manner forced it on him that he had done something dreadful.
+Vaguely afraid, he hung about, looking so wretched that he was a
+piteous sight; and it cut his father to the heart to spend such a
+last day together.  Mayhap the Captain could hardly have held out all
+that second day, if he had not passed his word to his brother.
+
+The travellers were to set off at six in the morning, to meet the
+earliest train:  and it was not till nine o'clock at night, when the
+four elder ones said good-night, that the Captain, following them out
+of the room, laid his hand on Henry as the others went up-stairs, and
+said, "Henry, have you nothing to say to me?"
+
+Henry leant against the baluster and sobbed, not knowing what else to
+do.
+
+"You can't be more grieved than I am to have such a last day
+together," said his father, laying his hand on the yellow head; "but
+I can't help it, you see.  If you will do such things, it is my duty
+to make you repent of them."
+
+Hal threw himself almost double over the rail, and something was
+heard about "sorry," and "never."
+
+"Poor little lad!" said his father aloud to himself; "he is cut up
+enough now; but how am I to know if his sorrow is good for anything?"
+
+"O Papa!  I'll never do such a thing again!"
+
+"I wish I knew that, Hal," said the Captain, sitting down on the
+stairs, and taking him between his knees.  "There, let us talk it
+over together.  I don't suppose you expected to steal and deceive
+when you got up in the morning."
+
+"Oh no, no!"
+
+"Go back to the beginning.  See how you came to this."
+
+As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time, "You
+said we need not go to church on a week-day."
+
+"Well, what of that?"
+
+"I didn't go in case the telegraph should come."
+
+"There are different ways of thinking," said his father.  "Church was
+the only place where I COULD have gone that St. Barnabas' Day."
+
+"I would have gone," said the self-contradictory Henry, "only the
+Grevilles are always at one for being like a girl."
+
+"Ha! now we see daylight!" said the Captain.
+
+"'The Grevilles are at one,'--that's more like getting to the bottom
+of it."
+
+"Yes, Papa," said Hal, glad to make himself out a victim to
+circumstance; "you can't think what a pair of fellows those are for
+not letting one alone; Purday says they haven't as much conscience
+between them as a pigeon's egg has meat; and going down to Mr.
+Carey's with them every day, they let one have no peace."
+
+"You will find people everywhere who will let you have no peace,
+unless you do not care for them; though you will not be left to the
+Grevilles any longer."
+
+"Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will see--"
+
+"No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear."
+
+"Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?"
+
+"You will not sail at all:  I thought you knew that."
+
+"I thought the Admiral must have given you two appointments," said
+Hal timidly.
+
+"He gave me ONE, for one of my sons.  The first choice is Sam's
+right, even if he had not deserved it by his brave patient
+obedience."
+
+Hal hung his head; then said, "But, Papa, if Sam broke down in his
+examination, please mightn't I--"
+
+"No, Henry.  Not only does your uncle say that though Sam's success
+is very doubtful, your inaccuracy would make your failure certain;
+but if your knowledge were ever so well up to the mark, I could not
+put you into the navy.  Left to yourself here, you have been
+insubordinate, vain, weak, shuffling:  can I let you go into greater
+temptation, where disgrace would be public and without remedy?"
+
+"Oh, but, Papa!  Papa!  Away from the Grevilles, and not under only a
+governess--"
+
+"You shall be away from the Grevilles, and not under a governess.
+Your uncle is kind enough to take you with him to his house, and will
+endeavour to make you fit to try to get upon the foundation by the
+time there is a vacancy."
+
+"O Papa! don't," sobbed Henry.
+
+"I can't help it, Hal!  You have shown yourself unfit either for the
+sea or for home.  What can I do with you?"
+
+"Try me--only try me, Papa.  I would--"
+
+"I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you are.  Deeds,
+not words."
+
+"But if you won't let me go into the navy, only let me be in real
+school."
+
+"No, Henry; I have not the means of sending you there:  excepting on
+the foundation; and if you get admittance there at all, it will only
+be by great diligence, and your uncle's kindness in preparing you."
