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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39554-8.txt b/39554-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57bccf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/39554-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5260 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The House That Grew, by Mrs. Molesworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: The House That Grew + +Author: Mrs. Molesworth + +Illustrator: Alice B. Woodward + +Release Date: April 28, 2012 [EBook #39554] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE THAT GREW *** + + + + +Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +THE +HOUSE +THAT +GREW + +MRS +MOLESWORTH + + + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW + + + + +[Illustration: ROLF CAREFULLY DEPOSITED THE LITTLE CREATURE.--p. 175.] + + + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW + +BY +MRS. MOLESWORTH + +AUTHOR OF 'CARROTS,' 'CUCKOO CLOCK,' ETC. + +[Illustration] + +ILLUSTRATED BY ALICE B. WOODWARD. + +LONDON +MACMILLAN AND CO LIMITED +NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +1900 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + I. 'IT'S DREADFUL, ISN'T IT?' 1 + II. 'MUFFINS, FOR ONE THING, I HOPE' 18 + III. 'IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, IDA' 35 + IV. 'GEORDIE STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS CAP' 52 + V. 'WHAT _CAN_ SHE MEAN?' 69 + VI. 'YOU DO UNDERSTAND SO WELL, MAMMA' 86 + VII. 'NO,' SAID MAMMA, 'THAT ISN'T ALL' 103 + VIII. 'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL' 120 + IX. 'THE KIND SEA, TOO, AUNTIE DEAR' 138 + X. 'IT'S ANOTHER SNAIL' 155 + XI. 'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF 172 + XII. 'WELL--ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!' 189 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + ROLF CAREFULLY DEPOSITED THE LITTLE CREATURE _Front._ (_p._ 175) + WE WERE WALKING ON SLOWLY _To face page_ 11 + NO--THERE WAS NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO LIE STILL 39 + ORDERING DENZIL ABOUT AS USUAL 73 + WE WERE OUT ON THE TERRACE, AND MRS. TREVOR COMING TO MEET US 101 + 'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID 131 + SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POOR LITTLE BODY 187 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +'IT'S DREADFUL, ISN'T IT?' + + +Mamma sat quite quietly in her favourite corner, on the sofa in the +drawing-room, all the time papa was speaking. I think, or I thought +afterwards, that she was crying a little, though that isn't her way at +all. Dods didn't think so, for I asked him, when we were by ourselves. +She did not speak any way, except just to whisper to me when I ran up to +kiss her before we went out, 'We will have a good talk about it all +afterwards, darling. Run out now with Geordie.' + +I was very glad to get out of the room, I was so dreadfully afraid of +beginning to cry myself. I didn't know which I was the sorriest +for--papa or mamma--mamma, I think, though I don't know, either! Papa +tried to be so cheerful about it; it was almost worse than if he had +spoken very sadly. It reminded me of Dods when he was a very little boy +and broke his arm, and when they let me peep into the room just after +the doctor had set it, he smiled and whistled to make out it didn't hurt +much, though he was as white as white. Poor old Doddie! And poor papa! + +'It'll be worse for us and for mamma than for papa, won't it, Dods?' I +said, as soon as we were outside and quite out of hearing. 'They always +say that it's the worst for those that are left behind--the going-away +ones have the change and bustle, you see.' + +'How can I tell?' said Dods; 'you ask such stupid things, Ida. It's +about as bad as it can be for everybody, and I don't see that it makes +it any better to go on counting which it's the worst for.' + +He gave himself a sort of wriggle, and began switching the hedge with +the little cane he was carrying; by that and the gruff tone of his +voice, I could tell he was feeling very bad, so I didn't mind his being +rather cross, and we walked on for a minute or two without speaking. + +Then suddenly Dods--I call him Dods, but his real name is George, and +mamma calls him Geordie--stopped short. + +'Where are you going, Ida?' he said. 'I hear those children hallooing +over there in the little planting. They'll be down upon us in another +moment, tiresome things, if we don't get out of the way, and I certainly +don't want them just now.' + +I didn't either, though I'm very fond of them. But they're _so_ much +younger, only seven and eight then, and Dods and I were thirteen and +fourteen. And we have always gone in pairs. Dods and I, and Denzil and +Esmé. Besides, of course, the poor little things were not to be told +just yet of the strange troubles and sorrows that had come, or were +coming, to us. + +So I agreed with Dods that we had better get out of the way. + +'Esmé is so quick,' I said; 'she'd very likely see there was something +the matter, and papa did so warn us not to let them know.' + +'Humph,' said Dods. 'I don't think we need worry about _them_. Denzil is +as dense as a hedgehog, and as comfortable as a fat dormouse. _He'd_ +never worry as long as he has plenty to eat and a jolly warm bed to +sleep in. And Esmé's just a----' + +'A what?' I said, rather vexed, for Esmé _is_ a sweet. She's not fat or +lazy, and I don't think Denzil is--not extra, for such a little boy. + +'She's just a sort of a butterfly,' said Geordie. '_She'd_ never mind +anything for long. She'd just settle down for half a moment and then fly +up again as merry as a sandboy.' + +I could not help bursting out laughing. It was partly, I daresay, that I +felt as if I must either laugh or cry. But Dods did mix up +his--'similes,' I think, is the right word--so funnily! Hedgehogs and +dormice and butterflies and sandboys, all in a breath. + +'I don't see what there is to laugh at,' said Geordie, very grumpily +again, though he had been getting a little brighter. + +'No more do I, I'm sure,' I replied, sadly enough, and then, I think, +Dods felt sorry. + +'Where shall we go?' he said gently. + +'Wherever you like--to the hut, I think. It is always nice there, and we +can lock ourselves in if we hear the children coming,' I answered. + +The hut, as we called it, was our very most favourite place. It was much +more than you would fancy from the name, as you will hear before long. +But we did not wait to go on talking, till we got there. The children's +voices did not come any nearer, but died away in the distance, so we +walked on quietly, without hurrying. + +'Ida,' said Geordie after a bit, 'it's dreadful, isn't it?' + +'Yes,' I agreed; 'I think it is.' + +The 'it' was the news poor papa had been telling us. We were not quite +like most other children, I think, in some ways. I think we--that is, +Dods and I--were rather more thoughtful, though that sounds like +praising ourselves, which I am sure I don't mean. But papa and mamma had +always had us a good deal with them and treated us almost like +companions, and up to now, though he was getting on for thirteen, Dods +had never been away at school, only going to Kirke, the little town near +us, for some lessons with the vicar, and doing some with me and our +governess, who came over from Kirke every day. So papa had told us what +had to be told, almost as if we were grown-up people. + +We did not understand it quite exactly, for it had to do with business +things, which generally mean 'money' things, it seems to me, and which, +even now, though I am sixteen past, I don't perfectly understand. And I +daresay I shall not explain it all as well as a quite grown-up person +would. But I don't think that will matter. This story is just a real +account of something rather out of the common, and I am writing it +partly as a kind of practice, for I do hope I shall be able to write +stories in books some day, and partly because I think it is interesting +even if it never gets into a book, and I should like Denzil and Esmé to +read it all over, for fear of their forgetting about it. + +I must first tell what the news was that we had just heard. Poor papa +had lost a lot of money! + +We were not very rich, but we had had quite enough, and our home +was--and _is_, I am thankful to say--the sweetest, nicest home in the +world. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers back to papa's +great-great ones have always lived here and seen to everything +themselves, which makes a home nicer than anything else. But a good deal +of _papa's_ money came from property a long, long way off--somewhere in +the West Indies. It had been left to _his_ father by his godmother, and +ever since I was quite little I remember hearing papa say what a good +thing it was to have some money besides what came from our own property +at home. For, as everybody knows, land in England--especially, I think, +in our part of it--does not give half as much as it used to, from rents +and those sorts of things. + +And we got into the way--I mean by 'we,' papa and mamma, and grandpapa, +no doubt, in his time--of thinking of the West Indian money as something +quite safe and certain, that could not ever 'go down' like other things. + +But there came a day, not very long before the one I am writing about, +which brought sudden and very bad news. Things had gone wrong, +dreadfully wrong out at that place--Saint Silvio's--and it was quite +possible that _all_ our money from there would stop for good. The horrid +part of it was, that it all came from somebody's wrongdoing--not from +earthquakes or hurricanes or outside troubles of that kind--but from +real dishonesty on the part of the agents papa had trusted. There was +nothing for it but for poor papa himself to go out there, for a year at +least, perhaps for two years, to find out everything and see what could +be done. + +There was a _possibility_, papa said, of things coming right, or partly +right again, once he was there and able to go into it all himself. But +to do this it was necessary that he should start as soon as could be +managed; and with the great doubt of our _ever_ being at all well off +again, it was also necessary that mamma and we four should be very, very +careful about expenses at home, and just spend as little as we could. + +A piece of good fortune had happened in the middle of all this; at least +_papa_ called it good fortune, though I am afraid George and I did not +feel as if it was good at all! Papa had had an offer from some people to +take our house--our own dear Eastercove--for a year, or perhaps more. We +had often been asked to let it, for it is so beautifully placed--close +to the sea, and yet with lovely woods and grounds all round it, which is +very uncommon at the sea-side. Our pine woods are almost famous, and +there are nooks and dells and glens and cliffs that I could not describe +if I tried ever so hard, so deliciously pretty and picturesque are they. + +But till now we had never dreamt of letting it. Indeed, we used to feel +quite angry, which was rather silly, I daresay, if ever we heard of any +offer being made for it. And now the offer that had come was a very good +one; it was not only more money than had ever been proposed before, but +it came from very nice sort of people, whom the agent knew were quite +to be trusted in every way. + +'They will take good care of the house and of all our things,' said +papa, 'and keep on any of the servants who like to stay.' + +'Shall we not have _any_ servants then?' Dods had asked. 'Do you mean +that mamma--mamma and Ida and the little ones--I don't mind for myself, +I'm a boy; I'll go to sea as a common sailor if it would be any +good--but do you mean, that we shall be like _really_ poor people?' And +here there came a choke in his voice that made me feel as if I could +_scarcely_ keep from crying. For I knew what he was thinking of--the +idea of mamma, our pretty mamma, with her merry laugh and nice dresses, +and soft, white hands, having to work and even scrub perhaps, and to +give up all the things and ways she was used to--it was too dreadful! + +Papa looked sorry and went on again quietly-- + +'No, no, my boy,' he said; 'don't exaggerate it. Of course mamma and you +all must have every comfort possible. One servant, anyway--Hoskins is +sure to stay, and a younger one as well, I _hope_. And there must be no +thought of your going to sea, George, or going anywhere, till I come +back again. I look to you to take care of them all--that is why I am +explaining more to you and Ida than many people would to such young +ones. But I know you are both very sensible for your age. You see, we +are sure of the new rent, thanks to this Mr. Trevor's offer--and even +_that_ would prevent us from being in a desperate position. And, of +course, the usual money will go on coming in from the property, though +the most of it must go in keeping things in order, in case----' but here +papa broke off. + +'I know what you were going to say, papa,' said poor Dods, growing +scarlet; he was certainly very quick-witted,--"in case we have to sell +Eastercove!" Oh, papa! anything but that! I'll work--I'll do _anything_ +to make money, so long as we don't have to do that. Our old, old home!' + +He could not say any more, and turned away his head. + +'It has not come to that yet, my boy,' said papa, after a moment or +two's silence. 'Let us keep up heart in the meantime, and hope for the +best.' + +Then he went on to tell us some of the plans he and mamma had already +begun to make--about our going to live in some little house at Kirke, +where we should not feel so strange as farther away, though there were +objections to this too,--anything at all _nice_ in the shape of even a +tiny house there would be dear, as the neighbourhood was much sought +after by visitors in winter as well as in summer. For it was considered +so very healthy for delicate people; the air was always clear and dry, +and the scent of the pine woods so strengthening. Papa, however, was +doing his best; he and mamma were going there that very afternoon, 'To +spy the land,' papa said, trying to speak cheerily. + +So now I come back to where I began my explanation as to what the 'it' +was, that Geordie and I agreed was so dreadful. + +[Illustration: WE WERE WALKING ON SLOWLY.] + +We were walking on slowly to the hut, and just as I had replied, 'I +think it is,' we came in sight of it, and something--I don't know +what--made us both stop and look at this favourite spot of ours. It was +so pretty to-day--perhaps that was it. A sudden clearing brought us out +of the wood, through which we had been following a well-worn, narrow +path, and the bright, soft light of the early afternoon--of an April +afternoon--was falling on the quaint little place. It was more like two +or three huts than one, and indeed it really did consist of three or +four rooms, which we children had been allowed to consider our own +quarters, and to decorate and improve according to our fancy and taste. +To begin with, it had been a bathing-house, of two rooms, partly of +stone, partly of wood, standing on a little plateau, just at the edge of +the pine trees, and well above the sea, so that even in stormy weather +the water could not possibly reach it; besides which, I must say that +stormy weather in the shape of high tides or great waves never did show +itself in this cove. Often and often we had sat there, listening to the +boom and crash at the foot of the cliffs, round at the other side, as +snug and peaceful as if we had been miles inland. + +And the sands that sloped down from our hut were just perfection, both +as to prettiness and niceness for bathing. They shone to-day like gold +and silver mixed in the sunshine; and the hut itself, though queerly +shaped, looked pretty too. We had managed, in spite of the sandy soil, +to get some hardy creepers to grow over it on the inland side, and we +had sunk some old tubs filled with good soil in front of the porch--for +there was a porch--in which flourished some nice, bushy evergreens, and +there was even a tiny terrace with long flower-boxes, where, for six +months of the year at least, geraniums and fuchsias, and for part of +the time, nice, big, white and yellow and straw-coloured daisies seemed +quite at home. It was a _lovely_ place for children to have of their +own; and the year before, papa had added two other rooms to it, for our +photographing--_iron_ rooms, these were, and not at all ugly, though +that would not have mattered much, as they were at the back, beside the +little kitchen, where we were allowed to cook our luncheons and teas +when we were spending a whole day on the shore. + +'Dods!' I exclaimed, as we stood there in silence, admiring our mansion, +'we must see about the flowers for the long boxes. It's getting quite +time, for Bush has settled all about the bedding-out plants--he told me +so yesterday--so he'll be able to tell us what he has to spare.' + +I spoke in utter forgetfulness--but it only lasted a moment--only, that +is to say, till I caught the expression of Geordie's mournful blue +eyes--he _can_ make them look so mournful when he likes--fixed upon me +in silent reproach. + +'Ida,' he said at last, 'what are you thinking of? _What's the use?_' + +'Oh, Dods! oh, dear, dear Doddie!' I cried--I don't think I quite knew +what I was saying,--'forgive me. Oh, how silly and unfeeling I seem! +_Oh_, Doddie!' + +And then--I am not now ashamed to tell it, for I really had been keeping +it in at the cost of a good deal of forcing myself--I just left off +trying to be brave or self-controlled or anything, and burst out +crying--regular loud crying. I am afraid I almost howled. + +George looked at me once more, then for a minute or so he turned away. I +am not sure if he was crying, anyway he wasn't _howling_. But in an +instant or two, while I was rubbing at my eyes with my handkerchief, and +feeling rather, or very ashamed, I felt something come round my neck, +crushing it up so tightly that I was almost choked, and then Doddie's +voice in my ear, very gruff, very gruff indeed of course, saying-- + +'Poor Ida, poor old Ida! I know it's quite as bad or worse for you. For +a _man_ can always go out into the world and fight his way, and have +some fun however hard he works.' + +'That wouldn't make it any better for _me_, Dods,' I said--we both +forgot, I think, that he was a good way off being a man just +yet,--'you're my only comfort. I don't mean that mamma isn't one, of +course; but it's our business now to cheer her up. Papa said so ever so +many times. I don't really know, though, how I _could_ have cheered her +up, or even tried to, if you had been away at school already!' + +Poor George's face darkened at this. It was rather an unlucky speech. He +had thought of things already that had never come into my head. One was +that it seemed unlikely enough now that papa would ever be able to send +him to school at all--I mean, of course, to the big public school, for +which his name had been down for ever so long, and on which, like all +English boys, his heart was set. For he knew how expensive all public +schools are. + +'Don't talk of school, Ida,' he said huskily. 'Luckily it's a good year +off still,' for it had never been intended that he should go till he was +fourteen; 'and,' with a deep sigh, 'we must keep on hoping, I suppose.' + +'Yes, and working,' I added. 'Whatever happens, Dods, you must work +well, and I'll do my best to help you. Mightn't you perhaps gain a +scholarship, or whatever you call them, that would make school cost +less?' + +This remark was as lucky as the other had been unfortunate. Dods +brightened up at once. + +'By Jove,' he said, 'what a good idea! I never thought of it. I'll tell +you what, Ida; I'll ask Mr. Lloyd about it the very first time I see +him--that'll be the day after to-morrow, as to-morrow's Sunday.' + +Mr. Lloyd was the vicar of Kirke. + +I felt quite proud of having thought of something to cheer Geordie up, +and my tears stopped, and by the time we had got to the hut, we were +both in much better spirits. + +'It is to be hoped,' I said, 'that papa and mamma _will_ find some kind +of a house at Kirke, however poky. For you would be very sorry not to go +on with Mr. Lloyd--wouldn't you, Dods?' + +'Of course I should,' he replied heartily. 'He's very kind and very +strict. And if I mean to work harder than ever before, as I do now, +since you put that jolly idea into my head, it's a good thing he _is_ +strict.' + +When we got to the hut and unlocked the door, we found a good deal to +do. For on Saturdays we generally--we _meant_ to do it regularly, but I +am afraid we sometimes forgot--had a sort of cleaning and tidying up. +Photographing is very nice and interesting of course, and so is cooking, +but they are rather messy! And when you've been doing one or the other +nearly all day, it's rather disgusting to have to begin washing up +greasy dishes, and chemicalised rags and glasses, and pots and pans, and +all the rest of it. I don't mean that we ever cleaned up the +photographing things with the kitchen things; we weren't so silly, as, +of course, we should not only have spoilt our instruments, but run a +good risk of poisoning ourselves too. But the whole lot needed cleaning, +and I don't know which were the tiresomest. + +And the last day we had spent at the hut, we had only half-tidied up, we +had got _so_ tired. So there were all the things about, as if they'd +been having a dance in the night, like Hans Andersen's toys, and had +forgotten to put themselves to bed after it. + +Dods and I looked at each other rather grimly. + +'It's got to be done,' I said. 'It's a shame to see the place so bright +and sunny outside and so _dreadfully_ messy indoors.' + +'Yes,' said Dods, 'it is. So fire away, Ida. After all----' but he +didn't finish his sentence and didn't need to. I knew what he +meant--that quite possibly it was the very last time we'd need to have a +good cleaning up in the dear old hut. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +'MUFFINS, FOR ONE THING, I HOPE' + + +The first thing we had to do was really to 'fire away.' That is to say, +to light a fire, for of course nothing in the way of washing up or +cleaning can be done without hot water, and you cannot get hot water +without fire of some kind. But that part of our work we did not dislike +at all. We had grown quite clever at making fires and getting them to +burn up quickly in the little stove, and we had always, or nearly +always, a nice store of beautifully dry wood that we picked up +ourselves. And though the hut was so near the sea, it was wonderfully +dry. We could leave things there for weeks, without their becoming musty +or mouldy. + +And as the fire crackled up brightly, and after a bit we got the kettle +on and it began to sing, our spirits began to rise again a little, to +keep it company. + +'After all,' I said, 'there really is a good strong _likelihood_ that +things won't turn out so badly. Papa is very clever, and once he is out +there himself, he will find out everything, and perhaps get them put +straight once for all. It wouldn't so much matter our having less money +than we have had till now, if all the muddle and cheating was cleared +up.' + +'No, it wouldn't,' Geordie agreed, 'and of course it's best to be +hopeful. So long as there's no talk of our selling Eastercove, Ida, I +don't feel as if I minded anything.' + +'And the great thing is to cheer up poor mamma while papa's away,' I +said, 'and not to seem dull or miserable at having to live differently +and go without things we've always been used to have. I don't think I +shall mind that part of it so _very_ much, Dods--shall you?' + +Dods sighed. + +'I don't know; I hope not for myself--of course what matters to _me_ is +the perhaps not going to a big school. But you have cheered me up about +that, Ida. I shall hate you and mamma not having a carriage and nice +servants and all that, though we must go on hoping it will only be for a +bit.' + +'And I _do_ hope we can stay on near here,' I said, 'so that at least we +can feel that home is close-to. I would rather have ever so little a +house at Kirke than a much better one farther off--except that, well, I +must say I shouldn't like it to be one of those dreadfully +stuffy-looking little ones in rows in a street!' + +'I'm afraid that's just what it is likely to be,' said Dods. 'It will be +pretty horrid; there's no use trying to pretend it won't be. But, Ida, +we're not working at all. We must get on, for papa and mamma will like +to find us at home when they come in.' + +'Especially as to-morrow's Sunday,' I added; 'and very likely, if it's +as fine as to-day, we may all come down here to tea in the afternoon,' +for that was a favourite habit of ours. We children used to consider +that we were the hosts on these occasions, and papa and mamma our +visitors. + +So we set to work with a will, without grumbling at the rather big +collection of things there were to wash up, and the amount of sweeping +and brushing to do. To begin with, we knew we had ourselves to thank for +it, as we had left things in a very untidy way the last day we had spent +at the hut. Then too, even though only an hour or so had passed since we +had heard the bad news, I think we had suddenly grown older. I have +never felt thoroughly a child again since that morning. For the first +time it seemed to come really home to me that life has a serious side to +it, and I think--indeed I know--that George felt the same. I don't mean +that we were made sad or unhappy, for I don't count that we had ever +been very thoughtless children, but we both began to feel that there +were certain things we could do, and should do, that no one else could +do as well. + +I think it must be what people call the sense of 'responsibility,' and +in some ways it is rather a nice feeling. It makes one feel stronger and +braver, and yet more humble too, though that sounds contradictory, for +there comes with it a great anxiety to prove worthy of the trust placed +in one to do one's best. + +And just now it was very specially a case of being trusted. Papa said he +would go away happier, or at least less unhappy, for knowing that he +left two 'big' children to take care of mamma, and though I cannot quite +explain how, the feeling left by his words had begun to influence us +already. We even were extra anxious to do our tidying very well and +quickly, as we knew it would please mamma to see we were keeping the +promises we had made when she first persuaded papa to let us have the +hut for our own, and got it all made nice for us. + +And by four o'clock or so it did look very nice--I never saw it neater, +and we felt we might rest for a few minutes. + +We had put everything ready for Sunday afternoon's tea-party--everything +that could be ready, I mean. The cups and saucers and fat brown tea-pot +were arranged on the round table of the room we counted our parlour; it +was in front of the kitchen, looking towards the sea, and here we did +the unmessy part of the photographing, and kept any little ornaments or +pictures we had. Of the other two rooms one was the 'chemical room,' as +we called it, and in a cupboard out of it we hung up our +bathing-clothes, and the _fourth_ room, which had originally been the +front bathing-house, so to say, or dressing-room, was now a bedroom, all +except the bed. That does sound very 'Irish,' does it not? But what I +mean is that it was furnished simply as a bedroom usually is--only that +there was no bed. + +We had often begged to be allowed to spend a night in the hut, for there +was an old sofa that Geordie could have slept on quite comfortably in +the parlour, or even in the kitchen, and we had saved pocket-money +enough to buy a camp bedstead, for which mamma had two or three +mattresses and pillows and things like that among the spare ones up in +the long garret. But so far we had never got leave to carry our +picnicking quite so far. Papa would not have minded, for of all things +he wanted us to be 'plucky,' and did not even object to my being +something of a tomboy; but mamma said she would certainly not sleep all +night if she knew we were alone in the hut, and perhaps frightened, or +ill, or something wrong with us. + +So _that_ plan had been put a stop to. + +'I wonder what Hoskins will give us in the shape of cakes for +to-morrow,' I said. 'There is enough tea and sugar for two or three more +afternoons'--'more than we shall want,' I added to myself with an inside +sigh. + +Hoskins was a sort of half-nurse, half-housekeeper person. She had not +been with us _very_ long, only since Esmé was born--but she really was +very good and dear, and I know she cared for us in a particular way, for +her father had been gardener for ages, though ages ago now, as she +herself was pretty old, at Eastercove. And she wasn't cross, like so +many old servants both in books and real life--rather the other +way--too "spoiling" of us. She had only one fault. She was a little +deaf. + +'Muffins, for one thing, I hope,' said Dods. 'They don't leave off +making them till May, and it isn't May yet.' + +There was a baker in the village--I think I have forgotten to say that +there was a very tiny village called Eastercove, close to our gates--who +was famed for his muffins. + +'Humph,' I said. 'I don't very much care about them. They are such a +bother with toasting and buttering. I think bread and butter--thin and +rolled--is quite as good, and some nice cakes and a big one of that kind +of gingerbread that you hardly taste the ginger in, and that's like +toffee at the top.' + +I was beginning to feel hungry, for we had not eaten much luncheon, +which was our early dinner, and I think that made me talk rather +greedily. + +'You are a regular epicure about cakes,' said Dods. + +I did not like his calling me that, and I felt my face get red, and I +was just going to answer him crossly when I remembered about our great +trouble, and thought immediately to myself how silly it would be to +squabble about tiny things in a babyish way now. So I answered quietly-- + +'Well, you see, it is only polite to think of what other people like, if +you invite them to tea, and I know papa likes that kind of gingerbread. +He ate such a big piece one day that mamma called him a greedy boy.' + +Geordie did not say anything, but I always know when he is sorry for +teasing me, and I could see that he was just now. + +Then we locked up and set off home again. As we came out of the pine +woods and in sight of the drive we saw the pony carriage, and we ran on, +so as to be at the front door when papa and mamma got there. + +They smiled at us very kindly, and papa said in what he meant to be a +cheery voice-- + +'Well, young people, what have you been about? Run in, Ida, and hurry up +tea. Mamma is tired.' + +Yes, poor mamma did look dreadfully tired, and through the outside +cheeriness of papa's words and manner I could see that he was feeling +very sad and dull. + +I hurried in, and we were soon all at tea in the pretty drawing-room. +George and I did not always have tea downstairs, but to-day somehow +there seemed no question of our not doing so. I waited till mamma had +had some tea and was looking a little less white and done up, and then I +said half-frightenedly-- + +'Did you see any nice little house at Kirke?' though in my heart I felt +sure they hadn't, or they would not have come back, looking so +disappointed. + +Mamma shook her head. + +'I am afraid, dearie,' she began, but papa interrupted her-- + +'No,' he said decidedly, 'we saw nothing the least possible to call +"nice," except one or two places far and away too dear. And of course we +knew already that there are plenty of nice houses to be got, if expense +had not to be considered so closely. There is no good beating about the +bush with George and Ida,' he went on, turning to mamma. 'Now that we +have so thoroughly taken them into our confidence it is best to tell +them everything. And the truth is,' he continued, leaning back in his +chair with a rather rueful smile, 'I am really feeling almost in +despair. I am afraid we shall have to give up the idea of staying at +Kirke.' + +'Yet there are so many advantages about it,' said mamma quickly. 'And +there is, after all, that tiny house in the Western Road.' + +'Horrid poky little hole,' said papa. 'I cannot bear to think of you in +it. I would almost rather you went about in a caravan like the gypsies +we passed on the road.' + +'Yes,' I agreed, '_I_ wouldn't mind that at all--not in summer, at +least.' + +'Ah, but unluckily, my dear child, "it is not always May,"' he replied, +though I was pleased to see he held out his cup for some more tea (I +have found out that things do seem much worse when one is tired or +hungry!) and that his voice sounded more like itself. + +'And it isn't always winter either,' said mamma cheerfully. 'Let us be +as happy as we can while we are together, and enjoy this nice spring +weather. I _am_ glad, if sad things had to happen, that they did not +come to us in November or December. Perhaps Mr. Lloyd will find some +nicer house for us.' + +'Does he know about--about our having to leave Eastercove?' I asked. + +Mamma nodded. + +'Yes,' she replied. 'We stopped there on our way back, and papa went in +and told him.' + +I felt glad of that. It would prepare him for Dods's anxiety about a +scholarship. + +'By the bye,' mamma continued, 'how fast they are getting on with the +new parish room! I was looking at it while I was waiting for you, Jack' +(that's papa), 'and it seems really finished. Are they not beginning to +take away the iron room already?' + +'Lloyd says it is to be sold here, or returned to the makers for what +they will give, next week,' papa replied. 'It has served its purpose +very well indeed these two or three years. If----' + +'If what?' said mamma. + +Poor papa shrugged his shoulders. + +'Oh, it's no good thinking of it now,' he answered. 'I was only going to +say--forgetting--that if Geordie and Ida liked I might buy it and add it +on to the hut. It would make into two capital little bedrooms for very +little cost, and Lloyd happened to say to-day that the makers would +rather sell it for less where it stands than have the expense of taking +it back to London. They keep improving these things; it is probably +considered old-fashioned already.' + +Geordie and I looked at each other. How lovely it would have been! Just +what we had always longed for--to be allowed really to _live_ at the +hut now and then. And with two more rooms we could have had Hoskins +with us, and then mamma wouldn't have been nervous about it. But as papa +said, there was no use in thinking about it _now_. + +'Will the people who are coming to live here have the hut too?' I asked. + +Papa did not seem to pay much attention to what I said. He was thinking +deeply, and almost started as I turned to him with the question. + +'I do not know,' he replied. 'It has not been alluded to.' + +'I hope not,' said mamma. 'If we stay at Kirke, as I still trust we may, +it would be nice to come up there to spend an afternoon now and then. It +is so far from the house that we would not seem like intruders. Though, +of course, once they see how nice it is, they may want to have it as a +bathing-box.' + +'That's not very likely,' said papa. 'They seem elderly people, and the +son is a great sufferer from rheumatism. That is why they have taken +such a fancy to this place--the scent of pine woods and the air about +them are considered so good for illnesses of that kind. And sea-air +suits him too, and they think it a wonderful chance to have all this as +well as a dry climate and fairly mild winters. Yes--we who live here +_are_ uncommonly lucky.' + +He strolled to the window as he spoke and stood looking out without +speaking. Then he turned again. + +'I'll remember about the hut,' he said. 'I don't fancy these good people +would be likely to be fussy or ill-natured or to think you intruding. +Their letters are so well-bred and considerate.' + +We felt glad to hear that. + +'Mamma,' I said, 'we have made the hut so nice and tidy for +to-morrow--Sunday, you know. You and papa will come and have tea there, +won't you? It will be the first time this year' (and 'the last perhaps' +seemed whispered into my mind, though I did not utter the words), for +the spring-coming had been uncertain and we had all had colds. + +Mamma looked at papa. + +'Yes,' he said; 'certainly we will. And the little ones too, Ida?' + +'Of course,' I said, and then I went off to talk about cakes--and +muffins if possible, to please Dods--to Hoskins, the result of the +interview proving very satisfactory. + +When I came back to the drawing-room the little ones were +there--Denzil, solemn as usual; Esmé hopping and skipping about and +chattering thirteen to the dozen, as usual, too! She is three or four +years older now, and beginning to 'sober down,' as they say, so I hope +if she ever reads this, which certainly will not be for three or four or +more years from now, she will have gone on sobering down, enough to +understand what a 'flibbertigibbet' (that is a word of Hoskins's which I +think very expressive) she was, and not to be hurt at my description of +her. For I do love her dearly, and I always have loved her dearly, and I +should be sorry for her ever to lose her good spirits, though it is +already a comfort that she _sometimes_ sits still now, and listens to +what is said to her. + +All the same, that part of our lives which I am writing this story +about, would have been much duller and harder but for our butterfly's +funny, merry ways. + +This afternoon she was especially laughing and mischievous, and it made +me feel a little cross. I was tired, I daresay, with all the work we had +been doing, _and_ the sadness that had come upon us so suddenly, and I +did want to be quiet and talk sensibly. It was a little papa's fault +too, I must say. He is sometimes rather like a boy still, though he has +four big children. He hates being unhappy! I don't think he would mind +my saying so of him, and he got mischievous and teased Esmé, to make her +say funny things, as she often does. + +And I suppose I looked rather too grave, for, after a little, mamma +whispered to me-- + +'Ida, dear, don't look so dreadfully unhappy; you almost make me wish we +had not told you anything till we were obliged to do so.' + +'I don't look worse than Geordie,' I replied, in a whisper too, +'or--or,' as I happened just then to catch sight of my younger brother's +face, 'than Denzil.' + +At this mamma did burst out laughing--a real merry laugh, which, in +spite of my crossness, I was pleased to hear. + +'My dear!' she exclaimed, 'who has ever seen Denzil anything but solemn! +And as he knows nothing, it has certainly not to do with what _we_ are +all thinking about. He was the solemnest _baby_ even that ever was seen, +though many babies are solemn. I used to feel quite ashamed of my +frivolity when Denny was only a couple of months old. And--no, poor old +Geordie is trying to cheer up, so you must too.' + +Yes, it was true. Geordie was laughing and playing with Esmé and papa, +though I know his heart was quite as heavy as mine. Geordie is very +particularly good in some ways. So I resolved to choke down, or at least +to hide, my sadness--and still more the sort of crossness I had been +feeling. It was not exactly real ill-tempered crossness, but the kind of +hating being unhappy and thinking that other people are unhappy too, +which comes with troubles when one isn't used to them especially, and +isn't patient and unselfish, though one wants to be. + +However, I managed to look more amiable after mamma's little +warning--still more, I think, after her hearty laugh. Her laughing +always seems to drive away crossness and gloominess; it is so pretty and +bright, and so real. + +And I was helped too by another thing, though as yet it had scarcely +taken shape in my mind, or even in my fancy. But it was there all the +same, fluttering about somewhere, as if waiting for me to catch hold of +it and make something of it. Just yet I did not give myself time to +think it out. All I felt was a sort of presentiment that somewhere or +somehow there was a way out of our troubles, or rather out of one part +of them, and that I was going to find it before long. And I am quite +sure that sometimes the thinking a thing out is more than half done by +our brains before we know it--much in the same way that we--Dods and +I--are quite sure that putting a lesson-book under your pillow at night +helps you to know what you have to learn out of it by the next morning. +Lots of children believe this, though none of us can explain it, and we +don't like to speak of it for fear of being laughed at. But I don't mind +writing about it, as I shall not hear if people do laugh at it or not. + +Anyway it _did_ happen to me this time, that _something_ worked the +cobweb ideas that were beginning to float about in my brain into a real +touchable or speakable plan, before the 'awake' side of it--of my brain, +I mean--knew that anything of the kind was there. + +I will try to tell quite exactly how this came about. But first I must +say that I don't think George was feeling so _very_ bad after all, for +the last thing he said to me that evening as we went up to bed was, 'I +do hope Hoskins has managed to get some muffins for to-morrow.' + + + + +CHAPTER III + +'IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, IDA' + + +I remember that I fell asleep very quickly that night. Of course, like +most children when they are well, I generally did. But that night it +would not have been very surprising if I had kept awake and even got +into a tossing-about, fidgety state, just from thinking about the +strange, sudden trouble and change that were coming into our lives. + +On the contrary, I seemed to drop straight down into unconsciousness +almost as soon as my head touched the pillow, and I must have slept +several hours straight off without even dreaming, or at least dreaming +anything that I could remember. For when I awoke the dawn was creeping +in, and though I felt too lazy and comfortable to get up to look out, I +knew that sunrise could not be far off. It was that time of early +morning when one almost fancies that sun and moon stop a moment or two +to say a word to each other on their way, though of course I know +enough astronomy now to understand that those fancies _are_ only +fancies. And yet there is a kind of truth in them, for the sun and moon, +and the stars too, _have_ to do with all of us people living on this +earth; indeed, we owe everything to the sun; and so it is not altogether +fancy to think of him, great big kind thing that he is, as a wonderful +friend, and of the little gentle moon as taking his place, as it were, +when he is at work on the other side. And the curious, mingled sort of +light in the room, faint and dreamy, though clear too, made me think to +myself, 'The sun is saying, "How do you do?" and the moon, "Good-bye."' + +But I soon shut my drowsy eyes again, though not to fall asleep again at +once. On the contrary, I grew awaker and awaker, as I began to feel that +my mind or memory or brain--I don't know which to call it--had something +to tell me. + +What was it? + +I seemed almost to be listening. And gradually it came to me--the +knowledge of the idea that had been working itself out during my sleep +from the thoughts that had been there jumbled up together the day +before. And when I got clear hold of what it was, I nearly called out, +I felt so struck and startled at first, just as if some one had said it +to me, though with astonishing quickness it spread itself out before me +as a really possible and even sensible plan, with nothing dreamy or +fanciful about it. + +It was this. + +'Why should not we all--mamma, that is to say, and we four children--why +should we not live altogether at the hut during the year, or more +perhaps, that papa would have to be away?' + +It may seem to those who read this story--if ever there are readers of +it--a wild idea that had thus come to me. But 'the proof of the pudding +is in the eating,' as Hoskins is fond of saying. So please wait a little +before you judge. + +And no sooner had the idea got into words than all the bits of it began +to place themselves in order like the pieces of a dissected puzzle-map, +or, still better, like the many-coloured skeins of silk in the pretty +fairy story where the touch of the wand made them all arrange +themselves. Still more--no sooner had the first vague thoughts settled +down than others came to join them, each finding its own corner in the +building that I began to see was not a castle in the air but a good +solid piece of work. + +It would be so healthy and airy, and yet not damp; nor, with proper +care, need it be very cold, even in winter. It would be near enough to +Kirke for Geordie to go on with his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and for us +to feel we had old friends close at hand, who would understand all about +us, and very likely be kinder than ever. It would be near enough to +home--dear Eastercove--indeed, it would be Eastercove--for us to take +lots of furniture and things from the house to furnish as much more as +was needed and to make it comfortable and even pretty, without emptying +Eastercove house at all. There was, as I have said, such a lot of +stored-away extra furniture and old carpets and curtains and blankets +and all sorts of things up in the great attic, and Hoskins kept them all +so nice and tidy, and without moths or mildew or horrible things like +that, that it was quite a pleasure to go up there sometimes. It was like +a very neat shop for second-hand things, which is more than can be said +for most box-rooms or lumber-rooms, I fancy. + +And the moving these things would be no expense, and there would be no +travelling expenses for any of us, and--the last idea that came into my +head was the best of all. The old parish room! The iron room that Mr. +Lloyd had told papa about the afternoon before! They wanted to get rid +of it and would sell it for almost nothing. Even if 'almost nothing' +meant--I could not guess how much or how little--a few pounds, +perhaps--it would be far, far less than the rent of a house, however +small, and it would make into two or even three little rooms, easily. +Perhaps it would be enough just to divide it by screens or curtains, +perhaps---- + +Oh, the 'perhapses' that came crowding into my head when I had thought +of the old parish room! I could scarcely lie still another minute--I +felt in such a desperate hurry to tell Geordie of the wonderful thought +that had come to me. But it was still far from getting-up time; I knew +it would be very selfish and unkind to wake up poor old Dods in what +would seem to him the middle of the night, for he was a very sound +sleeper, and had hard enough work to get his eyes properly open by seven +o'clock. + +[Illustration: NO--THERE WAS NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO LIE STILL.] + +No--there was nothing for it but to lie still and be as patient as I +could. It would be interesting to watch the light growing stronger and +changing; it was already doing so in a curious way, as the cold, thin +moonshine gave place to the sun, even then warmer somehow in its tone +than the fullest moon-rays ever are. + +'Yes,' I thought, 'they have met and passed each other by now, I should +think. I wonder--if----' + +Strange to say, I cannot finish the sentence, for I don't know _what_ I +was going to wonder! In spite of all my eagerness and excitement I knew +nothing more, till--the usual summons, in Hoskins's voice-- + +'Miss Ida, my dear, it's the quarter-past. You were sleeping soundly--I +could scarcely find it in my heart to awake you. But it's Sunday +morning, and you know it doesn't do to be late--and a beautiful spring +morning too as ever was seen.' + +I could scarcely believe my ears. + +'Oh, Hoskins!' I exclaimed, 'I _am_ sleepy. I was awake a good bit quite +early, and I had no idea I had gone off again. I was _so_ awake, +thinking.' + +The talking thoroughly roused me, and almost at once all the 'thinking' +came back to me, so that by the time I was dressed, even though Sunday +morning dressing needed a little more care and attention than every +day's, I had got it all clear and compact and ready, as it were, for +Geordie's cool inspection. + +To my great satisfaction he had had a good fit that morning of getting +up promptly and being down the first after me, instead of, as often +happened, the last after everybody. + +'Geordie,' I exclaimed, when I caught sight of him standing at the +dining-room window, staring out--or perhaps I should say' gazing,' for +staring is an ugly word, and the garden that morning was looking so +particularly pretty--'Geordie, I am just bursting to talk to you. Is it +any use beginning before papa and mamma come down, do you think?' + +Geordie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. + +'Yes,' he said; 'we have five minutes, or ten perhaps. Is it anything +particular?' + +'Of course it is,' I replied, 'or I wouldn't say I was bursting to tell +it you. And I think and hope it is something that will please you very +much. You are to listen well and not interrupt me and say "nonsense," +before you have taken it into your mind and thought it over.' + +I saw he already was looking interested, and I was glad of it. His face +had been so sad when he first turned at the sound of my voice, and I +well knew why. I can almost always understand Geordie and very often +guess what he is thinking of. He has such dear blue eyes, but they are +the kind that can look very melancholy sometimes. I do hope he will +have a happy life when he grows up--I am pretty sure he will deserve it. +Even now that he has been a good long while at school--big public +school, I mean--he is just the same to me as ever. When he comes home +for the holidays it seems as if he had never been away. + +'I won't interrupt you--or say "nonsense," if I can help it,' he +answered, with a little fun in his voice and smile coming in his eyes. + +Then I told him. I need not repeat all I said, as I have written a lot +of it already. But it must have been rather hard for Geordie not to +interrupt me. It all bubbled out so fast--all the splendid ideas and +good reasons and perhapses--one on the top of the other, so that if he +hadn't been pretty well accustomed to my ways he could scarcely have +understood. It was quite interesting and exciting, as I went on, to +watch the expression in his face--his cheeks grew pink, then crimson, +and his eyes brighter and brighter. I soon saw I was not going to be +snubbed. + +But real want of breath, and then the sound of mamma's skirts coming +across the hall with a pretty soft rustle--I don't think any one else's +skirts move so nicely; they seem to match her, not like that noisy +flustering that is like saying, 'Here I am; I expect to be attended +to'--made me stop at last. There was only time for George to whisper-- + +'It's a wonderful idea, Ida. I'll think a lot and then we'll talk about +it, by ourselves, first, of course.' + +'We mustn't think about it in church,' I replied in the same tone; 'we +must _try_, I suppose, Dods, not to think of it in church--part of the +time, at least. I don't see that it would matter so much during the +first lesson, and _perhaps_ one of the psalms, if they are very long +ones.' + +'No--o, perhaps not,' he said, and then we both ran forward to kiss +mamma. + +She looked at us, and I saw her face brighten when she saw that ours +were not very sad or dull. I think she had been afraid that in his wish +to help _her_, papa had put too much of the burden on us two, +considering how young we were then. + +'My darlings!' she said, in a rather low voice, 'my own brave boy and +girl,' and I am almost sure the tears came into her eyes. But the smiles +came too. + +'What a lovely day it is going to be!' she went on, as she glanced out +of the window. 'I am so glad. We must put cares aside as much as we can +and try to be happy and hopeful.' + +'Yes, dear mamma,' I answered cheerfully, and with all the delightful +exciting ideas in my head, it was quite easy to be bright, as you can +understand, 'yes, we _are_ going to have a nice day. Geordie and I'--I +glanced at him; he had not exactly said so, but I knew he would not +mind,--'Geordie and I want to go down to the hut very soon after +luncheon, if you say we may, to get it all ready for you and papa and +the little ones, to come to tea.' + +'All right,' said mamma, though I saw a tiny shadow cross her face as I +spoke, and I knew she was thinking to herself that very likely it would +be our last Sunday afternoon tea-party for a very long time, perhaps for +ever, as far as the hut was concerned! But these solemn kinds of +'perhapses' are always in our lives, and if we were always thinking of +them, it would be more than our minds and hearts could bear. We should +not _forget_ them, but I am sure we are not meant to be gloomy about +them. Still, at the best, even if my grand plan was carried out, there +was plenty to be sad about, I knew. Poor papa's going so far away, first +and worst of all, and worst of course for mamma, for though we loved him +dearly, she must love him, I suppose, still more. + +He came into the room just as these thoughts were flying about my +brain. I thought he looked more tired and troubled than mamma--men are +not so patient and not always so good at hiding their feelings as _some_ +women. At least _I_ think so! + +We two, however, were really feeling cheerful, and I think our +brightness made it easier for mamma to be, at least, less sad than she +would otherwise have been. And I said to myself-- + +'Papa will cheer up too _if_ he likes our idea, and I really can't see +why he should not like it.' + +So breakfast got on pretty well on the whole, and as soon as it was +over, Dods and I went off for a talk. How we did talk! But first of +all--that was so like Dods--he pulled out his watch and looked what +o'clock it was. + +'It's just half-past nine, Ida,' he said, 'and we must be quite ready by +half-past ten. So let's talk till ten, no longer; it always takes you +twenty minutes or half an hour to get dressed for church, and you know +it vexes papa to be kept waiting. And to-day it's really very important +not to vex him at all, if anything is to come of our plan.' + +'Very well,' I said; 'I promise to go in at ten.' + +Then we went to one of our favourite garden seats and set to work at our +idea. It grew and grew; we kept thinking of new bits to it, each saying +something which made the other think of something else, till by ten +o'clock we began to feel as if it were all quite settled--'cut and dry.' + +The very last thing I called out to Geordie as we ran in was about a +certain old breakfast set of china we had espied in one of our visits to +the garret. + +'Yes,' I was saying, 'those willow pattern cups and things would do +beautifully. It wouldn't matter their being odd, for then mamma wouldn't +mind if some got broken. And very likely, Doddie, things _will_ get +broken, more than----' + +'What are you talking about, my dear child?' said mamma's voice, and, +looking round, I saw that she was just coming out of the drawing-room on +her way upstairs to get ready for church. 'You don't mean to say that +your tea-things at the hut are all broken?' + +'Oh no, no, mamma dear,' I replied in a great hurry, and feeling myself +grow red, though I don't think she noticed it; 'they are all right--none +broken, and only one saucer chipped. But--I was only saying--we _might_ +need more some time.' + +'Ah, well!' said mamma, with a little sigh, 'not at present, at any +rate.' + +And oh how I wished I could tell her of the plan at once! But of course +it was best to wait a little. + +I shall never forget that morning at church, and how _awfully_ difficult +it was to give my attention. I found myself counting up the things we +should need to make the hut comfortable, even while my voice was saying +the responses quite correctly, and any one noticing me would very likely +have thought I was being quite good and listening rightly. Dods, whom I +glanced at now and then, was looking very grave but not unhappy. I felt +sure he was being much better than I--I mean about listening to what he +heard and thinking of the words he said--though afterwards he told me +that he too had found it difficult. + +'What was most bothering me,' he said, 'was about the new rooms--the old +parish room, I mean. What do you think, Ida--should it be made into a +dining-room and drawing-room, or----' + +'Oh no,' I interrupted, 'certainly not. The two front ones looking to +the sea must decidedly be the sitting-rooms--the one to the left of the +porch, in front of the kitchen, must be the dining-room, and the big +dressing-room, the one we have always meant to be a real bedroom, must +be the drawing-room. It is quite a nice, large room, and behind it, the +'messy' room must be _yours_, Dods, which leaves the parish room to be +divided for mamma and Esmé and me. Denzil can be with you--there's +plenty of room.' + +'But,' said Geordie, 'you're forgetting the servants?' + +My face fell at this--I should have said that this conversation was on +our way down to the hut that afternoon. We could not talk much before +then, as we drove back from church with the others, but we set off as +soon as we could after we had had dinner. + +'Yes,' I said, 'I was forgetting them altogether, and what's more, +Geordie, I haven't the least idea who they are to be, or how many we +should have.' + +'We must let mamma settle that of course,' he replied. 'Hoskins will be +one, anyway. Still--it's a pity we can't propose some place for them, +Ida. It makes the whole plan seem rather unfinished and--childish.' + +'Like the man who built a house for himself and when it was all finished +found he had forgotten a staircase!' I said, half laughing, but feeling +rather mortified all the same. + +George did not at once reply. He was thinking. We were close to the hut +by this time, and he did not say anything till we had unlocked the door +and put down our packages and looked round us. + +Everything was just exactly as we had left it the evening before, but +somehow everything seemed different! + +The truth was, I suppose, that we were looking at it all through +different spectacles--yesterday it was only a kind of summer-house or +play-room--to-day it was a possible _home_. In some ways I felt as if I +had never liked it as much; in others I began to be almost frightened at +the ideas I was so full of! But as often happened with us, George's +cool, common sense put me right. + +'Yes,' he said, after he had strolled into the other rooms and stared at +them well as if he had never seen them before,--'yes, I don't see why it +shouldn't do. And, about the servants, Ida. Of course papa and mamma +must _settle_ everything; but if they do take it up seriously and papa +buys the iron room, I rather think it's a good deal larger than we have +been counting it. I believe it would divide into three quite well. There +might be a partitioned-off little room for me, and a large curtain might +do to separate mamma from you and Esmé?' + +'Yes,' I said, my spirits rising again, 'and that would leave the back +room for Hoskins and whomever else we have--_I_ should like +Margery--wouldn't you, Dods? She is such a good-natured, sturdy little +thing. And----' + +'We'd better not try to settle too much,' said sensible Geordie. 'And +you must talk quietly, Ida, so as to show we have really thought of it +not in a--oh, a babyish way, you know.' + +I felt a little ruffled at this. + +'You'd better tell them all about it yourself, then,' I said; '_I_ don't +want any of the honour and glory of it, and if there is any fear of +their thinking us silly babies, why, then, we had better give up the +whole idea.' + +'Nonsense, Ida,' said Geordie. 'It was you who first thought of it, and +I think you deserve a lot of credit for it. And I expect you'll get it +too. I only want papa and mamma--papa especially--to hear of it at first +in the best sort of way.' + +'Yes--yes, I know!' I exclaimed, 'and you are a sensible old Dods as you +always are. And see what I have got to please you,' and I held up three +lovely, fat muffins. + +We got the kitchen fire lighted and the tea-table spread in the +parlour--I felt inclined to begin calling it 'the dining-room' now--and +everything nice and ready before they all came. The first announcement +of them was Esmé, who flew in as usual, followed very deliberately by +Denzil. She gave me a hug when she saw the table. + +'Oh, what a lovely tea!' she said, 'and how delicious the hut looks. Oh, +_don't_ you wish, Ida, we could live here always?' + +I glanced at Dods--we could not help smiling at each other--it seemed a +sort of good omen, her saying that, but we did not say anything. Then +came papa and mamma--they had walked down slowly through the wood, and +as they came to the little 'plateau' where stood the hut, I saw them +stop and look at it. I _wondered_ if the same idea was in their minds at +all. I did not exactly want it to be, for I was rather pleased at being +the first finder of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +'GEORDIE STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS CAP' + + +No--papa and mamma had not been thinking of anything of that +kind--afterwards mamma told me they had only been saying to each other +how sweet and pretty it all looked and--though perhaps they did not say +so aloud--feeling no doubt how sad it was that we should so soon have to +leave it. + +But they came in quite brightly, and mamma answered gaily to Esmé's +exclamations about the 'lovely tea-party.' + +'Yes,' she said, 'it does look nice. And muffins too'--as Geordie +glanced up with a very red face from the fire where he was toasting one; +'don't scorch yourself _too_ much, in our service, my dear boy.' + +'It's a good bit for myself as well,' said Geordie in his rather gruff +way. He always spoke like that if he thought he was being praised--above +all, the least _over_-praised. 'I like muffins better than any kind of +cake or things.' + +He certainly knew how to toast and butter them to perfection. I remember +how very good they were that day. Indeed, the tea-party was a great +success altogether. After it was over we carried all the cups and +saucers and plates into the kitchen, to be ready for Margery to wash up, +for mamma had left word at home that she was to come down to the hut to +do so, which we were very glad of. + +'I wanted to be together as much as possible to-day,' said mamma in her +kind way. And just as we had cleared away everything in the parlour we +saw Margery coming, and to my great delight Esmé asked if she and Denzil +might 'help her' in the kitchen, for Dods and I had been wondering how +we could get rid of the little ones without seeming unkind. + +So off they ran, and then for a few minutes we four--'big ones,' I was +going to say, only that does seem putting Geordie and myself too much on +a line with papa and mamma, doesn't it?--sat silent. I was feeling +rather nervous, not afraid of papa and mamma, but afraid of them +thinking it was all a perfectly impossible plan. + +But at last, after looking at me several times and even giving me two +or three little kicks, Geordie plunged in, as was his way-- + +'Ida has something to say to you,' he began. 'It's only fair for her to +say it, for it's all her own idea, though we have talked about it a good +deal.' + +Papa looked at me very kindly. + +'What is it, my little girl?' he said. 'I am sure you know how pleased +I--and your mother--will be to do anything we can to--to brighten all +these troubles.' + +He seemed to know by instinct that what I had to say must have to do +with what he had told us the day before. Yes--only the day before! I +could scarcely believe it--it seemed years ago. + +I felt my face growing red; mamma was looking at me too, and though her +eyes were very kind, I grew more and more nervous, and of course I +blurted it out quite differently from what I had meant to. + +'It isn't only for us ourselves,' I began, 'though we should like it +ever so much--awfully much better than anything else. But I feel as if +it would be nicer for everybody--for mamma too, and for papa, when you +are far away, you know,' and here I turned specially to him, 'not to +have to think of us in a strange place and among strange people. +And--and--there are lots of little bits of it that seem to fit in so +well.' + +'But, my dear child, I must interrupt you,' said papa smiling, 'before +you go on to the "bits," do tell us what the whole is?' + +I had really forgotten that I had not done so--my own mind was so full +of it, you see. + +'Oh,' I said, feeling very much ashamed of myself, especially as I knew +Geordie's blue eyes were fixed on me reproachfully. 'I'm very sorry for +being so stupid. It's just this, papa--we've been thinking, at least I +thought of it first, and Dods has joined in the planning, that--why +shouldn't we all, mamma and us four, come to _live_ here, really to live +here altogether, while you are away?' + +Papa gazed at me as if he did not understand, and no doubt just at first +he did not. + +'Live _here_,' he repeated, 'but that is just----' + +'Yes,' I interrupted,--'here, in the hut. I don't mean of course go on +living at home, at Eastercove, though it would be Eastercove too. That's +the beauty of it; you would be able to feel that we _were_ at home, and +close to all our friends.' + +But still papa repeated, in a dazed sort of way, I would say 'stupid,' +only it would seem rude-- + +'Live _here_.' + +(I do think men are far slower at taking up new ideas than women.) + +'Live _here_,' he said again, till I really wished it would not be +disrespectful to give him a little shake, and even Dods, who is far +patienter and less im----what should I say?--impetuous or impulseful, I +must ask mamma which is best, began to look rather provoked. But mamma +put it all right. + +'Yes, Jack,' she said, the colour rushing into her face and her eyes +sparkling,--'yes, _here_ in the hut, is what the child means, and, +really, I think it is an inspiration.' Mamma _is_ quick, and she has +such a beautifully ready imagination. 'I don't see why we shouldn't. It +is perfectly healthy; dry and airy and quite warm except perhaps in the +middle of winter, and we surely could find ways and means of making a +_dry_ house warm. Ida, darling, I believe you have hit upon a way out of +our greatest difficulty. _Do_ say you think so too, Jack!' + +Light was gradually penetrating into papa's mind. + +'Here in the hut! Yes, I wish it were possible,' he said, 'and I agree +with you both so far. It _is_ dry and healthy, and might be made warm, +but--it is so small! Ah!' and he started to his feet, his whole face +changing, 'talking of inspirations, I'm not sure but that _I_ have got +one too--the------' + +Here to our amazement, mamma's and mine I mean, in _his_ turn up jumped +Dods, and, respectful or not, interrupted papa in the most barefaced +way-- + +'Stop, stop!' he cried, 'let me say it, Dad, do, before you do. I want +to have a bit of it. Is your inspiration the old parish room? The iron +room they want to get rid of? _Is_ it?--do say.' + +They were both so excited it was quite funny to see them, Geordie +especially, for he is much calmer than papa naturally. Papa turned to +him smiling-- + +'You have guessed it, my boy. Yes, we might buy the room and turn it +into two or three at least. It could not cost much--our own men could do +it, I believe. It has doorways and windows and fireplaces too, I think, +all ready, and I believe we can have it for an old song----' + +'I hope I shan't be the one chosen to sing it!' exclaimed Dods, at which +we all laughed, though it was not particularly witty. But we were just +in the sort of humour to laugh at the least little piece of fun. + +'I wish--upon my word, I wish I could see about it this very +afternoon,' went on papa, who was now racing ahead of us all in his +eagerness. + +'But you can't, dear; it's Sunday, you know,' said mamma, patting his +arm; 'and we have plenty to think about. There is no fear of Mr. Lloyd's +selling it before to-morrow morning. Let us hear some more of your plan, +Ida, dear.' + +I was only too ready to tell it--I was bursting to do so, and so was +Geordie. We set to work and talked--how we did talk!--papa and mamma +putting in a word now and then, though they were so kind, understanding +our wish to be considered the 'discoverers,' as it were, of the new +home, that they really let us talk ourselves out. Then we four made a +sort of progress through the rooms, papa measuring here and there with +the little folding-up foot-rule he always carried in his pocket, and +mamma planning where she would put such and such a piece of furniture +which could be quite well spared from the almost too full rooms up at +the house, not to speak of the stores--treasures they were fast becoming +in our eyes now--crowded away in the big garret. + +'We must go up there first thing to-morrow morning,' said mamma, 'and +have a good look round. I don't believe I know half the things we +have--no one does, except Hoskins.' + +'You will have to take her into your confidence at once, I expect,' said +papa. + +'Yes, I was just thinking so,' mamma replied; 'but I shall wait till you +have inquired about the iron room. She knows our troubles already,' she +went on, turning to Geordie and me; 'she has known about them for some +days, and she says whatever we do, or wherever we go, she will not leave +us.' + +'Oh, I _am_ so glad!' exclaimed Geordie and I in a breath. 'We thought +she would be like that,' I went on; 'and I should hope she'd like the +hut far, far better than going away to some horrid little poky house +among strangers. And, mamma, don't you think Margery would be the best +for the other servant.' + +'Are we to have two?' said mamma laughing. 'Your plans are getting quite +grand, Ida!' + +'Of course you must have two,' said papa, 'and one of the men to look +after things outside. I have an idea about that; Geordie and I will talk +about it together,' and he nodded to Geordie, who looked very pleased at +being consulted in this way, as if he were quite big. + +'When will you ask about the parish room?' he said to papa. 'May I go +with you when you do? Perhaps I could help about the measuring.' + +For they had already settled as to where it should be placed--at one +side of the hut, but a little to the back, so that it should not spoil +the rather pretty look we were gradually managing to give to the front, +by training creepers over the porch, and filling two or three large +square tubs with bushy, hardy plants which would stand the winter, and +placing them at each side of the long low windows. + +'Certainly,' said papa. 'We can drive down to Kirke immediately after +breakfast to-morrow morning. And if it is all right about the room, I +will see the man whom, I think, Mr. Lloyd employed to put it up. He will +understand the best way of partitioning it off, and our own men can work +under his directions.' + +So it was in the best of spirits--considering, that is to say, the real +sorrow of parting with dear papa, and the real anxiety that _must_ hang +over us for many months to come, at least--that we set off home again, +Esmé chattering about how she had wiped all the tea-cups and saucers, +and how Margery had said that she could not possibly have 'got through' +without her. + +'That is not a very elegant expression, my little girl,' said papa. +'Don't you think you could say it some other way.' + +Esmé looked rather puzzled. + +'You says,' she replied, and at that papa laughed--I think he felt it +was out of the frying-pan into the fire,--'you says to mamma or to Ida +when we're playing croquet, "Now see if you can't get through that +hoop."' + +'But cups and saucers isn't croquet hoops,' said Denzil solemnly, at +which we all laughed. A very small joke will go a long way when people +are all happy together, and each one trying to do his best to please or +amuse the others. + +When I awoke on Monday morning it was with much more quietly hopeful +feelings than on that sad Saturday I could have believed possible. I +seemed to myself to have grown years older in the two days, which was +partly nice and partly, just a very little, 'frightening.' I was proud +of my idea being thought so well of, and I was very anxious to think it +out more and more, so as really to help mamma and to prove that it _was_ +a good one. So, though it was still very early, I lay quite quietly and +did not mind the having a good while to wait till it was time to get +up, so busied was my brain in going into all the details which I was +able to think about. + +'Two little beds for Esmé and me,' I began. 'Let me see which are the +smallest, to take up the least room? This one is rather too big, and +besides, the people who have taken the house will most likely need it +left. I wonder what they will do with this room. I daresay they will use +it for visitors. It is so pretty--my own dear room!' For since my last +birthday I had had a room to myself, all freshly done up with light +chintz curtains and covers and white furniture. But I resolutely put the +thought of my regret out of my mind, and went on thinking about the hut. +Esmé's cot would be big enough for her for a good while, and there was +at least one old small bedstead up in the garret, and then Dods and I +had saved enough money to buy one, as I said. + +'We must spend it on _something_ for the hut,' I reflected. 'Perhaps we +had better ask mamma what would be the most useful.' + +Then my mind went on again about the other rooms and what would be +needed for them, and I had just arrived at the chests of drawers when I +must have fallen asleep, for when I was awakened by Margery and the +announcement, 'Seven o'clock, Miss Ida,' I found myself dreaming that I +was hanging up curtains in front of the fireplace instead of the window, +and wondering how we could prevent their flying up the chimney! + +After breakfast papa and Geordie set off almost immediately for Kirke, +to catch Mr. Lloyd before his week's work began again, papa said. And as +soon as mamma had finished her regular housekeeping business for the +day, she and I went up to the garret together, to spy the land, or +rather the stores. I forget if I said that we happened to be in the +middle of our Easter holidays just then, which was most lucky, was it +not? + +Mamma and I really enjoyed ourselves up in the garret. It was all so +neat, and not fusty or dusty or musty, and we came upon treasures--as +often is the case if you explore a lumber-room--whose very existence +even mamma had forgotten. + +'I really think, Ida,' mamma began, pushing her hair out of her eyes in +a pretty way she has; her hair is lovely, so curly and fuzzy, like +Esmé's, though mine is dreadfully smooth! and theirs never _looks_ +messy, however untidy it really may get,--'I really think we could find +enough furniture here to do for all the rooms, after a fashion. And we +can certainly take a few things away from downstairs without spoiling +the look of the house. Two beds at least--and one or two small tables. I +must have a writing-table for myself--and several of the wicker chairs +in the verandah might be spared. Yes--I really don't think the +furnishing will be much difficulty or expense.' + +'And Doddie and I have saved sixteen and sixpence, you know, mamma,' I +said. 'We meant to buy a camp bedstead for the hut, you know, whenever +you would let us furnish the room that is going to be our drawing-room +now. So we can still get one for Dods if you like, or anything else +needed.' + +'Yes, darling,' said mamma. 'That will be very nice. We can wait a +little till we see what is most required.' + +She spoke quite as seriously as I had done, though I know _now_ that +sixteen and sixpence is really not nearly as much money as I then +thought it. But that is what has always been so dear about mamma; she +never 'snubs' us. And many people, even really very kind people, do hurt +children's feelings dreadfully sometimes without in the least meaning +it. It is one of the things I mean to try always to remember when I am +quite grown-up myself, and it would be very wrong and ungrateful of any +of _us_ ever to forget it, for our father and mother have shown us such +a good example about it. + +Then mamma went off to write some letters and I to the schoolroom to +practise, which had to be done, holidays or no holidays! + +'I wonder if we shall have a piano at the hut,' I thought. 'I shan't +very much mind if we don't,' for at that time I did not care much for +music, not, at least, for my own performances. Since then I have come to +'appreciate' it a little better, though I am not at all clever about it, +and I am afraid papa and mamma are rather disappointed at this. But Esmé +is learning the violin and plays already so well that I hope she will +make up for me. + +I kept running to the window--the schoolroom overlooks the drive--every +time I heard the sound of wheels, to see if it was papa and Geordie +coming back, which was very silly, as of course they would have a good +deal to do, measuring and seeing the carpenter and arranging it all. But +I felt as if I could not settle to anything till I knew about the iron +room, as it did seem as if the whole plan depended a good deal on our +getting it. And when at last I did catch sight of the dogcart coming +swiftly along the avenue, my heart began to beat so fast that I had to +stop once or twice to take breath on my way to the hall-door. + +Mamma was there before me, as anxious as I, I do believe, though she was +too sensible to show it. + +But before they got to the house, we knew it was all right. Geordie +stood up in the cart and waved his cap for us to understand. + +'Oh, I am so glad!' I cried, and mamma smiled. + +How strangely things change their--oh, dear, I can't find just the right +word; yes, I have it now 'aspects'--in life sometimes. This was Monday; +on Saturday only had we heard _the_ sad news, and here we were, quite in +good, almost high spirits again, about a little bettering of what, if we +had foreseen it a week ago, we should certainly have thought a cloud +with no silver lining! + +Papa and Dods jumped down in a moment, and threw the reins to the groom. + +'Is it----' I began. + +'All right,' papa interrupted. 'Lloyd is delighted. Very kind and +sympathising, of course, with us, but so interested in our--I should +say,' with a smile to me, 'Ida's scheme. He thinks it a first-rate +idea, at any rate till the autumn.' + +'And he is coming up himself this afternoon,' said Geordie, 'with the +drawings and measures of the room, that he got when he bought it.' + +'Very good of him,' said mamma. + +'And Jervis, the carpenter, is coming too,' George went on; 'and we must +all go down to the hut together. Mr. Lloyd said _particularly_ Ida.' + +I felt myself grow red with pleasure. + +'Yes,' said papa; 'we must all go and give our opinions. I am very glad +to have secured the room. They were already beginning to take it down. +It is a very good size really, larger than you would think; and there +are two doorways, I am glad to find, and a little porch. I have two or +three ideas in my head as to how to join it on and so forth, but I can +go into them better on the spot.' + +'Ida and I have been busy too,' said mamma. 'Really, Jack, you would +scarcely believe the amount of extra furniture we have. There will be +very little to buy--only, I do believe, one camp bedstead for Geordie, +and perhaps a servant's one; and a few bright, warm-looking rugs.' + +'_We_ might buy those, mamma,' I interrupted eagerly. 'I have told +mamma about our sixteen and sixpence, Doddie,' I went on, turning to +George. 'I knew you wouldn't mind.' + +Geordie nodded. + +'Sixteen and sixpence,' repeated papa. 'How have you managed to get +together all that?' + +'It's _hut_ money,' I replied. 'I mean it's on purpose to spend on the +hut. We have other savings, too, for Christmas and birthdays--this is +all for the hut.' + +'And it shall be spent on the hut,' said papa, 'on something lasting--to +do honour to you both.' + +Wasn't that nice of him? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +'WHAT _CAN_ SHE MEAN?' + + +I remember that Monday afternoon so well. It was very interesting. Mr. +Lloyd was very kind and clever about things, and the carpenter, though a +rather slow, very silent man, understood his business and was quite +ready to do all that was wanted. Papa was as eager as a boy, and Geordie +full of ideas too. So between us we got it beautifully planned. + +It was far nicer than I had dared to hope. They fixed to run a tiny +passage between the side of the hut where the room was to be placed, so +that the two doorways into it could both be used,--one to enter into +Geordie's room, so that he could run in and out without having to go +through mamma's or ours, and the other leading into mamma's, from which +we could pass to ours. And the partitions made them really as good as +three proper rooms, each with a nice window. There could be no +fireplace in ours, but as it was the middle one, and therefore sure to +be the warmest, that would not matter, as there were two, one at each +end in the iron room. If it was very cold, mamma said Esmé and I might +undress in hers, and _dress_ in his, Geordie added, as he meant always +to be up very early and light his own fire to work by, which rather +amused us all, as he was _not_ famed for early rising. Indeed, I never +knew such a sleepy head as he was--poor old Dods! + +We felt satisfied, as we walked home, that we had done a good day's +work. + +'Though it _couldn't_ have been managed without the iron room,' Geordie +and I agreed. + +And a day or two later we felt still more settled and pleased when mamma +told us that Hoskins and Margery were coming with us. Hoskins was just a +little melancholy about it all, not a bit for herself, I do believe, but +because she thought it would be 'such a change, so different' for mamma +and us. + +She cheered up however when we reminded her how much nicer it would be +than a poky little house in a back street at Kirke, or, worse still, +away in some other place altogether, among strangers. And when she said +something about the cold, in case we stayed at the hut through the +winter, Geordie said we could afford plenty of fires as we should have +no rent to pay, and that _he_ was going to be 'stoker' for the whole +family. + +'You won't need to look after any fire but your own, Master George,' +said she, 'and not that, unless it amuses you. Margery is not a lazy +girl--I would not own her for my niece if she was. And besides that, +there will be Barnes to help to carry in the coal.' + +Barnes was one of the under-gardeners. He lived with his father and +mother at the Lodge, but he had never had anything to do with the house, +so I was surprised at what Hoskins said. + +'Oh yes,' George explained, looking very business-like and nodding in a +way he had, 'that is one of the things papa and I have settled about. We +are rigging up a room for Barnes, much nearer than the Lodge--the old +woodman's hut within a stone's throw of _our_ hut, Ida, so that a +whistle would bring him in a moment. He will still live at the Lodge for +eating, you see, but he will come round first thing and last thing. He's +as proud as a peacock; he thinks he's going to be a kind of Robinson +Crusoe; it will be quite a nice little room; there is even a fireplace +in it. He says he won't need coals; there's such lots of brushwood +about.' + +'_I_ have been thinking of that,' I said eagerly. 'It would seem much +more in keeping to burn brushwood than commonplace coals----' + +'Except in my kitchen, if you please, Miss Ida,' put in Hoskins. + +'And better still than brushwood,' I went on, taking no notice of +Hoskins's 'kitchen,'--I would much rather have had a gypsy fire with a +pot hanging on three iron rods, the way gypsies do, or are supposed to +do,--'better than brushwood, fir cones. They do smell so delicious when +they are burning. We might make a great heap of them before next winter. +It would give the children something to do when they are playing in the +wood.' + +[Illustration: ORDERING DENZIL ABOUT AS USUAL.] + +They--the two little ones--were of course in tremendous spirits about +the whole thing,--such spirits that they could not even look sad for +very long when at last--about three weeks after the days I have just +been describing--the sorrowful morning arrived on which dear papa had to +leave us. Esmé cried loudly, as was her way; Denzil, more silently and +solemnly, as was his; but an hour or two afterwards we heard the little +butterfly laughing outside in the garden and ordering Denzil about as +usual. + +'Never mind,' said mamma, glancing up from the lists of all sorts of +things she was already busy at and reading what was in my mind, 'rather +let us be glad that the child does not realise it. She is very young; it +does not mean that she is heartless,' and mamma herself choked down her +tears and turned again to her writing-table. + +I too had done my best not to cry, though it was _very_ difficult. I +think George and I 'realised' it all--the long, lonely voyage for papa; +the risks at sea which are always there; the dangers for his health, for +the climate was a bad one, and it was not the safest season by any +means. All these, and then the possibility of great disappointment when +he got there--of finding that, after all, the discovery of things going +wrong had come too late to put them right, and of all that would follow +this--the leaving our dear, dear home, not for a few months, or even a +year, but for _always_. + +It would not do even to think of it. And I had promised papa to be brave +and cheerful. + +By this time I must explain that the Hut--from now I must write it with +a capital, as mamma did in her letters: 'The Hut, Eastercove' looked +quite grand, we thought--was ready for us to move into. Our tenants were +expected at the house in a week or ten days, and we were now to leave it +as soon as we could. + +A great part of the arranging, carting down furniture, and so on had +been done, but it had been thought better to put off our actually taking +up our quarters in our quaint new home till after papa had gone. _He_ +said it would have worried him rather if we had left sooner, but I know +the truth was, that he thought the having to be very busy, in a bustle +in fact, at once on his going, would be the best for us all--mamma +especially. + +And a bustle it was, though things had been hurried on wonderfully fast. +The fixing up of the iron room was quite complete and the partitions +were already in their places, the furniture roughly in the rooms too. +But as everybody who has ever moved from one house to another knows, +there were still _heaps_ to be done, and seen to by ourselves, which no +work-people could do properly. And besides the arranging at the Hut of +course, there was a great deal for mamma to settle at the house, so as +to leave everything nice for the people who were coming. + +That afternoon, I remember, the afternoon of the day papa left, we were +at the Hut till dark, working as hard as we could, even the little ones +helping, by running messages and fetching and carrying. And by the time +we went home we were very tired and beginning to find it very difficult +to look on the bright side of things. + +'I don't believe it will ever be really comfortable for mamma,' said +Geordie in the growly tone he used when he was anxious or unhappy. 