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diff --git a/3411-h/3411-h.htm b/3411-h/3411-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f8760b --- /dev/null +++ b/3411-h/3411-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7137 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Stokesley Secret, by Charlotte M. Yonge</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKESLEY SECRET*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1902 Macmillan and Co. “Countess +Kate and The Stokesley Secret” edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE STOKESLEY SECRET</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">BY<br /> +CHARLOTTE M. YONGE</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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"> </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. <i>Reprinted</i>, 1902.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<p>“<span class="smcap">How</span> can a pig pay the +rent?”</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>“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?”</p> +<p>“Bread and butter, Master Sam,” replied rather +pettishly the maid who had brought in the big black kettle.</p> +<p>“Bread and butter! I call it bread and +scrape!” solemnly said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“A fine large infant you are, Hal!” exclaimed +Susan.</p> +<p>“I’m an infant, you’re an infant, Miss +Fosbrook is an infant—a babby.”</p> +<p>“For shame, Hal!” cried the more civilized Sam, +clenching his fist.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“There, I said I would!” cried Henry; +“didn’t I, Sam?”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you what?” asked Susan, not in the +most elegant English.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Thick butter and thin bread,<br /> +Or it shall be thrown at Mary’s head;<br /> +Thick bread and thin butter,<br /> +Is only fit for the ducks in the gutter.”</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">“Thick bread and +thin butter,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>Sam wanted to see whether she would, and threw the crust.</p> +<p>“Sam,” 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>“Oh, Miss Fosbrook!” cried Susan, “we were +all just as bad. Don’t punish Sam!”</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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, +“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.”</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. The silence +seemed to David a favourable occasion for renewing the great +question, “How does a pig pay the rent?”</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, “I want to +know.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<blockquote><p>“There was a lady loved a swine;<br /> + ‘Honey,’ says she,<br /> +I’ll give you a silver trough.’<br /> + ‘Hunks!’ says he,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>continued Hal; “that shows his disinterestedness. +Oh, werry sagacious haminals is pigs!”</p> +<p>“For shame, Hal,” cried Elizabeth, “to +confuse the children with such nonsense.”</p> +<p>“Why, don’t you think I know how the rent is +paid? I’ve seen Papa on rent-day hundreds of +times.”</p> +<p>“But the pigs, Hal; did you ever see the +pigs?”</p> +<p>“Thousands of times.”</p> +<p>“Bringing bags of gold? O Hal! +Hal!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“It’s a sort made on purpose,” said Hal.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But how does a pig do it?” asked David, returning +to the charge.</p> +<p>“Why do you want to know, my dear?” asked Miss +Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“Mary’s sister said so.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>Mermaid</i> went to South America; and there +are five little tiny children.”</p> +<p>“Of the mermaid’s?” cried Harry.</p> +<p>“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. Mamma said we might take +them our old winter frocks, and so David went there.”</p> +<p>“And she said if she had a pig to pay the rent she +should be quite happy,” said David. “How could +he?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And he sailed with Papa once, long ago,” added +Susan; to which Sam rejoined,</p> +<p>“More fool he to go into the merchant service and get +drowned, with nothing for his widow to live upon.”</p> +<p>“I say,” cried Hal, “why shouldn’t we +give her a pig?”</p> +<p>“Oh, do!” earnestly exclaimed David.</p> +<p>“I’ll catch one,” broke from John and Annie +at once; “such lots as there are in the yard!”</p> +<p>“You would catch it, I believe,” said Sam +disdainfully; while Susan explained,</p> +<p>“No; those are Papa’s pigs. Purday would not +let you give them away.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Oh! yes, yes,” shouted the children; +“let’s do it all ourselves!”</p> +<p>“I’ve got one-and-threepence, and sixpence next +Saturday,” cried Hal.</p> +<p>“And I’ve eightpence,” quoth Annie.</p> +<p>“And I’ve a whole shilling,” said David.</p> +<p>“I’ve fourpence,” said Johnnie.</p> +<p>“I’ve not much, I’m afraid,” said +Susan, feeling in her pocket, with rather black looks.</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Sam, “everybody knows simple +Sukey never has a farthing in her pocket by any +chance!”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I have, Sam;” and with an air of great +triumph, Susan held up three-halfpence, whereat all the party +screamed with laughter.</p> +<p>“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,</p> +<p>“Don’t—I can’t—I’ve got +something else to do with my money.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth bit her lip, and tossed up her head; the tears were +in her eyes, but she made no answer.</p> +<p>“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.”</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, “But what does a +pig cost?”</p> +<p>“Miss Fosbrook, what does a pig cost?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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>“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.</p> +<p>“Purday, what’s the price of a pig?” and, +“What does a pig cost, Purday?”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“More than your voices up there, sir,” growled +Purday, making some laugh; but Henry cried impatiently,</p> +<p>“Now, Purday, we really do want to know what is the +price of pigs.”</p> +<p>“They was high last market,” began Purday.</p> +<p>“I don’t care if they were high or low,” +said Hal; “I want to know what money they cost.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“A nice little pig, such as you’d +give—”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, Hal, it’s a secret,” cried +Susan.</p> +<p>“A pretty sort of secret—known to eight already, +and bawled out all over the yard,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“But don’t tell him what it’s for; you can +ask him without that.”</p> +<p>“A nice little young pig,” said Sam, “such +as you’d keep all the summer, and fat in the +winter.”</p> +<p>“Mind, it ain’t for you, Purday,” cried +Hal.</p> +<p>“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,</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>He was screamed at, and pulled into order and silence, ere the +words, “Hannah Higgins” had quite come out; and Sam +repeated his question.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Better save it out of our allowance,” said +Sam. “How long is it to the fair?”</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook’s pocket-book declared it to be four +weeks.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>Sam whistled.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Sam; “but then nobody must have +any fines.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and Sue must keep her money. That will be a +wonder!” shouted Harry.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And so will we!” cried the younger ones with one +voice.</p> +<p>“Only,” added Susan, “I must buy +Dicky’s canary seed.”</p> +<p>“And I must have a queen’s head to write to +Mamma,” said Annie.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>Little Annie looked very deplorable.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Henry twirled round impatiently.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh! yes, yes,” cried the children in +raptures.</p> +<p>“Will you help, Miss Fosbrook?” said Susan, +clasping her hands.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“What shall we have for treasury?” said Hal, +looking round.</p> +<p>“I know!” cried Susan. “Here, in the +baby-house; here’s the Toby, let’s put it inside +him.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>“And, Miss Fosbrook, you’ll not be cross about +fines?” said Johnnie, looking coaxing.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Johnnie disconsolately.</p> +<p>“Well, I never get fined,” cried Hal joyfully.</p> +<p>“Except for running up stairs in dirty shoes,” +said Sam.</p> +<p>“Oh! there’s no dirt now.”</p> +<p>“Let me see, what are the fines?” said Miss +Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“Here’s the list,” said Susan; and sighing, +she said, “I’m afraid I shall never do it! If +Bessie only would help!”</p> +<p>The fines of the Stokesley schoolroom were these for +delinquencies—each value a farthing—</p> +<p class="gutindent">For being dressed later than eight +o’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. Susan looked very +gloomy over them; but Hal exclaimed, “Never mind, Susie; +we’ll do it all without you, never fear!”</p> +<p>“And now,” said Sam, “I vote we have some +fun in the garden.”</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. 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.</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. +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.</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. 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?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to go out.”</p> +<p>“I thought they were to have a great game at +whoop-hide.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like whoop-hide. Johnnie pulls the +clothes off my back.”</p> +<p>“My dear, I hope you are not staying in because they +called you those foolish names. It was all in good +humour.”</p> +<p>“It was not kind,” said Elizabeth, her throat +swelling. “It was not true.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not; but you did not speak to give your +reasons; and who could tell how good they might be?”</p> +<p>“I’ve a right to my secrets as well as they +have,” said the little maiden.</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook looked kindly at her, and she turned wistful +eyes on the young governess.</p> +<p>“Miss Fosbrook, will you keep a secret?”</p> +<p>“That I will.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>Calliope</i>—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?”</p> +<p>“Not at all, my dear; but you could not expect the +others to understand what they never were told.”</p> +<p>“I’d have said something if they had not called me +stingy,” said Bessie.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Such a disagreeable thing as a pig!” continued +Bessie. “If it had been anything nice, I should not +have minded so much.