+
+Henry cried bitterly.  It was a dreadful prospect to do his lessons
+alone with Uncle John in the boys' play-hours, and be kept in order
+by Aunt Alice when his uncle was in school.  Perhaps his father would
+not have liked it himself, for his voice was very pitying, though
+cheering, as he said, "One half year, Hal, very likely no more if you
+take pains, and you'll get into school, and be very happy, so long as
+you don't make a Greville of every idle chap you meet."
+
+Henry cried as though beyond consolation.
+
+"I hate leaving you this way," continued his father; "but by the time
+I come home you will see it was the best thing for you; and look up
+to Uncle John as your best friend.  Why, Hal, boy, you'll be a tall
+fellow of fourteen!  Let me find you godly and manly:  you can't be
+one without the other.  There now, good night, God bless you."
+
+More might have been said to Henry on his fault and what had led to
+it; but what his father did say was likely to sink deeper as he grew
+older, and had more sense and feeling.
+
+From him Captain Merrifield went to the school-room, where Miss
+Fosbrook was packing up for the little girls, and putting last
+stitches to their equipments, with hearty good-will and kindness, as
+if she had been their elder sister.
+
+He thanked her most warmly; and without sending away the girls, who
+were both busy tacking in little white tuckers to the evening frocks,
+he began to settle about the terms on which she was to remain at
+Stokesley.  He said that he could not possibly have left his wife
+without a person on whose friendly help and good management of the
+children he could depend.  Important as it was to him to be employed,
+he must have refused the appointment if Miss Fosbrook had been
+discontented, or had not had the children so well in hand.  He
+explained that he had reason to think that Mrs. Merrifield's present
+illness had been the effect of all she had gone through while he was
+in the Black Sea during the Crimean War.  She had been a very strong
+person, and had never thought of sparing herself; but she and all her
+little children had had to get into Stokesley in his absence; she had
+to manage the estate and farm, teach the elder children, and take
+care of the babies, with no help but Nurse Freeman's:  and though he
+had been wounded when with the Naval Brigade, and had been at death's
+door with cholera, the effects had done him no lasting harm at all;
+while the over-strain of the anxiety and exertion that she had
+undergone all alone had so told upon her, that she had never been
+well since, and he much feared, would never be in perfect health
+again.  He must depend upon Miss Fosbrook for watching over her and
+saving her, as his little Susie could not yet do; and for letting him
+know from time to time how she was going on, and whether he ought to
+give up everything and come home.
+
+He had tears in his eyes as he thanked Christabel for her earnest
+promise to watch and tend Mrs. Merrifield with a daughter's care; and
+her heart swelled with strong deep feeling of sorrow and sympathy
+with these two brave-hearted loving people, doing their duty at all
+costs so steadily; and she was full of gladness and thankfulness that
+they could treat her as a true and trusty friend.  He walked away,
+feeling far too much to bear any eye upon him; and Susan was found to
+be crying quietly, making her thread wet through, and her needle
+squeak at every stitch, at the sad news that Mamma never was to be
+quite well, even though assured that she was likely to be much better
+than she had been for months past.
+
+Bessie shed no tears; but Miss Fosbrook, who had been hindered all
+day by Sam's Euclid and Colenso, and had sat up till half-past eleven
+o'clock to make the two Sunday frocks nice enough for the journey, on
+going into the bed-room to lay them out for the morning, saw a little
+face raised from the pillow of one of the small white beds, and found
+her broad awake.  Bessie never could go to sleep properly when
+anything out of the common way was coming to pass, so that was the
+less wonder; but she had a great deal in her head, and she was glad
+to get Christabel to kneel down by her, to listen to her whispers.
+
+"Dear Christabel, I am so sorry.  I never cared about it before!"
+
+"About what, my dear?"
+
+"What Papa said about when he was in the Black Sea.  I never knew
+Mamma cared so much."
+
+"I dare say not, my dear; you were much younger then."
+
+"And I didn't know all about it," said Bessie, "or else I've
+forgotten.  I have been trying to remember whether we ever thought
+about Mamma; and oh, Christabel! do you know--I believe we only
+thought she was cross!  Oh dear! it was so naughty and bad of us!"
+
+"I can guess how it happened, my dear.  You were not old enough to be
+made her friends, and you could not understand quiet sorrow."