'It's +just a horrid business altogether. I don't believe papa will be able to +get things right, out at that old hole of a place, and even if he +doesn't get ill, as he very likely will, he'll only come home to leave +it for good--I mean we'll have to sell Eastercove. I'm almost sorry we +did not go away now at once and get it over.' + +I glanced before us. Mamma was some little way in front--I could just +see her dimly, for it was dusk, with Denzil and Esmé, one on each side; +Esmé walking along soberly for once, and I caught snatches of mamma's +voice coming back to us, for there was a light, though rather chilly +evening breeze, blowing our way. I could hear that she was talking +brightly to the children; no doubt it was not easy for her to do so. + +'Listen, Geordie,' I said, nodding forwards, so to say, towards mamma. + +And he understood, though he did not say anything just at once. + +'It is a good thing,' I went on, after a moment's silence, 'that the +wind is not the other way. I would not like her to hear you talking like +that, within a few hours of papa's going.' + +It was not often--very, very seldom indeed--that I felt it my place to +blame good old Dods; and honestly, I don't think I did it or meant it in +any 'superior' way. I am sure I did not, for the words had scarcely +passed my lips before they seemed to me to have been unkind. Geordie was +tired; he had been working very hard the last few days, and even a +strong boy may feel out of heart when he is tired. + +'I don't know what _I_ should do, not to speak of mamma,' I went on, 'if +you got gloomy about things. We all depend on you so,' and for a moment +or two I really felt as if I must begin to cry! + +Then something crept round my neck, and I knew it was all right again. +The something was Geordie's arm, and it gave me a little hug, not the +most comfortable thing in the world when you are out walking, and it +tilts up your hat, but of course I did not mind. + +'Yes, Ida,' he said, 'it's very babyish and cowardly of me, and I'm very +sorry. I won't be like that again, I promise you.' + +Then I gave him a sort of a hug in return, and we hurried on a little, +not to leave mamma with the children dragging on at each side of her, as +they are apt to do when they are tired. We none of us spoke much the +rest of the way home, but Geordie said one or two little things about +how comfortable the Hut was getting to look and so on, which _I_ +understood, and which prevented poor mamma's suspecting that he was at +all in low spirits. + +When people really _try_ to do right, I think outside things often come +to help them. That very evening we were cheered and amused by a letter +which had arrived by the second post while we were all out--a quite +unexpected letter. + +It was from a cousin of ours, a girl, though a grown-up one, whom we +were very fond of. She was _almost_ like a big sister, and her name was +Theresa. She was generally called 'Taisy' for short. I have not spoken +of her before; but, indeed, when I come to think of it I have not spoken +of any of our relations, I have been so entirely taken up with the Hut. +We had however none _very_ near. Taisy was almost the nearest. She lived +with her grandmother, who was papa's aunt, so Taisy was really only +second cousin to us children. + +She was now about seventeen, and she was an orphan. Many people like her +would have been spoilt, for old Aunt Emmeline adored her and gave her +nearly everything she could possibly want. But Taisy wasn't a bit +spoilt. + +She often came to stay with us, and one of the smaller parts of our big +trouble was that we could not look forward to having her _this_ year, at +any rate. Papa had written to Lady Emmeline to tell her of what had +happened; she was one of the few whom he felt he must write to about it, +and it was partly because of Taisy's not coming--I mean our not being +able to have her--that he did so. + +And he had had a very kind letter back from his aunt. She wished she +could help him, but though she was comfortably off, her money was what +they call 'tied up,' somehow, and Taisy would have none of _hers_ till +she was twenty-one. Besides, papa was not the sort of man to take or +expect help, while he was strong and active and could work for us +himself, and it was the kind of trouble in which a little help would +really have been no use--a large fortune was at stake. + +Taisy had not written; she had only sent loving messages to us all, and +something about that 'by hook or by crook' she must see us before the +summer was over. + +But the letter to mamma which was waiting for us roused our curiosity, +and kept us quite bright and interested all that evening, in wondering +what she _could_ mean. + +'Ever since I heard from grandmamma of your worries, dear auntie,' she +wrote,--I must explain that Taisy always called papa and mamma uncle and +aunt, though they were really only cousins,-'I have been thinking and +thinking about how I could still manage to pay you a visit. I really +cannot face the idea of all the long summer without seeing you.' + +'It _is_ very dull for her at Longfields,' said mamma, interrupting +herself in the reading aloud the letter to us. 'Aunt Emmeline never has +cared much to have visitors, though she is a wonderfully strong and +active old lady. And now that Taisy is giving up regular lessons, it +will be still duller. But it can't be helped, I suppose. Yet I do wonder +what the child has in her head,' and she went on reading. + + 'And, once I was with you, I am _sure_ I would not be any trouble, + if only you had room for me. You don't know what a help I should + be! So--don't be surprised if you see a balloon coming down + towards the Hut one day, and me getting out of it. I have not got + my plan quite ready yet, and I am not going to say anything to + Granny about it till it is all cut and dried and ready to be + stacked!--though, as she always lets me do whatever I want, I am + not much afraid of her making any difficulties. Her old friend, + Miss Merry, will be coming over from Ireland as usual, I suppose, + and I am sure I should only be in the way, especially as I have no + governess now. My best love to you all, and I do hope dear Uncle + Jack will have a nice voyage and come back feeling quite happy + again.--Your loving + + TAISY.' + +'What _can_ she mean?' said Geordie, looking up with a puzzled face. + +'Of course about a balloon is quite a joke, isn't it?' I said, though I +spoke rather doubtfully, not knowing much about balloons! + +'Of course,' said Geordie, in a superior tone. 'Besides, there is no +difficulty about her getting to us. The railway and the roads are not +blocked up because of our troubles. The thing is, that there is nowhere +to put her if she did come.' + +'No,' I agreed, running over the rooms at the Hut in my mind; 'we are +quite closely enough packed as it is. There isn't any possible corner +for another bed even.' + +'Unless,' said Geordie slowly,--'unless you would let me really camp +out, mamma? I could rig up a little tent, or--I wouldn't much mind +sleeping in Barnes's hut?' + +'No, no,' mamma replied decidedly. 'I could not allow anything of the +kind. Our living at the Hut is only possible because it is _not_ to be +like rough camping out, but as healthy and "civilised" as if we were in +a house. So put that out of your head, my dear boy. I could not risk +your catching cold, or anything of that sort. Remember, I feel +responsible to your father in _my_ way for you all, just as you two big +ones feel so for me,' she added with one of her own dear smiles. + +'And then, Dods,' I said, 'it wouldn't be safe--I know _I_ wouldn't feel +safe--without having you actually in the house, even though Barnes's +hut is so near.' + +I think Geordie liked my saying that. But I really meant it. + +So we went on wondering and puzzling as to what Taisy meant. It was +quite an amusement to us that first evening of papa's being away. And it +was worth wondering about, for Taisy was a very clever girl--what is +called 'practical.' + +'If she could come and be with us, I'm sure she would be a great help,' +I thought. 'She is so full of nice ideas and funny ones too, and she +never has headaches or neuralgia or horrid things like that. And yet she +is _so_ kind--I remember that time I sprained my ankle. She was so +good.' + +The next few days were so busy, however, that all thought even of Taisy +and her balloon went out of our heads. I only remember packings and +unpackings and arranging and rearrangings, all in a jumble together, +ending, nevertheless, in a great deal of satisfaction. The afternoon we +went to the Hut 'for good,' it really looked nice enough for us to feel +it, for the time, more 'home' than the big house, which, on the surface, +seemed rather upset still, though in reality it was nearly ready for the +tenants, having gone through a magnificent spring cleaning. But our own +little belongings were absent, and such of the rooms as were quite in +order, to our eyes looked bare and unfamiliar, so that we were not sorry +to be actually settled at the Hut. + +The evenings were still a little chilly, which I, for one, did not +regret, as it gave an excuse for nice bright fires in the sitting-rooms +and mamma's bedroom. And the children had already picked up a good lot +of fir cones, so that the pleasant scent of the trees seemed to be +inside as well as out of doors. + +'It _is_ cosy, isn't it, mamma?' I said, as we stood for a minute or two +in what was now the little drawing-room; 'and oh, _aren't_ you glad not +to be starting on a railway journey to some strange place, or even +driving to that little house at Kirke which you told me about as the +best we could have got?' + +'Yes, indeed, darling,' mamma replied. 'And I am _so_ glad to be able to +date my first letter to papa from the Hut. I must make time to write to +him to-morrow morning; it will just catch the mail.' + +'And to-night,' I went on, 'you must rest. There isn't really very much +more to do, is there? Not at least anything that we need hurry about.' + +'No,' said mamma, looking round. But she spoke rather doubtfully, and I +felt that she was longing to get everything into perfectly 'apple-pie +order,' though what that means I have never been able to understand, for +as far as we know them nowadays, apple-pies are rather untidy-looking! +'There is very little now for me to see to at--home--at the house,' she +went on. 'I am not going there at all for a day or two, and then just to +give a look round and pay the wages owing till the Trevors come.' + +The Trevors were our tenants--a mother and an invalid son, and a +not-very-young daughter--and several of our servants were staying on +with them, which we were very glad of. + +'And I want,' mamma began again, 'to get things started here regularly. +Your lessons, and the little ones' too, and--and--everything. Our own +clothes will take some time to arrange, and I must not expect Hoskins to +be everywhere at once. + +'I will do _lots_, mamma,' I said. 'You don't know what I can do when I +regularly set-to, and I promise you I won't open a story-book till the +boxes are unpacked and arranged,' though I gave a little silent sigh as +I said this. There seemed such heaps to unpack, for you see we had had +to bring all our winter things with us too, and I was sensible enough +to know that there must now be a lot of planning how to make frocks and +coats and things last, that hitherto we should have given away without a +second thought to those whom they might be of use to. And in my secret +heart I was trembling a little at the idea that perhaps one of the +things I should have to 'set-to' at would be sewing--above all, mending! + +'For of course, as mamma says,' I reflected, 'we can't expect Hoskins to +do _everything_! And I knew it was a case of just spending the very +least we could--without risking health or necessary comforts--till papa +came home again, or at least till he got _some_ idea of what the future +was likely to be. + +But for the moment it was worse than foolish to go on looking forward, +when the _present_ was pretty clearly to be seen. And just then Esmé +came dancing in to tell us that tea was ready in the dining-room. + +'Quite ready and getting cold. So come quick,' she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +'YOU DO UNDERSTAND SO WELL, MAMMA' + + +I shall never forget the first morning's awaking in the Hut. Well, as I +knew it, it seemed as if I had not till then ever been there before. I +do not mean so much the actual waking; that of course is always a little +confusing, even if only in a different _room_ from the one you are used +to, and I was particularly accustomed to my own room at Eastercove, as +we were not people who went away very much. We loved home too well for +that. + +No, though I rubbed my eyes and stared about me and wondered why the +window had changed its place, I soon remembered where I was, especially +when I caught sight of Esmé's little bed beside mine, and of Esmé's pink +cheeks and bright hair as she lay fast asleep still, looking like a +comfortable doll. + +I was thinking rather of the feelings I had when I was dressed--I +dressed very quickly, despising any warm water in my bath for once, and +moved about very quietly, so as not to waken Esmé and thereby vex +Hoskins the very first morning--and made my way out to the porch and +stood there gazing about me. + +It was not so very early after all--half-past seven by mamma's little +clock in the drawing-room, and I heard the servants working busily in +the kitchen and dining-room, though there was no sound from poor old +Geordie's corner, in spite of his overnight intentions of being up by +six! + +But outside it seemed very, very early. It was so absolutely _alone_--so +strangely far from any sight or sound of common human life, except for +just one little thing--a tiny white sail, far, far away on the +horizon--a mere speck it seemed. And below where I stood,--I think I +have said that the hut was on a sort of 'plateau,--' though at some +little distance, came the sound of the waves, lapping in softly, for it +was a calm day, and now and then the flash of a gull as it flew past, or +the faint, peculiar cry of some other sea-bird or coast-bird nearer +inland. For the spot was so quiet and seemingly isolated that rather +wild, shy birds were not afraid of visiting it, even when there was no +stormy weather or signs of such out at sea. + +And behind me were our dear pine woods, and the feeling of the squirrels +and the home birds all busy and happy in the coming of the spring, +though any sounds from there were very vague and soft. + +At first I did not know what it all reminded me of. Something out of my +own experiences I knew, but I had to think for a minute or two before it +came back to my mind. And then I remembered that it was a story in a +French book that mamma had read to us, partly in French, which Geordie +and I knew fairly well, and partly translating as she read. It was +called _Les Ailes de Courage_, by some great French author, who wrote +it, I think, for his or her grandchildren, and it is almost the most +interesting and strangest story I ever heard--about a boy who lived +quite, quite alone in a cave by the seashore, and got to know all the +wild creatures and their habits in the most wonderful way, so that they +came to trust him as if he was one of themselves. I cannot give any +right idea of the story; I doubt if any one could, but I wish you--if +'you' ever come to exist--would all read it. + +Just as I was standing there, pleased to have remembered the +association in my mind, I felt a hand slipped gently round my neck. It +was not one of Geordie's 'hugs,' and I looked up in surprise. It was +mamma. + +'How quietly you came,' I said; 'and oh, mamma, _doesn't_ it remind you +of _Les Ailes de Courage_?' + +'Yes,' she replied, 'I know exactly what you mean.' + +And then we stood perfectly still and silent for a moment or two, taking +it all in, more and more, till a _very_ tiny sigh from mamma reminded me +of something else--that dear papa was on that same great sea that we +were gazing at--perhaps standing on the deck of the steamer and thinking +of us--but _so_ far away already! + +'It is chilly,' said mamma, 'and we must not begin our life here by +catching cold. We had better go in, dear. I think it is going to be a +lovely day, but in the meantime I hope Hoskins has given us a fire in +the dining-room.' + +Yes--a nice bright little fire was crackling away merrily, a handful or +two of the children's cones on the top. And the room looked quite cosy +and tidy, as Margery had finished dusting and so on, in here, and was +now busy at the other side. + +'I will go and see how Esmé is getting on,' said mamma. 'She had had +her bath before I came out, but there may be difficulties with her hair. +And you might hurry up the boys, Ida, for I have promised Hoskins to be +very punctual, and breakfast will be ready by eight.' + +It was a good thing I did go to hurry up the boys--they were both fast +asleep! Geordie looked dreadfully ashamed when I at last managed to get +him really awake, and Denzil almost began to cry. He had planned with +Esmé, he said, to have a run down to the sands before breakfast, and +Hoskins knew and had promised them a slice of bread and butter and a +drink of milk. + +'Did she not wake you then?' I asked. 'She woke Esmé at seven, but I was +already up.' + +Geordie could not remember if he had been awakened or not. Denzil +thought Margery had come in and said something about 'seven o'clock,' +but it was all mixed up with a wonderful dream that he wanted me to stay +to listen to, about a balloon (he had heard us talking about Taisy's +balloon) with long cords hanging from it, like those in the +grandfather's clock in the hall 'at home,' for you to climb up and down +by, as if they were rope-ladders. + +'You must have gone to sleep again and dreamt it through the word +"o'clock" getting into your brain,' I said, whereupon I felt as if I had +got out of the frying-pan into the fire, for instead of telling the rest +of his dream, Denzil now wanted to know exactly what I meant, and what +his brain was 'like,' and how a word could get into it--was it a box in +his head, and his ears the doors, etc., etc.--Denzil had a dreadfully +'inquiring mind,' in those days--till I really had to cut him short and +fly. + +'You will neither of you be ready for breakfast, as it is,' I said; 'and +if you are not quick you will have none at all, or at least quite cold.' + +I nearly ran against the coffee, which Hoskins was just carrying in, as +I got to the dining-room door, which would not have been a happy +beginning. But I pulled up just in time, and took in good part Hoskins's +reminder that it wouldn't do to rush about as if we were in the wide +passages at home. Then she went on to tell me what it all made her think +of, she was so glad to have remembered. + +'It is just like a _ship_, Miss Ida. I have never been at sea, but I +spent a day or two once on board one of the big steamers at Southampton +that a cousin of my mother's is stewardess of. Yes, it's that that's +been running in my head.' + +'It can't have been a _very_ big one, then,' I said, rather pertly, I am +afraid. But Hoskins did not see the joke. + +'Oh, but it was, Miss Ida,' she went on, after she had placed the +coffee-pot in safety. 'The big rooms, saloons, as they call them, were +really beautiful, but the passages quite narrow, and the kitchens and +pantries so small, you'd wonder they do do any washing-up in them, let +alone cooking. Not an inch of space lost, you may say. And as to how +they manage in rough weather when everything's atop of the other, it's +just wonderful, not that I've any wish to see for myself; the sea's all +very well to be beside of, but as for going _on_ it,' and Hoskins shook +her head, but said no more. For mamma just then came into the room, and +the kind-hearted woman did not want to remind her who _was_ on the sea +at the present moment. + +We three--mamma and Esmé and I--had made some way with our breakfast +before the two lazy ones joined us, Geordie rather shy and ashamed; +Denzil eager to explain the whole story of his dream, and to tease poor +mamma about his brain and how it was made and what it was like, till I +did wish I had not mentioned its existence to him. + +I don't remember anything very particularly interesting in the course +of the first few days at the Hut, or rather perhaps, _everything_ was so +interesting that no one thing stands out very much in my memory or in my +diary. I kept a diary in those days, as I daresay you who read this have +suspected, otherwise I could not have been so exact about details, +though it needs no diary to remind myself of the _feeling_ of it all, of +the curious charm of the half gypsy life. Not that it really was nearly +as 'gypsy' as we would have liked it to be, or as we _thought_ we would +have liked it to be! It was really so comfortable, and we were all so +pleased with our own efforts to make it so, and their success, that by +the end of a week or ten days we began to long for some adventures. + +'A storm,' said Geordie one day,--'a storm at sea. How would that do? +Not a very bad one of course, and------' + +'No,' I said decidedly, frowning at him to remind him about papa's being +on the sea,--'no, that wouldn't do at all. Besides, there never are +storms at this time of year. It's past the bad time. No, something more +like real gypsies camping near us, and coming to ask us to lend them +things, and telling our fortunes.' + +But at this idea _mamma_ shook her head. + +'No, thank you,' she said, though she smiled; 'I have no wish for any +such neighbours. Besides, Ida, you forget that though we are living in a +hut, we are still at home on our own ground, and certainly gypsies have +never been allowed to camp inside the lodge gates.' + +'They never come nearer than Kirke Common now,' said George. 'They have +been frightened of Eastercove, Barnes says, ever since papa was made a +magistrate.' + +'I think we must be content if we want adventures,' said mamma, 'with +reading some aloud. I have got one or two nice books that none of you +know, and I think it would be a very good plan to read aloud in the +evenings.' + +We were not very eager about it. We liked very much to be read to, but +we were not fond of being the readers, and though mamma read aloud +beautifully, I knew it was not right to let it all fall upon her, as her +voice was not very strong. + +'It isn't as if Taisy were here, to take turns with you, mamma,' I said, +'as she always does.' + +'After this week,' said mamma, 'you will not want any more excitement, +for we must really arrange about your lessons, Ida--yours and the +little ones. And Geordie, of course, will begin again regularly with Mr. +Lloyd, now that we are settled.' + +Our daily governess was given up. She was not now quite 'advanced' +enough for me, and to have her for Denzil and Esmé alone was very +expensive, so it had been fixed that I was to work with mamma; and, on +the other hand, be myself teacher to the little ones for the time. Mamma +had thought she would have so much less to do, with papa away, and no +calls to pay, or going out to dinners and luncheons, all of which she +had given up for the time. But it did not look very like it so far--I +mean not very like her 'having more time' than at the big house, for +there were always things turning up for her to do, and then she wrote +enormously long letters to papa every week. And there were things about +the place, the whole property, which she had to be consulted about now +he was away. + +And for my part I was not at all looking forward to my new post of +governess! + +'It is such a pity,' I thought, 'that we can't have Taisy. She wouldn't +have minded teaching the children a bit, and she is so clever. Lots of +my own lessons I could have done with her too. And I know the little +ones won't obey me; Denzil would, but not Esmé, and she will set him +off.' + +I suppose my face was looking rather cloudy, for mamma went on again. + +'I daresay we shall all feel a little depressed for a time, for we have +had a good deal of really tiring work as well as excitement. And the +worst of over-excitement, at least for young, strong people, is, that +when it is over, everything seems flat, and we find ourselves wishing +something else would happen.' + +'Yes,' I said; 'that's just what I feel. You do understand so well, +mamma.' + +'I have a mild piece of excitement in store for you to-day or +to-morrow,' mamma went on again. 'I think it is quite time that I called +on our tenants. They must be fairly settled by now.' + +'I don't see that there was any settling for them to do,' I said. 'You +left everything so beautifully neat and nice.' + +Somehow I felt a little cross at the poor things! + +'They have to unpack what they brought with them,' said Geordie; 'and +I'm sure----' he stopped short. + +I knew why he stopped. He thought that what he was going to say might +vex me, for, as I think--or hope I have owned--I have a quick temper. +But Dods was not famous for 'tact'; that habit of his of stopping short +all of a sudden often made me crosser than almost anything he could +_say_. + +'It's very rude not to finish your sentence,' I said sharply. 'What are +you so sure about?' + +'Only that you made fuss enough about our own unpacking,' he replied, +'quite extra from the getting the Hut in order and all that.' + +'You are very unfair, and unkind,' I said, feeling as if I should like +to cry, for _I_ thought I had been very patient and good-tempered. +'Mamma, don't you think he needn't have said that?' + +'He did not want to say it, to give him his due,' said mamma, smiling a +little; 'and to give Ida her due,' she went on, turning to Geordie, 'I +don't see, my boy, that you needed to _think_ it.' + +'Well,' said Dods, and I felt my vexedness begin to go away, 'after all, +I don't know that I did. I suppose we've all been rather fussy, though +it wasn't in a bad sort of way.' + +'No, indeed,' said mamma; 'it was in a very good sort of way. You have +all been most helpful; I wish you could have seen my last letter to papa +about you.' + +After that it would have been impossible to go on being vexed with any +one, wouldn't it? I never knew any one like mamma for making horrid +feelings go and nice ones come, and yet she is always quite _true_. + +'Then, do you mean that you want me to go with you when you call on the +Trevors, mamma?' I asked. + +'Yes, I do, rather particularly,' she replied, so of course I said I +would be ready whatever time she fixed, though I didn't very much want +to go. I was just at the age--I don't think I have quite grown past it +even now--when girls hate paying calls, and I could not bear the idea of +being received as visitors in our very own house. This was extremely +silly of course, as it was such a lucky thing for us to have let it to +good, careful people like the Trevors, but I don't think it was an +unnatural feeling. And afterwards, poor mamma owned to me that it was +something of the same kind that had made her wish to take me with her. +It would make her feel less 'lonely,' she thought. Wasn't it sweet of +her to think that? + +So that afternoon, or the next, I forget which, we found ourselves +walking slowly up through the woods to the big house. I felt rather as +if it must be Sunday, for it was not often, except on Sundays, that I +was in the woods in very neat 'get up,'--proper gloves instead of rough +garden ones, and best boots, and hat, and everything like for going to +church, or for going a drive with mamma in the victoria. + +We did not expect--at least I did not--to find our new acquaintances +very interesting. There was nobody young among them, and hearing that +they had come to Eastercove principally for health's sake did not sound +very lively. + +But, after all, something interesting _did_ come of the visit, as I will +tell you. + +We were ushered into the drawing-room--'the ladies were at home,' he +said--by an oldish man-servant, with a nice face. + +Into our own drawing-room--how funny it seemed! And already it did not +seem quite our own, not the same. There were little changes in the +places of the furniture, and there were unfamiliar odds and ends about, +which made it feel strange. I was rather glad that there was no one in +the room to receive us, and I squeezed mamma's hand tight, and I am sure +she understood, and we both had time to get our breath, as it were, +before any one appeared. + +When some one did come, nevertheless, we were taken a little by +surprise, for she--it was Miss Trevor--entered by the window, and I had +been looking towards the door. There are long, low-down windows in the +drawing-room, and at one side a terracey sort of walk, which is very +pleasant for sitting out on, in summer especially, as it is well shaded. + +Immediately I saw her I felt she was nice. She seemed older than mamma, +though perhaps she was not so really. Her face was very quiet--that is +the best word for it, and though I was so young then and knew so little +of life, I felt that it was a face that had _grown_ quiet through +goodness. Even now I do not know much of Miss Trevor's history, but +mamma has been told enough of it to make her think very highly of her. + +There was not the least bit of hardness, scarcely even of sadness in her +expression, but just a look--a look that made one feel that she had come +through sorrow, and could never care _very_ much about anything for +herself again--anything _here_, I mean. + +'I am so sorry,' she said at once, in a nice, hearty way, 'to have kept +you waiting. It is such a lovely afternoon that mother and I have +settled ourselves outside!' + +'Then please don't unsettle yourselves,' said mamma, and I saw a gleam +of pleasure creep into Miss Trevor's gray eyes at mamma's pretty voice +and manner. 'May we not join Mrs. Trevor on the terrace, for I suppose +it is there you are sitting?' + +'Yes,' was the reply. 'It is so sheltered, and of course it is still +early days for venturing anything of the kind. But mother is quite +strong except for rheumatism, and really who _could_ have rheumatism in +this dry, fragrant air? We are so delighted with everything about your +beautiful home, Mrs. Lanark,' she went on. (It has _just_ struck me that +till now I have never said that 'Lanark' is our family name! Really, I +am not fit to try to write a story.) 'And you have done so much to make +it perfect for us.' + +[Illustration: WE WERE OUT ON THE TERRACE, AND MRS. TREVOR COMING TO +MEET US.] + +Mamma and I felt repaid for our trouble by this, but before there was +time to reply, we were out on the terrace, and Mrs. Trevor coming to +meet us. It was not such an easy business for her to do so, as you might +think. She had three dogs--darlings, I must own, and not barking, +snapping darlings--dancing round her, and she was all twisted about with +wool, red and green and white and all colours, unwound from the balls +from her knitting. You never saw anything so funny, especially as the +doggies, though very good-natured, were very lively and affectionate, +and very spoilt, evidently accustomed to think the wools and the +knitting and every bit of dear Mrs. Trevor herself only existed for +their benefit. How she managed to keep the wool clean, and to knit the +pretty fluffy things she did, I never found out. I really think there +was some magic about it, for I _never_ saw her without the strands of it +flying loose, _and_ the dogs dancing up and down to catch it! + +She was laughing--such a nice laugh. + +'Really,' she said, 'you will think me a slave to my pugs, Mrs. Lanark, +and I am afraid it is true. Zenia, dear, please untwist me.' + +Miss Trevor was evidently pretty well used to doing so, but she laughed +too; and mamma and I started forward to help, so between us we managed +to get the wool wound up pretty quickly, the doggies standing by more +quietly than usual. They were more in awe of Miss Trevor, it was plain +to see, than of their actual mistress. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +'NO,' SAID MAMMA, 'THAT ISN'T ALL' + + +Then we all sat down at the end of the terrace; Mrs. and Miss Trevor had +already found out exactly the nicest place, one of our own favourite +places, sheltered but not too shut in, with a view of the pine woods +close by, at one side, and a peep of the farther off sea, through an +opening that had been made on purpose, at the other. + +'I love that glimpse of the sea,' said Miss Trevor, who naturally began +to talk to me, as her mother and mamma were entertaining each other. + +'Yes,' I said, 'this corner is a very nice one. But you should see the +view from where we are now--down at the Hut, I mean.' + +'It must be charming,' she replied, 'so open and wide. I am very +anxious, indeed,' she went on smiling, 'to see the Hut. It must be +so--picturesque.' + +'No, it isn't exactly that,' I said. 'It's _queer_, and +out-of-the-common, of course, but the charm of the place _is_ the +place,' and I laughed at my own way of expressing myself. 'It seems so +entirely away from everything, except the sea and the trees and the wild +creatures, though it isn't _really_ lonely.' + +Then mamma turned to Miss Trevor with some little explanation about +something or other in the house which Mrs. Trevor said her daughter took +charge of, and the old lady--I hope it isn't rude to call her that? she +did seem old to me--began talking to me. I liked her very much. She was +_so_ fond of her three doggies, and she was so sympathising about one of +ours that had died a few months before, and whom we had loved so dearly, +that it was not till a good while afterwards that we could bear to have +another. + +The one we did have in the end was a present from Mrs. Trevor, a pug +puppy, and we have him still, and I named him 'Woolly,' which everybody +thinks a most unsuitable name for a pug, as they do not understand the +reason for it. I daresay _you_ will guess that it was because the sight +of a pug always reminds me of Mrs. Trevor's unwound balls, and the wool +all twined round her. + +Soon after, mamma said we must be going, and we bade Mrs. Trevor +good-bye, but Miss Trevor said she would go a little bit of the way with +us. + +She seemed to have something she wanted to say, and as if she did not +quite know how to begin, till at last, just as we were close to the turn +in the drive that led to the stables and coach-houses, she stood still +for a moment. From where we were there was again a peep of the sea, all +glistening and sparkling, though calm. + +'This is another pretty peep,' said mamma. + +'Yes,' Miss Trevor agreed, 'and the advantage up here is that we can +have these open views and yet be in shade. As the season gets on, I am +afraid you will find it rather too unsheltered from the sun to sit out +on the sea-side of the Hut.' + +'We shall have to rig up shady arrangements,' said mamma laughingly. + +'That reminds me,' said Miss Trevor, which was not quite true, as she +had been thinking of it all this time, I am sure, and wondering how she +was to offer it without seeming officious, or anything of that +sort,--'that reminds me'--then she broke off--'would you mind just +looking in here a moment?' + +'In here' was one of the coach-houses. Miss Trevor led the way towards +it, and pushed open the door. Inside stood a sort of Bath-chair, of +lighter build, even though larger, than such things generally are. It +was of wickerwork, covered with pretty stuff like what tents and awnings +are made of--as we saw when she threw off the sheet that was over it. + +'We call this my brother's boudoir,' she said. 'It is quite a +curiosity,' and she began drawing out and showing us all manner of +contrivances--a table which hooked on to one side, another which +fastened itself to the front, a large basket for the other side, a +stool, quite strong enough for a second person to sit on comfortably to +talk or read to whomever was in the chair; and besides all these, +wonderful awnings that pulled out and could be turned and twisted like +big umbrellas, and stretches of wickerwork to make the chair into a +couch--and all this on wheels! + +'It is not meant to be used as a Bath-chair,' went on Miss Trevor; 'the +wheels are just to move it easily for short distances. It is really a +stationary affair. My brother invented a good deal of it himself two or +three years ago when he was very ill--much more of an invalid than now, +I mean.' + +'It is a beautiful thing,' said mamma, in which I quite agreed with her, +though we both wondered a little why she was exhibiting it at all to us +so minutely. + +'But Will isn't at all pleased with us for bringing it here,' Miss +Trevor continued. 'He says he never wants to see it again; it reminds +him of his worst time, and he says I must get rid of it. He prefers +sitting out among the pines in a quite well sort of way. So--it just +struck mother and me, that _perhaps_ it might be some little use to you, +down so near the sea where there is no shade,' and she glanced at us +half timidly. + +'Oh!' I exclaimed, before mamma had time to speak, 'it would be +splendid--just in front of the little porch. We could really make a sort +of tiny room with it, and you could be _so_ comfortable, mamma, on sunny +days. Oh, do say we may have it!' + +Miss Trevor seemed delighted, and mamma smiled at my enthusiasm. + +'It is a charming chair,' she said, 'far more than a chair indeed--I +scarcely know what to call it. It is most kind of you to have thought of +it for us, Miss Trevor, and if you are so good as to lend it to us, you +may be sure we shall take the greatest care of it. And, of course, if +Mr. William Trevor ever wants to have it while you are here, you must +not for an instant hesitate to tell us and we should send it back at +once.' + +Miss Trevor got rather red. + +'Oh, but,' she said, 'you don't quite understand, Mrs. Lanark. We want +you to have it for good--to keep, I mean, if you care for it. I am +perfectly certain that Will won't want it. In fact, he says he hates the +sight of it. And down at the Hut, it might be of use, even after you +have moved up here again. I will have it wheeled down to you to-morrow +morning; it may need a little cleaning up first. The wheels are quite +strong enough for a short journey, especially with no one inside. I only +meant that it is not built in the peculiarly strong way a regular +Bath-chair needs to be.' + +I did feel so pleased to know it was to be our very own, and so, I +think, did mamma. For when things are lent, there is always a rather +fidgety feeling, for fear they should get spoilt in any way. And Miss +Trevor had said it so nicely--as if our taking it would really be doing +them a favour. For, of course, from almost complete strangers it is a +little difficult to accept presents, though mamma has often told us that +to receive a kindness graciously is quite as much a duty as to offer +one. + +And then too she had spoken as if our return to our proper home was +quite a certainty, and our absence from it only a question of a little +time, though afterwards we heard that there had been a good deal of +gossip in the neighbourhood about our being completely 'ruined,' and +that Eastercove was sure to have to be sold. I suppose a great deal of +gossip is not meant to be unkind, but still it does seem sometimes as if +people were more ready to exaggerate and talk about other people's +_troubles_ than about their good fortune. + +We said good-bye to Miss Trevor soon after that--she, turning to go back +to the house, and we, after mamma had asked her very heartily to come +soon to see us in our 'gypsy encampment,' as mamma called it (I wished +it had been a good deal more gypsy than it was!), which she seemed very +eager to do, walking slowly towards the Hut. More slowly than I felt +inclined for--I was in a fever to tell Geordie about the wonderful +chair--but mamma was still feeling a little tired after all the bustle +and busy-ness and sad feelings of the last few weeks, and so I tried to +keep down my impatience. + +When we came quite out of the wood into the clear, open view of the sea, +mamma stood still again and gazed down at it without speaking for a +moment or two. + +'Are you thinking of papa?' I said softly, giving her arm, through which +I had slipped my hand, a little squeeze. + +'Yes, dear,' she said, turning her face towards me, and I was pleased to +see that she was smiling. 'He must be nearing the end of his long +journey by now. But it was not only because of his voyage that I was +thinking of him. The sea is always associated with him in my mind; it +was the occasion of our first getting to know each other.' + +I felt greatly interested. + +'Did you meet on board ship, do you mean?' I asked. 'Did you make a +voyage together?' + +'No, no,' said mamma, smiling again; 'I have never been a long voyage in +my life. And the time I was thinking of--ever so long ago--had nothing +to do with a voyage. I will tell you the story of it if you like. Shall +we sit down here a little? It is perfectly dry.' + +My hurry to get home to tell Geordie about Miss Trevor's present had +softened down in the interest of what mamma was speaking of; besides, +when I came to think of it, I remembered that he could not yet be back +from Mr. Lloyd's. So I was very pleased to do as mamma proposed. + +'There is a little bathing-place far up in the North,' she began, when +we had settled ourselves on a little bank made by some old roots which +had spread out beyond the actual pine wood, 'which was rather a +favourite in that part of the world a good many years ago, though now, I +fancy, it is quite out of fashion. It was considered a very safe place +for children, as there are great stretches of sands, and the bathing is +very good, except that the tide at one part goes out with great +swiftness and force, owing to a current of some kind just there. There +is a garrison town--a small one--two miles or so from the bathing +village--a station for cavalry--and the sands used to be, and I daresay +still are, a favourite exercising ground for the horses. Well, one +morning, ever so long ago, as I said----' + +'Do you mean fifty years ago, or a hundred perhaps?' I interrupted +thoughtlessly, forgetting that the story had some connection with mamma +herself. + +'No, no,' she said laughing, 'not quite as "ever so long ago" as that. +Let me see--I need not be quite exact--about twenty-four or twenty-five +years ago, we will say. Well, one fine summer morning an officer, a +very young one, of only eighteen or nineteen, was galloping with his +men--a small party--up and down these sands, when he heard and saw +something which made him suddenly pull up and gaze down towards the sea, +which had turned and was rapidly going out. It was just above the +bathing-place--a perfectly safe place if the vans were drawn out when +the tide turned, and not allowed to get into the sort of current I told +you of. But by some mischance one of the vans had been allowed to stay +in the water too long--the old bathing man was getting rather stupid, I +fancy, and was busy drying things higher up, with his back to the sea, +and did not hear the cry from the van, or see the white handkerchief +that was frantically waved from its landward side. + +The young man had keen eyes and ears; he saw that there was not a moment +to be lost--and he quickly took in what had happened and what must be +done. The van was _almost_ off its wheels, swaying about with every +little wave that ran in, as the water rose and rose. And just outside +the door, on the ledge at the top of the steps, stood a forlorn little +figure waving a handkerchief, or perhaps it was a towel, and crying at +the top of her small voice-- + +"Help, help; oh, _please_, help!" + +'I don't know what the officer did about his men, who were already some +little way off--I suppose he signed to them to wait for him,--but I know +what he did himself, and that was to gallop as fast as his horse would +go, down to the sea, shouting as he went to the bathing-man, who was +quick enough to see what was wrong, as soon as his attention was called +to it. + +'He rushed for his old horse, and was wonderfully soon at the water's +edge and in it, looking horribly frightened, but quick as he was, the +young man was there at least a minute or two before him. And after one +glance at the state of things, the first comer did not hesitate. For he +saw that the van was growing less and less steady; it was _almost_ +lifted off the ground by this time, though it kept recovering itself a +little. And the small figure on the steps was calling more and more +wildly and shaking her white signal more desperately, while she clung on +with the other hand to the side of the lurching and swaying van. + +'His--the young officer's, I mean--first idea was to harness his horse +_somehow_ to the van, and draw it out bodily--riding like a postilion. +But he gave this up at once when he found how deep the water was +already and how unsteady the thing was. He was too angry with the +careless owner of it to care whether the van itself swam out to sea or +not, and too anxious, to risk wasting a moment. And the sight of the +little white face and tear-swollen eyes lifted up to him doubled both +these feelings. + +'"Don't be frightened, you will be all right now," he called out to the +child, who by this time scarcely knew what she was saying. He thinks she +changed her piteous "Help, help, do come!" to "Oh, save me, please, save +me!" And when he and his horse got quite close he had no need to +encourage her to come to him--she almost sprang into his arms, so +quickly that he was afraid she would fall into the water. But it was +managed somehow, so that in another moment he found himself riding back +to the shore again, with the little girl perched on the front of his +saddle, clinging to him and tucked up so as to keep even her feet from +getting wet. + +'She was actually quite dry when they got back to the sands and he +lifted her down--getting off himself to get a good shake, for _he_ was +by no means quite dry, nor was the horse, who had behaved so well and +pluckily, as if understanding there was something the matter, and now +stood snorting with pleasure and satisfaction. + +'And the little girl was sensible too. She had quite left off crying and +held out her hand to her preserver. + +'"Oh, thank you, thank you so velly much," she said, "for saving me. I +was velly neely drowned, wasn't I? Please go home and get dry quick, or +else you'll catch cold." + +'But before he had time to reply, a figure came rushing up to them in +great excitement. It was the little girl's nurse, dreadfully frightened +and ashamed, especially when the boy officer turned upon her very +sharply and asked her what on earth she had been thinking of to leave +her charge in such danger. + +'She had a long story to tell, which he had not patience to listen +to--how she had almost finished dressing the young lady when she found +she had left her parasol on the sands, and had climbed over into the +next van where a friend was, just as it was being drawn out, as she was +so afraid of the parasol being stolen, thinking no harm could come to +the child in that minute or two till the bathing-man came back again, +and how her friend had seen the parasol higher up on the stones, and +how--and then came the bathing-man lumbering up with _his_ story--or +how he had thought there was no one in the van, and he was just a-goin' +to fetch it out--not that it would have gone far---- + +'"But it _would_," said the soldier; "and even if it had stuck, the +young lady would have been half killed with fright and soaked through, +and perhaps fallen into the water bodily. The bathing-man deserved to be +reported, and----" + +'There came a shout for the young officer just then. Some one, thinking +_he_ had got drowned or something of the kind, had hurried back to see. +So he rode off though just as he was going, the little girl stopped him +for a moment. + +'"Oh, please, Mr. Soldier," she said, "will you tell me your name, so +that mamma can write to thank you?" + +'He laughed, but he was already in the saddle, and all she heard was the +one word, "Jack."' + +Mamma stopped when she got to this. I waited an instant to see if she +was going on again. I felt a little puzzled, though I thought the story +so interesting. + +'That isn't all, is it, mamma?' I said. 