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</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, “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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“And why, my dear?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“No, far from it; that is, if we do not sacrifice better +things to prettiness.”</p> +<p>Elizabeth looked up with a light in her dark eyes, and said, +“Miss Fosbrook, I like you!”</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook was very much pleased, and kissed her.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“It is no secret at all,” said Miss Fosbrook, +laughing. “My name is Christabel Angela.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“I like it for some reasons,” said Miss Fosbrook, +smiling.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I never could call your name ugly; it is such a +dignified, old, respectable name.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but they call me Betty!”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Then it is no good to you!” exclaimed +Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh, why?” eagerly asked the little girl.</p> +<p>“When I was born, my papa was a very young man, and he +was very fond of reading poetry.”</p> +<p>“Why, I thought your papa was a doctor.”</p> +<p>“Well!”</p> +<p>“I thought only ladies, and poets, and idle silly +people, cared for poetry.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“How very nice!” cried Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Then isn’t he—what is it you call +it—poetical now?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But is that poetry? I thought poetry meant +verses.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>They both laughed; and Elizabeth said, “That +wasn’t what you meant about your papa. Susy cares for +goodness.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Did you like coming here?” was Bessie’s +home question; and Miss Fosbrook winked away a little moisture, +as she said,</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I did not know there was anything beautiful +here.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>“I see nothing—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Bessie was coming closer to her, when in burst Sam and +Johnnie.</p> +<p>“Hello, Bess! moping here, I declare! I suppose +you and Miss Fosbrook are telling each other all your +secrets.”</p> +<p>“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?”</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—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.</p> +<p>“What will you do with it?” said the children, +standing round.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</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. 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. 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—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I’m on Tommy Tittler’s +ground,<br /> +Picking up gold and silver,”</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 “home.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Touch and take used to be our rule,” 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’s sake.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</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>“<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,” spelt out David with some trouble and difficulty, as +he stood by Miss Fosbrook on Sunday morning.</p> +<p>“Miss Fosbrook?”</p> +<p>“Well, my dear.”</p> +<p>“Miss Fosbrook?”</p> +<p>Another “Well.”</p> +<p>“Is wanting to buy a pig one of the ‘things that +be good’?’</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Davy thinks the pig is in his Collect,” 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’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.</p> +<p>“More likely to hinder,” muttered Sam.</p> +<p>“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,</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh! we don’t have fines on Sundays,” said +Henry.</p> +<p>“Mamma says that on Sundays naughtiness is not such a +trifle that we can be fined for it,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“It is not naughtiness we are ever fined for,” +added Elizabeth: “<i>that</i> we are punished and talked to +for: but the fines are only for bad habits.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I hope I sha’n’t have any this +week,” sighed Susan.</p> +<p>“You may hope,” said Sam. +“You’re sure of them for everything possible except +crying.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Bessie gets all the crying fines,” said Hal; +“and I hope she’ll have lots, because she won’t +help the pig.”</p> +<p>Bessie started up from her place and rushed out of the room; +while Miss Fosbrook indignantly exclaimed,</p> +<p>“Really, boys, I can’t think how you can be so +ill-natured!”</p> +<p>They looked up as though it were quite a new light to them; +and Susan exclaimed,</p> +<p>“Oh, Miss Fosbrook! they don’t mean it: Sam and +Hal never were ill-natured in their lives.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what you call ill-natured,” +said Miss Fosbrook, “unless it is saying the very things +most likely to vex another.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>And Sam muttered, “One can’t be always picking +one’s words.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>She went away; and Susan was the first to exclaim,</p> +<p>“I didn’t think she’d have been so +cross!”</p> +<p>“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.”</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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,</p> +<p>“What a little figure of fun!”</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</p> +<p>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.</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, “I’ll tell +you what, she’s a famous fellow!” the rejoinder was, +“What! do you mean to say that you mind her?”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t he?” said Hal’s voice; +“why, she sent him away from tea last night, just for +shying crusts.”</p> +<p>“And did he go?” and there was a disagreeable +sounding laugh, in which she was sorry that Hal joined.</p> +<p>“Catch the Fräulein serving me so!”</p> +<p>“She never tries!”</p> +<p>“She knows better!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And Hal will be mincing along with his toes turned out +like a dancing-master!” continued an affected voice.</p> +<p>“No such thing!” cried Hal angrily: +“I’m not a fellow to be ordered about!”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>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.”</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, “What a +sell!” 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’s head was filled with +nonsense, if Hal’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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>that</i>, I +hope?”</p> +<p>“What those boys were saying? It depends on you whether +you make me mind it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t mean to make any rows if I can help +it,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“I am sure I hope you will be able to help it! I +don’t know what I should do if you did!”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Pray don’t try!”</p> +<p>Sam laughed, and said, “I did promise Papa to be +conformable.”</p> +<p>“And I was very much obliged to you yesterday +evening. The behaviour of the other boys depends so much on +you.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Sam; “and I don’t +mind it so much now I see you can stand up for +yourself.”</p> +<p>“Besides, what would it be if I had to write to your +father that I could not manage such a bear-garden?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I thought you did not mean to get beyond me.”</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. “Only you must not plague us +about London manners.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh! not being finikin, and mincing, and +nonsensical!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“You don’t know,” said Sam. “It +is fun. They like it.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Bessie is so ridiculous.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I can’t bear to see her so affected and perked +up.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Mamma is not like Bessie.”</p> +<p>“And then about Davy. How could you go and stop +the poor little boy when he was trying to think and feel +rightly?”</p> +<p>“He was so funny,” repeated Sam.</p> +<p>“I hope you will think another time whether your fun is +safe and kind.”</p> +<p>“One can’t be so particular,” he said +impatiently.</p> +<p>“I am sorry to hear it. I thought the only way to +do right was to be particular.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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—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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>He repeated, “I’m going to church.” It +was plain enough that he had heard what those boys had said about +not submitting.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>Hal laughed.</p> +<p>“Johnnie, Johnnie dear,” entreated Susan, +“what would Mamma say?”</p> +<p>John would not hear, and walked on.</p> +<p>“John,” said Miss Fosbrook, “if you do not +come back directly, I must carry you.”</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. She held fast, but +she felt frightened, and doubtful of the issue of the struggle; +and again there was Hal laughing.</p> +<p>“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.</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 +“when the child wished to go to church, it seemed strange +he should not.”</p> +<p>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.”</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, “Foolish old Freeman! she will pet and +spoil him all church-time, till he is worse than ever.”</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’s mutterings about wishing to break +Martin Greville’s head.</p> +<p>“You need not hurry so much,” he said; +“there’s a shorter cut, only I suppose you +can’t get through a gap.”</p> +<p>“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,</p> +<p>“Hurrah! well done!” and came and walked close to +her, saying confidentially, “I say, do you think we shall +ever do the pig?”</p> +<p>“I am sure it might be done. If you are likely to +do it you must know better than I.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I think the pleasure of giving it will be a delightful +reward for a little self-command.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too sure of that. People may have +other designs.”</p> +<p>“Bessie’s can’t be anything but +trumpery.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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, “Ay, +that’s it! We don’t want what is +grudged.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“But ought not she to be cured of being +silly?”</p> +<p>“When we have quite made up our minds upon what +silliness is. There, the bell has stopped.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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.</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, “Come along, Sam, Purday will be feeding the +pigs; I want to choose the size of ours.”