+
+"To think we should have said she was cross!"
+
+"That was wrong, because it was disrespectful.  You see, my dear,
+when grown people are in trouble, you young ones can't enter into
+their feelings, nor always even find out that anything is amiss; and
+you get vexed at there being a cloud over the house, and call it
+crossness."
+
+"Grown-up people are sometimes cross, aren't they?" said Bessie.
+"Nurse is; and I heard Papa say Aunt Alice was."
+
+"We have tempers, certainly," said Miss Fosbrook; "and unless we have
+conquered them as children, there will be signs of them afterwards;
+but very few people, and certainly no children, can tell when grave
+looks, or words sharper than usual, come from illness or anxiety or
+sorrow; and it is the only way to save great grief and self-reproach
+to give one's own faults the blame, and try to be as unobtrusive and
+obliging as possible."
+
+"And I am older now, and can understand," said Bessie; "but then, it
+is Susie that is right hand, and does everything."
+
+"There's plenty in your own line, Bessie--plenty of little kindly
+services that are very cheering; and above all--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Attending to your Mamma's troubles will drive away your own
+grievances.  Only I will not talk to you any more now, for I want you
+to go to sleep; if you lie awake, you will be tired to-morrow, and
+that will incline you to be fretful."
+
+"Fretful to-morrow!"
+
+Bessie could not believe it possible; and indeed Miss Fosbrook did
+not think the chance great, as long as there was amusement and
+excitement.  The danger would be in the waitings and disappointments
+that will often occur, even in the height of enjoyable schemes.
+
+It would take too long to tell of all the good-byes.  The children
+old enough to enter into the parting were setting off too; and Miss
+Fosbrook felt more for the little ones than they did for themselves,
+as they watched their father and uncle and two sisters into the gig,
+and the boys into the cart, with Purday to drive them and the boxes,
+Sam sitting on his father's old midshipman's chest, trying, as well
+as the jolting would let him, to con over that troublesome Thirty-
+fifth Proposition, which nine times repetition to Miss Fosbrook had
+failed to put into his head.
+
+Johnnie and Annie wished themselves going to sea, or to London, or
+anywhere, rather than having the full force of Miss Fosbrook on their
+lessons!  She did not make them do more, but she took the opportunity
+of making everything be done thoroughly, and, as they thought,
+bothered them frightfully about pronouncing their words in reading,
+and holding their pens when they wrote.  After a little while,
+however, they found that really their hands were much less tired, and
+their lines much smoother and more slanting, than when they crooked
+their fingers close down over the ink.  Absolutely they began to know
+the pleasure of doing something well, and they felt so comfortable,
+that they were wonderfully good; and the pig fund might have had a
+chance, but David did not seem to think of reviving it.  Perhaps his
+great vehemence had tired itself out; and maybe he was ashamed of the
+great disturbance he had made and all that had come upon Henry, and
+did not wish to think of it again, for St. Katherine's fair-day
+passed over without a word of the pig.
+
+The young ladies were not great letter-writers; and all that was
+known of them was that Mamma was better, they had been to the
+Zoological Gardens and the hyena was so funny, and Mrs. Penrose was
+so nice.  Then that Papa and Sam were gone to Portsmouth, and that
+they had telegraphed that Sam had succeeded.
+
+If it had been her own brother, Miss Fosbrook could not have been
+much happier; and in honour of it she and the three children all went
+to drink tea in the wilderness, walking in procession, each with a
+flag in hand, painted by her for the occasion.
+
+Three days after, when the post came in, there was a letter directed
+to Master David Douglas Merrifield, Stokesley House, Bonchamp.  It
+was a great wonder; for David was not baby enough, nor near enough to
+the youngest, to get letters as a pet, nor was he old enough to be
+written to like an elder one.  He spelt the address all over before
+he made up his mind to open it, and then exclaimed, "But it is not a
+letter!  It's green!"
+
+"It is a post-office order, Davie," said Miss Fosbrook.  "Let me
+look.  Yes, for ten shillings.  Write your name there; and if we take
+it to the post-office at Bonchamp, they will give you ten shillings."