'I do so like it, but--didn't +you say--something about papa--and you and the sea, being mixed up?' + +Mamma smiled; her pretty blue eyes were fixed on the water below us; +they and it seemed almost the same colour this afternoon. + +'No,' she said, 'that isn't all. It was many, at least several--nine or +ten or so years later, that the story goes on again. The boy officer had +been out in India and seen fighting and many other things that come into +soldiers' lives. But now that was over for him. Other duties had come +into his life and changed it. Well--he was staying near the sea, with +his mother and sisters, and one day, after a boating expedition,--it was +a picnic to a picturesque island not far off,--he was introduced to a +girl who had come with some other acquaintances. And they walked up and +down the sands for a little. He kept looking at her in rather a curious +way, and she wondered why, till at last he said-- + +'"I have the strangest feeling that I have seen you before, but I cannot +tell where or when. And your name does not help me to remember." + +'Then the girl looked at him in her turn very carefully. And a sudden +rush of remembrance came over her. + +'"Is your name," she said quite eagerly,--"is your name--your first name +'Jack'?" + +'"Yes," he said, more and more puzzled. + +'She smiled, and then she laughed, and then she told him. + +'"I believe I can solve the riddle," she said. "I once rode through the +sea on your horse--in front of you.'" + +'And then Jack remembered.' + +And _I_ understood! + +'Oh, mamma!' I exclaimed, 'what a dear story. And _you_ are the little +girl, and dear papa is "Jack," and--and--it ended in your being married! +How clever it was of him to remember your face again!' + +'Don't you think it was still cleverer of me to remember his name?' said +mamma. '_He_ always says so. But Ida, dearest, look how low the sun is +getting. We must hurry home, or Geordie and the others will be getting +tired of waiting for tea,' and she got up from her root-seat as she +spoke, and we walked on quickly. + +I kept on thinking of the story all the way. It was so pretty and yet so +queer to think of my own papa and mamma as if they were people in a +book, and to picture to myself that once upon a time, or _ever_, they +were strangers to each other. + +'Mamma must have been a dear little girl,' I thought to myself, as I +glanced up at her; 'she is still so pretty and sweet;' and I felt that +to me she _always_ would seem so, even when her golden hair had grown +silver, and her bright eyes dimmer, and her rounded cheeks thin and +worn. + +'She will always be my dear pretty mamma,' I thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL' + + +The interest of listening to mamma's story had made me for the time +almost forget about Miss Trevor's present. But as we got close to the +Hut and saw George coming to meet us, it rushed back into my mind again. + +'I say,' he called out, as he caught sight of us, 'it's past tea-time; +Hoskins wanted us to begin without waiting for you, but I wouldn't. She +said she was sure you were having it up there with those people,' and he +nodded his head in the direction of the big house. + +'Oh no!' said mamma, 'I like tea at home best, my boy.' + +And 'Oh no!' I joined in;' I was really in a hurry to get back, Dods, +for I have something very interesting to tell you. And you mustn't call +them "those people;" they are very nice indeed and _very_ kind. They're +going to send----' + +'Wait till we are at tea to tell him all about it,' interrupted mamma. +'It will take some time, and I see Esmé and Denzil peeping out +impatiently.' + +Tea, you see, had become rather a settled sort of meal, even for mamma, +though she and Geordie and I had a sort of little dinner or supper, I +scarcely know which to call it, later in the evening. But _nursery_ +meals had of course to be given up at the Hut, as there was no nursery +to have them in, so Esmé and Denzil did not think five o'clock tea a +small affair by any means. And whether it was that the being so _very_ +close to the sea had sharpened our appetites, or that Hoskins and +Margery between them made such very good 'plain cakes,' I can't say, but +I certainly don't remember ever having nicer teas or enjoying them more +than at the Hut. + +'Well,' began Geordie, after we were all seated comfortably at the +table, 'what is the interesting thing you have to tell about, Ida? Has +it anything to do with the--our tenants,' he went on, with a tone of +satisfaction in his voice; 'I may call them _that_, for that's what they +are.' + +'Yes, of course it has,' I said. 'You might have guessed that much +without being a--what is it you call a man witch--oh yes, a wizard, as +you knew mamma and I were there this afternoon, and I began to tell you +they were going to send us something. It's the jolliest thing you ever +saw, Dods--isn't it, mamma? Do help me to describe it.' + +Between us we managed to do so pretty well, and I could see that Geordie +was really very pleased about it. But he was in one of those humours +that boys have more often than girls, I think--of not showing that he +was pleased--'contradictious,' Hoskins calls it, and of trying to poke +out something to find fault with or to object to. + +'Hum, hum,' he kept murmuring; 'yes, oh yes, I know the sort of thing. +But there's one point you've forgotten, Ida, and mamma too, haven't +you?--where is this wonderful chair affair to be kept?' and he looked +round the table in a provoking sort of way. 'It won't _always_ be fine +dry weather, and certainly it wouldn't get in at the door here by your +description, even if we had any room for it to stand in.' + +I suppose my face fell, and I think mamma, who is as quick as lightning +to understand one's little changes of feeling, was rather vexed with +Geordie, who is--or _was_ rather--he has got out of those half-teasing +ways wonderfully, now that he is older--tiresome sometimes, though he is +so good, for she said quickly-- + +'We shall find some place or plan something about it. Don't be afraid, +Ida dear. It is a beautiful present. Geordie will thoroughly appreciate +it when he sees it.' + +'Is it big enough to hold both Denny and me together?' asked Esmé. + +'It's big enough to hide you, so that you couldn't be seen at all, you +small person,' said mamma laughing. + +I felt sure mamma would plan something, so that we need not feel we had +got a white elephant in the shape of a garden chair. All the same, +Geordie's objection did worry me a little. I kept wondering, when I woke +in the night, where we _could_ keep Miss Trevor's present, and hoping +that we should not have to send it back after all. + +I need not have done so, for when it arrived, as it did the next +morning, it was even more complete than we had known. It was enveloped +in a huge waterproof cover, looking like a miniature van or waggon, as +the gardener, sent with it, slowly pushed it along! And he explained +that, for eight months or so of the year, it would be quite safe +outside. For there were also rollers--I don't know exactly what to call +them--strips of wood you could roll _it_ on to, to keep the wheels from +the damp of the ground, if it _was_ damp, though, as the man said, when +he had told us all this and shown us how to slide the wheels into the +grooves, 'it's really never for to say damp or wet in the pine woods. If +it was wheeled into a good sheltered place, I'd undertake to say it'd be +safer and drier than inside most coach-houses or stables.' + +He was an Eastercove man, I should explain, and of course he thought +there was no place in the world to compare with it! + +There was another addition to the belongings of the chair, which we had +not known of, and that was a hot water tin which fitted into the +footstool, in the same neat, compact way which everything belonging to +it did. Really a very good thing, for of course any one sitting still +out-of-doors may get cold feet, even though it is not winter or wintry +weather. + +Geordie stood with his hands in his pockets admiring it all, without a +fault to find; not that he wanted to find one, I feel sure. He was in a +much cheerier humour this morning, and perhaps he was feeling a little +sorry for having wet-blanketed my pleasure at all, the night before. + +Mamma called us all away from our new toy at last. Geordie had to set +off to Mr. Lloyd's, and for me, alas! it was one of the days on which I +had to act governess to the little ones. I did not mind Denzil so much, +though he was--I don't mind if he sees this--I am afraid I must say he +still is, _very_ slow at lessons. + +But he cannot help it, not altogether, anyway, and I do think he +generally does his best, and when you know that of any one, you can be +much less particular with them, can't you? Besides, once he _has_ 'taken +in' anything thoroughly, he does not forget it, which is a great comfort +to a teacher. + +It was Esmé who tried me the most. Such a flibbertigibbet (that is one +of Hoskins's queer words, and mamma does not like me to use them much, +but it is so expressive) you never saw. If you got her to give her +attention, or thought you had, and were feeling quite pleased and even +proud of it, as she sat there with her bright eyes fixed on the map, +we'll say, while you were pointing but how big Russia was, and how tiny +England seemed with the sea all round it, all of a sudden she would say +something like this-- + +'Ida, _did_ you see that girl just in front of the school-children in +church?' (Geography, I think, came on a Monday morning.) 'I couldn't +make out if the ribbon on her hat was green or blue, or both shaded +together.' + +And then if I scolded her and begged her to think of her lessons and not +of people's hats in church, she would explain in the funniest way, that +thinking of the sea, which sometimes looks blue and sometimes green, and +sometimes you don't know which, had made her remember how puzzled she +had been about the girl's hat. + +Upon which Denzil must come in with his remark, very wise and proper of +course-- + +'_I_ think,' he said, 'that Esmé and nobody, shouldn't think about hats +and ribbins and things like that in church--never. _I_ think it'd be +much better if ladies and girls dressed all like each other, like men +and boys, when they go to church.' + +'Oh, indeed,' said Esmé; 'and who was it that was in a terrible fuss +about his tie not being knotted up the right way only last Sunday as +ever was, and----' + +'Esmé!' I exclaimed, horrified, 'where _did_ you learn anything so +vulgar--"last Sunday as ever was"? What would mamma say if she heard +you?' + +'It was Margery that said it,' replied Esmé, not the least put out; 'and +I thought it sounded rather nice, but I won't say it again if you'd +rather I didn't. _Is_ it nonsense, Ida, about men and boys never +thinking about their clothes? Geordie can't bear his best hat to be +touched, and I've noticed gentlemen, big ones, I mean like papa--looking +as cross as anything if they couldn't put their hats safe. _I_ think +they fuss more on Sundays in church than any other time.' + +'Well, don't talk any more about it just now,' I said, 'or you will +never get your geography into your head.' + +But it was already too late. There was very little use trying to call +back Esmé's wandering wits once they had started off on an expedition of +their own, and I really began to fear I should have to tell mamma that I +was very little, if any, use as the child's governess. + +About this too, as things turned out, I need not have worried. It is +curious how very seldom what we vex ourselves about before it happens +does come to pass! I suppose this should show us the harm and +uselessness of fancying troubles, or exaggerating them. + +We were very busy and happy that afternoon, I remember, when George came +back from Kirke, in arranging the wonderful chair. We settled it near +the porch, and to please us, as it was really a very fine, almost warm +day, mamma said we might have tea there, and that she would sit in the +chair with Esmé on the stool, and the little table hooked on for their +cups and plates. I made tea on a little table in the porch, and Dods and +Den handed it out. It was rather a squash, but we didn't mind. Mamma +looked so comfortable under the awning, which we had drawn out, as we +wanted to try everything; the only mistake was having the hot-water +bottle in the footstool filled; poor mamma was obliged to ask to have it +taken out, as she said she was afraid her feet were really nearly +getting boiled, and of course it was not cold enough weather to require +it. + +After tea was over and the things taken away, mamma said she would stay +where she was for a little and finish a letter to papa, in which she +would tell him all about her movable 'boudoir,' as she called it. She +really seemed to have taken a great fancy to it, which I was very +pleased at, for of us all--though she never said or seemed to think +so--it was certainly mamma who had had to give up the most of what she +was accustomed to, when we came to live at the Hut. + +Esmé and Denzil ran down to the shore to play, and Dods and I strolled +round a little. I remember all about that evening, even without looking +up in my diary. I think I was telling him the story mamma had told me, +of when she was a little girl, and the bathing machine, and papa saving +her, and we had walked up a short way behind the house, to a part of the +path, or road--it was a road, though a small one--from where you could +see a bit of the drive from the lodge to the big house. + +Suddenly something came in view--the queerest-looking thing you ever +saw, like a van, and yet not like one, more like a small omnibus, only +all over the top it was bumped out into all kinds of shapes, so that it +looked like a gypsy's basket waggon, with a cover over. + +'What can that be?' I said to Geordie. + +And we both stared hard, as the thing slowly made its way along. + +'The Trevors must have queer things sent to them,' I said. 'It isn't the +railway van from the station, and yet, if it was travelling pedlars or +anything of that kind, they wouldn't have let it in at the gates.' + +Geordie did not speak. He has better eyes than I--I have always been a +little near-sighted--and he stood there gazing before him with an odd +expression creeping over his face. He saw--what I did not--a head, or +part of one, poked out of the window at the back of the strange vehicle. + +'Geordie,' I said at last, 'what are you staring at so? What _do_ you +think it is? Oh!' as I suddenly caught sight of a new feature in the +mystery, 'I do believe the thing is coming down _here_, and not going to +the big house at all.' + +For there was a side road out of the drive just about the part that the +strange carriage or waggon had now got to, which led in our direction. + +'Yes,' said Geordie, turning to me, and speaking very slowly and +distinctly, though there was a twinkle in his eyes, which rather spoilt +the solemnity of his tone, 'you are right, Ida. I will tell you what it +is--it is the _balloon_.' + +Now indeed it was I who stared! + +What could he mean? + +Did balloons come in vans, and what had we to do with them? It was not +for a moment or two that I remembered our joke about Taisy,--that she +meant to astonish us by coming down in a balloon or something wonderful +and original of that kind, from her mysterious hints in her letter to +mamma. + +And then I seemed to understand it all, almost better than Dods did. It +quite took my breath away. + +'Come, come, Dods!' I cried, setting off as I spoke, 'let's run to meet +her. Oh, Taisy, Taisy, you funny girl! Oh, how delighted I am!' + +We ran so fast that we reached the waggon almost before the driver and +horses--there were two--seemed fairly launched on the side road, and in +time to hear an eager voice from within calling out, 'All right, +straight on, now. There is plenty of room.' + +It was Theresa of course, but just at first she did not see us. She was +leaning out on the other side to make the driver hear. But she turned, +fast enough, when our shouts reached her, though she did not jump down, +as we half expected. + +[Illustration: 'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID.] + +'I can't very well get out,' she said. 'I'm so packed in, and there are +some breakable things. But I'll manage it in a minute. Yes, yes--it's I +myself! I've come to stay with you, though I have not been invited. +And--you'll understand directly, I've brought my house--or rather my +room--with me like a snail, so auntie can't turn me away again.' + +She was so excited and delighted with herself, and we were so excited +and delighted too, that we could scarcely speak for laughing. We did not +let her get out; she _was_ so packed in, as she said, but we walked by +the door, she talking as hard as she could, for her vehicle was +lumbering along at a foot's pace. + +'Yes,' she said, in answer to our eager questions; 'I've been travelling +like this since ten o'clock. No, not _quite_ like this--we did trot on +the high road. The waggonette----' + +'Waggonette,' interrupted George, 'I should call it a--waggon and a +half!' + +'Well, never mind about that. Call it an omnibus if you like. Anyway, +_it_ started yesterday, and spent the night at Wetherford. Granny wanted +me to come all the way to Kirke by train and to write to tell you, which +would have spoilt the fun. So I got her to let me '('to _let_ you +indeed, Miss Taisy,' thought I to myself, though I did not say so; 'I +know better. You said sweetly, "Granny, dear, I just must;" and she +said, "Well, well, my darling, if you must, you must, I suppose")--'to +let me come to Wetherford this morning with her maid, and to meet old +Dawson' (the driver) 'there, and come on as you see. I had hard work to +find room for myself inside, and I did begin to think we should never +get here! But the evenings are long now, and it's been a lovely day; +everything's dry and ready--bedding and all. There'll be plenty of time +to unpack, and Dawson is to stay the night at Kirke, and ride home on +one horse, leading the other.' + +'And leaving the waggon,' I said, rather stupidly I must own; I think I +was really feeling rather bewildered with the excitement and laughing +and Taisy's flow of explanation. + +She burst out laughing again at this. + +'Of course,' she said. 'If I didn't keep my house, I might as well go +back again. But do let us hurry on to tell auntie all about it.' + +I think in her heart of hearts poor Taisy was feeling a tiny atom +anxious as to what mamma would think of it all. But she need not have +done. Mamma understood her so well and trusted her good sense as well +as her affection, in spite of dear Taisy's _rather_ wild ways sometimes. + +She--mamma, I mean--was sitting quietly where we had left her, reading, +in the new chair. And it was nice to see the bright look of pleasure +which came over her face when she realised that it was Taisy, really +Taisy, and not an 'optical illusion,' who stood before her and then +hugged and kissed her as no illusion could have done. + +'But, my child,' said she, 'where----' + +'Where are you going to put me?' interrupted our new guest; 'look, +auntie, look up and see,' and she pointed to the van, which was just +coming in sight again. 'I have brought my house with me.' + +Mamma's face looked completely puzzled now. + +'I will explain,' Theresa went on, and indeed George and I wanted this +part of it explained as much as mamma did. 'That lovely old thing that's +lumbering along is Granny's discarded luggage-waggonette. It hasn't been +used for centuries; it is really a small omnibus more than a waggonette. +I ferreted it out in one of the coach-houses, where I was poking about +with a vague idea that I might find something of the kind to make it +possible for me to come to you after all. And I got the coachman to help +me. We had it thoroughly dried and aired, and the seats at one side +taken out--and a friend of the coachman's, who is a clever carpenter, +has fitted it up. You will see. There is a table that slips down when +not wanted, and a frame in one corner to hold a basin and ewer, and +hooks for hanging things, and a tray like a deep drawer under the seat +that's to be the bed. Oh, it's lovely! and really as good as a cabin on +board ship,' and Taisy stopped to take breath. + +'And did Aunt Emmeline know about it?' asked mamma. + +'She gave me leave to do what I liked with the old thing,' said Taisy; +adding candidly, 'I did not tell her _what_ I was doing till it was all +ready. She thought I was fixing it up for photographing, I think. But in +the end she was nearly as excited about it as I was, and she gave me all +sorts of things--blankets and pillows and crockery and little curtains. +It's just stuffed with things--inside and out--though I brought as few +personal things--clothes, I mean--as possible, for I don't want to crowd +_you_ up, you see. I shall have room for everything when it's all +unpacked, you will see,' she added, with a touch of apology in her +voice. + +'Dearest child,' said mamma, 'as if we would mind that, if _you_ were +comfortable.' + +Taisy's eyes beamed. + +'Comfortable,' she repeated; 'that is no word for what I am going to +be.' + +'And how long may you stay?' asked Geordie. + +'As long as you like to have me,' was the reply. 'Granny is expecting +her old friend to-morrow, and I _know_ they will be much happier without +me. I have a letter from Granny for you, auntie, explaining her plans. +But there's no hurry about that. I want to begin unpacking. And what a +lovely arrangement all this is!' she went on admiringly, touching the +arm of mamma's chair as she spoke, 'nearly as beautiful as my waggon!' + +Then the history of Miss Trevor's present had to be related, and all its +wonderful perfections exhibited. And then Hoskins appeared with a cup of +fresh tea for Miss Theresa, which she offered with a face all over +smiles, for Taisy was a great favourite of hers. And 'Miss Theresa' +drank the tea, and devoured bread and butter and cake in a most +gratifying way; and then she _had_ to run through the Hut, and see all +that we had done to it. + +So that, after all, it was rather late before we got to the unpacking of +the waggon, though Hoskins and Margery and Dawson had already done a +good deal. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +'THE KIND SEA, TOO, AUNTIE DEAR' + + +We _did_ get everything unpacked that night, but only in a +rough-and-ready way. We should have liked to go on till midnight or +later even, working by moonlight, for it was full moon and very clear +weather just then, but this mamma would not hear of. + +And Hoskins in her sensible way pointed out how much more nicely and +neatly we could finish it all by daylight with the straw and packing +cloths all tidied away, which she would 'see to' first thing in the +morning. + +She and mamma had already arranged for Taisy to sleep in my room that +night, by Esmé's sleeping with mamma, and by taking out the end of +Esmé's cot, to make it longer--long enough after a fashion, for _me_. + +How we laughed, Taisy and I, though any other girl would have been +tired after all she had done, and the tiresomely slow drive from +Wetherford! Mamma was obliged to knock on the--wall, I was going to +say--but of course it was not a wall, only a wooden partition, to tell +us to be quiet. I never knew any one with such spirits as Taisy--not +only high spirits, but _nice_ ones, for she was never boisterous, and +she knew in a moment if you were not inclined for laughing or joking, +though her fun was always there, ready to bubble up again at the right +moment. She was full of sympathy too, in spite of her cheerfulness; no +one could possibly have called her heartless. + +Looking back, I can see what a _very_ good thing it was for us all that +she came, even for mamma. We were in danger just then of being too much +taken up with our own little life--the life of the Hut--which is one +kind of selfishness. + +And dear mamma in her _un_selfishness might have got too silent about +all she was feeling; she was so afraid of making us young ones +melancholy. But I have seen her sitting or standing, when she thought we +did not notice, gazing at the sea--gazing, gazing, as if she could +scarcely bear it and yet must look at it. The cruel sea, which had taken +dear papa so far away! On fine, sunny days I almost think somehow it +seemed worse. I know that feeling about the sea myself, as if it _were_ +cruel really, below its loveliness and brilliance. And I am sure she +said something of this to Taisy, the very day after Taisy came, for I +heard _her_ say, though her eyes were full of tears-- + +'The _kind_ sea, too, auntie dear, which will bring him back again.' + +And as for us children, it was just delightful past words to have +Theresa. We had been very happy at the Hut already, very busy and +interested, but the _fun_ of the life there came with Taisy. She was +full of it, though the things we found so amusing are too trifling, even +if they would not seem really silly, to write down. + +The arranging of her 'house,' as she would call it, was the nicest part +of all the arranging we had had to do. We pulled it close up to one side +of one of our doors--the 'parish room' doors you understand, where there +were no windows, so that the waggon was, so to say, protected by one of +the iron walls--I don't know what else to call it, and which also gave +the advantage of a tap in the night arousing us at once, _in case_ +Taisy felt frightened, which she never did. But the tapping was very +convenient all the same, as she could awaken me in the mornings when +they got warm enough for very early bathing, without 'disturbing the +whole house,' as Hoskins said. And I could tap to her, last thing at +night, to wish her good-night. + +You never saw a cosier place than we made of it; that first day after it +was all arranged, we _couldn't_ leave off admiring it. + +There was Taisy's bed along one side, rather a narrow one of course, +though not worse than a berth at sea, and looking so bright with the +lovely scarlet blankets Lady Emmeline had given her. And in one corner a +little frame which held a ewer and basin, and in the other some hooks +for hanging things with a red curtain that drew round, and short red +curtains to the windows, and a _tiny_ chest of drawers; it was really +one end of an old writing-table, or _secretaire_, to hold gloves and +pocket-handkerchiefs and belts and small things like that. Then under +the bed there was a long low trunk, what is called a cabin portmanteau, +I believe, which held Taisy's best dresses, of which she had certainly +not brought many, and hooks higher up than the hanging ones, for her +hats. You wouldn't believe, unless you have ever been a long voyage--I +_have_, since those days--all that was got into the old omnibus, by +planning and ingenuity. + +Taisy was as proud of it as if she had made or built, I suppose one +should say, the whole carriage; indeed, I think we all were, once we had +got everything perfectly arranged. Mamma carried off some of her _most_ +crushable things, as she said she had really some spare room in her own +cupboards or wardrobes; and I took her best hat, as it had lovely white +feathers, which it would have been a thousand pities to spoil, and which +there was plenty of space for in the big box where Esmé's and mine were. +And then Taisy declared she felt her house quite spacious. + +Lady Emmeline had sent several things for us, some especially for mamma +herself, which I was particularly glad of, as dear mamma, never thinking +of herself and anxious to leave the big house as pretty as usual, had +left behind some little things that I am sure she missed. And old Aunt +Emmeline and Taisy seemed to have guessed by magic what these were. + +'How nice!' I exclaimed, when Taisy had got them unpacked. 'This screen +is just like the one you have in the boudoir at home, and cushions--I +_know_ you will be glad of some cushions, mamma, though you wouldn't +bring any with you.' + +'And a _couvre-pied_,' added Taisy; 'Granny was sure you hadn't got +enough "wraps." Nothing will persuade her that it is not always as cold +as winter down here.' + +'It is most kind of her,' said mamma; 'and I really am very, very +pleased to have these things. And--did you know, Ida?--Aunt Emmeline has +also sent us two hampers full of all manner of good things to +eat--chickens and a turkey, and a ham and pickled tongues, and I don't +know all what.' + +'Yes,' said Taisy; 'nothing will persuade her either that you are +not----' She stopped suddenly and got rather red. + +'I know,' said mamma, laughing, 'that we are not in danger of starvation +as well as of cold. You need not mind, Taisy dear--as if _anything_ +could offend us that you said or that Aunt Emmeline thought. And of +course it is true that we are anxious to spend as little as we can, +while things are so uncertain.' + +'And then we can't cure hams or pickle tongues like at home,' I added. + +So all the kind old lady's gifts were very welcome. I think Hoskins was +more pleased with the eatables than with anything. + +Things had been nice before, but after Taisy came, we really did enjoy +ourselves. She was always planning something amusing or interesting, and +mamma declared she had never heard me or Geordie laugh so much in her +life. It was very good for Geordie to be 'routed out' a little, as Taisy +said. He was inclined to be too serious and anxious, and to overwork, at +this time, because of the scholarship, and as I had put it into his +head, I was doubly glad of being helped to keep him bright and merry, +as I know he worked all the better for it. He was _really_ +anxious-minded--not like Denzil, who never laughed and was as solemn as +an owl, not because _he_ was anxious, but just because he was too fat +and comfortable to worry--poor old Den!--he really _is_ so +good-tempered, I don't like laughing at him. + +It was very nice too that just about this time came the first really +long letter from papa; up to now he had written scarcely more than +scraps. And this letter was decidedly more cheerful and hopeful. + +He had begun to go into things thoroughly, he said, and had got very +good friends to help him, and he was beginning to think that, at worst, +it would not turn out _too_ awfully bad. And for this mamma felt very +grateful, though she had so bravely prepared for whatever might be to +come. + +So for a few weeks we went on very contentedly, more than that, +indeed--very brightly too. It was, for me, too delightful not to have +much governessing to do, for Taisy at once took the most of this on +herself. And I assure you, she _did_ keep Miss Esmé in order. + +In return for this she joined me in some of my reading with mamma, and +she always has said that she learnt more in this way about some lessons +than she had ever done before. Mamma is very clever. + +We went on, as I said, pretty steadily like this for some weeks till +another rather big thing happened--almost as big as the 'descent of the +balloon,' which we always called Theresa's arrival. + +But before telling about this new event, I must relate a curious thing +that happened one day. + +It was one afternoon--just after tea--we were still sitting out of doors +where we had had tea--mamma in her 'boudoir,' for the days were getting +quite long, and we were specially glad to be in the open air as much as +possible, for we had had a good deal of rain for nearly a week--mamma +was reading, and I think I was too--when Hoskins came out of the house +looking rather 'funny'--queer, I mean, as if not quite sure if she were +vexed or not. + +'If you please, ma'am,' she said, 'there's a gypsy at the back door, and +I can't get her to go till she's seen you.' + +'A gypsy,' mamma exclaimed in great surprise; 'how has she managed to +get inside the grounds? And I did not know there were any in the +neighbourhood just now. It is so seldom they come this way too. Taisy,' +she went on, looking round, 'you might speak to her for me and ask what +she wants.' + +But Taisy was not there. + +'Miss Theresa has gone into the woods, I think,' said Hoskins; 'I heard +her calling to Miss Esmé just after tea-time.' + +Mamma and I had not noticed the others going; our books must have been +interesting, and time passes quickly in such a case. + +'How did the gypsy get through the lodge gates?' mamma repeated. + +'That's what I asked her first thing,' Hoskins answered; 'but she did +not answer very distinctly. She says she has come a good bit out of her +way to see you--there are not any camping about near here. She has a +boy with her--perhaps she wants something for him--quite a little +fellow. She's a pleasant, civil-spoken woman--indeed, gypsies generally +are if they want to get something out of you.' + +'Like most people, I am afraid,' said mamma, smiling as she reluctantly +prepared to move. 'Perhaps I had better speak to her; it would not do to +have her lurking about all night. They are queer people--I should not +like to rouse any ill-feeling in a gypsy.' + +'Mayn't I come with you, mamma?' I said. 'I have never spoken to a real +gypsy.' + +Mamma looked at me rather doubtfully. + +'Oh yes,' she said; 'but I don't want her to tell your fortune or +anything of that kind, Ida, so do not encourage her if she begins about +it.' + +We made our way through the Hut, followed by Hoskins, to the door at the +back, where, as she had said, the strange visitor was standing--Margery, +who was washing up (I never saw Margery _not_ washing up, by the bye), +was also keeping an eye on the woman, though I could see by the movement +of her shoulders that she was giggling. + +Mamma went forward. + +'What do you want to see me for?' she said gently but rather coldly. + +The woman lifted her face--she was not quite as tall as mamma, and +looked at her closely, but not rudely. She was older than I had somehow +expected. Her skin was very brown, her hair jet-black, her eyes not +_quite_ as dark as one imagines a gypsy's must be; I thought to myself +that perhaps the very tanned complexion made them seem lighter. She was +wrinkled and weather-beaten, but not by any means ugly, though not +beautiful, except her teeth, which were extremely white and even. + +'Yes, my lady,' she said, 'I did want to see you. I have come far to do +so.' + +Her accent was peculiar, her voice low, and she talked slowly, almost as +if using a foreign language. + +'How did you get through the gates?' mamma asked. + +The answer was a shake of the head. + +'I have not passed through them--not to-day,' she said. 'There are +ways--when one is in earnest.' + +'I hope you have not broken through the hedges, or over the walls,' said +mamma, rather uneasily. + +Another shake of the head. + +'No, no--have no fear; I have done no harm,' was the reply, and somehow +mamma seemed as if she did not like to say any more about it. + +'But what do you want to see me for?' she repeated. 'Has it anything to +do with the boy? Is he your son, or your grandson?' and she glanced at +the little fellow beside the gypsy. A very little fellow he was--dark +too, very dark-skinned and grave and rather frightened-looking. He stood +there with his eyes cast down, a shock of black hair tumbling over his +forehead, so that it was difficult to distinguish the upper part of his +face. + +Mamma looked at him curiously--afterwards she told me she felt sorry for +him, and wondered if the woman was good to him. She--the woman--glanced +at him and said something rather sharply in a queer-sounding language, +on which the little fellow gave a sort of tug to his cap, though without +actually taking it off--meant, of course, for politeness. But he never +spoke the whole time they were there. + +'No, my lady,' the woman replied, turning again to mamma,--'no, I have +no favour to ask for the child. He is not my son--nor my grandson,' and +here she smiled, showing her white teeth; 'I am not quite old enough for +that, though I may look it. I wanted to see you for a reason of my +own--to do you no harm, you may be sure. And one day you will know the +reason. But now,' and she held out her hand, 'you will let me tell your +lines? Not much, nor far--I would not ask it. Just a little, and mostly +of the past.' + +Mamma shook her head. + +'Then the young lady's?' said the gypsy, looking at me. Mamma shook her +head still more decidedly. + +'No, no,' she said; 'I would rather you told mine than hers. Such things +make young people fanciful.' + +'Then your own, my lady,' said the woman, and again she held out her +hand persuasively,--'just a little.' + +I drew nearer. + +'Do, mamma,' I whispered; 'she may be offended if you don't.' + +Mamma laughed, and held out her right hand. + +'Cross it with silver,' said the woman, simply but gravely, as if she +were issuing a command. I had my purse in my pocket, and drew it out. + +'Give her a shilling,' said mamma. I did so. + +Then the gypsy bent over mamma's hand, studying it closely and murmuring +to herself. + +'The other too,' she then said, without looking up. + +Mamma gave it. + +'Yes,' said the gypsy, almost as if speaking to herself,--'yes--you have +come through some dangers--water was the worst, but that was long ago. +Now water has robbed you of your dearest, but only for a time. It will +restore what it has carried away. And you will be happy. You have a +brave heart. Strange things have happened of late to you. You have with +you an unexpected visitor. And you are going to have another unexpected +visit--a shorter one. Show kindness to your guest; it is always well to +do so, though you may not care to receive a stranger. And----' + +'No,' said mamma,--'no, my good woman. I really don't want to hear any +more. It is getting late, and you say you have come far and this little +fellow will be tired. You had better go,'--she drew away her hand as she +spoke, though quite gently. + +'Very well, my lady,' said the woman, without persisting further; 'and I +thank you for your courtesy.' + +'Shall I send some one to see you through the lodge gates?' said mamma; +but the woman shook her head. + +'There is no need,' she said. 'I shall not pass that way,' and she +walked off quietly. + +Hoskins came forward and stood beside us. + +'I declare,' she said, 'she is going by the shore! What a round to get +to the high road!' + +'Perhaps she is going to meet a boat,' I said. For there were little +coves farther on, from where boats were easily launched, and whence an +hour or so's rowing would bring them to a small fishing village called +Brigsea. + +'Very likely,' said mamma; 'that is a good idea and explains the +mystery. But she was a queer woman all the same,' and mamma seemed a +tiny bit upset. + +'She only told you good things, though,' I said. 'I do wonder how she +knew about your escape from a great danger by water, long ago.' + +'Yes,' said mamma. 'It is very strange how they know things.' + +'And about our unexpected visitor,' I went on; 'that meant Taisy, of +course. But I wonder who the new one coming can be?' + +'Oh, nobody, I daresay,' said mamma. 'Visitors and letters coming are +one of their stock prophecies. Still she did not strike me as quite a +commonplace gypsy. I wish Taisy had been here to see her too. Where can +they all be, I wonder?' + +We were not kept uncertain very long. We heard a whoop, followed by the +appearance of the two boys, who told us that Taisy and Esmé were coming +directly. + +'We've all been in the wood,' said Geordie. + +'I wish you had been here,' I said. 'There's been a gypsy at the back +door,' and I went on to tell him of our strange visitor and what she had +said. + +Geordie whistled. + +'I should have liked to talk to her,' he remarked. 'Did she say how she +got into the grounds?' + +I shook my head. + +'No,' I replied. 'She was very mysterious about it, but she went away in +the direction of the shore, so she prob----' + +I was interrupted by another whoop, and in a moment or two up came Taisy +and Esmé, looking very hot and untidy, but very eager to hear all +details of our rather uncanny visitor, as soon as the word 'gypsy' had +caught their ears. + +And we talked so much about her that at last mamma said we had really +better change the subject, or she would begin to wish she had not agreed +to see the woman. + +'You will all be dreaming about her and fancying she knew much more than +she did,' mamma added; and though she smiled and did not seem at all +vexed, I somehow felt that she rather wished the gypsy had not come. One +little thing which she said helped to explain this. + +'I cannot get the small boy out of my mind,' it was. 'She spoke sharply +to him, and he seemed frightened. I do hope she is not unkind to him.' + +'Oh no,' I said; 'she had not an unkind face at all, though there was +something rather--_odd_--about it, besides her being a gypsy.' + +Taisy laughed, and stroked mamma's arm. + +'I should think it _most_ unlikely she is unkind to the child,' she +said, 'though he is not her son--or grandson! Dear auntie, you are too +tender-hearted.' + +Just then I heard a sort of giggle from Esmé, who, for a wonder, was +sitting quietly with a book in a corner. I felt vexed with her. + +'Esmé,' I whispered, 'it's very rude to laugh at anything Taisy says to +mamma.' + + + + +CHAPTER X + +'IT'S ANOTHER SNAIL' + + +It was the next morning at breakfast that another strange thing +happened. It was when the letters came. + +We did not get them quite so early as at home, for it would have brought +the postman a good deal out of his way to come down to the Hut, so it +had been arranged for him to leave them at the lodge, and for them to be +sent on from there. + +This morning there were only two: one for mamma--a long one, it seemed, +but not a foreign one, as I saw by a glance at the thick paper while she +was reading it. But I had not noticed anything about Taisy's, and when a +queer kind of little gasp made me look round at her, my first thought +was that there was bad news of papa, which some one had somehow sent +first to her--Taisy--for her to 'break it,' as they say, to mamma. + +And my heart began to beat furiously, and no wonder, I think, for Taisy +was as white as the tablecloth, and was evidently on the point of +bursting into tears. + +'Taisy, Taisy,' I whispered. Luckily she was sitting next me, so that I +could speak to her in a low voice without being overheard. 'Is it--oh, +is it, anything wrong with papa?' and I felt myself clasping my hands +together under the table in an agony of terror. + +_My_ face brought back Taisy's presence of mind. + +'No, no,' she said. 'Nothing of that kind--nothing wrong really. I know +I am very silly,' and already the colour was coming back to her cheeks, +for she was not a nervous or delicate girl at all. 