</p> +<p>“I’ve not done,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“Papa never said we were to say them to Miss +Fosbrook.”</p> +<p>“He meant it though,” was all Sam’s +answer. “Don’t hinder me.”</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>“To myself,” said Bessie; and there was a silence, +while Miss Fosbrook, glad of the quiet, began reading her +<i>Christian Year</i>. 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.</p> +<p>“May I say it sometimes when we are alone +together?” she said timidly. “I do like it so +much!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you! Isn’t it a nice +secret?” cried Bessie, clinging to her hand: “and +will you let me hug you sometimes?”</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’s sister had worked for her.</p> +<p>“And you don’t call me silly?” cried +Bessie.</p> +<p>“That depends,” was the answer, with some arch +fun; but Bessie had not much turn for fun, and presently went +on—</p> +<p>“And you saw Ida Greville?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“What did you think of her?”</p> +<p>“I had not much opportunity of learning what to +think.”</p> +<p>“But her parasol, and her bird! Did you think her +mama very silly to give her pretty things?”</p> +<p>“No, certainly not, unless she wore them at unsuitable +times, or thought too much about them.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Are you quite sure?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“If I am asked, and if your Mamma would wish +it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mamma always lets us go, except +once—when—when—”</p> +<p>“When what?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“There must be a way of not breaking the Tenth +Commandment.”</p> +<p>“I don’t covet; I don’t want to take things +away from Ida, only to have the same.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but what does the explanation at the end of the +Duty to our Neighbour say, filling out that +Commandment?”</p> +<p>“I think I’ll go and see what Susie is +doing,” 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. +Hal first: “I say, Bet, didn’t Purday want his gun +to-day at church?”</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>“Shooting the cocky-olly birds!”</p> +<p>A general explosion of laughter.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Don’t, Hal,” said such a deplorable +offended voice, that Sam, who had really held his tongue at +first, could not help chiming in,</p> +<p>“No, no; a cock-sparrow, for her London +manners.”</p> +<p>“No, that’s for me, Sam,” said Christabel +good-humouredly. “A London-bred sparrow; a pert +forward chit.”</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 “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.</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. 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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,</p> +<p>“Gone! has Ralph been there?”</p> +<p>“Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so. Not +an egg left, and they would have hatched this week!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Bring down the nest, Sam,” cried Susan; +“Georgy will like to have it.”</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Now, Miss Fosbrook!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Tits, my tits!” said Sam triumphantly; +“they’ve built their nest here three years +following.”</p> +<p>“But how do they get in and out?”</p> +<p>“Through the hole. Take care, I’ll show you +one.”</p> +<p>“Won’t you frighten away the bird?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Ay, that’s an ox-eye,” said Sam. +“You’ll hear them going on +peter—peter—peter—all the spring.”</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’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>“Oh! Betty’s nonsense.”</p> +<p>“Johnnie <i>did</i>—”</p> +<p>“Johnnie only—”</p> +<p>“Now, Hal!”</p> +<p>“Tell-tale!” “Cry-baby!”</p> +<p>“She only cried that Miss Fosbrook might +hear.”</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>“Johnnie—Johnnie called me a toad.”</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’s age should act so +childish a part.</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Susan, “I told you to walk in +front of Miss Fosbrook, where they could not.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t do anything to her,” said +John.</p> +<p>“Now, Johnnie!”</p> +<p>“He only pulled her frock and poked her ankles,” +said Anne pleadingly</p> +<p>“Only—and why did you do what she did not +like?”</p> +<p>Johnnie looked sturdy and cross. Anne hung her head; and +Elizabeth burst out again,</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“A very sad and improper way of spending a Sunday +evening,” said Miss Fosbrook, who had really grown quite +angry. “Anne and John, I <i>will</i> put an end to +this teasing. Go to bed this instant.”</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’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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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,</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</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’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. 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.</p> +<p>“May there be no fines,” she said.</p> +<p>“I’ll not have the hundredth part of a +fine!” shouted Henry, tossing his money into the air.</p> +<p>Little David’s set lips expressed the same purpose.</p> +<p>“Please let me have a whole sixpence,” said +Susan. “If I haven’t any change, I +sha’n’t spend it.”</p> +<p>“You, Sukey! you’d better have the four +farthings,” laughed Sam. “You’ll be the +first to want them.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” cried Susan, in her good-humoured +hearty voice, “how tiresome, when they were <i>so</i> 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!”</p> +<p>“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.</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, “There goes stingy Bet!” and Bessie put on her +woeful appealing face.</p> +<p>“John, I shall punish you if I hear those words +again.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“There! Go and tell Nurse, if you like, +baby!”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Now Johnnie has cried before breakfast on a Monday +morning,” said Annie, “all the rest of the week will +go wrong with him.”</p> +<p>“Indeed,” said Miss Fosbrook, “I hope no +such thing.—Suppose we try and show Annie she is wrong, +Johnnie!”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Johnnie,” said David solemnly, “the +pig.”</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’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.</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—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.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“I have found out why a pig is a profitable +investment,” he answered gravely.</p> +<p>“And why?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“I don’t quite see what you want to know, +Davy.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</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. 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. 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 <i>foolish</i> +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.</p> +<p>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.</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. “Well, Susan,” says +Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>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!</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Susan,” says Miss Fosbrook severely, “you +never tried to learn this.”</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: “Susan never will learn her +French.”</p> +<p>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.</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>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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”?</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>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—”</p> +<p>“3, and 1 are 4,” dolorously, as her 3 was +changed.</p> +<p>“Now then, what next?”</p> +<p>“Carry one.”</p> +<p>“What did I tell you was meant by carry one?”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Now, Bessie, what tens can you possibly mean? +Think a little.”</p> +<p>“I’m sure you said tens once,” said injured +innocence.</p> +<p>“That was in an addition sum. See, here it is +quite different. I told you.”</p> +<p>Bessie put on a vacant stare. She was not going to +attend to what she did not like.</p> +<p>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.</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>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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! 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! 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!</p> +<p>“A bonfire!” said the London governess, thinking +of illuminations; “what can that be for?”</p> +<p>“Oh, it is not <i>for</i> 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.”</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>“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,</p> +<p>“But, my dears, I don’t know whether I ought to +let you play with fire.”</p> +<p>“Oh, we always do,” roared the children; and Susan +added,</p> +<p>“We always roast potatoes when there’s a +bonfire. Mamma always lets us; it is only Purday that is +cross.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; Mamma lets us.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes; and we’ll roast you some +potatoes.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>No matter! There were all the children round it, some on +their knees, some jumping; and voices were crying on all +sides,</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>This of course was from Elizabeth; and there followed, +“Don’t, Bessie, you will tread upon +Georgie.—Yes, Georgie, you <i>shall</i> have a +place.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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 +“Get ’em yourself,” 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’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.</p> +<p>“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.”</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—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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Catch her!” muttered Hal.</p> +<p>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?</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, “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!”</p> +<p>“And I don’t care for <i>her</i>, the +crosspatch,” said Johnnie to Annie, never hearing or +heeding Miss Fosbrook’s fervent “I am so +glad!”</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. 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.</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>“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?”</p> +<p>“You are very welcome,” said Miss Fosbrook, +“but I am sorry to hear so many complaints.”</p> +<p>“They are so cross to me,” said Bessie; +“they always are.”