+
+"Ten shillings!  Oh, Davie!" cried Johnnie, "I wish it was to me!"
+
+"It just makes up for what Hal took, and more too," said Annie.
+"Where can it come from, Davie?"
+
+"From the Queen," said Davie composedly; "the Queen always does
+justice."
+
+Miss Fosbrook was quite sorry to confess, for truth's sake, that she
+did not think the Queen could have heard of the loss of the pig fund,
+and that it was more likely to be from someone who wished to make up
+for the disaster--who could it be?  She looked at the round stamp
+upon the green-lettered paper, and read "Portsmouth."  Could it be
+from Papa?  Then she looked at the cover; but it was not a bit like
+the Captain's writing; it was pretty, lady-like, clear-looking hand-
+writing, and puzzled her a great deal more.  If the children had once
+had a secret of their own, there was a very considerable one to
+puzzle them now; and they could hardly believe that Miss Fosbrook
+knew nothing about it, any more than themselves.
+
+So restless and puzzled were they, that she thought they would never
+be able to settle quietly to their lessons, and that it would save
+idleness if she walked with them at once to Bonchamp to get the
+money.  It was two miles; but all three were stout walkers, and they
+were delighted to go; indeed, they would have fancied that someone
+else might run away with the ten shillings if they had not made haste
+to secure it.  So "David Douglas Merrifield" was written, with much
+difficulty to make it small enough, in the very best and roundest
+hand.  The boys were put into clean blouses, Annie's striped cotton
+came to light; and off set the party through the lanes, each with
+sixpence in their hand, for it was poor fun to go to Bonchamp, unless
+one had something to spend there.  David wanted a knife, Johnnie
+wanted a whip, Annie nothing in particular, only to go into a shop,
+and buy--she didn't know what.
+
+But the wonderful affair at the post-office must have the first turn;
+and very grand did David feel as the clerk peeped out from his little
+hole, and looked amused and gracious as the little boy stood on
+tiptoe to give in his green paper.
+
+"Will you have it in gold or silver, Sir?" he asked.
+
+"In gold, please," said David.
+
+It was something to have a bit of gold in one's possession for the
+first time in one's life; and David felt as if he had grown an inch
+taller, and were as good as six years old, as he walked away with the
+half sovereign squeezed into his hot little palm.
+
+The toy-shop was at the end of the street, and in they went; Johnnie
+to try all the whistles in the handles of the whips, and be much
+disgusted that all that had a real sound lash cost a shilling; David
+to open and shut the sixpenny knives with the gravity of a judge
+examining their blades; and Annie to gape about, and ask the price of
+everything, after the tiresome fashion of people, old or young, when
+they come out bent on spending, but without any aim or object.
+However, Annie was kind, if she were silly, and she was very fond of
+Johnnie; so it ended, after a little whispering, in her sixpence
+being added to his, to buy a real good whip, such as would crack, and
+not come to pieces.
+
+Just then, what should the children espy, but a nice firm deal box,
+containing a little saw, a little plane, a hammer, a gimlet, a
+chisel, and sundry different sizes of nails.  Was there ever anything
+so delightful, especially to David, who loved nothing so well as
+running after George Bowles the carpenter, and handling his tools.
+What was the price of them?
+
+Just ten shillings and sixpence.  They were very cheap, the woman of
+the toy-shop said.  They had been ordered by an old lady at her
+grandson's entreaty; but afterwards a misgiving had seized her that
+the young gentleman would cut his fingers, and she would not take
+them.
+
+"Miss Fosbrook," whispered David, "may I give back the knife? then I
+could buy it."
+
+"You have bought and paid for it," said Christabel.
+
+"Somebody else will buy the box," said David wistfully.
+
+Miss Fosbrook, within herself, thought this unlikely, for nobody went
+to Bonchamp for costly shopping; and she saw that the woman would
+gladly have had the knife back, if she could have sold the tool-box,
+which, even at this reduced price, was much too dear for the little
+boys who frequented the shop.
+
+"Come away now, my dear," she said decidedly.  "No, another time,
+thank you."