'It is only--oh, I +must tell auntie first, and then you will understand the sort of fright +I got.' + +She stopped abruptly, for just then mamma looked up from her letter and +spoke to Taisy. She was smiling a little, which made me feel all the +more puzzled as to what was the matter with Taisy when I heard her reply +to mamma's question, 'Have you too a letter from your grandmother?' +'Yes, auntie,' as if the two words were all she could force herself to +say. + +Still, mamma did not notice her peculiar manner. She herself turned +again to her letter. + +'I must say my respect for our gypsy has risen,' she remarked, 'though I +suppose it is really only a rather odd coincidence.' + +At this Taisy's colour changed again and her lips began to quiver. And, +happening to glance across the table, I saw that Esmé's mouth was wide +open, and that she was staring gravely at Taisy, in a way quite unusual +with her. I could not make it out at all. + +Breakfast was over by this time. Mamma turned to the children. + +'Run off, dears, but don't be very long. You have just time for a little +blow before Taisy and Ida are ready for lessons.' + +'But, mamma,' began Esmé, 'I want to speak to Taisy first.' + +'No "buts," Esmé,' said mamma decidedly. We were well used to them. +'Taisy won't be ready to speak to you just yet. Run off at----' she had +not time to finish the sentence before she at last noticed Taisy; the +tears were really starting by now, and her breath came in little chokes. +'Go, children,' mamma repeated, looking startled, 'and Geordie, dear, +you had better be getting ready for Kirke.' + +Geordie, big boy as he was, was very obedient. He got up, first catching +hold of Denzil by his sailor collar, to make him hurry up. +He--George--must have been as puzzled as any one, for he had no idea of +course what the letters contained. But he contented himself with a kind +of reassuring nod to Taisy as he left the room, and a sign to me as he +gave a little gesture of the hand in her direction, as much as to say, +'Be good to her, Ida.' + +Then Taisy broke down and fairly sobbed. Mamma got up and came round to +her. + +'My dearest child,' she said, 'what _is_ the matter? It has something to +do with your grandmother's letter, I can see. Do you dislike this +boy--what is his name--oh yes, Rolf--Rolf Dacre--that she writes about?' + +'Oh no, no, indeed. He is a very nice boy, as nice as he can be,' Taisy +replied, amidst her tears. 'It isn't that at all. It's--it's about the +gypsy--the saying it like a prophecy--it wasn't right. I--I shouldn't +have done it, but I thought it was no harm, only fun;' and she began +sobbing again. + +For a moment or two mamma and I stared at each other, as if we thought +Taisy was losing her wits. Then gradually light began to break in upon +us. + +"_You_ shouldn't have done it," you say, dear,' mamma repeated. 'Do you +mean--can you mean----' + +Taisy nodded. + +'Yes,' she said; 'you have guessed it, I see. But please do not be angry +with me. I meant no harm.' + +'Then _you_ were the gypsy,' mamma exclaimed, as if she could scarcely +believe it. + +'And,' I added, 'the little boy was--oh, he was Esmé, I suppose. That +was why she was looking so queer at breakfast.' + +'Was she?' said Taisy, 'I didn't notice. Yes, she was the little boy. I +did not mean to mix her up in it, but she came poking about when the +boys were helping me to dress up, and we thought the best way to keep +her quiet was for her to join in it. But, auntie--I was going to tell +you all about it to-day--you believe me, don't you?' and she lifted such +an appealing, tear-stained face to mamma, that mamma could not help +patting it reassuringly and kissing her. + +'It was very cleverly done--very,' she said. 'And I see no harm in a +little trick of the kind if not carried too far. The only thing is--Why +did you not unmask yourself at once? Perhaps--for Esmé's sake--it would +have been better not to keep up the mystification so long.' + +'I know,' said Taisy, calmer now, but speaking very humbly, 'that is +what I did wrong. It might have led to her telling what was untrue. Last +night when you were pitying the child--who was _not_ my son or +grandson'--and here Taisy's sunny nature broke out again in one of her +own merry laughs--'I could _scarcely_ keep it in.' + +'But why did you, then?' I asked. + +'Oh, that is what I wanted to explain! I had a sort of wager with +Geordie. He said I might take you both in _once_, but certainly not +twice, and he dared me to try it. So I made a second plan. I was coming +again to-day--quite differently--dressed like a rather old-maidish lady, +who wanted to know if you would let her have rooms here, as the sea-air +and pine-wood air would be so good for her. I meant to have made her +very pertinacious, and very funny, and I wanted you to get quite cross +with her, auntie dear,' and Taisy could not help a little sigh of +regret. 'That was why the gypsy foretold that you were going to have +another unexpected visitor. I wasn't quite happy about it. When I woke +in the night, I felt as if I was carrying the trick too far, as you say. +And then when I got Granny's letter about another _real_ visitor, all of +a sudden I felt so frightened--as if my joke had been turned into +earnest as a punishment for my--my daring to predict anything.' + +'Yes, I understand,' said mamma; 'but do not get exaggerated about it.' + +Then she was silent for a moment or two and seemed to be thinking it +over. + +'Was Esmé to have come again?' I asked. + +Taisy shook her head. + +'Oh no--it was on condition of her keeping quite out of the way the +second time--for of course she would have begun giggling if she had seen +me, and spoilt it all--that I let her act the gypsy boy.' + +'I think,' said mamma, 'that I must unconsciously have recognised +something about her--that it was some feeling of that kind that made me +so sorry for the boy. But about the whole affair--well, yes, Taisy dear. +Perhaps it was scarcely right--not _quite_ respectful to one so much +older than you as I am to let it go on so long. And not quite a good +thing for Esmé.' + +'I know--I see,' said Taisy very penitently. + +'But,' mamma continued, 'don't exaggerate it now. I will--and you will +help me to do so--put it all right by a little explanation to Esmé. And +don't get it into your head that the coincidence of a real visitor being +proposed to us is in any way a "punishment" to you for your piece of +fun, though I can understand your feeling startled.' + +'Oh!' exclaimed Taisy, 'I shall never forget what I felt when I opened +Granny's letter and saw what it was about.' + +'Then,' said mamma, 'you had no sort of idea that the thing was the +least possible?' + +'Not the very slightest,' Taisy replied. 'You see it has happened +unexpectedly to every one.' + +'Yes,' said mamma, glancing again at her letter; 'but you know Rolf?' + +'I have not seen him for more than a year,' said Taisy. 'He spent one or +two short holidays with us when his aunt, Miss Merry, was with Granny. +He is a very nice boy. I am sure George would like him, though he is two +years or so older than Dods.' + +I was growing rather impatient by this time to hear all about the +contents of the letters which had caused such a sensation. + +'Do tell me about it, mamma,' I said. 'Is it some one else coming to +stay with us? Where _could_ we put any one?' + +Taisy began to laugh. + +'That's the fun of it,' she said. 'It's another snail--some one who will +bring his house with him!' + +Mamma laughed too, but I could see that she was thinking over the new +proposal, whatever it was, rather seriously. Then between them they told +me all about it. + +It appeared that Aunt Emmeline's friend, Miss Merry, had a nephew, the +son of a sister, much, much younger than herself, who had died some +years ago. The boy's father was in India, so he sometimes, though not +always, spent his holidays with his aunt. And this spring something had +happened--I forget what exactly--illness at his school, or his leaving +school for some reason, sooner than had been expected--which left him +with nowhere to go to for some time. + +'As ill-luck would have it,' Lady Emmeline wrote to mother, 'just as +Taisy had gone to you, and Bertha Merry and I were settled cosily +together, down comes this thunderbolt in the shape of a great +hobbledehoy of a boy, who would be utterly out of his element with two +elderly ladies and sure to get into mischief. Not that he is not a nice +fellow and a good boy--I know him to be both, otherwise I would +certainly not propose what I am going to do.' + +And this was the proposal which she had written about--she or Miss +Merry, or both perhaps--to Taisy too--that Rolf should come to us at the +Hut, and join Geordie, if possible, in his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and +be just one of the family for the time. _He_ would be as happy as a boy +could be; of that his aunt was sure, and would do anything in his power, +like a big brother, to help mamma with the younger ones. But the fun of +the thing was, that he would bring his room with him! There would be no +difficulty about the expense of it. His father was rich and Rolf an only +child, and his aunt was free to spend whatever she thought right upon +him, and being a very energetic little woman, as I think many old maids +are, she had already written to some place where such things were to be +got, to get sizes and prices and everything required for a neat little +iron room, fitted up as a bedroom; and if mamma was so very, very kind +as to agree to take him in, Rolf would be ready to come the very next +week. + +Of course we talked it over a lot. It had to be considered if Hoskins +and Margery could manage another guest, and we were almost surprised to +find how pleased Hoskins was about it. 'Miss Theresa,' she said, 'was +such a help; there had not seemed half so much to do since she came. And +the weather was getting so nice and mild, we would scarcely need fires +at all soon, except perhaps 'a little bit, of an evening in the +drawing-room.' And it would be such a good thing for Master George to +have a companion a little older than himself before going to school, +which mamma in her own mind had already thought the same about. + +I never knew Hoskins quite so cheery about anything. I think the truth +was, that she had thoroughly enjoyed the gypsy mystification which had +been confided to her. And I believe, at the bottom of her heart, she +thought that somehow or other Taisy had had a sudden gift of prediction, +and that it would be very unlucky to refuse to receive the unlooked-for +visitor. + +Anyhow it ended in mamma's writing to Aunt Emmeline and Miss Merry, +consenting pleasantly to Rolf's joining us, provided he promised, or +they for him, to be content with our present very simple quarters and +way of living. + +'That I am sure he will be,' said Taisy, who had quite recovered her +spirits by the time, or rather long before, the letters were written. +'Any boy would be a goose who wasn't delighted with the Hut, and Rolf is +certainly not a goose.' + +The only person who did not seem quite pleased about it was George. At +first I thought this very strange, as naturally you would have expected +him to be very delighted at the idea of a companion of his own standing, +so to say, which he had never had. But Dods was a queer boy in some +respects. He is less so now on the whole, though he is just as dear and +'old-fashioned,' in nice ways, as ever, and I do think the _right_ ways +in which he has changed are a good deal thanks to Rolf. + +Perhaps Geordie was a little jealous of him before he came, without +knowing it. It was not unnatural, considering everything. Poor old Dods, +you see, had been left by papa in his own place, as the 'man' of the +party, and we had all got into the habit of looking to him and even +asking his opinion as if he were much older than he really was. And then +he was so devoted to Taisy; he looked upon himself as a sort of knight +to her, I do believe, for down below his matter-of-factness and +practicalness, I know now that there is a good deal of romance, and +what I can only call poeticalness in dear Geordie, so that the idea of a +big, handsome, rather dashing fellow coming to take place above him must +have been rather trying. + +I shall never forget the day Rolf arrived. I had been feeling sorry for +Geordie, as I had begun to understand his rather disagreeable manner +about Rolf, and yet provoked with him too. I did not see after all, I +thought to myself, why he should mind Rolf's coming, any more than I +minded Taisy. For though Taisy was our own cousin and we loved her +dearly, she could not but take a _little_ the place of eldest daughter +with mamma, and if she had not been so sweet, it might have been +uncomfortable. + +And after all, Rolf was a stranger--and only to be with us a short time. +There was far less chance of his really interfering with Geordie's own +place. + +These things however are not often set straight by reasoning about them. + +It is the people themselves--their characters and ways and +feelings--that put it all right if it is to be put right. + +And just as Taisy's brightness and unselfishness and simpleness--I can't +find a better word--kept away any possibility of jealousy of her on my +own part, so it was with Rolf. He and she were no sort of relation to +each other, and yet in some ways they were very alike. I never did know, +and I am sure I never shall know, any one with such a thoroughly +straightforward, unfanciful, and yet very loving and sympathising heart +as Rolf. When I think--but no, I must not allude to that yet--I could +scarcely bear to write of these past happy days if I did. + +But I am wandering away from the day of Rolf's arrival. It was not of +course a 'balloon surprise,' as Dods called Taisy's shooting down upon +us as she had done, for we knew exactly what train he was coming by, and +everything. And it was not so like a 'snail's visit,' which was Taisy's +own name for hers, as in this case the house came before the snail--the +day before. + +It was a different kind of thing from the parish room--that very +substantial affair. This was more like a strong, stout kind of +tent--only it did not go up to a quite small point at the top, as I had +imagined all tents do. But it was partly made of stretched canvas, with +iron rods and bars, and the men who put it up told us it was fireproof +as well as waterproof, which mamma was very glad to hear, especially +when she saw that a small stove was among the furnishings that came with +it. + +George was very pleased to find that the men from Kirke who had received +full directions about it all, from the makers, had instructions to set +it up wherever we thought best. It almost reconciled him, I could see, +to the idea of the stranger boy's visit--even to being pleased at it. + +And we three--Taisy and Geordie and I--were not long in finding the best +place for the new addition to our encampment. We made it a sort of +match, on the other side, to Taisy's waggon, though, as it was much +prettier to look at, it was placed so that a bit of it showed from the +front of the house in a rather picturesque way. + +Inside it really was awfully nice when we got the things unpacked. There +was everything that could be wanted for camping out, for I don't think +the people had understood that only an additional bedroom was required. +They had even sent pots and pans and things like that for cooking, if +required, on the stove. + +'All the better,' said Hoskins, whose face grew beamier and beamier with +every article that appeared. 'I shall not be put about now if anything +goes wrong with the kitchen fire, as has been at the back of my mind now +and then. Master Dacre, by what Miss Theresa says, isn't one to grumble +if we had to do a bit of cooking in his room, once in a way.' + +'No, indeed,' said Taisy laughing; 'he'd think it the best of fun and be +quite ready to act kitchen-maid.' + +She declared she was getting quite jealous, as all the perfectly new and +fresh furniture and fittings were set in their places, for of course her +waggon had been provided with what she required in rather a makeshift +way. There were tables and chairs and hanging presses and bookshelves +all made to fold up into next to no compass; a squashy bath, which I did +_not_ envy, as I was sure it would topple over and all the water be +spilt. And there was a lovely red carpet, or strips of it, so thick and +firm, which I _did_ envy, as what we had in our rooms was rather shabby, +and two or three rugs, which, by the bye, soon found their way to the +inside of the Hut, when Rolf discovered that we liked them, declaring +that they were always kicking about in his way. + +'Yes,' said mamma, when we summoned her to see and admire, 'it is +wonderfully nice. And I am glad it has all come the day before. It makes +it seem more like Rolf's being our guest, that his room should be all +ready to receive him.' + +Then Esmé made us laugh. She had been standing gazing at it all with her +mouth wide open, as was her way when very much interested or very +admiring. And then she said, solemnly for once-- + +'He must be very--termenjously rich!' + +After all, something of a surprise _did_ come with Rolf, which I must +now tell about. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF + + +We _heard_ it--the surprise I mean--almost before we heard the wheels of +the fly from Kirke, bringing the visitor that _was_ expected. For the +drive from the lodge is on well-rolled gravel, and as there had been a +few showers lately, it was soft, and you scarcely hear a carriage coming +in that case. + +But what we did hear, as we stood about waiting to welcome Rolf +cordially, was a sharp, clear little voice, not talking, but--barking, +and then, almost at the same moment, we caught sight of the fly, as it +reached the turn at which anything coming up the drive could be seen +from the Hut. + +'I do believe,' I exclaimed, turning to Taisy,--'I do believe he has got +a dog!' + +Taisy shook her head. + +'I don't know of it if he has,' she said; 'and I don't think he would +have brought one without asking if he might.' + +Taisy looked a little frightened. She felt somehow as if she were rather +responsible for Rolf, especially on account of the gypsy affair! + +'It may be a dog belonging to the flyman,' I went on; 'though in that +case it would probably be running alongside, and it doesn't sound as if +it were.' + +Our doubts were soon set at rest. + +When the fly drew up, not at the front--there was no place for carriages +there, but on a piece of level ground a little towards the back on one +side--out sprang our visitor--a tall, fair boy, a good bit taller than +Geordie, with nice blue eyes and a very sunny look about him, +altogether. And--in his arms he held--as if very much afraid of losing +it--the dearest, duckiest, little rough-haired terrier you ever saw! + +Rolf--for of course it was Rolf--looking just a trifle shy, for which +we--Geordie and I--liked him all the better--turned at once to Taisy, as +if to a sort of protector. But he could not hold out his hand, as it was +all he could do with both hands to keep the frightened doggie from +escaping there and then from his grasp. + +'How funny!' I thought. 'Why doesn't he let him go? He wouldn't want to +run away from his own master!' + +'I can't shake hands, Taisy--but how are you?' Rolf by this time was +saying: 'Will you introduce me to your cousins? This little beggar--I +declare he's as slippery as an eel, in spite of his coat.' + +We needed no introduction--we all pressed round him to look at the +terrier. + +'Is he so nervous?' said Taisy. 'Has the railway frightened him?' + +'Oh no, I don't think so. He was just as bad before we got into the +train. It's just strangeness' was the rather puzzling reply. + +'"Strangeness,"' Taisy repeated, while Geordie and I looked up in +surprise,--'strangeness, with his own master holding him?' + +Rolf gave a funny little laugh, and grew rather red. + +'Oh, but,' he said, 'you see, he doesn't know I'm his master, and I +don't want him to. It isn't worth while. I--I only bought him this +morning from the keeper at Millings--you know Millings?'--Taisy nodded; +it was a place near Lady Emmeline's. 'I asked him to be on the lookout +for one as soon as I knew about coming here. I thought he'd suit Miss +Lanark, as you once said something about her wanting a really nice +little dog,' and he smiled at me in his frank, boyish way. + +It was quite true! Rolf must have a good memory, for it was fully six +months ago that I had once said in writing to Taisy that papa had given +me leave to have a dog of my very own if I could get a good-tempered, +well-bred one, and that she must let me know if she came across a +personage of the kind. For, though it seems odd that, living in the +country, we had never had a pet of the kind, it was the case. I think +papa and mamma had rather discouraged it, till we were old enough to +treat a dog well and not to risk being ill-treated by him! + +Since getting papa's leave to have one of my own I had almost forgotten +about it, so many important things and changes had happened. + +But for a moment or two I forgot everything but my delight. The wee +doggie was so sweet--so just exactly what I had pictured to myself as +the perfection of a pet. + +'Oh, thank you, thank you!' I exclaimed, holding out my arms, in which +Rolf carefully deposited the little creature, not very sorry, I fancy, +at the bottom of his heart to make him over to me, for he must have been +rather a tiresome travelling companion. + +'He's a young dog, but full-grown,' Rolf said; 'and very affectionate +and good-tempered. I made sure of that. And he's really a lady's +dog--his mother belonged to a lady near Millings, and that has been his +home. She only sold him because she couldn't keep so many. He's a bit +timid, they say, or rather nervous--but plucky too; if any one tried to +hurt you he'd go for them, the keeper said. But it may take him a day or +two to settle down.' + +It scarcely looked like it--already the little round, rough head was +nestling against me, and the nice little cold, black nose rubbing my +fingers approvingly, while Taisy and George pressed up to me to see him. + +'What's his name, Rolf?' asked the former. Geordie did not speak; I +think for a minute or two he was feeling just a little jealous--or +envious rather of Rolf--as _he_ had not been able to give me a dog, when +he saw how delighted I was. But he was too good and unselfish to let +this feeling last, and when the terrier gave him a friendly lick in +return for a patronising little pat, Dods's kind heart was completely +won. + +'His name,' Rolf repeated thoughtfully; 'I'm afraid I forgot to ask. But +he'll soon get used to any name. It's often more the tone than the +actual sound that a dog notices.' + +'I know,' said Taisy in her quick way; 'call him "Rough." It's not very +uncommon perhaps, but it would suit him--his coat--so well, and it is +rather like "Rolf" too.' + +We had just decided this when mamma's voice, coming towards us from the +Hut, made us turn round. + +'What are you all about?' she asked. 'I heard the fly come some minutes +ago. Welcome to Eastercove, Rolf,' she went on, holding out her hand, +which our visitor was now able to take. 'I hope you have had a pleas---- +Oh! so you have brought your dog,' and she looked a very little +startled; 'take care, Ida. Is he quite good with strangers?' + +'Oh, but,' I began, and then I suddenly remembered that without mamma's +leave I had no right to accept Rolf's gift. 'He's mine--my own dog,' I +went on; 'that's to say if you will let me have him. You know papa said +I might have a dog,' I added pleadingly; 'though of course it is +different now. And he is quite good-tempered and gentle.' + +'Yes,' Rolf repeated; 'I made sure of that.' + +They were the first words mamma had heard him speak. He had not had a +chance of thanking her for her 'welcome,' nor she of finishing her +sentence about his journey, so taken up had we all been by Master Rough! +But at least it had had the good effect of setting us all at our ease. + +Then I went on to explain about Rolf's having remembered what Taisy had +told him ever so long ago about my wish to have a dog--by the bye, it +was lucky that I had not already got one! That possibility had never +struck Rolf; he had only been turning over in his mind what he could do +to please us, whom he thought very kind to 'take him in,' and mamma +turned to him in the pretty way she does, which always makes people like +her. + +'It was very good of you,' she said,--'very good and thoughtful,' and +she too patted the new pet--_very_ gently; mamma is a little afraid, +perhaps wisely so, of strange dogs--so that in her case he thought a wag +of his tail sufficient notice of her attention instead of a lick, for +which omission, if mamma had known of it, she would have been grateful! +'Do you think,' she went on, turning to us three, 'that among you, you +can look after him properly and prevent his getting into any trouble, +or straying away in the woods?' + +'And getting shot by mistake for a rabbit?' said Geordie. 'He is so like +one!' + +We all laughed at this; for nothing in dog shape, _little_ dog shape, at +least, could be less like a bunny than Rough, though perhaps it was not +_very_ respectful of Dods to joke at mamma's fears. But she did not +mind, and by this time we were all feeling quite at home with Rolf, and +he with us. So we went in together to tea, where he and the two little +ones had to be introduced to each other, and Rough exhibited to Denzil +and Esmé's admiring eyes. He had fallen asleep in my arms, feeling happy +and comfortable again, and probably thinking I was his old mistress +restored to him after some dreadful doggie nightmare of separation. + +'Mamma need not say, "_Among_ you, will he be looked after?"' I thought +to myself. 'The darling will have looking after enough from his +owner--myself. I only hope the little ones won't tease him, or interfere +with him, even out of kindness.' + +That first evening of Rolf's visit left a very pleasant remembrance, and +it was only a beginning of many happy days. + +He seemed to bring with him just what we needed (though Taisy had done a +good deal, rather of the same kind). It prevented our getting too much +taken up with our own affairs, or becoming too 'old-fashioned,'--Geordie +and I especially--as Hoskins called it, and I don't know that there is a +better word to express what I mean. + +He was so thoroughly a boy, though the very nicest kind of boy--not +ashamed of being a 'gentleman,' too, in lots of little ways, which many +boys either despise, or are too awkward and shy to attend to. I don't +mean to say that he was the least bit of a prig--just the opposite. He +often forgot about wiping his feet, and was rather particularly clever +at tearing his clothes, but never forgot to open the door for mamma and +us girls, or to tug at his old straw hat or cap when he met us! Or more +important things in a sense--such as settling mamma's 'boudoir,' as we +got into the habit of calling Miss Trevor's present, in the best place; +and seeing that her letters were taken in good time to the lodge for the +postman, and things like that. + +And looking back upon those days now that I am so much older, I can see +that he must have had a good deal of 'tact' of the truest kind, as +mamma says it really means care for other people's feelings, not to +make dear old Geordie at all jealous,--actually, indeed, to take away +the touch of it which Dods did feel at the beginning. + +Before a couple of days had passed, all the boys were the best of +friends. Of course, I made Rolf leave off calling me anything but 'Ida,' +and to Esmé he was quite a slave. Rather too much so. He spoilt her, and +it was the only thing Taisy and I were not quite pleased with him for, +as it did make her much more troublesome again at her lessons. + +But there came a day when even he got very, very vexed with Esmé. I +think I must tell the story. She won't mind even if she ever reads this, +for she is _much_ more sensible now, and often says she wonders how we +all had patience with her. + +It had to do with Rough, my doggie. + +Dogs, as I daresay you, whoever you are, know, if you have had much to +do with them, are not always fond of children, or perhaps I should say, +are not fond of _all_ children. They hate fidgety, teasing ones, who +will pull and pinch them for the fun of making them snap and snarl, or +who _won't_ let them have a peaceful snooze on the hearthrug, if they +themselves--the tiresome children, I mean--are inclined for noisy +romping. If I were a dog, I should do more than snap and snarl in such a +case, I know! + +Esmé was not as bad as that. She was a kind-hearted little girl, and +never meant to hurt or worry any one. But she was a terrible fidget, and +very mischievous and thoughtless. It would have been better for her +perhaps to have had a rather less free life than ours at the Hut was. +There was no one whose regular business it was to look after her. Out of +lesson hours she might do pretty much as she liked. Mamma knew she would +never do anything really naughty, or that she thought so, anyway, and we +trusted a good deal to the boys, who, even little Denzil, were so +particularly steady-going, and whom she was generally with. + +But after Rolf came, he and George naturally went about together a good +deal, just as Taisy and I did, and I don't think any of us realised how +completely Esmé had the upper hand of Den. + +If I was to blame about her, by not keeping her more with Taisy and +myself, I was well punished for it by the fright she gave us, as you +will hear. + +It was rather a hot day for the time of year--still only spring. We four +elder ones had gone for a good long ramble in the farther off woods, +taking our luncheon with us, and for some reason--I think I _was_, in +my own mind, a little afraid of Rough's getting trapped or some +mischance of the kind--I had left my doggie at home, as safe as could +be, I thought, for he was under Hoskins's care, and she was nearly as +fond of him as I myself. + +He would have been far safer, as it turned out, if we had taken him with +us. + +Esmé must have been 'at a loose end' that afternoon, from what she told +me afterwards. Denzil had got some little carpentering job in hand--he +was rather clever at it, and at dinner-time, Esmé, as well as he, told +mamma about it--so she was quite happy, thinking they had got good +occupation, and that there was no fear of any 'idle hands' trouble. + +But Miss Esmé, as was her way, got very tired of handing Den the nails +and tools and things he wanted, and of watching his rather slow +progress, and told him she must really go for a run. + +'All right,' said Denzil; 'but don't go far.' + +He told us this part of it himself, when he came in for some blame in +having 'let' Esmé' get into mischief. This sounds rather hard upon him, +doesn't it, considering he was fully a year younger than she? but, as I +have explained, he was such a solemn old sober-sides, that we had all +got into the way of treating him as if he were the responsible one of +the two. + +'No,' Esmé replied, she would not go far; nor did she. + +She strolled about--I can see her now as she must have looked that +afternoon--her hands behind her back, her black legs--she was a tall +little girl for her age--showing rather long and thin beneath her big, +brown Holland overall, her garden hat tilted very much to the back, her +lovely goldy hair in a great fuzz as usual, and her bright hazel eyes +peering about for something to amuse herself with. + +As ill-luck would have it, she found the 'something' in the shape of my +poor darling Roughie! + +Hoskins had allowed him to go out with a bone to the front of the Hut, +where he was lying very comfortably in the sunshine, on a mat, which he +considered his own property. He had left off nibbling at the bone, and +was half or three-quarters asleep. + +Now when Esmé is--no, I must in fairness say 'was,' she is so different +now--in one of her idle yet restless humours, it irritated her somehow +to see any one else peaceful and quiet, even if the some one else was +only a dog. + +'You lazy little beggar,' she said to Rough. I don't really know that +she said those very words, but I am sure it was something of the kind, +and so I think I may 'draw on my imagination' a little in telling the +story. 'You lazy little beggar, why don't you get up and go for a run? +You are getting far too fat.' + +And--she told me this herself--she gave him a 'tiny' kick, not so as to +hurt him--that I quite believe, but dogs have feelings about other +things than being actually hurt in their bodies. He had been blinking up +at her good-naturedly, though he was not, as I said, very fond of her. +Nor was she of him. + +But now, at the kick, or 'shove,' I think she called it, he gave a +slight growl. And no wonder--it was not the sort of thing to sweeten +even a sweet-tempered dog's temper--when he was doing no harm and only +asking to be left alone in peace. Esmé, however, declared that it was +the growl that made her wish to tease him. + +She put her hand into the pocket of her blouse, meaning to take out her +handkerchief to 'flick' him a little and make him wake up. But in this +pocket, unluckily, besides the handkerchief were some nails and screws +and such things which she had put there for convenience while being +supposed to 'help' Denzil, by handing them to him as he wanted them. And +when she touched them, they rattled and jingled, thoroughly rousing poor +Roughie, who opened his eyes and growled again, this time more loudly, +and Esmé, delighted, rattled and jingled, and again he growled. + +Then a wicked idea came into her head. + +She had heard of naughty boys tormenting cats in a certain way. + +'It can't hurt him,' she thought; 'it will only make him run, which is +good for him.' + +And she darted into the Hut, and through it to Rolf's tent, where, as I +said, there was a small compact cooking stove, and among the things +belonging to it a small but strong tin kettle. Esmé looked at it. I +believe she was more afraid just then of damaging the kettle than of +harming the dog! + +Still she lifted it and considered for a moment. + +'No,' she thought, 'it's quite light; it can't hurt him. And it won't +hurt _it_ either. I'll only put a few nails in,' and out she ran again +to the front, where my poor pet was settling down for another nap, +hoping, no doubt, that Miss Esmé had gone for good. + +By ill-luck, her other pocket held a good piece of stout string. She sat +down and quietly tied up the kettle, so that the lid was secure, having +first dropped into it enough nails and screws to make a woful clatter, +but taking care that no jingle should be heard as yet. It is wonderful +how careful a careless child can be if bent on mischief! + +[Illustration: SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POOR +LITTLE BODY.] + +Then speaking for once most gently and caressingly to Roughie, who was +so surprised that he lay quite still, she fastened the other end of the +string to his tail, and round his poor little body too. 'I didn't want +his tail to be pulled off,' she said afterwards--fortunately, for his +tail _might_ have been badly hurt. + +Then when all was ready, she got up cautiously, and walking away a few +steps, called Rough very sweetly. But he was rather suspicious; he first +got up and stretched himself--there was a faint jingle--poor wee man, he +looked behind him--no, Esmé was not there; he moved, more jingle and +rattle, again she called, and he, beginning to be frightened, turned +towards her, on which the cruel little thing 'shoo'ed' him away. She +described it all perfectly. And then the idea must have seized him of +escaping by flight from the unseen terror. He ran--of course the noise +got worse; he ran faster, and it grew louder--faster still--oh, my poor +Roughie!--louder still, Esmé laughing--at _first_, that is to say--to +herself, till his doggy wits began to desert him, and a sort of +nightmare agony must have seized him. + +And then--too late--the naughty girl saw what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +'WELL--ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!' + + +What I described in the last chapter will explain the scene that met our +eyes, and the sounds that reached our ears, as we got near the Hut. + +And unluckily the 'we' did not mean only us four--the two bigger boys +and Taisy and I. For as we were passing through that part of the near +woods which skirts the Eastercove gardens--we always took care not to go +very close to the house or more private part of the grounds, as, nice as +the Trevors were, mamma said we must never risk their feeling that the +place was not quite their own for the time being--just, I say, as we +passed the nearest point to the house, we came upon them, all three of +them--Mr., Mrs., and Miss. No, I think I should say all _six_ of them, +for trotting round old Mrs. Trevor's heels were of course the three +pugs. And, of course too, huddled up under one arm, was the bundle of +many-coloured knitting; she was working as she walked, and when she +stopped to speak to us, one or two balls rolled on to the ground, so +that before Rolf and Geordie had time to touch their caps almost, they +were both on their knees, trying to catch the truants before they rolled +farther away. + +'We were coming to see you all,' said Miss Trevor smiling; 'do you think +your mother is at home and disengaged?' + +'I think so,' I replied, and then I went on to explain that we had been +out for several hours on a private picnicking expedition of our own, and +we all joined in saying, 'Do come,' for we liked the Trevors very much, +especially Miss 'Zenia.' We were a little frightened of Mr. Trevor; he +was so tall and thin, and had the name of being tremendously learned, +but they were all very kind, though I have nothing _very_ particular to +tell about them. Mrs. Trevor always made us laugh, with her dogs and her +knitting, but she _was_ so good-natured. + +So we strolled on together, in the pleasant, still, sunshiny +afternoon--Rolf and Geordie talking to Mr. Trevor, who was not at all +'awe-inspiring' when he got on the subject of his own schooldays, for we +heard them all laughing most heartily now and then. + +Taisy declared afterwards that she had picked up balls of wool at least +twenty times during that walk, as she kept beside Mrs. Trevor. And +seeing that their mistress was thus engaged, the three dogs--they were +really very well-behaved--took to following rather demurely, all three +together, while I chatted to Zenia. + +It was not till we were very near the Hut that any unusual sounds +reached us. + +I was just talking about Roughie to Miss Trevor, descanting on his +perfections, when a sort of queer yelping gasp, or gasping yelp, made us +stand still for a moment. + +'What can that be?' I said. + +'Oh, nothing,' said Miss Trevor. 'One hears all sorts of funny animal +sounds in the woods, I have learnt to know. You are rather like an +anxious mamma, Ida, who has been out and left her baby too long. For I +can see you at once think of the dear doggie,' and she laughed a little, +though of course quite kindly. + +I laughed too, and we walked on--we were just a few steps in front of +the others. + +But--again in another moment I stopped, this time holding up my hand, +and saying, 'Hush!' + +Then I turned, and I fancy I had grown quite white already. + +'Miss Trevor,' I said, 'it _is_ Rough, and there must be something +dreadful the matter. Just listen.' + +There was the same gasping yelp, almost like a choking human cry, and +the strangest rushing and clanking, jingling sounds, all mixed together. + +'Was he chained up? Can he have broken loose?' said Zenia breathlessly. +'It sounds like----' + +'"Chained up,"' I repeated indignantly; 'my sweet little Roughie! Oh no, +no!' I cried, as I rushed off. + +It was rather rude, I am afraid, to repeat her words like that, but she +was far too kind to mind. + +'Geordie, Geordie, Rolf,' I cried, 'come quickly! There is something +dreadfully the matter with Rough.' + +So indeed it seemed, for the noise grew louder, and mingled with it now +were a child's calls and shrieks. + +'Roughie, Roughie,' I distinguished in Esmé's voice; 'darling Roughie, +come to me. Don't be so frightened, darling. I didn't mean it--oh, I +didn't mean it!' + +And this was what I _saw_. + +Esmé, hair streaming, eyes streaming, scarlet with terror, rushing over +the ground in front and at the side of the Hut, lost to sight for a +moment among the trees, then out again, after _something_--a small, wild +animal, it seemed--that was tearing before her, evidently trying to +escape from her, or from--yes, what was that strange thing rushing after +_it_? Another still smaller wild beast of some kind, or what? No, it was +nothing alive; it was a metal thing of some kind, rattling, clanking, +jingling, and--oh, horrors!--tied to my poor pet's little body. + +I saw it all at once--affection quickens one's eyes, they say--I took it +all in before there was time for any explanation, though Esmé screamed +to me as she flew on: 'Oh, Ida, Ida, I didn't mean it! Stop him, stop +him!' + +Naughty, naughty Esmé! + +_He_ had already rushed past me--within a few yards, that is to +say--without seeing me, whom he generally caught sight of before you +could think it possible. Blinded by terror--yes, and deafened too--he +did not know I had come; he could not hear his own 'missus's' voice. + +And he was dreadful to look at: his tongue was hanging out; his whole +little head seemed spattered with foam; he was rushing like a mad +thing, even though, by the gasping sound he made, you could tell he was +exhausted, and had scarcely any breath left. + +No wonder that, as the boys hurried up behind me, they and Mr. +Trevor--Mr. Trevor especially--thought he _was_ mad. + +Mr. Trevor kept his presence of mind, I must say, under what _he_ +thought the dreadful circumstances. He almost pushed his mother and +sister and Taisy into the porch, and tried to push me in too. But I +evaded him. + +The boys and Esmé were quite out of reach--_they_ were tearing after +_her_, shouting to her to 'Come back, come back!' which did not tend to +lessen the uproar. And when _I_ started in pursuit, as of course I did, +it must have seemed to any one looking on as if we had all gone mad +together! Indeed, Taisy owned to me afterwards that, terrified as she +was, she had hard work to keep down her laughter, especially when she +heard me turn upon dignified Mr. Trevor, and in answer to his despotic-- + +'Go back, Miss Lanark, go back; I insist upon it,' shout back, +'Nonsense; I will _not_ go back.' + +And as I heard his next words-- + +'The dog must be shot at once. Boys, is there a gun about the place?' I +grew desperate, for I knew that there _was_ a gun--Rolf's--though he and +Geordie had given their word of honour to mamma not to touch it without +leave. + +Then a new idea struck me. Instead of rushing round like the +others--like the boys that is to say, for by this time Esmé had dropped +in front of the porch, whence Zenia Trevor had dragged her in, and she +was now sobbing on Taisy's shoulder--instead of rushing after Roughie, I +'doubled' and _met_ him, my arms outstretched, and using every endearing +and coaxing tone I could think of. And oh, the joy and relief when, +almost dead with exhaustion by now, he flew into my clasp, and, panting +and nearly choking, faintly rubbed his poor little head against me! + +'He knows me, he knows me!' I shouted. 'He is not a bit mad; he is only +wild with terror.' + +But I had some trouble to get the others to believe me; _their_ fright +had only increased tenfold when they saw me catch him. In some +marvellous way Mr. Trevor had got out the gun--I have always suspected +that Taisy or Hoskins or one of them had already thought of it--and +stood within a few paces of my dog and me. But for my having him in my +arms, he would have made an end of Roughie, and certainly I would never +have told this story. + +As it was, for a moment or two he--Mr. Trevor, not the poor pet--was +very angry. + +'Miss Lanark!' he shouted, 'you are mad yourself to touch him. Has he +bitten you?' for I was crying so by this time that I had hidden my face +in Rough's coat. + +'_Bitten_ me!' I exclaimed, looking up and not caring if Mr. Trevor saw +my tears or not,--'_bitten_ me! How can you imagine such a thing? Look +at him.' + +And, indeed, it was a sight to melt any heart and disarm any fears! +Roughie was lying quite still, nestling against me as close as he could +get, only quivering now and then and giving little sobbing sighs, just +as a tiny child does after some violent trouble and crying. + +I believe he was already asleep! + +Mr. Trevor approached cautiously. + +'He--he certainly looks all right now,' he said. 