</p> +<p>“You must try to be cheerful and good-humoured with +them, and they will leave off vexing you.”</p> +<p>“But may I come in? It will be a nice time for my +secret.”</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’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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>“Susan, leave off,” said Miss Fosbrook; “let +your sister alone. She has a right to do what she likes +with her own.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>she’ll</i> +get him something pretty.”</p> +<p>“Susie, Susie, indeed it’s only that I don’t +want him to spoil it,” said Elizabeth, distressed.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“She always is so unkind to them,” said Susan +resentfully.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Mamma says the elder must give way to the +younger,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“You did not try whether she would give way.”</p> +<p>“No, because I knew she wouldn’t; and I could not +have my little Georgie vexed.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Papa never would,” said Susan, rather going off +from the point.</p> +<p>“Very likely; but do you understand me, Susan? I +will not have Bessie <i>forced</i> out of her rights for the +little ones. Not Bessie only, but nobody is to be +tyrannized over; it is not right.”</p> +<p>“Bessie is so nonsensical,” was all Susan said, +looking glum.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And now,” as Bessie returned, “you want to +go out to your play again, my dear. Will you leave Georgie +with us?”</p> +<p>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.</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. +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 <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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</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, “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.</p> +<p>“You see,” observed Susan, “when it’s +such fine weather it puts one’s feet out of one’s +head.”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>“The Gibraltar man!” cried John and Annie with one +voice, and they were at the bottom of the stairs with a +bound.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Pigs enough here, without sending to the fair,” +muttered Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But, my friend,” said Miss Fosbrook +good-humouredly, “suppose we have no right to banish the +Gibraltar man?”</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> don’t wan’t him,” said +Bessie; “it makes my fingers sticky.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Then can’t they eat the Gibraltar rock and +bulls’ eyes?”</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. 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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“And Davie has had nothing!” said kind +Susan. “Here, Davie!” holding out to him an +amber-like piece of barley-sugar.</p> +<p>“I don’t want your stuff,” said David +roughly. “You’ve spent all away from the +pig.”</p> +<p>“No, Davie, indeed, only twopence,” said Susan; +“pray have a bit.”</p> +<p>“You might at least say thank you,” said Miss +Fosbrook.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“How can you, Susie? it is all pulled about with your +fingers.”</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, +“Yes, thank you, Sukey, <i>I</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!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Sam, “I did; for though pigs on +four legs are all very well, I don’t like pigs on +two.”</p> +<p>“Here, Jackie, never mind,” said Susan, seeing him +about to begin to cry, and offering him her last sugar-plum.</p> +<p>“I don’t want sugar-plums, I want +barley-sugar,” said John devouring it nevertheless.</p> +<p>“I haven’t one bit more,” said Susan +regretfully.</p> +<p>“Have you had any yourself, Susan?” asked Sam.</p> +<p>“No; but I didn’t want any.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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>“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?”</p> +<p>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?”</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, +“I’ll tell you what, if you make such a work about +it, I’ll spend all my allowance, and not subscribe at +all.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Now, Hal, you might have hurt him,” argued the +governess.</p> +<p>“Very good thing for him too,” 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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Always? He never did so but once,” said +Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Stuff!” said Sam. “I hope he +won’t.”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“I hate it! I hate saying thank you; I shall get +out of the way, if I can.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“<i>I’m</i> 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.</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. 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.</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’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. 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.</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. Her head was full of <i>her</i> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <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—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.</p> +<p>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 <i>Ramilies</i>, 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.</p> +<p>“And me a naval cadet!” said Hal. “He +said he would, when he was here!”</p> +<p>“One of you, he said,” put in Susan.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Oh! oh!” groaned the aggrieved multitude.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“A shark in the Mediterranean!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Stuff, Hal!” said Sam rather gruffly.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“I hope you will have leave, and come and see us,” +said Annie.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“You’ll spend all your pay on yourself,” +said David.</p> +<p>“Out of my prize-money then.”</p> +<p>“You can’t get prize-money without a war,” +said Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t let there be a war!” cried +Susan.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think Garibaldi in Sicily will put much +prize-money into your pocket, Hal,” said Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Don’t make such a noise about it!” said Sam +crossly.</p> +<p>“I don’t know why you should be the one to +go,” said Elizabeth. “Sam is the +eldest.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</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>“Uncle John won’t give one for <i>you</i>!” +said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“Indeed, if you only gave your mind to this,” she +said, “you would soon make it out.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Have you no chance?” said Miss Fosbrook, without +taking notice of this rudeness, for she saw that the boy could +hardly contain himself.</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“Then you wish it very much?”</p> +<p>“Wish it! Of course I do. Why, my father is +a sailor; and I remember the <i>Fury</i>, and I saw the +<i>Calliope</i>—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!”</p> +<p>“But can’t you both go?”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“You will do your duty like a man, wherever you are, +Sam,” 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. Nor did she hear another word +from him about his disappointment.</p> +<p>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.</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 “<i>couldn’t helps</i>,” +Henry’s sixpence had melted down to a halfpenny, which +“was not worth while.”</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. 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. 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>“Oh! Miss Fosbrook, may we go?” 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. 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 “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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>Susan’s note began—</p> +<blockquote><p>My dear Ida,</p> +<p>We shuold—</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’s eye.</p> +<p>“O Susie, you won’t send such a thing as that up +to Ida?”</p> +<p>“No—that <i>would</i> be a ‘horrible +note,’” said her governess; and she ruled the lines +again.</p> +<p>“Dear me,” said Susan impatiently; +“can’t one send a message up by the man that +we’ll all come, without this fuss?”</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—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—</p> +<blockquote><p>Mamma is at Grandmamma’s, No. 12,—St., +Grovensor Place.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">I am your affectionate<br /> +<span class="smcap">Susanna Merrifield</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“My dear, I am very sorry.”</p> +<p>“What! won’t that do?” sighed Susan, +beginning to get into despair.</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook pointed to the word “Grovensor.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! oh dear! I thought I had got that +tiresome word this time. Why can’t it put its +<i>ss</i> and <i>ns</i> 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.</p> +<p>“Can’t you remember what I told you, that the +first Grosvenor was the grand huntsman? <i>Grosveneur</i> +in French; that would show you where to put the +<i>s—gros</i>, great.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“But as he is not, we must spell his name right, or Mrs. +Greville will be shocked,” said Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“Please can’t you scratch it out?” said the +disconsolate Susan.</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> should not like to send a note with a scratch +in it. Besides, yours is hardly civil.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Why, you are telling Ida you will do her honour by +dining with her.”</p> +<p>“People always do honour when they dine,” said +Elizabeth. “I know they do.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Must I do it again?” said Susan. “I +had rather not go, if it is to be such a plague.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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. I am sorry to +say that Mamma was not quite so well when last we heard. +Her address is—No. 12,—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. 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>“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.</p> +<p>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!</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: “There, that was +almost the thing. One more trial, Susan, and you need never +be afraid of Ida’s notes again.”</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. 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>“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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>“But I wonder,” said she to herself, +“whether I shall feel as if I would change my dear stupid +Susan for Miss Ida?”