+
+David was as nearly crying as ever he was, as he was forced to follow
+her out of the shop.  Those tools were so charming; his fingers
+tingled to be hammering, sawing, boring holes.  Had he lost the
+chance for that poor blunt knife?  Must he wait a whole fortnight for
+another sixpence, and find the delicious tool-chest gone?
+
+"Dear Davie, I am very sorry," said Christabel when they were in the
+street.
+
+"That nasty knife!" cried David.
+
+"It is not the knife, Davie," said she; "but that I want to think--I
+want you to think--why these ten shillings must have been sent."
+
+"Because we lost the money for the pig," said David.  "But Kattern
+Hill fair is over, and I don't want a pig now; I do want the gimlet
+to make holes--"
+
+"Yes, David; but you know what was saved for the pig came from all of
+you; you would have had no right to spend it on anything else, unless
+they all had consented."
+
+"This is my very own," said David; "it was sent to me--myself--me."
+
+"So it seems now; but just suppose you were to have a letter to say
+that someone--poor Hal himself, perhaps--or Papa--had sent ten
+shillings to make up the money for the pig, and directed it to you
+because you cared so much, would it not be a shame to have spent the
+money upon yourself?"
+
+"Then they should not have sent it without saying," said David.
+
+Miss Fosbrook thought the same, when she saw how hard the trial was
+to the little boy; but she hoped she was taking the kindest course,
+as she said, "Now, David, in nine days time, if you are good, you
+will have had another sixpence.  I see no chance of the tools being
+sold; or if they are, I could send for such a box from London.  By
+that time, perhaps, something will have happened to show who sent the
+money, and why."
+
+"And if it is all for myself, I may have the tools!" cried David.
+
+"You shall have them, if you really think it is right, when Monday
+week comes."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+
+Ideas were slow in both entering or dying out of David's mind; but
+while there they reigned supreme.  Carpentry had come in as the pig
+had gone out, and with the more force, because a new window was being
+put into Mamma's room; and George Bowles was there, with all his
+delightful tools, letting the little boys amuse themselves therewith,
+till they had hardly three sound fingers between them; and Nurse
+Freeman, when she dressed their wounds, could not think what was the
+use of a lady if she could not keep the children from hurting
+themselves; but Miss Fosbrook thought that it was better that boys
+should get a few cuts and bruises than that they should be timid and
+unhandy.
+
+One evening, all the party walked to carry to Hannah Higgins's little
+girl a pinafore that Annie had been making.  She was a nice, tidy
+woman, but there was little furniture in her house, and she looked
+very poor.  The garden was large, and in pretty good order; and there
+was an empty pig-sty, into which Annie peeped significantly.
+
+"No, Miss Annie, we haven't no pig," said Mrs. Higgins.  "Ben says,
+says he, 'Mother, when I'm taken on for carter boy, see if I don't
+get you a nice little pig, as will eat the garden stuff, and pay the
+rent.'
+
+"Oh, but--" began Annie, and there she came to a sudden stop.
+
+"Is he likely soon to be a carter boy?" asked Miss Fosbrook.
+
+"No, Ma'am; he is but ten years old, and they don't often take them
+on under twelve; but he is a good boy to his mother, and a terrible
+one for leasing."
+
+Miss Fosbrook was obliged to have it explained to her that "leasing"
+meant gleaning; and she saw the grand pile of small neat bundles of
+wheat put out to dry on the sunny side of the house.
+
+"O Davie!" cried Annie, as soon as they were outside the gate,
+"sha'n't we get the pig for Hannah?"
+
+"It is my money, not yours; I shall do what I please with it," said
+David, rather crossly.
+
+Miss Fosbrook pulled Annie back, and desired her to let David alone;
+herself wondering what would be the effect of what he had seen.
+
+He had been eager to do good to Hannah when no desire of his own
+stood in the way; but a formed wish had arisen in his mind, and he
+loved himself better than Hannah.  Christabel dreaded the clearing-up
+of the secret of the post-office order, lest he should be proved to
+love himself more than right and justice.
+
+There were not many letters from the absent pair of sisters; they
+seemed to be much too busy and happy to write, and appeared to be
+"seeing everything," and to be only just able to put down the names
+of the wonders.  The chief of all, however, was that kind Mrs.