'Can it have been a fit +of some extraordinary kind, then, or what can----' + +'There is no mystery about it,' I said, 'except the mystery of how any +one _could_ be so cruel. Didn't you hear the rattling, Mr. +Trevor--didn't you see--_this_?' + +And I gave a gentle tug to the string, still firmly fastened to the poor +little man; but gently as I did it, the horrid kettle and things in it +jingled slightly, and at once Roughie opened his eyes and began to +shake. + +I soothed him again, but Mr. Trevor did the sensible thing. He laid down +the gun, calling to the boys as they hurried up not to touch it, and +taking out his penknife cut the string, close to the kettle end first, +and then handed the knife to me, to cut the string again where it was +fastened to my dog. + +Rolf and Geordie could scarcely speak. + +'Who can have done it?' they exclaimed. '_Could_ Esmé have been so----' + +'Cruel and naughty,' I interrupted,--'yes, I am afraid so, though I +_couldn't_ have believed it of her. Geordie, pick up the kettle please, +without jingling if you can help it, and please throw away the horrid +things that are in it.' + +'No, no, don't throw them away!' exclaimed a newcomer on the scene. +'They're my nails and screws.' + +It was Denzil. + +'And my kettle,' said poor Rolf, rather dolefully, for he was proud of +his cooking stove and all its neat arrangements, and the kettle looked +nearly as miserable for a kettle as Roughie did for a little dog! + +I turned upon Denzil very sharply, I am afraid. + +'Did you know of it, then?' I said. + +Poor Denzil looked very frightened. + +'In course not, Ida,' he said. 'I came out to ask Esmé for my nails. She +had a lot of them in her blouse pockets, and she got tired of helping me +and forgot to give me them back.' + +'I'm very sorry,' I said. 'No, I am sure you would never do such a +thing, Den.' + +Then I got up, very carefully, not to disturb my poor doggie, who was +really asleep by this time, and we all--Mr. Trevor and the three boys +and I--went to the group in the porch, whose anxiety was already +relieved by seeing us more tranquil again. Taisy had been dying to rush +out to us, but Esmé, sobbing in her arms, was not easily disposed of. + +She--Esmé--had begun an incoherent confession of her misdoings, but now +mamma stopped it. + +'Is it all right?' she asked eagerly, speaking to Mr. Trevor. 'The dog +is _not_ mad then? What was it?' + +Mr. Trevor glanced, still a little doubtfully, at Roughie in my arms. + +'I--yes, I think he is all right again,' he replied. 'He certainly +recognised his mistress's voice, which is the best sign. I do not think +it was any kind of fit; it was just terror. He must be a nervous little +creature.' + +'Yes,' said Rolf; 'he is awfully nervous, though he is not cowardly.' + +'A fine distinction, as applied to a dog,' said Mr. Trevor smiling. 'But +if--you all knew it, how----' + +A howl--really it was a howl--from Esmé interrupted him. + +'Oh, I know, I know!' she wailed. 'It was all my fault. But I only meant +to tease him and make him run. I didn't mean--oh, Ida, I didn't mean--to +make him go mad. Will you ever forgive me? Rough will never look at me +again, I know.' + +She was mistaken. The prettiest thing happened just then: Roughie, +placidly asleep, though giving little quivers and sobs still, was +awakened by the noise she made. He opened his eyes, and his mouth--what +Denzil called 'smiling'--a little; I think he meant to give a friendly +lick, but finding nothing handy for this, he contented himself with a +very cheerful tail-wagging, first glancing up at Esmé, who was bending +over him, as much as to say, 'I do forgive you heartily.' + +I have always said that dogs--nice dogs--are sorry for people when they +see them crying. Since that day I have been sure of it. + +But the first effect of Rough's magnanimity was to bring forth another +burst of sobs and tears from poor Esmé. + +Yes, I too forgave her from that moment. + +'Oh, Ida! oh, mamma! oh, everybody!' she cried, 'do forgive me! You see +_he_ does.' + +So now we fell to petting and soothing her; it never took very long to +get up Esmé's spirits again, happily. Before bedtime, except for +reddened eyes, you would not have known there had been anything the +matter, but from that day to this Roughie has had no kinder or truer +friend than her. + +We were all feeling rather overstrained. Mr. Trevor, I _fancy_, a little +ashamed of the great fuss he had made, though perhaps I should scarcely +speak of it like that, and I think we all felt glad when mamma said +brightly-- + +'Well--all is well that ends well! Will you join us at our schoolroom +tea and forgive its being rather a scramble after all this upset?' She +turned to the Trevors, but before they had time to reply there came a +half-laughing but rather distressed appeal from Mrs. Trevor. + +'My dears,' she said, addressing everybody as far as I could make out, +'will some of you disentangle me? The dogs and I have all got mixed up +together--naughty, naughty!' and she switched powerlessly with a +knitting needle at the poodles, who this time were really enjoying +themselves in a good ball-of-wool chase, as the excitement of Rough's +strange behaviour had actually made the old lady leave off knitting for +fully five minutes! + +It was quite impossible not to laugh, but Mrs. Trevor herself laughed as +heartily as any one, and at last, by turning her round and round as if +we were playing at blind man's buff, and catching up first one poodle +and then another, we got her free. + +And of course the wool looked none the worse! + +That laughing set us all still more at our ease, and by the time we had +sobered down, Hoskins appeared to announce tea. And after the kind +Trevors had said good-bye and gone, Denzil set us off laughing again by +announcing in his solemn way that he didn't believe Mr. Trevor was at +all ill; he ate such a lot of buttered toast! + +This affair of poor little Roughie was, I think, the most exciting thing +that happened to us all that spring and summer at the Hut. And though +everybody, starting with the good-natured wee man himself, forgave Esmé +thoroughly, we were none of us allowed to _forget_ it. For my dog +behaved in the funniest way. Nothing for at least a fortnight would +persuade him to leave my room, where he installed himself in what he +evidently thought a fortress of security, under the bed. And he would +only come out if I called him, and then expected me to hold him in my +arms as if he were a baby, which, as you can understand, was not very +convenient. + +But by degrees he got over it, and became his own happy little self +again. + +I think it was the very day after this thrilling experience that we got +another really cheering and hopeful letter from papa. And once this +happier turn of things began, it kept on pretty steadily; the only +drawback to our thankfulness being that he could name no date--no +_probable_ one even--for his return. So the lengthening days followed +each other till we got to midsummer, and then came July and August, +specially lovely months that year, during which the sun looked down on a +busy and happy party in the queer encampment that was our home for the +time. + +In September Rolf left us for the big school he was bound for. We missed +him sadly, though we had the cheering _hope_ that his aunt would let him +come to us again for the winter holidays. + +And so she did! + +A few days before Christmas he and Taisy--Taisy had spent the autumn +with her grandmother--arrived again, together this time, though less +like snails, as they had left their houses behind them when they went +away. And some changes in the arrangements were made. Taisy had +Geordie's room, and Geordie, to his great delight, took up his quarters +in her waggon, as mamma did not like the idea of a girl's being +outside--even though so near--through the long, dark nights. It was not +a cold winter; it is never very cold at Eastercove, and where the Hut +stands it seems even milder than higher up. So Rolf stuck to his tent, +and was very pleased to have an excuse for keeping his patent stove +going all the time. Those holidays came to an end only too soon. + +In March, just about a year after he had left, came the news of papa's +return being fixed for June. It all fitted in. The Trevors had taken the +house for twelve months, and with the fine weather meant to go back to +their own home in the north. And now there was no talk of letting our +dear home again, or, as far as we could see, of ever leaving it except +for pleasant reasons. But we kept the Hut just as it was, for papa to +see. Rolf would not even have his tent moved till after that summer, and +Taisy's waggon is to this day somewhere about the premises, and mamma +still has her movable 'boudoir' wheeled about to different parts of the +grounds, as it suits her. + + * * * * * + +It is nearly three years since I made the last entry in my 'Hut' diary, +from which I have written out this history of 'The House that Grew.' How +I came to do so I will explain. + +We have been through some very anxious times lately about Rolf. He is a +soldier, and very soon after he got his commission his regiment went to +India, and he with it. I will not tell the particulars, as he might not +like it, but he 'came in' almost at once for some _very_ active service, +up in some of those dreadfully out-of-the-way places, where there are so +often disturbances with the natives, which in England do not attract +much attention, unless you happen to have close personal interest in +what is happening, as we had, for Rolf had become almost like another +brother to us, spending half his holidays at Eastercove. And +Geordie--oh, I forgot to say he _did_ get the scholarship!--and he, by a +happy coincidence, had been at school together. + +Well--one sad day there came news that Rolf was badly wounded. We have +been waiting and waiting--and I think the anxiety 'got on my nerves,' as +people say. For one day mamma spoke seriously to me, when she found me +sitting idle, just longing for letters. + +'Ida, dear,' she said, 'you must get something to do--something _extra_, +I mean, to interest you.' + +And after talking a little, the idea of writing out my 'Hut' diary came +into my head, and, as you see, I have done it! + + * * * * * + +And I have been, if I deserved to be so, rewarded for following mamma's +advice. + +Rolf is coming home--on leave--'invalided,' it is true, but his wound is +not so bad as reported; indeed, according to _him_, not bad at all! + +Papa and Dods are just off to Southampton to meet him and bring him +straight here. + + +THE END + + + + +MACMILLAN AND CO.'S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. + +_BY MRS. MOLESWORTH._ + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW. Illustrated by ALICE B. WOODWARD. Crown 8vo. 4s. +6d. + +THIS AND THAT; A TALE OF TWO TINIES. Illustrated by HUGH THOMSON. 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By Mrs. EDWIN HOHLER. With Illustrations by F. H. +TOWNSEND. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. + +THE DRUMMER'S COAT. By the Hon. J. W. FORTESCUE. Illustrated by H. M. +BROCK. Pott 4to. 4s. 6d. + +BEASTS: THUMB-NAIL STUDIES IN PETS. By WARDLAW KENNEDY. With numerous +Illustrations. Pott 4to.--4s. 6d. Crown 8vo.--2s. 6d. + +ST. NICHOLAS CHRISTMAS BOOK. A Volume of Christmas Stories. Profusely +Illustrated. With Ornamental Cover. 4to. 3s. 6d. + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The House That Grew, by Mrs. Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE THAT GREW *** + +***** This file should be named 39554-8.txt or 39554-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/5/39554/ + +Produced by Annie McGuire. 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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/license + + +Title: The House That Grew + +Author: Mrs. Molesworth + +Illustrator: Alice B. Woodward + +Release Date: April 28, 2012 [EBook #39554] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE THAT GREW *** + + + + +Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="386" height="600" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE</h2> + +<h2>HOUSE</h2> + +<h2>THAT</h2> + +<h2>GREW</h2> + +<h2>MRS</h2> + +<h2>MOLESWORTH</h2> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE HOUSE THAT GREW</h2> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 318px;"><a name="ILL_002" id="ILL_002"></a> +<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="318" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">ROLF CAREFULLY DEPOSITED THE LITTLE CREATURE.—p. 175.</span> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;"> +<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="320" height="500" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">'<span class="smcap">It's dreadful, isn't it</span>?'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">'<span class="smcap">Muffins, for one thing, I hope</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">'<span class="smcap">It's a wonderful Idea, Ida</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">'<span class="smcap">Geordie stood up and waved his Cap</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">'<span class="smcap">What <i>can</i> she mean</span>?'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">'<span class="smcap">You do understand so well, Mamma</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">'<span class="smcap">No,' said Mamma, 'that isn't all</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">'<span class="smcap">I've brought my House with me, like a Snail</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">'<span class="smcap">The kind Sea, too, Auntie dear</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">'<span class="smcap">It's another Snail</span>'</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">'<span class="smcap">I made sure of that,' said Rolf</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">'<span class="smcap">Well—all is well that ends well</span>!'</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_002"><span class="smcap">Rolf carefully deposited the little creature</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_004"><span class="smcap">We were walking on slowly</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_005"><span class="smcap">No—there was nothing for it but to lie still</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_006"><span class="smcap">Ordering Denzil about as usual</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_007"><span class="smcap">We were out on the terrace, and Mrs. Trevor coming to meet us</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_008">'<span class="smcap">I can't very well get out,' she said</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ILL_009"><span class="smcap">She fastened the one end of the string round his poor little body</span></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<h3>'IT'S DREADFUL, ISN'T IT?'</h3> + +<p>Mamma sat quite quietly in her favourite corner, on the sofa in the +drawing-room, all the time papa was speaking. I think, or I thought +afterwards, that she was crying a little, though that isn't her way at +all. Dods didn't think so, for I asked him, when we were by ourselves. +She did not speak any way, except just to whisper to me when I ran up to +kiss her before we went out, 'We will have a good talk about it all +afterwards, darling. Run out now with Geordie.'</p> + +<p>I was very glad to get out of the room, I was so dreadfully afraid of +beginning to cry myself. I didn't know which I was the sorriest +for—papa or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> mamma—mamma, I think, though I don't know, either! Papa +tried to be so cheerful about it; it was almost worse than if he had +spoken very sadly. It reminded me of Dods when he was a very little boy +and broke his arm, and when they let me peep into the room just after +the doctor had set it, he smiled and whistled to make out it didn't hurt +much, though he was as white as white. Poor old Doddie! And poor papa!</p> + +<p>'It'll be worse for us and for mamma than for papa, won't it, Dods?' I +said, as soon as we were outside and quite out of hearing. 'They always +say that it's the worst for those that are left behind—the going-away +ones have the change and bustle, you see.'</p> + +<p>'How can I tell?' said Dods; 'you ask such stupid things, Ida. It's +about as bad as it can be for everybody, and I don't see that it makes +it any better to go on counting which it's the worst for.'</p> + +<p>He gave himself a sort of wriggle, and began switching the hedge with +the little cane he was carrying; by that and the gruff tone of his +voice, I could tell he was feeling very bad, so I didn't mind his being +rather cross, and we walked on for a minute or two without speaking.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then suddenly Dods—I call him Dods, but his real name is George, and +mamma calls him Geordie—stopped short.</p> + +<p>'Where are you going, Ida?' he said. 'I hear those children hallooing +over there in the little planting. They'll be down upon us in another +moment, tiresome things, if we don't get out of the way, and I certainly +don't want them just now.'</p> + +<p>I didn't either, though I'm very fond of them. But they're <i>so</i> much +younger, only seven and eight then, and Dods and I were thirteen and +fourteen. And we have always gone in pairs. Dods and I, and Denzil and +Esmé. Besides, of course, the poor little things were not to be told +just yet of the strange troubles and sorrows that had come, or were +coming, to us.</p> + +<p>So I agreed with Dods that we had better get out of the way.</p> + +<p>'Esmé is so quick,' I said; 'she'd very likely see there was something +the matter, and papa did so warn us not to let them know.'</p> + +<p>'Humph,' said Dods. 'I don't think we need worry about <i>them</i>. Denzil is +as dense as a hedgehog, and as comfortable as a fat dormouse. <i>He'd</i> +never worry as long as he has plenty to eat and a jolly warm bed to +sleep in. And Esmé's just a——'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>'A what?' I said, rather vexed, for Esmé <i>is</i> a sweet. She's not fat or +lazy, and I don't think Denzil is—not extra, for such a little boy.</p> + +<p>'She's just a sort of a butterfly,' said Geordie. '<i>She'd</i> never mind +anything for long. She'd just settle down for half a moment and then fly +up again as merry as a sandboy.'</p> + +<p>I could not help bursting out laughing. It was partly, I daresay, that I +felt as if I must either laugh or cry. But Dods did mix up +his—'similes,' I think, is the right word—so funnily! Hedgehogs and +dormice and butterflies and sandboys, all in a breath.</p> + +<p>'I don't see what there is to laugh at,' said Geordie, very grumpily +again, though he had been getting a little brighter.</p> + +<p>'No more do I, I'm sure,' I replied, sadly enough, and then, I think, +Dods felt sorry.</p> + +<p>'Where shall we go?' he said gently.</p> + +<p>'Wherever you like—to the hut, I think. It is always nice there, and we +can lock ourselves in if we hear the children coming,' I answered.</p> + +<p>The hut, as we called it, was our very most favourite place. It was much +more than you would fancy from the name, as you will hear before long. +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> we did not wait to go on talking, till we got there. The children's +voices did not come any nearer, but died away in the distance, so we +walked on quietly, without hurrying.</p> + +<p>'Ida,' said Geordie after a bit, 'it's dreadful, isn't it?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I agreed; 'I think it is.'</p> + +<p>The 'it' was the news poor papa had been telling us. We were not quite +like most other children, I think, in some ways. I think we—that is, +Dods and I—were rather more thoughtful, though that sounds like +praising ourselves, which I am sure I don't mean. But papa and mamma had +always had us a good deal with them and treated us almost like +companions, and up to now, though he was getting on for thirteen, Dods +had never been away at school, only going to Kirke, the little town near +us, for some lessons with the vicar, and doing some with me and our +governess, who came over from Kirke every day. So papa had told us what +had to be told, almost as if we were grown-up people.</p> + +<p>We did not understand it quite exactly, for it had to do with business +things, which generally mean 'money' things, it seems to me, and which, +even now, though I am sixteen past, I don't perfectly understand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> And I +daresay I shall not explain it all as well as a quite grown-up person +would. But I don't think that will matter. This story is just a real +account of something rather out of the common, and I am writing it +partly as a kind of practice, for I do hope I shall be able to write +stories in books some day, and partly because I think it is interesting +even if it never gets into a book, and I should like Denzil and Esmé to +read it all over, for fear of their forgetting about it.</p> + +<p>I must first tell what the news was that we had just heard. Poor papa +had lost a lot of money!</p> + +<p>We were not very rich, but we had had quite enough, and our home +was—and <i>is</i>, I am thankful to say—the sweetest, nicest home in the +world. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers back to papa's +great-great ones have always lived here and seen to everything +themselves, which makes a home nicer than anything else. But a good deal +of <i>papa's</i> money came from property a long, long way off—somewhere in +the West Indies. It had been left to <i>his</i> father by his godmother, and +ever since I was quite little I remember hearing papa say what a good +thing it was to have some money besides what came from our own property +at home. For, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> everybody knows, land in England—especially, I think, +in our part of it—does not give half as much as it used to, from rents +and those sorts of things.</p> + +<p>And we got into the way—I mean by 'we,' papa and mamma, and grandpapa, +no doubt, in his time—of thinking of the West Indian money as something +quite safe and certain, that could not ever 'go down' like other things.</p> + +<p>But there came a day, not very long before the one I am writing about, +which brought sudden and very bad news. Things had gone wrong, +dreadfully wrong out at that place—Saint Silvio's—and it was quite +possible that <i>all</i> our money from there would stop for good. The horrid +part of it was, that it all came from somebody's wrongdoing—not from +earthquakes or hurricanes or outside troubles of that kind—but from +real dishonesty on the part of the agents papa had trusted. There was +nothing for it but for poor papa himself to go out there, for a year at +least, perhaps for two years, to find out everything and see what could +be done.</p> + +<p>There was a <i>possibility</i>, papa said, of things coming right, or partly +right again, once he was there and able to go into it all himself. But +to do this it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> was necessary that he should start as soon as could be +managed; and with the great doubt of our <i>ever</i> being at all well off +again, it was also necessary that mamma and we four should be very, very +careful about expenses at home, and just spend as little as we could.</p> + +<p>A piece of good fortune had happened in the middle of all this; at least +<i>papa</i> called it good fortune, though I am afraid George and I did not +feel as if it was good at all! Papa had had an offer from some people to +take our house—our own dear Eastercove—for a year, or perhaps more. We +had often been asked to let it, for it is so beautifully placed—close +to the sea, and yet with lovely woods and grounds all round it, which is +very uncommon at the sea-side. Our pine woods are almost famous, and +there are nooks and dells and glens and cliffs that I could not describe +if I tried ever so hard, so deliciously pretty and picturesque are they.</p> + +<p>But till now we had never dreamt of letting it. Indeed, we used to feel +quite angry, which was rather silly, I daresay, if ever we heard of any +offer being made for it. And now the offer that had come was a very good +one; it was not only more money than had ever been proposed before, but +it came from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> very nice sort of people, whom the agent knew were quite +to be trusted in every way.</p> + +<p>'They will take good care of the house and of all our things,' said +papa, 'and keep on any of the servants who like to stay.'</p> + +<p>'Shall we not have <i>any</i> servants then?' Dods had asked. 'Do you mean +that mamma—mamma and Ida and the little ones—I don't mind for myself, +I'm a boy; I'll go to sea as a common sailor if it would be any +good—but do you mean, that we shall be like <i>really</i> poor people?' And +here there came a choke in his voice that made me feel as if I could +<i>scarcely</i> keep from crying. For I knew what he was thinking of—the +idea of mamma, our pretty mamma, with her merry laugh and nice dresses, +and soft, white hands, having to work and even scrub perhaps, and to +give up all the things and ways she was used to—it was too dreadful!</p> + +<p>Papa looked sorry and went on again quietly—</p> + +<p>'No, no, my boy,' he said; 'don't exaggerate it. Of course mamma and you +all must have every comfort possible. One servant, anyway—Hoskins is +sure to stay, and a younger one as well, I <i>hope</i>. And there must be no +thought of your going to sea, George, or going anywhere, till I come +back again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> I look to you to take care of them all—that is why I am +explaining more to you and Ida than many people would to such young +ones. But I know you are both very sensible for your age. You see, we +are sure of the new rent, thanks to this Mr. Trevor's offer—and even +<i>that</i> would prevent us from being in a desperate position. And, of +course, the usual money will go on coming in from the property, though +the most of it must go in keeping things in order, in case——' but here +papa broke off.</p> + +<p>'I know what you were going to say, papa,' said poor Dods, growing +scarlet; he was certainly very quick-witted,—"in case we have to sell +Eastercove!" Oh, papa! anything but that! I'll work—I'll do <i>anything</i> +to make money, so long as we don't have to do that. Our old, old home!'</p> + +<p>He could not say any more, and turned away his head.</p> + +<p>'It has not come to that yet, my boy,' said papa, after a moment or +two's silence. 'Let us keep up heart in the meantime, and hope for the +best.'</p> + +<p>Then he went on to tell us some of the plans he and mamma had already +begun to make—about our going to live in some little house at Kirke, +where we should not feel so strange as farther away, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> there were +objections to this too,—anything at all <i>nice</i> in the shape of even a +tiny house there would be dear, as the neighbourhood was much sought +after by visitors in winter as well as in summer. For it was considered +so very healthy for delicate people; the air was always clear and dry, +and the scent of the pine woods so strengthening. Papa, however, was +doing his best; he and mamma were going there that very afternoon, 'To +spy the land,' papa said, trying to speak cheerily.</p> + +<p>So now I come back to where I began my explanation as to what the 'it' +was, that Geordie and I agreed was so dreadful.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 328px;"><a name="ILL_004" id="ILL_004"></a> +<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="328" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">WE WERE WALKING ON SLOWLY.</span> +</div> + +<p>We were walking on slowly to the hut, and just as I had replied, 'I +think it is,' we came in sight of it, and something—I don't know +what—made us both stop and look at this favourite spot of ours. It was +so pretty to-day—perhaps that was it. A sudden clearing brought us out +of the wood, through which we had been following a well-worn, narrow +path, and the bright, soft light of the early afternoon—of an April +afternoon—was falling on the quaint little place. It was more like two +or three huts than one, and indeed it really did consist of three or +four rooms, which we children had been allowed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> consider our own +quarters, and to decorate and improve according to our fancy and taste. +To begin with, it had been a bathing-house, of two rooms, partly of +stone, partly of wood, standing on a little plateau, just at the edge of +the pine trees, and well above the sea, so that even in stormy weather +the water could not possibly reach it; besides which, I must say that +stormy weather in the shape of high tides or great waves never did show +itself in this cove. Often and often we had sat there, listening to the +boom and crash at the foot of the cliffs, round at the other side, as +snug and peaceful as if we had been miles inland.</p> + +<p>And the sands that sloped down from our hut were just perfection, both +as to prettiness and niceness for bathing. They shone to-day like gold +and silver mixed in the sunshine; and the hut itself, though queerly +shaped, looked pretty too. We had managed, in spite of the sandy soil, +to get some hardy creepers to grow over it on the inland side, and we +had sunk some old tubs filled with good soil in front of the porch—for +there was a porch—in which flourished some nice, bushy evergreens, and +there was even a tiny terrace with long flower-boxes, where, for six +months of the year at least, geraniums and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> fuchsias, and for part of +the time, nice, big, white and yellow and straw-coloured daisies seemed +quite at home. It was a <i>lovely</i> place for children to have of their +own; and the year before, papa had added two other rooms to it, for our +photographing—<i>iron</i> rooms, these were, and not at all ugly, though +that would not have mattered much, as they were at the back, beside the +little kitchen, where we were allowed to cook our luncheons and teas +when we were spending a whole day on the shore.</p> + +<p>'Dods!' I exclaimed, as we stood there in silence, admiring our mansion, +'we must see about the flowers for the long boxes. It's getting quite +time, for Bush has settled all about the bedding-out plants—he told me +so yesterday—so he'll be able to tell us what he has to spare.'</p> + +<p>I spoke in utter forgetfulness—but it only lasted a moment—only, that +is to say, till I caught the expression of Geordie's mournful blue +eyes—he <i>can</i> make them look so mournful when he likes—fixed upon me +in silent reproach.</p> + +<p>'Ida,' he said at last, 'what are you thinking of? <i>What's the use?</i>'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Dods! oh, dear, dear Doddie!' I cried—I don't think I quite knew +what I was saying,—'forgive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> me. Oh, how silly and unfeeling I seem! +<i>Oh</i>, Doddie!'</p> + +<p>And then—I am not now ashamed to tell it, for I really had been keeping +it in at the cost of a good deal of forcing myself—I just left off +trying to be brave or self-controlled or anything, and burst out +crying—regular loud crying. I am afraid I almost howled.</p> + +<p>George looked at me once more, then for a minute or so he turned away. I +am not sure if he was crying, anyway he wasn't <i>howling</i>. But in an +instant or two, while I was rubbing at my eyes with my handkerchief, and +feeling rather, or very ashamed, I felt something come round my neck, +crushing it up so tightly that I was almost choked, and then Doddie's +voice in my ear, very gruff, very gruff indeed of course, saying—</p> + +<p>'Poor Ida, poor old Ida! I know it's quite as bad or worse for you. For +a <i>man</i> can always go out into the world and fight his way, and have +some fun however hard he works.'</p> + +<p>'That wouldn't make it any better for <i>me</i>, Dods,' I said—we both +forgot, I think, that he was a good way off being a man just +yet,—'you're my only comfort. I don't mean that mamma isn't one, of +course;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> but it's our business now to cheer her up. Papa said so ever so +many times. I don't really know, though, how I <i>could</i> have cheered her +up, or even tried to, if you had been away at school already!'</p> + +<p>Poor George's face darkened at this. It was rather an unlucky speech. He +had thought of things already that had never come into my head. One was +that it seemed unlikely enough now that papa would ever be able to send +him to school at all—I mean, of course, to the big public school, for +which his name had been down for ever so long, and on which, like all +English boys, his heart was set. For he knew how expensive all public +schools are.</p> + +<p>'Don't talk of school, Ida,' he said huskily. 'Luckily it's a good year +off still,' for it had never been intended that he should go till he was +fourteen; 'and,' with a deep sigh, 'we must keep on hoping, I suppose.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, and working,' I added. 'Whatever happens, Dods, you must work +well, and I'll do my best to help you. Mightn't you perhaps gain a +scholarship, or whatever you call them, that would make school cost +less?'</p> + +<p>This remark was as lucky as the other had been unfortunate. Dods +brightened up at once.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>'By Jove,' he said, 'what a good idea! I never thought of it. I'll tell +you what, Ida; I'll ask Mr. Lloyd about it the very first time I see +him—that'll be the day after to-morrow, as to-morrow's Sunday.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Lloyd was the vicar of Kirke.</p> + +<p>I felt quite proud of having thought of something to cheer Geordie up, +and my tears stopped, and by the time we had got to the hut, we were +both in much better spirits.</p> + +<p>'It is to be hoped,' I said, 'that papa and mamma <i>will</i> find some kind +of a house at Kirke, however poky. For you would be very sorry not to go +on with Mr. Lloyd—wouldn't you, Dods?'</p> + +<p>'Of course I should,' he replied heartily. 'He's very kind and very +strict. And if I mean to work harder than ever before, as I do now, +since you put that jolly idea into my head, it's a good thing he <i>is</i> +strict.'</p> + +<p>When we got to the hut and unlocked the door, we found a good deal to +do. For on Saturdays we generally—we <i>meant</i> to do it regularly, but I +am afraid we sometimes forgot—had a sort of cleaning and tidying up. +Photographing is very nice and interesting of course, and so is cooking, +but they are rather messy! And when you've been doing one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> or the other +nearly all day, it's rather disgusting to have to begin washing up +greasy dishes, and chemicalised rags and glasses, and pots and pans, and +all the rest of it. I don't mean that we ever cleaned up the +photographing things with the kitchen things; we weren't so silly, as, +of course, we should not only have spoilt our instruments, but run a +good risk of poisoning ourselves too. But the whole lot needed cleaning, +and I don't know which were the tiresomest.</p> + +<p>And the last day we had spent at the hut, we had only half-tidied up, we +had got <i>so</i> tired. So there were all the things about, as if they'd +been having a dance in the night, like Hans Andersen's toys, and had +forgotten to put themselves to bed after it.</p> + +<p>Dods and I looked at each other rather grimly.</p> + +<p>'It's got to be done,' I said. 'It's a shame to see the place so bright +and sunny outside and so <i>dreadfully</i> messy indoors.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Dods, 'it is. So fire away, Ida. After all——' but he +didn't finish his sentence and didn't need to. I knew what he +meant—that quite possibly it was the very last time we'd need to have a +good cleaning up in the dear old hut.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h2> + +<h3>'MUFFINS, FOR ONE THING, I HOPE'</h3> + +<p>The first thing we had to do was really to 'fire away.' That is to say, +to light a fire, for of course nothing in the way of washing up or +cleaning can be done without hot water, and you cannot get hot water +without fire of some kind. But that part of our work we did not dislike +at all. We had grown quite clever at making fires and getting them to +burn up quickly in the little stove, and we had always, or nearly +always, a nice store of beautifully dry wood that we picked up +ourselves. And though the hut was so near the sea, it was wonderfully +dry. We could leave things there for weeks, without their becoming musty +or mouldy.</p> + +<p>And as the fire crackled up brightly, and after a bit we got the kettle +on and it began to sing, our spirits began to rise again a little, to +keep it company.</p> + +<p>'After all,' I said, 'there really is a good strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> <i>likelihood</i> that +things won't turn out so badly. Papa is very clever, and once he is out +there himself, he will find out everything, and perhaps get them put +straight once for all. It wouldn't so much matter our having less money +than we have had till now, if all the muddle and cheating was cleared +up.'</p> + +<p>'No, it wouldn't,' Geordie agreed, 'and of course it's best to be +hopeful. So long as there's no talk of our selling Eastercove, Ida, I +don't feel as if I minded anything.'</p> + +<p>'And the great thing is to cheer up poor mamma while papa's away,' I +said, 'and not to seem dull or miserable at having to live differently +and go without things we've always been used to have. I don't think I +shall mind that part of it so <i>very</i> much, Dods—shall you?'</p> + +<p>Dods sighed.</p> + +<p>'I don't know; I hope not for myself—of course what matters to <i>me</i> is +the perhaps not going to a big school. But you have cheered me up about +that, Ida. I shall hate you and mamma not having a carriage and nice +servants and all that, though we must go on hoping it will only be for a +bit.'</p> + +<p>'And I <i>do</i> hope we can stay on near here,' I said, 'so that at least we +can feel that home is close-to.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> I would rather have ever so little a +house at Kirke than a much better one farther off—except that, well, I +must say I shouldn't like it to be one of those dreadfully +stuffy-looking little ones in rows in a street!'</p> + +<p>'I'm afraid that's just what it is likely to be,' said Dods. 'It will be +pretty horrid; there's no use trying to pretend it won't be. But, Ida, +we're not working at all. We must get on, for papa and mamma will like +to find us at home when they come in.'</p> + +<p>'Especially as to-morrow's Sunday,' I added; 'and very likely, if it's +as fine as to-day, we may all come down here to tea in the afternoon,' +for that was a favourite habit of ours. We children used to consider +that we were the hosts on these occasions, and papa and mamma our +visitors.</p> + +<p>So we set to work with a will, without grumbling at the rather big +collection of things there were to wash up, and the amount of sweeping +and brushing to do. To begin with, we knew we had ourselves to thank for +it, as we had left things in a very untidy way the last day we had spent +at the hut. Then too, even though only an hour or so had passed since we +had heard the bad news, I think we had suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> grown older. I have +never felt thoroughly a child again since that morning. For the first +time it seemed to come really home to me that life has a serious side to +it, and I think—indeed I know—that George felt the same. I don't mean +that we were made sad or unhappy, for I don't count that we had ever +been very thoughtless children, but we both began to feel that there +were certain things we could do, and should do, that no one else could +do as well.</p> + +<p>I think it must be what people call the sense of 'responsibility,' and +in some ways it is rather a nice feeling. It makes one feel stronger and +braver, and yet more humble too, though that sounds contradictory, for +there comes with it a great anxiety to prove worthy of the trust placed +in one to do one's best.</p> + +<p>And just now it was very specially a case of being trusted. Papa said he +would go away happier, or at least less unhappy, for knowing that he +left two 'big' children to take care of mamma, and though I cannot quite +explain how, the feeling left by his words had begun to influence us +already. We even were extra anxious to do our tidying very well and +quickly, as we knew it would please mamma to see we were keeping the +promises we had made when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> she first persuaded papa to let us have the +hut for our own, and got it all made nice for us.</p> + +<p>And by four o'clock or so it did look very nice—I never saw it neater, +and we felt we might rest for a few minutes.</p> + +<p>We had put everything ready for Sunday afternoon's tea-party—everything +that could be ready, I mean. The cups and saucers and fat brown tea-pot +were arranged on the round table of the room we counted our parlour; it +was in front of the kitchen, looking towards the sea, and here we did +the unmessy part of the photographing, and kept any little ornaments or +pictures we had. Of the other two rooms one was the 'chemical room,' as +we called it, and in a cupboard out of it we hung up our +bathing-clothes, and the <i>fourth</i> room, which had originally been the +front bathing-house, so to say, or dressing-room, was now a bedroom, all +except the bed. That does sound very 'Irish,' does it not? But what I +mean is that it was furnished simply as a bedroom usually is—only that +there was no bed.</p> + +<p>We had often begged to be allowed to spend a night in the hut, for there +was an old sofa that Geordie could have slept on quite comfortably in +the parlour, or even in the kitchen, and we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> saved pocket-money +enough to buy a camp bedstead, for which mamma had two or three +mattresses and pillows and things like that among the spare ones up in +the long garret. But so far we had never got leave to carry our +picnicking quite so far. Papa would not have minded, for of all things +he wanted us to be 'plucky,' and did not even object to my being +something of a tomboy; but mamma said she would certainly not sleep all +night if she knew we were alone in the hut, and perhaps frightened, or +ill, or something wrong with us.</p> + +<p>So <i>that</i> plan had been put a stop to.</p> + +<p>'I wonder what Hoskins will give us in the shape of cakes for +to-morrow,' I said. 'There is enough tea and sugar for two or three more +afternoons'—'more than we shall want,' I added to myself with an inside +sigh.</p> + +<p>Hoskins was a sort of half-nurse, half-housekeeper person. She had not +been with us <i>very</i> long, only since Esmé was born—but she really was +very good and dear, and I know she cared for us in a particular way, for +her father had been gardener for ages, though ages ago now, as she +herself was pretty old, at Eastercove. And she wasn't cross, like so +many old servants both in books and real life—rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> the other +way—too "spoiling" of us. She had only one fault. She was a little +deaf.</p> + +<p>'Muffins, for one thing, I hope,' said Dods. 'They don't leave off +making them till May, and it isn't May yet.'</p> + +<p>There was a baker in the village—I think I have forgotten to say that +there was a very tiny village called Eastercove, close to our gates—who +was famed for his muffins.</p> + +<p>'Humph,' I said. 'I don't very much care about them. They are such a +bother with toasting and buttering. I think bread and butter—thin and +rolled—is quite as good, and some nice cakes and a big one of that kind +of gingerbread that you hardly taste the ginger in, and that's like +toffee at the top.'</p> + +<p>I was beginning to feel hungry, for we had not eaten much luncheon, +which was our early dinner, and I think that made me talk rather +greedily.