</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. 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!</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“They are not ironed,” answered Susan.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Would your Mamma wish it?” asked Christabel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Bessie grumbled. “How cross! I hate those +nasty old spotty cottons;” and Johnnie returned to the old +story—“Little vain pussy-cat.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“No, Susie; that was not foolish speaking, but kind +words,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but no more now; go on, +Annie.”</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’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 <i>was</i> 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.</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’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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>could</i> 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.</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. +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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</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. +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.</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, “Fire! fire!” 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’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 “<i>die Knaben</i>” were far too +<i>unartig</i> 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.</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“You have not been meddling with it?”</p> +<p>“No.” And they ran downstairs.</p> +<p>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 <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—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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <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. 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.</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. 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>“<span class="smcap">There</span>!” exclaimed +Susan, “I really have got a letter from Papa himself. +What a prize!”</p> +<p>“You’ll have to mind your Grosvenor when you +answer <i>him</i>,” said Sam; “but hollo, +what’s the matter?”</p> +<p>For Susan’s eyes had grown large, and her whole face +scarlet, and she gave a little cry as she read.</p> +<p>“Your Mamma, my dear?” asked Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mamma—Mamma is so very ill!” 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>“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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but I believe, +in cases like this, there is often great fear, and then very +speedy improvement.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It is nine o’clock, Hal,” said Sam +presently.</p> +<p>“Oh, we can’t go to Mr. Carey to-day,” said +Hal.</p> +<p>“Yes, we shall,” returned Sam.</p> +<p>“Oh don’t,” cried Susan. +“Suppose a telegraph should come!”</p> +<p>“Well, then you can send for me,” said Sam. +“Come, Hal.”</p> +<p>“How can you, Sam?” said Henry crossly; “I +know Mr. Carey will give us leave when he knows.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Well then, if the message comes, I shall take Susie to +London instead of you. I’m sure they want me +most!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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>“Then must we all do our lessons?” asked Annie +disconsolately, when he was gone.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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?</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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>“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.”</p> +<p>“And then you’ll give it to the pig,” said +David.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, to be sure. You will grow into a pig +yourself if you go on that way, David.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that I am going.”</p> +<p>“But if you do—or we sha’n’t get the +pig.”</p> +<p>“I don’t care.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you care if we don’t get the +pig?”</p> +<p>“No. Be off with you.”</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>“If you go to London, Susie,” said he, in the very +same words, “may I have your sixpence on Monday for the +pig?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Davie, don’t be tiresome!”</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>“Come away, Davie,” said Miss Fosbrook; +“don’t tease your sister.”</p> +<p>“I want her to say I may have her sixpence on Monday for +the pig.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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, +“But Hannah Higgins won’t get her pig.”</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. 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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>“I think,” she said, “that you will be a +man, Sam; take care of Susan, and be a comfort to your +father.”</p> +<p>“I hope I shall,” said Sam; “but I +don’t know how.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Were you ever so unhappy, Miss Fosbrook?” asked +Susan.</p> +<p>“Yes, once I was, when my father was knocked down by an +omnibus, and was very ill.”</p> +<p>“Tell us about it?” 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. 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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t there some other prayer in the Prayer-book +about it?” said Sam, looking straight before him.</p> +<p>“I will show you where to find it, in the Visitation of +the Sick. I dare say it has often been read to +her.”</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’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.</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’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’ 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!”</p> +<p>“We couldn’t,” said Sam; +“there’s no train.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever +anyone is ill.”</p> +<p>“Then there would be plenty!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“You’ll do no such thing,” said Sam. +“You had much better come to church.”</p> +<p>“No, I sha’n’t. It is like a girl to +go to church on a week-day.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But it is Sam and Susan who are going.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Master Hal!” exclaimed Purday, “don’t +throw them little apples about.”</p> +<p>“They are red-hot shot, Purday!”</p> +<p>“I’ll red-hot shot you if you break my cucumber +frames, young gentleman! Come, get out with you.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</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—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>“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!”</p> +<p>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 +<i>least</i>, when the waves didn’t dash right overhead, +like the picture of the Eddystone Lighthouse.</p> +<p>“Hollo! what, a couple of cherubs aloft!” cried a +voice from the road; and looking round, Henry beheld the two +Grevilles.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he answered; “it’s very jolly +up here.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“You haven’t got a gun!”</p> +<p>“No, but we know where gardener keeps his; and the +governor’s out for the day. Come along, Hal: you +shall have your turn.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to go far from home +to-day.”</p> +<p>“Oh, stuff! What was it Mamma heard, Osmond? +That your mother was ever so much better, wasn’t +it?”</p> +<p>“I thought it was worse,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“Well, never mind: your hanging about here won’t +do her any good, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“No; but—”</p> +<p>“Oh, he’ll catch it from the governess!—I +say, how many seams shall you have to sew to-day, Hal?”</p> +<p>“I don’t sew seams: I do as I please.”</p> +<p>“Ha! Is that them coming out of church!”</p> +<p>“Oh, it is! it is!” cried John from his +elevation. “Oh, help me down, Hal!”</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. 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!</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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!</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’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.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Come along, then,” 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 “Hollo! you rascal!”</p> +<p>“My eyes! you’ve been and gone and done it!” +cried Osmond.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t, don’t! I didn’t mean +it,” cried Hal, turning in the terrible grip; “I +thought it was only a rook!”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t, don’t! I’m Henry +Merrifield!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But—but—Mamma is so very ill!” cried +Hal, bursting into tears.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</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. So he said, +“There, then, I’ll overlook it this time, sir, so as +I have the value of the bird.”</p> +<p>“And what is the value—” asked Henry, +trembling.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But I have not five-and-twenty shillings. I +can’t get them,” said Hal, falling back into +misery.</p> +<p>“You should have thought of that before you shot poor +old Tom Turkey!” quoth Farmer Grice.</p> +<p>“But what in the world shall I ever do?” said +Henry.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh pray, pray!” cried Henry. “It is +not my gun; it is Mr. Greville’s; please let me have +it!”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook, who was walking behind them, turned as he came +in.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Stupid little coward! it was not a bit of +danger!” said Hal.</p> +<p>“So young a child—” began Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Sam, “no doubt he’s after +something with the Grevilles, and was afraid you would stop him +in.”</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. 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. 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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Saturday’s</span> 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>“Christabel,” said a little voice, when all the +others were gone, “I shall never be pipy again.”</p> +<p>“You must try to fight against it, my dear.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our +little discontents.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an +oh! it was,) “those things are grown so silly and little +now.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t it too small to pray about?” said +Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>Elizabeth cast down her eyes. She did not quite think it +was a fault, but she did not say so.</p> +<p>“Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the +wilderness?”</p> +<p>The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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!