+Penrose had actually taken them to Portsmouth for a couple of nights,
+to see the Ramilies, in which she was going to remain till it sailed.
+They had sat in the Admiral's cabin, and had slept upon "dear little
+sofas," where they wished they always slept; they had been in Papa's
+cabin, which was half filled up with a great gun, that can only be
+fired out at the window (scratched out, and "port-hole" put in.)
+
+"Oh, how delightful!  I wish I had a big gun in my room!" cried
+Johnnie.
+
+And they had seen Sam's chest; and Sam did look so nice in his
+uniform; and he had dined with them every day.  They had dined late,
+with the grown-up people; and the Admiral was so kind, only rather
+funny.
+
+Annie wished she were as old as Bessie, as much as John wished to
+have a gun filling up his whole bed-room.
+
+The next day, their Papa had taken them into the country to see Lady
+Seabury, Bessie's godmother, a very old lady indeed, older than
+Grandmamma, and who could not move out of her chair.  "She gave me--"
+wrote Bessie.  There again something had been scratched out, and "a
+kiss" written overhead.
+
+That something was quite a long word, but it had been very completely
+blotted out; not like the "window," which had only a couple of cross
+bars, through which it could be plainly read; but there had plainly
+been first an attempt at smearing it out with the finger, and that
+not succeeding, an immense shiny black mess, like the black shade of
+a chafer grub, had been put down on it, and had come off on the
+opposite side of the sheet.
+
+What could the word be?  Annie and David were both sure they could
+read the lines through all the blot.  The first letter was certainly
+S.
+
+"But," said Miss Fosbrook, "do you think it is quite honourable to
+try to read what Bessie did not mean us to see?"
+
+They did not quite enter into this, but they left off trying.
+
+"Mamma had been out in the carriage several times; and they were all
+coming home on Saturday week"--that was the best news of all--"and
+then we have a secret too for Miss Fosbrook."
+
+David said he was tired of secrets, and would not guess.  Annie
+guessed a great deal; but Miss Fosbrook thought more about the word
+she would not try to read.  She began to have a strong suspicion from
+whom the post-office order had come, and was the more uneasy about
+the spending of David's half sovereign; but she durst say nothing,
+for she knew it could do no good if he felt himself compelled against
+his own will; and she saw that he was full of thought.
+
+One day the lawn had been mown, and the children where all very busy
+wheeling their little barrows, and loading them with the short grass;
+David was with them at first, but when Purday left off work, he
+marched after the old man in his grave deliberate way, and was seen
+no more till nearly tea-time, when he walked into the school-room
+with a very set look upon his solemn face, and sat himself down
+cross-legged on the locker, with a sigh that seemed to come out of
+the very depths of his heart.
+
+"What's the matter, David?"
+
+He made no answer, and Miss Fosbrook let him alone; but Annie
+presently bounced in, crying out, "Davie, Davie! where were you? we
+have been hunting for you everywhere!  Where did you go?"
+
+"I went with Purday."
+
+"What, to milk the cows?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I went with him to Farmer Long's, to see his little Chinese pigs."
+
+"And you have bought one!  O Davie!"
+
+"Purday is to ask the farmer about the price to-morrow morning,
+because he wasn't at home."
+
+"Then you won't get the carpenter's tools?" said Annie.
+
+"No," said David; "Purday said tools that they make for little boys
+never will cut."
+
+"So you told Purday all about it?"
+
+David nodded his head.
+
+"Oh, do tell me what Purday said!" continued Annie.
+
+"It's nothing to you," said David bluntly.  But by and by, when John
+came in, and a few more questions were asked, David let out that
+Purday had said, "Well, he thought sure enough if the money was sent
+to Master David for that intent, he did not ought to spend it no
+other ways; and whether or not, Hannah Higgins was a deserving woman;
+and Master Davie didn't know what it was like never to have a bit of
+bacon ne'er a Sunday in the winter.  He couldn't say but it was hard
+that those poor folks should get nothing but bread and cabbages from
+week's end to week's end, just that Master Davie might spoil bits of
+deal board with making chips of them."