</p> + +<p>'You are a regular epicure about cakes,' said Dods.</p> + +<p>I did not like his calling me that, and I felt my face get red, and I +was just going to answer him crossly when I remembered about our great +trouble, and thought immediately to myself how silly it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> would be to +squabble about tiny things in a babyish way now. So I answered quietly—</p> + +<p>'Well, you see, it is only polite to think of what other people like, if +you invite them to tea, and I know papa likes that kind of gingerbread. +He ate such a big piece one day that mamma called him a greedy boy.'</p> + +<p>Geordie did not say anything, but I always know when he is sorry for +teasing me, and I could see that he was just now.</p> + +<p>Then we locked up and set off home again. As we came out of the pine +woods and in sight of the drive we saw the pony carriage, and we ran on, +so as to be at the front door when papa and mamma got there.</p> + +<p>They smiled at us very kindly, and papa said in what he meant to be a +cheery voice—</p> + +<p>'Well, young people, what have you been about? Run in, Ida, and hurry up +tea. Mamma is tired.'</p> + +<p>Yes, poor mamma did look dreadfully tired, and through the outside +cheeriness of papa's words and manner I could see that he was feeling +very sad and dull.</p> + +<p>I hurried in, and we were soon all at tea in the pretty drawing-room. +George and I did not always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> have tea downstairs, but to-day somehow +there seemed no question of our not doing so. I waited till mamma had +had some tea and was looking a little less white and done up, and then I +said half-frightenedly—</p> + +<p>'Did you see any nice little house at Kirke?' though in my heart I felt +sure they hadn't, or they would not have come back, looking so +disappointed.</p> + +<p>Mamma shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid, dearie,' she began, but papa interrupted her—</p> + +<p>'No,' he said decidedly, 'we saw nothing the least possible to call +"nice," except one or two places far and away too dear. And of course we +knew already that there are plenty of nice houses to be got, if expense +had not to be considered so closely. There is no good beating about the +bush with George and Ida,' he went on, turning to mamma. 'Now that we +have so thoroughly taken them into our confidence it is best to tell +them everything. And the truth is,' he continued, leaning back in his +chair with a rather rueful smile, 'I am really feeling almost in +despair. I am afraid we shall have to give up the idea of staying at +Kirke.'</p> + +<p>'Yet there are so many advantages about it,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> said mamma quickly. 'And +there is, after all, that tiny house in the Western Road.'</p> + +<p>'Horrid poky little hole,' said papa. 'I cannot bear to think of you in +it. I would almost rather you went about in a caravan like the gypsies +we passed on the road.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I agreed, '<i>I</i> wouldn't mind that at all—not in summer, at +least.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, but unluckily, my dear child, "it is not always May,"' he replied, +though I was pleased to see he held out his cup for some more tea (I +have found out that things do seem much worse when one is tired or +hungry!) and that his voice sounded more like itself.</p> + +<p>'And it isn't always winter either,' said mamma cheerfully. 'Let us be +as happy as we can while we are together, and enjoy this nice spring +weather. I <i>am</i> glad, if sad things had to happen, that they did not +come to us in November or December. Perhaps Mr. Lloyd will find some +nicer house for us.'</p> + +<p>'Does he know about—about our having to leave Eastercove?' I asked.</p> + +<p>Mamma nodded.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she replied. 'We stopped there on our way back, and papa went in +and told him.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>I felt glad of that. It would prepare him for Dods's anxiety about a +scholarship.</p> + +<p>'By the bye,' mamma continued, 'how fast they are getting on with the +new parish room! I was looking at it while I was waiting for you, Jack' +(that's papa), 'and it seems really finished. Are they not beginning to +take away the iron room already?'</p> + +<p>'Lloyd says it is to be sold here, or returned to the makers for what +they will give, next week,' papa replied. 'It has served its purpose +very well indeed these two or three years. If——'</p> + +<p>'If what?' said mamma.</p> + +<p>Poor papa shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>'Oh, it's no good thinking of it now,' he answered. 'I was only going to +say—forgetting—that if Geordie and Ida liked I might buy it and add it +on to the hut. It would make into two capital little bedrooms for very +little cost, and Lloyd happened to say to-day that the makers would +rather sell it for less where it stands than have the expense of taking +it back to London. They keep improving these things; it is probably +considered old-fashioned already.'</p> + +<p>Geordie and I looked at each other. How lovely it would have been! Just +what we had always longed for—to be allowed really to <i>live</i> at the +hut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> now and then. And with two more rooms we could have had Hoskins +with us, and then mamma wouldn't have been nervous about it. But as papa +said, there was no use in thinking about it <i>now</i>.</p> + +<p>'Will the people who are coming to live here have the hut too?' I asked.</p> + +<p>Papa did not seem to pay much attention to what I said. He was thinking +deeply, and almost started as I turned to him with the question.</p> + +<p>'I do not know,' he replied. 'It has not been alluded to.'</p> + +<p>'I hope not,' said mamma. 'If we stay at Kirke, as I still trust we may, +it would be nice to come up there to spend an afternoon now and then. It +is so far from the house that we would not seem like intruders. Though, +of course, once they see how nice it is, they may want to have it as a +bathing-box.'</p> + +<p>'That's not very likely,' said papa. 'They seem elderly people, and the +son is a great sufferer from rheumatism. That is why they have taken +such a fancy to this place—the scent of pine woods and the air about +them are considered so good for illnesses of that kind. And sea-air +suits him too, and they think it a wonderful chance to have all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> this as +well as a dry climate and fairly mild winters. Yes—we who live here +<i>are</i> uncommonly lucky.'</p> + +<p>He strolled to the window as he spoke and stood looking out without +speaking. Then he turned again.</p> + +<p>'I'll remember about the hut,' he said. 'I don't fancy these good people +would be likely to be fussy or ill-natured or to think you intruding. +Their letters are so well-bred and considerate.'</p> + +<p>We felt glad to hear that.</p> + +<p>'Mamma,' I said, 'we have made the hut so nice and tidy for +to-morrow—Sunday, you know. You and papa will come and have tea there, +won't you? It will be the first time this year' (and 'the last perhaps' +seemed whispered into my mind, though I did not utter the words), for +the spring-coming had been uncertain and we had all had colds.</p> + +<p>Mamma looked at papa.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said; 'certainly we will. And the little ones too, Ida?'</p> + +<p>'Of course,' I said, and then I went off to talk about cakes—and +muffins if possible, to please Dods—to Hoskins, the result of the +interview proving very satisfactory.</p> + +<p>When I came back to the drawing-room the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> ones were +there—Denzil, solemn as usual; Esmé hopping and skipping about and +chattering thirteen to the dozen, as usual, too! She is three or four +years older now, and beginning to 'sober down,' as they say, so I hope +if she ever reads this, which certainly will not be for three or four or +more years from now, she will have gone on sobering down, enough to +understand what a 'flibbertigibbet' (that is a word of Hoskins's which I +think very expressive) she was, and not to be hurt at my description of +her. For I do love her dearly, and I always have loved her dearly, and I +should be sorry for her ever to lose her good spirits, though it is +already a comfort that she <i>sometimes</i> sits still now, and listens to +what is said to her.</p> + +<p>All the same, that part of our lives which I am writing this story +about, would have been much duller and harder but for our butterfly's +funny, merry ways.</p> + +<p>This afternoon she was especially laughing and mischievous, and it made +me feel a little cross. I was tired, I daresay, with all the work we had +been doing, <i>and</i> the sadness that had come upon us so suddenly, and I +did want to be quiet and talk sensibly. It was a little papa's fault +too, I must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> say. He is sometimes rather like a boy still, though he has +four big children. He hates being unhappy! I don't think he would mind +my saying so of him, and he got mischievous and teased Esmé, to make her +say funny things, as she often does.</p> + +<p>And I suppose I looked rather too grave, for, after a little, mamma +whispered to me—</p> + +<p>'Ida, dear, don't look so dreadfully unhappy; you almost make me wish we +had not told you anything till we were obliged to do so.'</p> + +<p>'I don't look worse than Geordie,' I replied, in a whisper too, +'or—or,' as I happened just then to catch sight of my younger brother's +face, 'than Denzil.'</p> + +<p>At this mamma did burst out laughing—a real merry laugh, which, in +spite of my crossness, I was pleased to hear.</p> + +<p>'My dear!' she exclaimed, 'who has ever seen Denzil anything but solemn! +And as he knows nothing, it has certainly not to do with what <i>we</i> are +all thinking about. He was the solemnest <i>baby</i> even that ever was seen, +though many babies are solemn. I used to feel quite ashamed of my +frivolity when Denny was only a couple of months old. And—no, poor old +Geordie is trying to cheer up, so you must too.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yes, it was true. Geordie was laughing and playing with Esmé and papa, +though I know his heart was quite as heavy as mine. Geordie is very +particularly good in some ways. So I resolved to choke down, or at least +to hide, my sadness—and still more the sort of crossness I had been +feeling. It was not exactly real ill-tempered crossness, but the kind of +hating being unhappy and thinking that other people are unhappy too, +which comes with troubles when one isn't used to them especially, and +isn't patient and unselfish, though one wants to be.</p> + +<p>However, I managed to look more amiable after mamma's little +warning—still more, I think, after her hearty laugh. Her laughing +always seems to drive away crossness and gloominess; it is so pretty and +bright, and so real.</p> + +<p>And I was helped too by another thing, though as yet it had scarcely +taken shape in my mind, or even in my fancy. But it was there all the +same, fluttering about somewhere, as if waiting for me to catch hold of +it and make something of it. Just yet I did not give myself time to +think it out. All I felt was a sort of presentiment that somewhere or +somehow there was a way out of our troubles, or rather out of one part +of them, and that I was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> to find it before long. And I am quite +sure that sometimes the thinking a thing out is more than half done by +our brains before we know it—much in the same way that we—Dods and +I—are quite sure that putting a lesson-book under your pillow at night +helps you to know what you have to learn out of it by the next morning. +Lots of children believe this, though none of us can explain it, and we +don't like to speak of it for fear of being laughed at. But I don't mind +writing about it, as I shall not hear if people do laugh at it or not.</p> + +<p>Anyway it <i>did</i> happen to me this time, that <i>something</i> worked the +cobweb ideas that were beginning to float about in my brain into a real +touchable or speakable plan, before the 'awake' side of it—of my brain, +I mean—knew that anything of the kind was there.</p> + +<p>I will try to tell quite exactly how this came about. But first I must +say that I don't think George was feeling so <i>very</i> bad after all, for +the last thing he said to me that evening as we went up to bed was, 'I +do hope Hoskins has managed to get some muffins for to-morrow.'</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h2> + +<h3>'IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, IDA'</h3> + +<p>I remember that I fell asleep very quickly that night. Of course, like +most children when they are well, I generally did. But that night it +would not have been very surprising if I had kept awake and even got +into a tossing-about, fidgety state, just from thinking about the +strange, sudden trouble and change that were coming into our lives.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, I seemed to drop straight down into unconsciousness +almost as soon as my head touched the pillow, and I must have slept +several hours straight off without even dreaming, or at least dreaming +anything that I could remember. For when I awoke the dawn was creeping +in, and though I felt too lazy and comfortable to get up to look out, I +knew that sunrise could not be far off. It was that time of early +morning when one almost fancies that sun and moon stop a moment or two +to say a word to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> each other on their way, though of course I know +enough astronomy now to understand that those fancies <i>are</i> only +fancies. And yet there is a kind of truth in them, for the sun and moon, +and the stars too, <i>have</i> to do with all of us people living on this +earth; indeed, we owe everything to the sun; and so it is not altogether +fancy to think of him, great big kind thing that he is, as a wonderful +friend, and of the little gentle moon as taking his place, as it were, +when he is at work on the other side. And the curious, mingled sort of +light in the room, faint and dreamy, though clear too, made me think to +myself, 'The sun is saying, "How do you do?" and the moon, "Good-bye."'</p> + +<p>But I soon shut my drowsy eyes again, though not to fall asleep again at +once. On the contrary, I grew awaker and awaker, as I began to feel that +my mind or memory or brain—I don't know which to call it—had something +to tell me.</p> + +<p>What was it?</p> + +<p>I seemed almost to be listening. And gradually it came to me—the +knowledge of the idea that had been working itself out during my sleep +from the thoughts that had been there jumbled up together the day +before. And when I got clear hold of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> it was, I nearly called out, +I felt so struck and startled at first, just as if some one had said it +to me, though with astonishing quickness it spread itself out before me +as a really possible and even sensible plan, with nothing dreamy or +fanciful about it.</p> + +<p>It was this.</p> + +<p>'Why should not we all—mamma, that is to say, and we four children—why +should we not live altogether at the hut during the year, or more +perhaps, that papa would have to be away?'</p> + +<p>It may seem to those who read this story—if ever there are readers of +it—a wild idea that had thus come to me. But 'the proof of the pudding +is in the eating,' as Hoskins is fond of saying. So please wait a little +before you judge.</p> + +<p>And no sooner had the idea got into words than all the bits of it began +to place themselves in order like the pieces of a dissected puzzle-map, +or, still better, like the many-coloured skeins of silk in the pretty +fairy story where the touch of the wand made them all arrange +themselves. Still more—no sooner had the first vague thoughts settled +down than others came to join them, each finding its own corner in the +building that I began to see was not a castle in the air but a good +solid piece of work.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>It would be so healthy and airy, and yet not damp; nor, with proper +care, need it be very cold, even in winter. It would be near enough to +Kirke for Geordie to go on with his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and for us +to feel we had old friends close at hand, who would understand all about +us, and very likely be kinder than ever. It would be near enough to +home—dear Eastercove—indeed, it would be Eastercove—for us to take +lots of furniture and things from the house to furnish as much more as +was needed and to make it comfortable and even pretty, without emptying +Eastercove house at all. There was, as I have said, such a lot of +stored-away extra furniture and old carpets and curtains and blankets +and all sorts of things up in the great attic, and Hoskins kept them all +so nice and tidy, and without moths or mildew or horrible things like +that, that it was quite a pleasure to go up there sometimes. It was like +a very neat shop for second-hand things, which is more than can be said +for most box-rooms or lumber-rooms, I fancy.</p> + +<p>And the moving these things would be no expense, and there would be no +travelling expenses for any of us, and—the last idea that came into my +head was the best of all. The old parish room! The iron room that Mr. +Lloyd had told papa about the afternoon before! They wanted to get rid +of it and would sell it for almost nothing. Even if 'almost nothing' +meant—I could not guess how much or how little—a few pounds, +perhaps—it would be far, far less than the rent of a house, however +small, and it would make into two or even three little rooms, easily. +Perhaps it would be enough just to divide it by screens or curtains, +perhaps——</p> + +<p>Oh, the 'perhapses' that came crowding into my head when I had thought +of the old parish room! I could scarcely lie still another minute—I +felt in such a desperate hurry to tell Geordie of the wonderful thought +that had come to me. But it was still far from getting-up time; I knew +it would be very selfish and unkind to wake up poor old Dods in what +would seem to him the middle of the night, for he was a very sound +sleeper, and had hard enough work to get his eyes properly open by seven +o'clock.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 316px;"><a name="ILL_005" id="ILL_005"></a> +<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="316" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">NO—THERE WAS NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO LIE STILL.</span> +</div> + +<p>No—there was nothing for it but to lie still and be as patient as I +could. It would be interesting to watch the light growing stronger and +changing; it was already doing so in a curious way, as the cold, thin +moonshine gave place to the sun, even then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a><br /><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> warmer somehow in its tone +than the fullest moon-rays ever are.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I thought, 'they have met and passed each other by now, I should +think. I wonder—if——'</p> + +<p>Strange to say, I cannot finish the sentence, for I don't know <i>what</i> I +was going to wonder! In spite of all my eagerness and excitement I knew +nothing more, till—the usual summons, in Hoskins's voice—</p> + +<p>'Miss Ida, my dear, it's the quarter-past. You were sleeping soundly—I +could scarcely find it in my heart to awake you. But it's Sunday +morning, and you know it doesn't do to be late—and a beautiful spring +morning too as ever was seen.'</p> + +<p>I could scarcely believe my ears.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Hoskins!' I exclaimed, 'I <i>am</i> sleepy. I was awake a good bit quite +early, and I had no idea I had gone off again. I was <i>so</i> awake, +thinking.'</p> + +<p>The talking thoroughly roused me, and almost at once all the 'thinking' +came back to me, so that by the time I was dressed, even though Sunday +morning dressing needed a little more care and attention than every +day's, I had got it all clear and compact and ready, as it were, for +Geordie's cool inspection.</p> + +<p>To my great satisfaction he had had a good fit that morning of getting +up promptly and being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> down the first after me, instead of, as often +happened, the last after everybody.</p> + +<p>'Geordie,' I exclaimed, when I caught sight of him standing at the +dining-room window, staring out—or perhaps I should say' gazing,' for +staring is an ugly word, and the garden that morning was looking so +particularly pretty—'Geordie, I am just bursting to talk to you. Is it +any use beginning before papa and mamma come down, do you think?'</p> + +<p>Geordie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said; 'we have five minutes, or ten perhaps. Is it anything +particular?'</p> + +<p>'Of course it is,' I replied, 'or I wouldn't say I was bursting to tell +it you. And I think and hope it is something that will please you very +much. You are to listen well and not interrupt me and say "nonsense," +before you have taken it into your mind and thought it over.'</p> + +<p>I saw he already was looking interested, and I was glad of it. His face +had been so sad when he first turned at the sound of my voice, and I +well knew why. I can almost always understand Geordie and very often +guess what he is thinking of. He has such dear blue eyes, but they are +the kind that can look very melancholy sometimes. I do hope he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> will +have a happy life when he grows up—I am pretty sure he will deserve it. +Even now that he has been a good long while at school—big public +school, I mean—he is just the same to me as ever. When he comes home +for the holidays it seems as if he had never been away.</p> + +<p>'I won't interrupt you—or say "nonsense," if I can help it,' he +answered, with a little fun in his voice and smile coming in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Then I told him. I need not repeat all I said, as I have written a lot +of it already. But it must have been rather hard for Geordie not to +interrupt me. It all bubbled out so fast—all the splendid ideas and +good reasons and perhapses—one on the top of the other, so that if he +hadn't been pretty well accustomed to my ways he could scarcely have +understood. It was quite interesting and exciting, as I went on, to +watch the expression in his face—his cheeks grew pink, then crimson, +and his eyes brighter and brighter. I soon saw I was not going to be +snubbed.</p> + +<p>But real want of breath, and then the sound of mamma's skirts coming +across the hall with a pretty soft rustle—I don't think any one else's +skirts move so nicely; they seem to match her, not like that noisy +flustering that is like saying, 'Here I am; I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> expect to be attended +to'—made me stop at last. There was only time for George to whisper—</p> + +<p>'It's a wonderful idea, Ida. I'll think a lot and then we'll talk about +it, by ourselves, first, of course.'</p> + +<p>'We mustn't think about it in church,' I replied in the same tone; 'we +must <i>try</i>, I suppose, Dods, not to think of it in church—part of the +time, at least. I don't see that it would matter so much during the +first lesson, and <i>perhaps</i> one of the psalms, if they are very long +ones.'</p> + +<p>'No—o, perhaps not,' he said, and then we both ran forward to kiss +mamma.</p> + +<p>She looked at us, and I saw her face brighten when she saw that ours +were not very sad or dull. I think she had been afraid that in his wish +to help <i>her</i>, papa had put too much of the burden on us two, +considering how young we were then.</p> + +<p>'My darlings!' she said, in a rather low voice, 'my own brave boy and +girl,' and I am almost sure the tears came into her eyes. But the smiles +came too.</p> + +<p>'What a lovely day it is going to be!' she went on, as she glanced out +of the window. 'I am so glad. We must put cares aside as much as we can +and try to be happy and hopeful.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, dear mamma,' I answered cheerfully, and with all the delightful +exciting ideas in my head, it was quite easy to be bright, as you can +understand, 'yes, we <i>are</i> going to have a nice day. Geordie and I'—I +glanced at him; he had not exactly said so, but I knew he would not +mind,—'Geordie and I want to go down to the hut very soon after +luncheon, if you say we may, to get it all ready for you and papa and +the little ones, to come to tea.'</p> + +<p>'All right,' said mamma, though I saw a tiny shadow cross her face as I +spoke, and I knew she was thinking to herself that very likely it would +be our last Sunday afternoon tea-party for a very long time, perhaps for +ever, as far as the hut was concerned! But these solemn kinds of +'perhapses' are always in our lives, and if we were always thinking of +them, it would be more than our minds and hearts could bear. We should +not <i>forget</i> them, but I am sure we are not meant to be gloomy about +them. Still, at the best, even if my grand plan was carried out, there +was plenty to be sad about, I knew. Poor papa's going so far away, first +and worst of all, and worst of course for mamma, for though we loved him +dearly, she must love him, I suppose, still more.</p> + +<p>He came into the room just as these thoughts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> were flying about my +brain. I thought he looked more tired and troubled than mamma—men are +not so patient and not always so good at hiding their feelings as <i>some</i> +women. At least <i>I</i> think so!</p> + +<p>We two, however, were really feeling cheerful, and I think our +brightness made it easier for mamma to be, at least, less sad than she +would otherwise have been. And I said to myself—</p> + +<p>'Papa will cheer up too <i>if</i> he likes our idea, and I really can't see +why he should not like it.'</p> + +<p>So breakfast got on pretty well on the whole, and as soon as it was +over, Dods and I went off for a talk. How we did talk! But first of +all—that was so like Dods—he pulled out his watch and looked what +o'clock it was.</p> + +<p>'It's just half-past nine, Ida,' he said, 'and we must be quite ready by +half-past ten. So let's talk till ten, no longer; it always takes you +twenty minutes or half an hour to get dressed for church, and you know +it vexes papa to be kept waiting. And to-day it's really very important +not to vex him at all, if anything is to come of our plan.'</p> + +<p>'Very well,' I said; 'I promise to go in at ten.'</p> + +<p>Then we went to one of our favourite garden seats and set to work at our +idea. It grew and grew; we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> kept thinking of new bits to it, each saying +something which made the other think of something else, till by ten +o'clock we began to feel as if it were all quite settled—'cut and dry.'</p> + +<p>The very last thing I called out to Geordie as we ran in was about a +certain old breakfast set of china we had espied in one of our visits to +the garret.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I was saying, 'those willow pattern cups and things would do +beautifully. It wouldn't matter their being odd, for then mamma wouldn't +mind if some got broken. And very likely, Doddie, things <i>will</i> get +broken, more than——'</p> + +<p>'What are you talking about, my dear child?' said mamma's voice, and, +looking round, I saw that she was just coming out of the drawing-room on +her way upstairs to get ready for church. 'You don't mean to say that +your tea-things at the hut are all broken?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, no, mamma dear,' I replied in a great hurry, and feeling myself +grow red, though I don't think she noticed it; 'they are all right—none +broken, and only one saucer chipped. But—I was only saying—we <i>might</i> +need more some time.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well!' said mamma, with a little sigh, 'not at present, at any +rate.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>And oh how I wished I could tell her of the plan at once! But of course +it was best to wait a little.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget that morning at church, and how <i>awfully</i> difficult +it was to give my attention. I found myself counting up the things we +should need to make the hut comfortable, even while my voice was saying +the responses quite correctly, and any one noticing me would very likely +have thought I was being quite good and listening rightly. Dods, whom I +glanced at now and then, was looking very grave but not unhappy. I felt +sure he was being much better than I—I mean about listening to what he +heard and thinking of the words he said—though afterwards he told me +that he too had found it difficult.</p> + +<p>'What was most bothering me,' he said, 'was about the new rooms—the old +parish room, I mean. What do you think, Ida—should it be made into a +dining-room and drawing-room, or——'</p> + +<p>'Oh no,' I interrupted, 'certainly not. The two front ones looking to +the sea must decidedly be the sitting-rooms—the one to the left of the +porch, in front of the kitchen, must be the dining-room, and the big +dressing-room, the one we have always meant to be a real bedroom, must +be the drawing-room. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> is quite a nice, large room, and behind it, the +'messy' room must be <i>yours</i>, Dods, which leaves the parish room to be +divided for mamma and Esmé and me. Denzil can be with you—there's +plenty of room.'</p> + +<p>'But,' said Geordie, 'you're forgetting the servants?'</p> + +<p>My face fell at this—I should have said that this conversation was on +our way down to the hut that afternoon. We could not talk much before +then, as we drove back from church with the others, but we set off as +soon as we could after we had had dinner.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I said, 'I was forgetting them altogether, and what's more, +Geordie, I haven't the least idea who they are to be, or how many we +should have.'</p> + +<p>'We must let mamma settle that of course,' he replied. 'Hoskins will be +one, anyway. Still—it's a pity we can't propose some place for them, +Ida. It makes the whole plan seem rather unfinished and—childish.'</p> + +<p>'Like the man who built a house for himself and when it was all finished +found he had forgotten a staircase!' I said, half laughing, but feeling +rather mortified all the same.</p> + +<p>George did not at once reply. He was thinking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> We were close to the hut +by this time, and he did not say anything till we had unlocked the door +and put down our packages and looked round us.</p> + +<p>Everything was just exactly as we had left it the evening before, but +somehow everything seemed different!</p> + +<p>The truth was, I suppose, that we were looking at it all through +different spectacles—yesterday it was only a kind of summer-house or +play-room—to-day it was a possible <i>home</i>. In some ways I felt as if I +had never liked it as much; in others I began to be almost frightened at +the ideas I was so full of! But as often happened with us, George's +cool, common sense put me right.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said, after he had strolled into the other rooms and stared at +them well as if he had never seen them before,—'yes, I don't see why it +shouldn't do. And, about the servants, Ida. Of course papa and mamma +must <i>settle</i> everything; but if they do take it up seriously and papa +buys the iron room, I rather think it's a good deal larger than we have +been counting it. I believe it would divide into three quite well. There +might be a partitioned-off little room for me, and a large curtain might +do to separate mamma from you and Esmé?'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes,' I said, my spirits rising again, 'and that would leave the back +room for Hoskins and whomever else we have—<i>I</i> should like +Margery—wouldn't you, Dods? She is such a good-natured, sturdy little +thing. And——'</p> + +<p>'We'd better not try to settle too much,' said sensible Geordie. 'And +you must talk quietly, Ida, so as to show we have really thought of it +not in a—oh, a babyish way, you know.'</p> + +<p>I felt a little ruffled at this.</p> + +<p>'You'd better tell them all about it yourself, then,' I said; '<i>I</i> don't +want any of the honour and glory of it, and if there is any fear of +their thinking us silly babies, why, then, we had better give up the +whole idea.'</p> + +<p>'Nonsense, Ida,' said Geordie. 'It was you who first thought of it, and +I think you deserve a lot of credit for it. And I expect you'll get it +too. I only want papa and mamma—papa especially—to hear of it at first +in the best sort of way.'</p> + +<p>'Yes—yes, I know!' I exclaimed, 'and you are a sensible old Dods as you +always are. And see what I have got to please you,' and I held up three +lovely, fat muffins.</p> + +<p>We got the kitchen fire lighted and the tea-table<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> spread in the +parlour—I felt inclined to begin calling it 'the dining-room' now—and +everything nice and ready before they all came. The first announcement +of them was Esmé, who flew in as usual, followed very deliberately by +Denzil. She gave me a hug when she saw the table.</p> + +<p>'Oh, what a lovely tea!' she said, 'and how delicious the hut looks. Oh, +<i>don't</i> you wish, Ida, we could live here always?'</p> + +<p>I glanced at Dods—we could not help smiling at each other—it seemed a +sort of good omen, her saying that, but we did not say anything. Then +came papa and mamma—they had walked down slowly through the wood, and +as they came to the little 'plateau' where stood the hut, I saw them +stop and look at it. I <i>wondered</i> if the same idea was in their minds at +all. I did not exactly want it to be, for I was rather pleased at being +the first finder of it.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> + +<h3>'GEORDIE STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS CAP'</h3> + +<p>No—papa and mamma had not been thinking of anything of that +kind—afterwards mamma told me they had only been saying to each other +how sweet and pretty it all looked and—though perhaps they did not say +so aloud—feeling no doubt how sad it was that we should so soon have to +leave it.</p> + +<p>But they came in quite brightly, and mamma answered gaily to Esmé's +exclamations about the 'lovely tea-party.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she said, 'it does look nice. And muffins too'—as Geordie +glanced up with a very red face from the fire where he was toasting one; +'don't scorch yourself <i>too</i> much, in our service, my dear boy.'</p> + +<p>'It's a good bit for myself as well,' said Geordie in his rather gruff +way. He always spoke like that if he thought he was being praised—above +all, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> least <i>over</i>-praised. 'I like muffins better than any kind of +cake or things.'</p> + +<p>He certainly knew how to toast and butter them to perfection. I remember +how very good they were that day. Indeed, the tea-party was a great +success altogether. After it was over we carried all the cups and +saucers and plates into the kitchen, to be ready for Margery to wash up, +for mamma had left word at home that she was to come down to the hut to +do so, which we were very glad of.</p> + +<p>'I wanted to be together as much as possible to-day,' said mamma in her +kind way. And just as we had cleared away everything in the parlour we +saw Margery coming, and to my great delight Esmé asked if she and Denzil +might 'help her' in the kitchen, for Dods and I had been wondering how +we could get rid of the little ones without seeming unkind.</p> + +<p>So off they ran, and then for a few minutes we four—'big ones,' I was +going to say, only that does seem putting Geordie and myself too much on +a line with papa and mamma, doesn't it?—sat silent. I was feeling +rather nervous, not afraid of papa and mamma, but afraid of them +thinking it was all a perfectly impossible plan.</p> + +<p>But at last, after looking at me several times and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> even giving me two +or three little kicks, Geordie plunged in, as was his way—</p> + +<p>'Ida has something to say to you,' he began. 'It's only fair for her to +say it, for it's all her own idea, though we have talked about it a good +deal.'</p> + +<p>Papa looked at me very kindly.</p> + +<p>'What is it, my little girl?' he said. 'I am sure you know how pleased +I—and your mother—will be to do anything we can to—to brighten all +these troubles.'</p> + +<p>He seemed to know by instinct that what I had to say must have to do +with what he had told us the day before. Yes—only the day before! I +could scarcely believe it—it seemed years ago.</p> + +<p>I felt my face growing red; mamma was looking at me too, and though her +eyes were very kind, I grew more and more nervous, and of course I +blurted it out quite differently from what I had meant to.</p> + +<p>'It isn't only for us ourselves,' I began, 'though we should like it +ever so much—awfully much better than anything else. But I feel as if +it would be nicer for everybody—for mamma too, and for papa, when you +are far away, you know,' and here I turned specially to him, 'not to +have to think of us in a strange place and among strange people. +And—and—there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> are lots of little bits of it that seem to fit in so +well.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear child, I must interrupt you,' said papa smiling, 'before +you go on to the "bits," do tell us what the whole is?'</p> + +<p>I had really forgotten that I had not done so—my own mind was so full +of it, you see.</p> + +<p>'Oh,' I said, feeling very much ashamed of myself, especially as I knew +Geordie's blue eyes were fixed on me reproachfully. 'I'm very sorry for +being so stupid. It's just this, papa—we've been thinking, at least I +thought of it first, and Dods has joined in the planning, that—why +shouldn't we all, mamma and us four, come to <i>live</i> here, really to live +here altogether, while you are away?'</p> + +<p>Papa gazed at me as if he did not understand, and no doubt just at first +he did not.</p> + +<p>'Live <i>here</i>,' he repeated, 'but that is just——'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I interrupted,—'here, in the hut. I don't mean of course go on +living at home, at Eastercove, though it would be Eastercove too. That's +the beauty of it; you would be able to feel that we <i>were</i> at home, and +close to all our friends.'</p> + +<p>But still papa repeated, in a dazed sort of way, I would say 'stupid,' +only it would seem rude<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>'Live <i>here</i>.'</p> + +<p>(I do think men are far slower at taking up new ideas than women.)</p> + +<p>'Live <i>here</i>,' he said again, till I really wished it would not be +disrespectful to give him a little shake, and even Dods, who is far +patienter and less im——what should I say?—impetuous or impulseful, I +must ask mamma which is best, began to look rather provoked. But mamma +put it all right.</p> + +<p>'Yes, Jack,' she said, the colour rushing into her face and her eyes +sparkling,—'yes, <i>here</i> in the hut, is what the child means, and, +really, I think it is an inspiration.' Mamma <i>is</i> quick, and she has +such a beautifully ready imagination. 'I don't see why we shouldn't. It +is perfectly healthy; dry and airy and quite warm except perhaps in the +middle of winter, and we surely could find ways and means of making a +<i>dry</i> house warm. Ida, darling, I believe you have hit upon a way out of +our greatest difficulty. <i>Do</i> say you think so too, Jack!'</p> + +<p>Light was gradually penetrating into papa's mind.</p> + +<p>'Here in the hut! Yes, I wish it were possible,' he said, 'and I agree +with you both so far. It <i>is</i> dry and healthy, and might be made warm, +but—it is so small! Ah!' and he started to his feet, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> whole face +changing, 'talking of inspirations, I'm not sure but that <i>I</i> have got +one too—the———'</p> + +<p>Here to our amazement, mamma's and mine I mean, in <i>his</i> turn up jumped +Dods, and, respectful or not, interrupted papa in the most barefaced +way—</p> + +<p>'Stop, stop!' he cried, 'let me say it, Dad, do, before you do. I want +to have a bit of it. Is your inspiration the old parish room? The iron +room they want to get rid of? <i>Is</i> it?—do say.'</p> + +<p>They were both so excited it was quite funny to see them, Geordie +especially, for he is much calmer than papa naturally. Papa turned to +him smiling—</p> + +<p>'You have guessed it, my boy. Yes, we might buy the room and turn it +into two or three at least. It could not cost much—our own men could do +it, I believe. It has doorways and windows and fireplaces too, I think, +all ready, and I believe we can have it for an old song——'</p> + +<p>'I hope I shan't be the one chosen to sing it!' exclaimed Dods, at which +we all laughed, though it was not particularly witty. But we were just +in the sort of humour to laugh at the least little piece of fun.</p> + +<p>'I wish—upon my word, I wish I could see about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> it this very +afternoon,' went on papa, who was now racing ahead of us all in his +eagerness.</p> + +<p>'But you can't, dear; it's Sunday, you know,' said mamma, patting his +arm; 'and we have plenty to think about. There is no fear of Mr. Lloyd's +selling it before to-morrow morning. Let us hear some more of your plan, +Ida, dear.'</p> + +<p>I was only too ready to tell it—I was bursting to do so, and so was +Geordie. We set to work and talked—how we did talk!—papa and mamma +putting in a word now and then, though they were so kind, understanding +our wish to be considered the 'discoverers,' as it were, of the new +home, that they really let us talk ourselves out. Then we four made a +sort of progress through the rooms, papa measuring here and there with +the little folding-up foot-rule he always carried in his pocket, and +mamma planning where she would put such and such a piece of furniture +which could be quite well spared from the almost too full rooms up at +the house, not to speak of the stores—treasures they were fast becoming +in our eyes now—crowded away in the big garret.</p> + +<p>'We must go up there first thing to-morrow morning,' said mamma, 'and +have a good look round.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> I don't believe I know half the things we +have—no one does, except Hoskins.'</p> + +<p>'You will have to take her into your confidence at once, I expect,' said +papa.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I was just thinking so,' mamma replied; 'but I shall wait till you +have inquired about the iron room. She knows our troubles already,' she +went on, turning to Geordie and me; 'she has known about them for some +days, and she says whatever we do, or wherever we go, she will not leave +us.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I <i>am</i> so glad!' exclaimed Geordie and I in a breath. 'We thought +she would be like that,' I went on; 'and I should hope she'd like the +hut far, far better than going away to some horrid little poky house +among strangers. And, mamma, don't you think Margery would be the best +for the other servant.'</p> + +<p>'Are we to have two?' said mamma laughing. 'Your plans are getting quite +grand, Ida!'</p> + +<p>'Of course you must have two,' said papa, 'and one of the men to look +after things outside. I have an idea about that; Geordie and I will talk +about it together,' and he nodded to Geordie, who looked very pleased at +being consulted in this way, as if he were quite big.</p> + +<p>'When will you ask about the parish room?' he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> said to papa. 'May I go +with you when you do? Perhaps I could help about the measuring.'