</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>“What?” cried Annie.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“It was to be let alone till fair-day, you little +bother!” said Hal.</p> +<p>“No, no, no,” cried many voices; “only till +we had enough.”</p> +<p>“And I am sure nobody knows if we have,” added Hal +hotly. “A lot of halfpence, indeed!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“You’d no business to peep,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Nobody wants you,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know there were any rules,” said +the girls; but Hal was already off.</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“Never mind, we will make it up next week,” said +Susan.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Susie ought, because she is the eldest.”</p> +<p>“Davie ought, because he is the youngest.”</p> +<p>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!</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’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.”</p> +<p>“Sam, Sam,” cried Susan, “if you have hid +them for a trick, let him have them.”</p> +<p>“I—I play tricks <i>now</i>?” exclaimed Sam +in indignation. “No, indeed!”</p> +<p>“Then perhaps Hal has,” said Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“For shame, Bessie!” cried Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And why should it be one of us?” demanded Sam; +while David stopped crying, and listened.</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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>“It cannot have been a little one, certainly,” +said Miss Fosbrook; “but you should not be so ready to +accuse your brothers, Bessie.”</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 “Hal!” all over the +house.</p> +<p>“What day was it that you found the door open, +Bessie?” asked Miss Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“It was just after dinner,” said Elizabeth, +recollecting herself.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Did you go up before me, Bessie?” asked Miss +Fosbrook; “for I went up directly after dinner to speak to +Henry.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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>“No, no; Hal didn’t hide it!”</p> +<p>“But he boxed Davie’s ear for thinking he +did,” added John; “and said he’d do the same +for spiteful Bet!”</p> +<p>“Then he never played tricks,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“I told you not,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“I!” cried Elizabeth. “How can you, +Davie?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, David,” said Miss Fosbrook; +“Bessie is quite to be trusted; and it is wrong to make +unfounded accusations.”</p> +<p>“Never mind, Betty,” added Sam kindly; “if +Davie wasn’t a little donkey, he wouldn’t say such +things.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“He is gone down to Mr. Carey’s,” said +John.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.”</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, “No;” 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, “She told a story.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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.</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. She would not have noticed +her, though longing to comfort her, if David had not cried out, +“Bet is crying! A fine!”</p> +<p>“No,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but a fine for an +ill-natured speech that has made her cry.”</p> +<p>“She has got the pig’s money,” muttered +David.</p> +<p>“Say that again, and I shall punish you, +David.”</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>“It is so ill-natured and hard,” sobbed +Bessie. “To think I could steal! I think they +hate me.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And <i>we</i> don’t now,” said Susan +cheerily. “Didn’t you hear Sam say nobody but a +donkey could think it?”</p> +<p>“But Bessie has a secret!” said Annie.</p> +<p>Again stout Susan said, “For shame!”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you what my secret is,” began +Bessie.</p> +<p>“No,” said Susan, “don’t tell it, +dear! We’ll trust you without; and Sam will say the +same.”</p> +<p>Bessie flung her arms round Susan’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. 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.</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’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>“I—I’ve been playing no tricks—at +least—”</p> +<p>“Without any <i>at least</i>, Henry, have you hidden the +money?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“You dined in the school-room on Friday. Were the +baby-house doors open then!”</p> +<p>“I—I’m sure I didn’t +notice.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t open them to take anything +out?”</p> +<p>“What should I want with the things in the +baby-house?”</p> +<p>“Did you, or did you not!”</p> +<p>“I—I didn’t—at least—”</p> +<p>“In one word, did you open them? yes or no.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“What time did you go out after eating your +dinner?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Then you must have left the door undone!” said +Henry delighted.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but the wind, you know.”</p> +<p>“If the doors did open, it would not account for the +loss of the money.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I should think not!” said Miss Fosbrook +indignantly. “Now please to come up with +me.”</p> +<p>“I want to go out,” said Henry.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“It is very unkind of them,” said Bessie, with +trembling lip; “but they shall see, if they want +<i>that</i> to show I am not a thief!”</p> +<p>“I said I wouldn’t see,” said Susan. +“You knows Bessie, I trust you.”</p> +<p>“And I,” said Sam; “I don’t care for +people’s secrets. I don’t want to pry into +Bessie’s.”</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>“Is that all?” said Annie, much disappointed.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</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. “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.”</p> +<p>Susan cowered into the dark cupboard. Nurse must be in a +dreadful way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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: “I’ll tell you what I wish you would +do.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“If you would call every one in all the house, and ask +them on their word and honour if they took the pence.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“What! could a thief get in from out of doors!” +said Susan looking at the window.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“You did not mention it, my dear?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Pray, Susie; don’t tell me this. It can do +no good.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but <i>please</i>!” 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.”</p> +<p>“When was this, my dear?”</p> +<p>“Last night, when we went to the nursery to be +washed. It was our night, you know. Oh! I wish +Mamma was well!”</p> +<p>“Indeed I do my dear. And how did poor Bessie bear +it!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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. It only distresses you for +nothing.”</p> +<p>“But I can’t help it,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you tell them not?” said simple +Susan.</p> +<p>“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.”</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—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.</p> +<p>“For I do think she has put some sense into you, +Bessie,” 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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>The dough was justly divided, and an establishment set up in +each locker. 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. 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.</p> +<p>“Didn’t I hear something!” asked Bessie, +looking up.</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s only the roller,” said Sam; +“Purday always rolls on a wet day.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“I’ve taken you by surprise, Miss Fosbrook,” +said the Captain, shaking hands with her in the midst of the +clatter.</p> +<p>“Oh, it is such a pleasure!” she began. +“I hope you left Mrs. Merrifield much better.”</p> +<p>“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 <i>Ramilies</i>. Admiral +Penrose very good-naturedly kept it open for me, till we could +tell how <i>she</i> was,” said the Captain, with rather a +trembling voice.</p> +<p>“Then you are going! O Papa!” said Susan, +looking up at him; “and Baby will not know you +till—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>He would have gone, but Susan called out, “O Papa, may +we drink tea with you, Georgy and all!”</p> +<p>“Yes, to be sure, if you won’t make a bear-fight, +any of you, for your uncle.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Bother Uncle John!” first muttered Sam (I am +sorry to say).</p> +<p>“I can’t think what he’s come for,” +sighed Annie.</p> +<p>“To spoil our fun,” suggested Johnnie +disconsolately.</p> +<p>“To take Sam to school,” added Hal, “while I +go to sea.”</p> +<p>“You don’t know that you are going,” said +Elizabeth. “Papa said nothing about it.”</p> +<p>“Oh! but I know I shall. Admiral Penrose +promised.”</p> +<p>“You know a great many things that don’t +happen. You knew Colonel Carey would give you two +sovereigns.”</p> +<p>Henry looked as if he could bite.</p> +<p>“Well, I shall finish Purday,” said Sam, turning +away with a sigh; “and they shall have him for +tea.”</p> +<p>“Tea will be no fun!” repeated Annie. +“Oh dear! what does Uncle John come here for?”</p> +<p>“May not he come to be with his brother?” +suggested Christabel.</p> +<p>“Oh! but they are grown up,” said Annie.</p> +<p>“Can’t he have him in London, without coming here +to worry us in our little time!” added Johnnie.</p> +<p>“Perhaps he will not worry you.”</p> +<p>“Oh! but—” they all cried, and stopped +short.</p> +<p>“He plagues about manners,” said Annie.</p> +<p>“He wanted Susie and me to be sent to school!” +said Bessie.</p> +<p>“He said it was like dining with young +Hottentots.”</p> +<p>“He told Papa it was disgraceful, when we had all been +sliding on the great pond in the village,” added Annie.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“The net was dripping wet,” observed Bessie.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And he makes Papa and Mamma mind things that they +don’t mind by nature,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“Mamma always tells us to be good, and never play at +hockey in the house when he’s there,” said Anne.</p> +<p>“She has not told us so this time,” said John +triumphantly.</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</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. “Oh, Miss Fosbrook,” he said, +“please come in here: I was just coming to look for +you. My brother—Miss Fosbrook.”</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>“All going on well?” asked the Captain.