+
+And when David was sure he shouldn't spoil his wood, Purday had told
+him that them toy-shop young gentleman's tools were made to sell, and
+not made to cut.  Best save up his money, and buy one real man's tool
+after another; and then he'd get a set equal to George Bowles's in
+time!
+
+Though so young, David was long-sighted and patient enough to see the
+sense of this, and had already made up his mind that he would begin
+with a gimlet.  And though he did not say so, and the first
+resolution had cost a very tough struggle, his heart seemed to have
+freed itself in that one great sigh, and he was at peace with
+himself.
+
+Miss Fosbrook was very glad he had gone to so wise and good an
+adviser as Purday, and was almost as happy as David himself.  She
+gave him and John leave to go with Purday the next day to bargain for
+the pig, as David was very anxious for one in especial, whose face he
+said was so jolly fat; and it was grand to see the two little boys
+consequentially walking on either aide of Purday, who had put on his
+whitest round frock for the great occasion.
+
+Farmer Long was at home; he came out and did the honours of his ten
+little pigs; and when he found which was David's favourite, he
+declared that it was the best of the lot, and laughed till David
+blushed, at the young gentleman's having got such an eye for a pig.
+"It was a regular little Trudgeon," said Purday, (meaning perhaps a
+Trojan;) and it was worth at least twelve shillings, but the farmer
+in his good-nature declared that little Master should have it for the
+ten, as it was for a present.  Hannah's boy was working for him, and
+was a right good lad, and he would give him some straw for the pig's
+bed when he went home at night.  Then he took the two boys into the
+parlour, and while Purday had a glass of beer in the kitchen, Mrs.
+Long gave each of them a big slice of plum-cake, and wanted very much
+to have given them some wine, but that they knew they must not have;
+and she inquired after their Mamma and Papa, and made them so much of
+visitors, that David was terribly shy, and very glad when it was
+over, though John liked it, and talked fast.
+
+As to the giving the pig, that was a serious business; and David felt
+hot and shy, and wanted to get it over as soon as possible without a
+fuss.
+
+So he bolted into Mrs. Higgins's cottage, put his hands behind his
+back, and spoke thus:- "Please, Mrs. Higgins, put your pig-sty in
+order!  We've all done it--at least they all wanted to--and a green
+order came down in a letter--and we've bought the pig, and Ben will
+drive it home when he comes from work!"
+
+And then, as if he had been in a great fright, he ran away; while
+Johnnie stayed, and, when Hannah understood, received so many
+curtsies, and listened to so much pleasure, that he could hardly
+think of anything else, and felt very glad that SOME pence of his had
+been in Toby Fillpot.
+
+Annie said that it was not fair that she had not been at the giving
+the pig; and Miss Fosbrook was a little disappointed too; but then it
+was much better that David should not want to make a display, so she
+would not complain, and comforted Annie by putting her in mind that
+they could go and see the little pig in his new quarters.
+
+A few days more, and the carriage was driving up to the door with
+dear Mamma in it, and--why, there were three little girls, not two!
+One look, and the colour came into Christabel's face.  It was her
+youngest little sister, Dora, who sat beside Bessie!  Mrs. Merrifield
+had gone to see Mrs. Fosbrook, and ask if she could take anything for
+her to her daughter; and she had been so much shocked at the sight of
+the little pale London faces, that she had begged leave to take home
+one of the children to spend a month with her sister at Stokesley,
+since Miss Fosbrook could not be spared to go home at present.  Was
+not that a secret for Christabel?  How these two sisters did hug each
+other!
+
+But the Stokesley secrets have lasted long enough; and there is no
+time to tell of the happy days of Dora's visit, and the good care
+that Johnnie took of her whenever she went out, and of her pretty
+quiet ways that made Bessie take her for her dearest of friends.  And
+still less can be told of the smooth, peaceful, free spirit that
+seemed to have come home with Mamma, even though she was still able
+to do little among the children, for the very having her in the house
+appeared to keep things from going wrong.
+
+One thing must be told, however, and that is, that when Annie told
+all the wonderful story of the post-office order and the Chinese pig,
+Bessie grew redder and redder in the face, and Susan squeezed both
+her hands tight together, and said "May I tell, Bessie!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Stokesley Secret, by Charlotte M. Yonge
+
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