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>My dear Papa,</p> +<p>Please let me<br /> +have a poli<br /> +ceman. Bet h<br /> +as got at Toby<br /> +and stole our<br /> +pence which was<br /> +for a secret. 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>“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.”</p> +<p>“Is Bessie in fault?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And who is Toby?”</p> +<p>“Toby is only a jug—called Toby Fillpot, I +believe—shaped like a man.”</p> +<p>“I know!” put in Mr. John Merrifield, +laughing. “Don’t you remember him, Harry? +We had the like in our time.”</p> +<p>“Well?” interrogated the Captain.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Can you guess who took it?”</p> +<p>“I should prefer saying nothing till you have examined +the children and servants for yourself.”</p> +<p>“Right!” said the Captain. “Very +well.—I am sorry to treat you to a court-martial, John, but +I must hold one after tea.”</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. 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.</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>“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.”</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, “David! come here, and tell me +what you meant by this letter.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Why did you write this letter, David?” said his +father.</p> +<p>“Because I want my pence for the pig.”</p> +<p>“Tell me how you lost them?”</p> +<p>“Bess took them!”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Did you see her take them?” asked the +Captain.</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“Henry, come here. Did you accuse your sister to +David?”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Did you see her meddle with the baby-house!”</p> +<p>“She said that herself,” muttered Henry.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>Captain Merrifield still kept his grave set face, and only +asked, “When did you find the doors open?”</p> +<p>“On Friday, Papa—Friday week—St. +Barnabas’ Day—just after dinner.”</p> +<p>“Was no one with you?”</p> +<p>“No, Papa.”</p> +<p>“You came up-stairs first?”</p> +<p>“Yes; I wanted my pencil before—” and she +stopped short.</p> +<p>“Before what?”</p> +<p>“Before Miss Fosbrook went in to speak to Hal,” +said Elizabeth, getting red all over.</p> +<p>“Hal had been dining in the school-room,” said +Miss Fosbrook, “on account of a little bit of +disobedience.”</p> +<p>Captain Merrifield looked keenly at Henry, who tried to return +the look, but shuffled uncomfortably under it.</p> +<p>“Then Hal had been dining in the school-room? Was +he there when you came in?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Were the doors open when you were dining there, +Henry?”</p> +<p>“N—no.”</p> +<p>“You are sure that you did not meddle with +them?”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Then you are certain that they were closed when you +went down to dinner?”</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>“Does anyone remember how long it was between +Hal’s leaving the room and Bessie’s coming +up?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“You, Johnnie! How was that?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And what did you see, Johnnie?”</p> +<p>“First, I saw a wasp,” said Johnnie.</p> +<p>“Never mind the wasp. Did you see when Henry went +out?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Then nobody went into the room between Henry and +Bessie?”</p> +<p>“No; there wasn’t any time.”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>“Tell me what you have done with it!” repeated the +Captain.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Fivepence-farthing!” cried David. +“You thief, you!”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“Give him nine dozen, I hope!” answered David +through his small white teeth, all clenched together with +rage.</p> +<p>“For shame, Davie!” said Susan; “you should +not wish anything so dreadful for your brother.”</p> +<p>“He has been so wicked! I wish it! I +<i>will</i> wish it!” said David.</p> +<p>“Hush, David!” said Miss Fosbrook; “such +things must not be said. I will talk to you by and +by.”</p> +<p>“I am glad poor Bessie is cleared!” added Susan; +“though I always knew she could not have done +it.”</p> +<p>“To be sure—I knew it was Hal!”</p> +<p>“Sam! you did?—why didn’t you tell?” +cried Annie.</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Susan; “he would have done +that. He always fancied he should get a sovereign from +Colonel Carey.”</p> +<p>“He talked till he thought so,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Did you ask him?” said Susan.</p> +<p>“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 <i>at least</i>, till he doesn’t know what he +means. Nor I didn’t want to know much of +it.”</p> +<p>“Still I can’t think how you could let poor Bessie +live under such a cloud,” said Christabel.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Then is there no chance of the cadetship +now?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I never saw him more grieved,” said Mr. +Merrifield. “He was hardly more overcome when your +mother was at the worst.”</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, “And indeed they had all been so +very good before. The pig made them so.”</p> +<p>“A learned pig, I should think,” said her uncle, +laughing good-naturedly.</p> +<p>“We were obliged to take care,” said Susan, +“or we got so many fines.”</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>“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.</p> +<p>“It is the way with secondary motives,” was the +answer.</p> +<p>Here Captain Merrifield came back alone; and his brother was +the only person who ventured to say, “Well?”</p> +<p>“I have sent him to his room,” said the +Captain. “It is a very bad business, though of course +he made excuses to himself.”</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</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’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 <i>did</i> blow over!</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“I expected nothing else,” said the Captain +gravely. “What has become of Bessie?”</p> +<p>“She ran up-stairs. May I go and call her?” +said Susan.</p> +<p>“I will go myself,” 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. 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.”</p> +<p>“Not cross now, my little woman,” he said +smiling.</p> +<p>“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 <i>feel</i> cross, and +not <i>be</i> cross!”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“Tiresome! what do you mean?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Then you will behave discreetly, young +women?”</p> +<p>“I’ll try,” said Susan; “and Bessie +always does. Oh, thank you, Papa!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, Papa! thank you!” cried Susan, Sam, and +David, from their hearts; John and Annie because the others did +so.</p> +<p>“Then you won’t kick her out if she shares your +berth, Sue?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am so glad, Papa! It is so nice to go +together.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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’ 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.</p> +<p>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.</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>“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.”</p> +<p>“I know—I know; I only wish I could have done +better.”</p> +<p>“You have done wonders. My brother hardly knows +where he is—never saw those children so +mannerly.”</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook could not show how delighted she was.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“It has been a touchstone, indeed,” she +answered.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Those young Grevilles seem to me Hal’s bane and +temptation.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Exactly. I told him that was the very way he +learnt falsehood.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Captain Merrifield!”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Ask the girls.”</p> +<p>He leant back and shouted out the question, “Sue! do you +know whether Sam wishes to go to sea?”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing he ever wished so much,” +was the answer.</p> +<p>“Then why didn’t he say so?”</p> +<p>“Because he thought it would be no use,” screamed +Susan back.</p> +<p>“No use! why?”</p> +<p>“Because Hal says Admiral Penrose promised him. O +Papa! are you going to take Sam?”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! we can’t get on without him!” +sighed Elizabeth.</p> +<p>“Are you sure he would like it?” said her +father. “I thought he never cared to hear of the +sea.”</p> +<p>“He can’t bear to talk of it, because it makes him +so sorry,” said Susan.</p> +<p>“And,” cried Bessie, “he burnt his dear +little ship, the <i>Victory</i>, because he couldn’t bear +to look at it after you said <i>that</i>, Papa.”</p> +<p>“After I said what?”</p> +<p>“That he was not smart enough to learn the +ropes.”</p> +<p>“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.”</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’s superior +cleverness.</p> +<p>Miss Fosbrook ventured to say, “You may expect a great +deal of a boy who works on a pure principle of +obedience.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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!”</p> +<p>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.</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—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. 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.</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. Perhaps +this was by way of getting rid of this constant follower while he +asked his brother what he thought of the boys’ +attainments.</p> +<p>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—<i>at least</i>, Scipio—no, he meant +Sicyon.”</p> +<p>“Then you think neither could stand an examination for +the cadetship?”</p> +<p>“I could not be sure of Sam; but I am quite sure that +Hal could not.”</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. 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!</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Sam,” he said, “Admiral Penrose is kind +enough to offer me a berth in the <i>Ramilies</i> for one of +you. If you can pass the examination, should you wish to +avail yourself of the offer?”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Not if it is to punish Hal,” said Sam, with +another effort.</p> +<p>“That is not the question. Do you wish +it?”</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, +“Yes.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“O Papa!” cried Sam indignantly, “how can +you think that? Didn’t I always want to be like +you?”</p> +<p>“Then why can’t you say so?”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Put that out of your head, Sam; or if you don’t +fancy the sea, have it out at once.”</p> +<p>“O Papa! please listen. You know, though Miss +Fosbrook is very jolly, we couldn’t help getting nohow when +you were away, <i>us</i> two particularly.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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 +<i>would</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“But Papa, I—” began Sam.</p> +<p>“<i>I</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.”</p> +<p>“I had rather go to sea, if you please,” said +Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I’ll never do that, Papa,” said poor Sam, +unable to understand why his father should speak as though +scolding him.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I had rather go,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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. <i>She</i> +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Did I hit you!” said he. “I +couldn’t help trying it; it was such fun.”</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>“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.”</p> +<p>“I am so glad, Sam! I give you joy!” she +said, and took his hand to shake it heartily.</p> +<p>“I wish Hal could go too,” said Sam.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“It is such a tremendous punishment,” said Sam, +“when he would have put it back again.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“I know he knows best.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“Hallo! <i>al fresco</i> 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“A truce with your complements to-night,” shouted +the Captain; “come down, Sam; I must have a game at +hide-and-seek!”</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—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.</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>“Eggs, butter, cheese, bread,<br /> +Sticks, stocks, stones, dead.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“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 <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. 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’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.</p> +<p>“I’ll have Papa!” he said, as she captured +him. “I know of such a cunning place.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</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. A shriek made him look round; little David stood +sobbing and crying piteously.</p> +<p>“Davie! what, Davie! What is it, my man? +Where are you hurt!”</p> +<p>“No, no! I’m not hurt! Catch Hal, +Papa.”</p> +<p>“No, David. I do not play with boys that act like +Henry.”</p> +<p>“Speak to him, Papa; oh, speak!”</p> +<p>“I shall, before I go,” said the Captain +gravely.</p> +<p>“Now, now! Papa. Oh, do! I did want +him to be punished, but not like this.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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!</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“There, hold your tongue,” said Hal, cutting him +short with the desired kiss, “if you hadn’t told, +someone else would.”</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. +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!</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 “<i>at least</i>” and +“<i>couldn’t help</i>” 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.</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’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?”</p> +<p>Henry leant against the baluster and sobbed, not knowing what +else to do.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Hal threw himself almost double over the rail, and something +was heard about “sorry,” and “never.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“O Papa! I’ll never do such a thing +again!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Oh no, no!”</p> +<p>“Go back to the beginning. See how you came to +this.”</p> +<p>As he waited for an answer, Hal mumbled out after some time, +“You said we need not go to church on a +week-day.”</p> +<p>“Well, what of that?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t go in case the telegraph should +come.”</p> +<p>“There are different ways of thinking,” said his +father. “Church was the only place where I +<i>could</i> have gone that St. Barnabas’ Day.”</p> +<p>“I would have gone,” said the self-contradictory +Henry, “only the Grevilles are always at one for being like +a girl.”</p> +<p>“Ha! now we see daylight!” said the Captain.</p> +<p>“‘The Grevilles are at +one,’—that’s more like getting to the bottom of +it.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Papa; when I am away from them, you will +see—”</p> +<p>“No, Hal, I shall not see, I shall hear.”</p> +<p>“Shall not I sail with you, then, Papa?”</p> +<p>“You will not sail at all: I thought you knew +that.”</p> +<p>“I thought the Admiral must have given you two +appointments,” said Hal timidly.</p> +<p>“He gave me <i>one</i>, for one of my sons. The +first choice is Sam’s right, even if he had not deserved it +by his brave patient obedience.”</p> +<p>Hal hung his head; then said, “But, Papa, if Sam broke +down in his examination, please mightn’t +I—”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Oh, but, Papa! Papa! Away from the +Grevilles, and not under only a governess—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“O Papa! don’t,” sobbed Henry.</p> +<p>“I can’t help it, Hal! You have shown +yourself unfit either for the sea or for home. What can I +do with you?”</p> +<p>“Try me—only try me, Papa. I +would—”</p> +<p>“I cannot go by what you say you would be, but what you +are. Deeds, not words.”</p> +<p>“But if you won’t let me go into the navy, only +let me be in real school.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>Henry cried as though beyond consolation.</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Dear Christabel, I am so sorry. I never cared +about it before!”</p> +<p>“About what, my dear?”</p> +<p>“What Papa said about when he was in the Black +Sea. I never knew Mamma cared so much.”</p> +<p>“I dare say not, my dear; you were much younger +then.”</p> +<p>“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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“To think we should have said she was cross!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Grown-up people are sometimes cross, aren’t +they?” said Bessie. “Nurse is; and I heard Papa +say Aunt Alice was.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“And I am older now, and can understand,” said +Bessie; “but then, it is Susie that is right hand, and does +everything.”</p> +<p>“There’s plenty in your own line, +Bessie—plenty of little kindly services that are very +cheering; and above all—”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Fretful to-morrow!”</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. 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. 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.</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! 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.</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. 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. 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!”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“Ten shillings! Oh, Davie!” cried Johnnie, +“I wish it was to me!”</p> +<p>“It just makes up for what Hal took, and more +too,” said Annie. “Where can it come from, +Davie?”</p> +<p>“From the Queen,” said Davie composedly; +“the Queen always does justice.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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>“Will you have it in gold or silver, Sir?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“In gold, please,” said David.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“Miss Fosbrook,” whispered David, “may I +give back the knife? then I could buy it.”</p> +<p>“You have bought and paid for it,” said +Christabel.</p> +<p>“Somebody else will buy the box,” 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>“Come away now, my dear,” she said +decidedly. “No, another time, thank you.”</p> +<p>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?</p> +<p>“Dear Davie, I am very sorry,” said Christabel +when they were in the street.</p> +<p>“That nasty knife!” cried David.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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—”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“This is my very own,” said David; “it was +sent to me—myself—me.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“Then they should not have sent it without +saying,” 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, “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.”</p> +<p>“And if it is all for myself, I may have the +tools!” cried David.</p> +<p>“You shall have them, if you really think it is right, +when Monday week comes.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Ideas</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.’</p> +<p>“Oh, but—” began Annie, and there she came +to a sudden stop.</p> +<p>“Is he likely soon to be a carter boy?” asked Miss +Fosbrook.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“O Davie!” cried Annie, as soon as they were +outside the gate, “sha’n’t we get the pig for +Hannah?”</p> +<p>“It is my money, not yours; I shall do what I please +with it,” 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. 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 “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 <i>Ramilies</i>, 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.)</p> +<p>“Oh, how delightful! I wish I had a big gun in my +room!” cried Johnnie.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“But,” said Miss Fosbrook, “do you think it +is quite honourable to try to read what Bessie did not mean us to +see?”</p> +<p>They did not quite enter into this, but they left off +trying.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</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>“What’s the matter, David?”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>“I went with Purday.”</p> +<p>“What, to milk the cows?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And then?”</p> +<p>“I went with him to Farmer Long’s, to see his +little Chinese pigs.”</p> +<p>“And you have bought one! O Davie!”</p> +<p>“Purday is to ask the farmer about the price to-morrow +morning, because he wasn’t at home.”</p> +<p>“Then you won’t get the carpenter’s +tools?” said Annie.</p> +<p>“No,” said David; “Purday said tools that +they make for little boys never will cut.”</p> +<p>“So you told Purday all about it?”</p> +<p>David nodded his head.</p> +<p>“Oh, do tell me what Purday said!” continued +Annie.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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!</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. 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. 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’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.</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’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!”</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—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!</p> +<p>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.</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 “May I +tell, Bessie!”</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKESLEY SECRET***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3411-h.htm or 3411-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/1/3411 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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