</p> + +<p>For they had already settled as to where it should be placed—at one +side of the hut, but a little to the back, so that it should not spoil +the rather pretty look we were gradually managing to give to the front, +by training creepers over the porch, and filling two or three large +square tubs with bushy, hardy plants which would stand the winter, and +placing them at each side of the long low windows.</p> + +<p>'Certainly,' said papa. 'We can drive down to Kirke immediately after +breakfast to-morrow morning. And if it is all right about the room, I +will see the man whom, I think, Mr. Lloyd employed to put it up. He will +understand the best way of partitioning it off, and our own men can work +under his directions.'</p> + +<p>So it was in the best of spirits—considering, that is to say, the real +sorrow of parting with dear papa, and the real anxiety that <i>must</i> hang +over us for many months to come, at least—that we set off home again, +Esmé chattering about how she had wiped all the tea-cups and saucers, +and how Margery had said that she could not possibly have 'got through' +without her.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>'That is not a very elegant expression, my little girl,' said papa. +'Don't you think you could say it some other way.'</p> + +<p>Esmé looked rather puzzled.</p> + +<p>'You says,' she replied, and at that papa laughed—I think he felt it +was out of the frying-pan into the fire,—'you says to mamma or to Ida +when we're playing croquet, "Now see if you can't get through that +hoop."'</p> + +<p>'But cups and saucers isn't croquet hoops,' said Denzil solemnly, at +which we all laughed. A very small joke will go a long way when people +are all happy together, and each one trying to do his best to please or +amuse the others.</p> + +<p>When I awoke on Monday morning it was with much more quietly hopeful +feelings than on that sad Saturday I could have believed possible. I +seemed to myself to have grown years older in the two days, which was +partly nice and partly, just a very little, 'frightening.' I was proud +of my idea being thought so well of, and I was very anxious to think it +out more and more, so as really to help mamma and to prove that it <i>was</i> +a good one. So, though it was still very early, I lay quite quietly and +did not mind the having a good while to wait<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> till it was time to get +up, so busied was my brain in going into all the details which I was +able to think about.</p> + +<p>'Two little beds for Esmé and me,' I began. 'Let me see which are the +smallest, to take up the least room? This one is rather too big, and +besides, the people who have taken the house will most likely need it +left. I wonder what they will do with this room. I daresay they will use +it for visitors. It is so pretty—my own dear room!' For since my last +birthday I had had a room to myself, all freshly done up with light +chintz curtains and covers and white furniture. But I resolutely put the +thought of my regret out of my mind, and went on thinking about the hut. +Esmé's cot would be big enough for her for a good while, and there was +at least one old small bedstead up in the garret, and then Dods and I +had saved enough money to buy one, as I said.</p> + +<p>'We must spend it on <i>something</i> for the hut,' I reflected. 'Perhaps we +had better ask mamma what would be the most useful.'</p> + +<p>Then my mind went on again about the other rooms and what would be +needed for them, and I had just arrived at the chests of drawers when I +must have fallen asleep, for when I was awakened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> by Margery and the +announcement, 'Seven o'clock, Miss Ida,' I found myself dreaming that I +was hanging up curtains in front of the fireplace instead of the window, +and wondering how we could prevent their flying up the chimney!</p> + +<p>After breakfast papa and Geordie set off almost immediately for Kirke, +to catch Mr. Lloyd before his week's work began again, papa said. And as +soon as mamma had finished her regular housekeeping business for the +day, she and I went up to the garret together, to spy the land, or +rather the stores. I forget if I said that we happened to be in the +middle of our Easter holidays just then, which was most lucky, was it +not?</p> + +<p>Mamma and I really enjoyed ourselves up in the garret. It was all so +neat, and not fusty or dusty or musty, and we came upon treasures—as +often is the case if you explore a lumber-room—whose very existence +even mamma had forgotten.</p> + +<p>'I really think, Ida,' mamma began, pushing her hair out of her eyes in +a pretty way she has; her hair is lovely, so curly and fuzzy, like +Esmé's, though mine is dreadfully smooth! and theirs never <i>looks</i> +messy, however untidy it really may get,—'I really think we could find +enough furniture here to do for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> all the rooms, after a fashion. And we +can certainly take a few things away from downstairs without spoiling +the look of the house. Two beds at least—and one or two small tables. I +must have a writing-table for myself—and several of the wicker chairs +in the verandah might be spared. Yes—I really don't think the +furnishing will be much difficulty or expense.'</p> + +<p>'And Doddie and I have saved sixteen and sixpence, you know, mamma,' I +said. 'We meant to buy a camp bedstead for the hut, you know, whenever +you would let us furnish the room that is going to be our drawing-room +now. So we can still get one for Dods if you like, or anything else +needed.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, darling,' said mamma. 'That will be very nice. We can wait a +little till we see what is most required.'</p> + +<p>She spoke quite as seriously as I had done, though I know <i>now</i> that +sixteen and sixpence is really not nearly as much money as I then +thought it. But that is what has always been so dear about mamma; she +never 'snubs' us. And many people, even really very kind people, do hurt +children's feelings dreadfully sometimes without in the least meaning +it. It is one of the things I mean to try always to remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> when I am +quite grown-up myself, and it would be very wrong and ungrateful of any +of <i>us</i> ever to forget it, for our father and mother have shown us such +a good example about it.</p> + +<p>Then mamma went off to write some letters and I to the schoolroom to +practise, which had to be done, holidays or no holidays!</p> + +<p>'I wonder if we shall have a piano at the hut,' I thought. 'I shan't +very much mind if we don't,' for at that time I did not care much for +music, not, at least, for my own performances. Since then I have come to +'appreciate' it a little better, though I am not at all clever about it, +and I am afraid papa and mamma are rather disappointed at this. But Esmé +is learning the violin and plays already so well that I hope she will +make up for me.</p> + +<p>I kept running to the window—the schoolroom overlooks the drive—every +time I heard the sound of wheels, to see if it was papa and Geordie +coming back, which was very silly, as of course they would have a good +deal to do, measuring and seeing the carpenter and arranging it all. But +I felt as if I could not settle to anything till I knew about the iron +room, as it did seem as if the whole plan depended a good deal on our +getting it. And when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> at last I did catch sight of the dogcart coming +swiftly along the avenue, my heart began to beat so fast that I had to +stop once or twice to take breath on my way to the hall-door.</p> + +<p>Mamma was there before me, as anxious as I, I do believe, though she was +too sensible to show it.</p> + +<p>But before they got to the house, we knew it was all right. Geordie +stood up in the cart and waved his cap for us to understand.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am so glad!' I cried, and mamma smiled.</p> + +<p>How strangely things change their—oh, dear, I can't find just the right +word; yes, I have it now 'aspects'—in life sometimes. This was Monday; +on Saturday only had we heard <i>the</i> sad news, and here we were, quite in +good, almost high spirits again, about a little bettering of what, if we +had foreseen it a week ago, we should certainly have thought a cloud +with no silver lining!</p> + +<p>Papa and Dods jumped down in a moment, and threw the reins to the groom.</p> + +<p>'Is it——' I began.</p> + +<p>'All right,' papa interrupted. 'Lloyd is delighted. Very kind and +sympathising, of course, with us, but so interested in our—I should +say,' with a smile to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> me, 'Ida's scheme. He thinks it a first-rate +idea, at any rate till the autumn.'</p> + +<p>'And he is coming up himself this afternoon,' said Geordie, 'with the +drawings and measures of the room, that he got when he bought it.'</p> + +<p>'Very good of him,' said mamma.</p> + +<p>'And Jervis, the carpenter, is coming too,' George went on; 'and we must +all go down to the hut together. Mr. Lloyd said <i>particularly</i> Ida.'</p> + +<p>I felt myself grow red with pleasure.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said papa; 'we must all go and give our opinions. I am very glad +to have secured the room. They were already beginning to take it down. +It is a very good size really, larger than you would think; and there +are two doorways, I am glad to find, and a little porch. I have two or +three ideas in my head as to how to join it on and so forth, but I can +go into them better on the spot.'</p> + +<p>'Ida and I have been busy too,' said mamma. 'Really, Jack, you would +scarcely believe the amount of extra furniture we have. There will be +very little to buy—only, I do believe, one camp bedstead for Geordie, +and perhaps a servant's one; and a few bright, warm-looking rugs.'</p> + +<p>'<i>We</i> might buy those, mamma,' I interrupted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> eagerly. 'I have told +mamma about our sixteen and sixpence, Doddie,' I went on, turning to +George. 'I knew you wouldn't mind.'</p> + +<p>Geordie nodded.</p> + +<p>'Sixteen and sixpence,' repeated papa. 'How have you managed to get +together all that?'</p> + +<p>'It's <i>hut</i> money,' I replied. 'I mean it's on purpose to spend on the +hut. We have other savings, too, for Christmas and birthdays—this is +all for the hut.'</p> + +<p>'And it shall be spent on the hut,' said papa, 'on something lasting—to +do honour to you both.'</p> + +<p>Wasn't that nice of him?</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<h3>'WHAT <i>CAN</i> SHE MEAN?'</h3> + +<p>I remember that Monday afternoon so well. It was very interesting. Mr. +Lloyd was very kind and clever about things, and the carpenter, though a +rather slow, very silent man, understood his business and was quite +ready to do all that was wanted. Papa was as eager as a boy, and Geordie +full of ideas too. So between us we got it beautifully planned.</p> + +<p>It was far nicer than I had dared to hope. They fixed to run a tiny +passage between the side of the hut where the room was to be placed, so +that the two doorways into it could both be used,—one to enter into +Geordie's room, so that he could run in and out without having to go +through mamma's or ours, and the other leading into mamma's, from which +we could pass to ours. And the partitions made them really as good as +three proper rooms, each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> with a nice window. There could be no +fireplace in ours, but as it was the middle one, and therefore sure to +be the warmest, that would not matter, as there were two, one at each +end in the iron room. If it was very cold, mamma said Esmé and I might +undress in hers, and <i>dress</i> in his, Geordie added, as he meant always +to be up very early and light his own fire to work by, which rather +amused us all, as he was <i>not</i> famed for early rising. Indeed, I never +knew such a sleepy head as he was—poor old Dods!</p> + +<p>We felt satisfied, as we walked home, that we had done a good day's +work.</p> + +<p>'Though it <i>couldn't</i> have been managed without the iron room,' Geordie +and I agreed.</p> + +<p>And a day or two later we felt still more settled and pleased when mamma +told us that Hoskins and Margery were coming with us. Hoskins was just a +little melancholy about it all, not a bit for herself, I do believe, but +because she thought it would be 'such a change, so different' for mamma +and us.</p> + +<p>She cheered up however when we reminded her how much nicer it would be +than a poky little house in a back street at Kirke, or, worse still, +away in some other place altogether, among strangers. And when she said +something about the cold, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> case we stayed at the hut through the +winter, Geordie said we could afford plenty of fires as we should have +no rent to pay, and that <i>he</i> was going to be 'stoker' for the whole +family.</p> + +<p>'You won't need to look after any fire but your own, Master George,' +said she, 'and not that, unless it amuses you. Margery is not a lazy +girl—I would not own her for my niece if she was. And besides that, +there will be Barnes to help to carry in the coal.'</p> + +<p>Barnes was one of the under-gardeners. He lived with his father and +mother at the Lodge, but he had never had anything to do with the house, +so I was surprised at what Hoskins said.</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' George explained, looking very business-like and nodding in a +way he had, 'that is one of the things papa and I have settled about. We +are rigging up a room for Barnes, much nearer than the Lodge—the old +woodman's hut within a stone's throw of <i>our</i> hut, Ida, so that a +whistle would bring him in a moment. He will still live at the Lodge for +eating, you see, but he will come round first thing and last thing. He's +as proud as a peacock; he thinks he's going to be a kind of Robinson +Crusoe; it will be quite a nice little room; there is even a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> fireplace +in it. He says he won't need coals; there's such lots of brushwood +about.'</p> + +<p>'<i>I</i> have been thinking of that,' I said eagerly. 'It would seem much +more in keeping to burn brushwood than commonplace coals——'</p> + +<p>'Except in my kitchen, if you please, Miss Ida,' put in Hoskins.</p> + +<p>'And better still than brushwood,' I went on, taking no notice of +Hoskins's 'kitchen,'—I would much rather have had a gypsy fire with a +pot hanging on three iron rods, the way gypsies do, or are supposed to +do,—'better than brushwood, fir cones. They do smell so delicious when +they are burning. We might make a great heap of them before next winter. +It would give the children something to do when they are playing in the +wood.'</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 323px;"><a name="ILL_006" id="ILL_006"></a> +<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="323" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">ORDERING DENZIL ABOUT AS USUAL.</span> +</div> + +<p>They—the two little ones—were of course in tremendous spirits about +the whole thing,—such spirits that they could not even look sad for +very long when at last—about three weeks after the days I have just +been describing—the sorrowful morning arrived on which dear papa had to +leave us. Esmé cried loudly, as was her way; Denzil, more silently and +solemnly, as was his; but an hour or two afterwards we heard the little +butterfly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> laughing outside in the garden and ordering Denzil about as +usual.</p> + +<p>'Never mind,' said mamma, glancing up from the lists of all sorts of +things she was already busy at and reading what was in my mind, 'rather +let us be glad that the child does not realise it. She is very young; it +does not mean that she is heartless,' and mamma herself choked down her +tears and turned again to her writing-table.</p> + +<p>I too had done my best not to cry, though it was <i>very</i> difficult. I +think George and I 'realised' it all—the long, lonely voyage for papa; +the risks at sea which are always there; the dangers for his health, for +the climate was a bad one, and it was not the safest season by any +means. All these, and then the possibility of great disappointment when +he got there—of finding that, after all, the discovery of things going +wrong had come too late to put them right, and of all that would follow +this—the leaving our dear, dear home, not for a few months, or even a +year, but for <i>always</i>.</p> + +<p>It would not do even to think of it. And I had promised papa to be brave +and cheerful.</p> + +<p>By this time I must explain that the Hut—from now I must write it with +a capital, as mamma did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> in her letters: 'The Hut, Eastercove' looked +quite grand, we thought—was ready for us to move into. Our tenants were +expected at the house in a week or ten days, and we were now to leave it +as soon as we could.</p> + +<p>A great part of the arranging, carting down furniture, and so on had +been done, but it had been thought better to put off our actually taking +up our quarters in our quaint new home till after papa had gone. <i>He</i> +said it would have worried him rather if we had left sooner, but I know +the truth was, that he thought the having to be very busy, in a bustle +in fact, at once on his going, would be the best for us all—mamma +especially.</p> + +<p>And a bustle it was, though things had been hurried on wonderfully fast. +The fixing up of the iron room was quite complete and the partitions +were already in their places, the furniture roughly in the rooms too. +But as everybody who has ever moved from one house to another knows, +there were still <i>heaps</i> to be done, and seen to by ourselves, which no +work-people could do properly. And besides the arranging at the Hut of +course, there was a great deal for mamma to settle at the house, so as +to leave everything nice for the people who were coming.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>That afternoon, I remember, the afternoon of the day papa left, we were +at the Hut till dark, working as hard as we could, even the little ones +helping, by running messages and fetching and carrying. And by the time +we went home we were very tired and beginning to find it very difficult +to look on the bright side of things.</p> + +<p>'I don't believe it will ever be really comfortable for mamma,' said +Geordie in the growly tone he used when he was anxious or unhappy. 'It's +just a horrid business altogether. I don't believe papa will be able to +get things right, out at that old hole of a place, and even if he +doesn't get ill, as he very likely will, he'll only come home to leave +it for good—I mean we'll have to sell Eastercove. I'm almost sorry we +did not go away now at once and get it over.'</p> + +<p>I glanced before us. Mamma was some little way in front—I could just +see her dimly, for it was dusk, with Denzil and Esmé, one on each side; +Esmé walking along soberly for once, and I caught snatches of mamma's +voice coming back to us, for there was a light, though rather chilly +evening breeze, blowing our way. I could hear that she was talking +brightly to the children; no doubt it was not easy for her to do so.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Listen, Geordie,' I said, nodding forwards, so to say, towards mamma.</p> + +<p>And he understood, though he did not say anything just at once.</p> + +<p>'It is a good thing,' I went on, after a moment's silence, 'that the +wind is not the other way. I would not like her to hear you talking like +that, within a few hours of papa's going.'</p> + +<p>It was not often—very, very seldom indeed—that I felt it my place to +blame good old Dods; and honestly, I don't think I did it or meant it in +any 'superior' way. I am sure I did not, for the words had scarcely +passed my lips before they seemed to me to have been unkind. Geordie was +tired; he had been working very hard the last few days, and even a +strong boy may feel out of heart when he is tired.</p> + +<p>'I don't know what <i>I</i> should do, not to speak of mamma,' I went on, 'if +you got gloomy about things. We all depend on you so,' and for a moment +or two I really felt as if I must begin to cry!</p> + +<p>Then something crept round my neck, and I knew it was all right again. +The something was Geordie's arm, and it gave me a little hug, not the +most comfortable thing in the world when you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> out walking, and it +tilts up your hat, but of course I did not mind.</p> + +<p>'Yes, Ida,' he said, 'it's very babyish and cowardly of me, and I'm very +sorry. I won't be like that again, I promise you.'</p> + +<p>Then I gave him a sort of a hug in return, and we hurried on a little, +not to leave mamma with the children dragging on at each side of her, as +they are apt to do when they are tired. We none of us spoke much the +rest of the way home, but Geordie said one or two little things about +how comfortable the Hut was getting to look and so on, which <i>I</i> +understood, and which prevented poor mamma's suspecting that he was at +all in low spirits.</p> + +<p>When people really <i>try</i> to do right, I think outside things often come +to help them. That very evening we were cheered and amused by a letter +which had arrived by the second post while we were all out—a quite +unexpected letter.</p> + +<p>It was from a cousin of ours, a girl, though a grown-up one, whom we +were very fond of. She was <i>almost</i> like a big sister, and her name was +Theresa. She was generally called 'Taisy' for short. I have not spoken +of her before; but, indeed, when I come to think of it I have not spoken +of any of our relations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> I have been so entirely taken up with the Hut. +We had however none <i>very</i> near. Taisy was almost the nearest. She lived +with her grandmother, who was papa's aunt, so Taisy was really only +second cousin to us children.</p> + +<p>She was now about seventeen, and she was an orphan. Many people like her +would have been spoilt, for old Aunt Emmeline adored her and gave her +nearly everything she could possibly want. But Taisy wasn't a bit +spoilt.</p> + +<p>She often came to stay with us, and one of the smaller parts of our big +trouble was that we could not look forward to having her <i>this</i> year, at +any rate. Papa had written to Lady Emmeline to tell her of what had +happened; she was one of the few whom he felt he must write to about it, +and it was partly because of Taisy's not coming—I mean our not being +able to have her—that he did so.</p> + +<p>And he had had a very kind letter back from his aunt. She wished she +could help him, but though she was comfortably off, her money was what +they call 'tied up,' somehow, and Taisy would have none of <i>hers</i> till +she was twenty-one. Besides, papa was not the sort of man to take or +expect help, while he was strong and active and could work for us +himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> and it was the kind of trouble in which a little help would +really have been no use—a large fortune was at stake.</p> + +<p>Taisy had not written; she had only sent loving messages to us all, and +something about that 'by hook or by crook' she must see us before the +summer was over.</p> + +<p>But the letter to mamma which was waiting for us roused our curiosity, +and kept us quite bright and interested all that evening, in wondering +what she <i>could</i> mean.</p> + +<p>'Ever since I heard from grandmamma of your worries, dear auntie,' she +wrote,—I must explain that Taisy always called papa and mamma uncle and +aunt, though they were really only cousins,-'I have been thinking and +thinking about how I could still manage to pay you a visit. I really +cannot face the idea of all the long summer without seeing you.'</p> + +<p>'It <i>is</i> very dull for her at Longfields,' said mamma, interrupting +herself in the reading aloud the letter to us. 'Aunt Emmeline never has +cared much to have visitors, though she is a wonderfully strong and +active old lady. And now that Taisy is giving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> up regular lessons, it +will be still duller. But it can't be helped, I suppose. Yet I do wonder +what the child has in her head,' and she went on reading.</p> + +<blockquote><p>'And, once I was with you, I am <i>sure</i> I would not be any trouble, +if only you had room for me. You don't know what a help I should +be! So—don't be surprised if you see a balloon coming down +towards the Hut one day, and me getting out of it. I have not got +my plan quite ready yet, and I am not going to say anything to +Granny about it till it is all cut and dried and ready to be +stacked!—though, as she always lets me do whatever I want, I am +not much afraid of her making any difficulties. Her old friend, +Miss Merry, will be coming over from Ireland as usual, I suppose, +and I am sure I should only be in the way, especially as I have no +governess now. My best love to you all, and I do hope dear Uncle +Jack will have a nice voyage and come back feeling quite happy +again.—Your loving</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">Taisy</span>.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>'What <i>can</i> she mean?' said Geordie, looking up with a puzzled face.</p> + +<p>'Of course about a balloon is quite a joke, isn't it?' I said, though I +spoke rather doubtfully, not knowing much about balloons!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Of course,' said Geordie, in a superior tone. 'Besides, there is no +difficulty about her getting to us. The railway and the roads are not +blocked up because of our troubles. The thing is, that there is nowhere +to put her if she did come.'</p> + +<p>'No,' I agreed, running over the rooms at the Hut in my mind; 'we are +quite closely enough packed as it is. There isn't any possible corner +for another bed even.'</p> + +<p>'Unless,' said Geordie slowly,—'unless you would let me really camp +out, mamma? I could rig up a little tent, or—I wouldn't much mind +sleeping in Barnes's hut?'</p> + +<p>'No, no,' mamma replied decidedly. 'I could not allow anything of the +kind. Our living at the Hut is only possible because it is <i>not</i> to be +like rough camping out, but as healthy and "civilised" as if we were in +a house. So put that out of your head, my dear boy. I could not risk +your catching cold, or anything of that sort. Remember, I feel +responsible to your father in <i>my</i> way for you all, just as you two big +ones feel so for me,' she added with one of her own dear smiles.</p> + +<p>'And then, Dods,' I said, 'it wouldn't be safe—I know <i>I</i> wouldn't feel +safe—without having you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> actually in the house, even though Barnes's +hut is so near.'</p> + +<p>I think Geordie liked my saying that. But I really meant it.</p> + +<p>So we went on wondering and puzzling as to what Taisy meant. It was +quite an amusement to us that first evening of papa's being away. And it +was worth wondering about, for Taisy was a very clever girl—what is +called 'practical.'</p> + +<p>'If she could come and be with us, I'm sure she would be a great help,' +I thought. 'She is so full of nice ideas and funny ones too, and she +never has headaches or neuralgia or horrid things like that. And yet she +is <i>so</i> kind—I remember that time I sprained my ankle. She was so +good.'</p> + +<p>The next few days were so busy, however, that all thought even of Taisy +and her balloon went out of our heads. I only remember packings and +unpackings and arranging and rearrangings, all in a jumble together, +ending, nevertheless, in a great deal of satisfaction. The afternoon we +went to the Hut 'for good,' it really looked nice enough for us to feel +it, for the time, more 'home' than the big house, which, on the surface, +seemed rather upset still, though in reality it was nearly ready for the +tenants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> having gone through a magnificent spring cleaning. But our own +little belongings were absent, and such of the rooms as were quite in +order, to our eyes looked bare and unfamiliar, so that we were not sorry +to be actually settled at the Hut.</p> + +<p>The evenings were still a little chilly, which I, for one, did not +regret, as it gave an excuse for nice bright fires in the sitting-rooms +and mamma's bedroom. And the children had already picked up a good lot +of fir cones, so that the pleasant scent of the trees seemed to be +inside as well as out of doors.</p> + +<p>'It <i>is</i> cosy, isn't it, mamma?' I said, as we stood for a minute or two +in what was now the little drawing-room; 'and oh, <i>aren't</i> you glad not +to be starting on a railway journey to some strange place, or even +driving to that little house at Kirke which you told me about as the +best we could have got?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed, darling,' mamma replied. 'And I am <i>so</i> glad to be able to +date my first letter to papa from the Hut. I must make time to write to +him to-morrow morning; it will just catch the mail.'</p> + +<p>'And to-night,' I went on, 'you must rest. There isn't really very much +more to do, is there? Not at least anything that we need hurry about.'</p> + +<p>'No,' said mamma, looking round. But she spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> rather doubtfully, and I +felt that she was longing to get everything into perfectly 'apple-pie +order,' though what that means I have never been able to understand, for +as far as we know them nowadays, apple-pies are rather untidy-looking! +'There is very little now for me to see to at—home—at the house,' she +went on. 'I am not going there at all for a day or two, and then just to +give a look round and pay the wages owing till the Trevors come.'</p> + +<p>The Trevors were our tenants—a mother and an invalid son, and a +not-very-young daughter—and several of our servants were staying on +with them, which we were very glad of.</p> + +<p>'And I want,' mamma began again, 'to get things started here regularly. +Your lessons, and the little ones' too, and—and—everything. Our own +clothes will take some time to arrange, and I must not expect Hoskins to +be everywhere at once.</p> + +<p>'I will do <i>lots</i>, mamma,' I said. 'You don't know what I can do when I +regularly set-to, and I promise you I won't open a story-book till the +boxes are unpacked and arranged,' though I gave a little silent sigh as +I said this. There seemed such heaps to unpack, for you see we had had +to bring all our winter things with us too, and I was sensible enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +to know that there must now be a lot of planning how to make frocks and +coats and things last, that hitherto we should have given away without a +second thought to those whom they might be of use to. And in my secret +heart I was trembling a little at the idea that perhaps one of the +things I should have to 'set-to' at would be sewing—above all, mending!</p> + +<p>'For of course, as mamma says,' I reflected, 'we can't expect Hoskins to +do <i>everything</i>! And I knew it was a case of just spending the very +least we could—without risking health or necessary comforts—till papa +came home again, or at least till he got <i>some</i> idea of what the future +was likely to be.</p> + +<p>But for the moment it was worse than foolish to go on looking forward, +when the <i>present</i> was pretty clearly to be seen. And just then Esmé +came dancing in to tell us that tea was ready in the dining-room.</p> + +<p>'Quite ready and getting cold. So come quick,' she said.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> + +<h3>'YOU DO UNDERSTAND SO WELL, MAMMA'</h3> + +<p>I shall never forget the first morning's awaking in the Hut. Well, as I +knew it, it seemed as if I had not till then ever been there before. I +do not mean so much the actual waking; that of course is always a little +confusing, even if only in a different <i>room</i> from the one you are used +to, and I was particularly accustomed to my own room at Eastercove, as +we were not people who went away very much. We loved home too well for +that.</p> + +<p>No, though I rubbed my eyes and stared about me and wondered why the +window had changed its place, I soon remembered where I was, especially +when I caught sight of Esmé's little bed beside mine, and of Esmé's pink +cheeks and bright hair as she lay fast asleep still, looking like a +comfortable doll.</p> + +<p>I was thinking rather of the feelings I had when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> I was dressed—I +dressed very quickly, despising any warm water in my bath for once, and +moved about very quietly, so as not to waken Esmé and thereby vex +Hoskins the very first morning—and made my way out to the porch and +stood there gazing about me.</p> + +<p>It was not so very early after all—half-past seven by mamma's little +clock in the drawing-room, and I heard the servants working busily in +the kitchen and dining-room, though there was no sound from poor old +Geordie's corner, in spite of his overnight intentions of being up by +six!</p> + +<p>But outside it seemed very, very early. It was so absolutely <i>alone</i>—so +strangely far from any sight or sound of common human life, except for +just one little thing—a tiny white sail, far, far away on the +horizon—a mere speck it seemed. And below where I stood,—I think I +have said that the hut was on a sort of 'plateau,—' though at some +little distance, came the sound of the waves, lapping in softly, for it +was a calm day, and now and then the flash of a gull as it flew past, or +the faint, peculiar cry of some other sea-bird or coast-bird nearer +inland. For the spot was so quiet and seemingly isolated that rather +wild, shy birds were not afraid of visiting it, even when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> there was no +stormy weather or signs of such out at sea.</p> + +<p>And behind me were our dear pine woods, and the feeling of the squirrels +and the home birds all busy and happy in the coming of the spring, +though any sounds from there were very vague and soft.</p> + +<p>At first I did not know what it all reminded me of. Something out of my +own experiences I knew, but I had to think for a minute or two before it +came back to my mind. And then I remembered that it was a story in a +French book that mamma had read to us, partly in French, which Geordie +and I knew fairly well, and partly translating as she read. It was +called <i>Les Ailes de Courage</i>, by some great French author, who wrote +it, I think, for his or her grandchildren, and it is almost the most +interesting and strangest story I ever heard—about a boy who lived +quite, quite alone in a cave by the seashore, and got to know all the +wild creatures and their habits in the most wonderful way, so that they +came to trust him as if he was one of themselves. I cannot give any +right idea of the story; I doubt if any one could, but I wish you—if +'you' ever come to exist—would all read it.</p> + +<p>Just as I was standing there, pleased to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> remembered the +association in my mind, I felt a hand slipped gently round my neck. It +was not one of Geordie's 'hugs,' and I looked up in surprise. It was +mamma.</p> + +<p>'How quietly you came,' I said; 'and oh, mamma, <i>doesn't</i> it remind you +of <i>Les Ailes de Courage</i>?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she replied, 'I know exactly what you mean.'</p> + +<p>And then we stood perfectly still and silent for a moment or two, taking +it all in, more and more, till a <i>very</i> tiny sigh from mamma reminded me +of something else—that dear papa was on that same great sea that we +were gazing at—perhaps standing on the deck of the steamer and thinking +of us—but <i>so</i> far away already!</p> + +<p>'It is chilly,' said mamma, 'and we must not begin our life here by +catching cold. We had better go in, dear. I think it is going to be a +lovely day, but in the meantime I hope Hoskins has given us a fire in +the dining-room.'</p> + +<p>Yes—a nice bright little fire was crackling away merrily, a handful or +two of the children's cones on the top. And the room looked quite cosy +and tidy, as Margery had finished dusting and so on, in here, and was +now busy at the other side.</p> + +<p>'I will go and see how Esmé is getting on,' said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> mamma. 'She had had +her bath before I came out, but there may be difficulties with her hair. +And you might hurry up the boys, Ida, for I have promised Hoskins to be +very punctual, and breakfast will be ready by eight.'</p> + +<p>It was a good thing I did go to hurry up the boys—they were both fast +asleep! Geordie looked dreadfully ashamed when I at last managed to get +him really awake, and Denzil almost began to cry. He had planned with +Esmé, he said, to have a run down to the sands before breakfast, and +Hoskins knew and had promised them a slice of bread and butter and a +drink of milk.</p> + +<p>'Did she not wake you then?' I asked. 'She woke Esmé at seven, but I was +already up.'</p> + +<p>Geordie could not remember if he had been awakened or not. Denzil +thought Margery had come in and said something about 'seven o'clock,' +but it was all mixed up with a wonderful dream that he wanted me to stay +to listen to, about a balloon (he had heard us talking about Taisy's +balloon) with long cords hanging from it, like those in the +grandfather's clock in the hall 'at home,' for you to climb up and down +by, as if they were rope-ladders.</p> + +<p>'You must have gone to sleep again and dreamt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> it through the word +"o'clock" getting into your brain,' I said, whereupon I felt as if I had +got out of the frying-pan into the fire, for instead of telling the rest +of his dream, Denzil now wanted to know exactly what I meant, and what +his brain was 'like,' and how a word could get into it—was it a box in +his head, and his ears the doors, etc., etc.—Denzil had a dreadfully +'inquiring mind,' in those days—till I really had to cut him short and +fly.</p> + +<p>'You will neither of you be ready for breakfast, as it is,' I said; 'and +if you are not quick you will have none at all, or at least quite cold.'</p> + +<p>I nearly ran against the coffee, which Hoskins was just carrying in, as +I got to the dining-room door, which would not have been a happy +beginning. But I pulled up just in time, and took in good part Hoskins's +reminder that it wouldn't do to rush about as if we were in the wide +passages at home. Then she went on to tell me what it all made her think +of, she was so glad to have remembered.</p> + +<p>'It is just like a <i>ship</i>, Miss Ida. I have never been at sea, but I +spent a day or two once on board one of the big steamers at Southampton +that a cousin of my mother's is stewardess of. Yes, it's that that's +been running in my head.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>'It can't have been a <i>very</i> big one, then,' I said, rather pertly, I am +afraid. But Hoskins did not see the joke.</p> + +<p>'Oh, but it was, Miss Ida,' she went on, after she had placed the +coffee-pot in safety. 'The big rooms, saloons, as they call them, were +really beautiful, but the passages quite narrow, and the kitchens and +pantries so small, you'd wonder they do do any washing-up in them, let +alone cooking. Not an inch of space lost, you may say. And as to how +they manage in rough weather when everything's atop of the other, it's +just wonderful, not that I've any wish to see for myself; the sea's all +very well to be beside of, but as for going <i>on</i> it,' and Hoskins shook +her head, but said no more. For mamma just then came into the room, and +the kind-hearted woman did not want to remind her who <i>was</i> on the sea +at the present moment.</p> + +<p>We three—mamma and Esmé and I—had made some way with our breakfast +before the two lazy ones joined us, Geordie rather shy and ashamed; +Denzil eager to explain the whole story of his dream, and to tease poor +mamma about his brain and how it was made and what it was like, till I +did wish I had not mentioned its existence to him.</p> + +<p>I don't remember anything very particularly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> interesting in the course +of the first few days at the Hut, or rather perhaps, <i>everything</i> was so +interesting that no one thing stands out very much in my memory or in my +diary. I kept a diary in those days, as I daresay you who read this have +suspected, otherwise I could not have been so exact about details, +though it needs no diary to remind myself of the <i>feeling</i> of it all, of +the curious charm of the half gypsy life. Not that it really was nearly +as 'gypsy' as we would have liked it to be, or as we <i>thought</i> we would +have liked it to be! It was really so comfortable, and we were all so +pleased with our own efforts to make it so, and their success, that by +the end of a week or ten days we began to long for some adventures.</p> + +<p>'A storm,' said Geordie one day,—'a storm at sea. How would that do? +Not a very bad one of course, and———'</p> + +<p>'No,' I said decidedly, frowning at him to remind him about papa's being +on the sea,—'no, that wouldn't do at all. Besides, there never are +storms at this time of year. It's past the bad time. No, something more +like real gypsies camping near us, and coming to ask us to lend them +things, and telling our fortunes.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>But at this idea <i>mamma</i> shook her head.</p> + +<p>'No, thank you,' she said, though she smiled; 'I have no wish for any +such neighbours. Besides, Ida, you forget that though we are living in a +hut, we are still at home on our own ground, and certainly gypsies have +never been allowed to camp inside the lodge gates.'</p> + +<p>'They never come nearer than Kirke Common now,' said George. 'They have +been frightened of Eastercove, Barnes says, ever since papa was made a +magistrate.'</p> + +<p>'I think we must be content if we want adventures,' said mamma, 'with +reading some aloud. I have got one or two nice books that none of you +know, and I think it would be a very good plan to read aloud in the +evenings.'</p> + +<p>We were not very eager about it. We liked very much to be read to, but +we were not fond of being the readers, and though mamma read aloud +beautifully, I knew it was not right to let it all fall upon her, as her +voice was not very strong.</p> + +<p>'It isn't as if Taisy were here, to take turns with you, mamma,' I said, +'as she always does.'</p> + +<p>'After this week,' said mamma, 'you will not want any more excitement, +for we must really arrange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> about your lessons, Ida—yours and the +little ones. And Geordie, of course, will begin again regularly with Mr. +Lloyd, now that we are settled.'</p> + +<p>Our daily governess was given up. She was not now quite 'advanced' +enough for me, and to have her for Denzil and Esmé alone was very +expensive, so it had been fixed that I was to work with mamma; and, on +the other hand, be myself teacher to the little ones for the time. Mamma +had thought she would have so much less to do, with papa away, and no +calls to pay, or going out to dinners and luncheons, all of which she +had given up for the time. But it did not look very like it so far—I +mean not very like her 'having more time' than at the big house, for +there were always things turning up for her to do, and then she wrote +enormously long letters to papa every week. And there were things about +the place, the whole property, which she had to be consulted about now +he was away.</p> + +<p>And for my part I was not at all looking forward to my new post of +governess!</p> + +<p>'It is such a pity,' I thought, 'that we can't have Taisy. She wouldn't +have minded teaching the children a bit, and she is so clever. Lots of +my own lessons I could have done with her too. And I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> know the little +ones won't obey me; Denzil would, but not Esmé, and she will set him +off.'</p> + +<p>I suppose my face was looking rather cloudy, for mamma went on again.</p> + +<p>'I daresay we shall all feel a little depressed for a time, for we have +had a good deal of really tiring work as well as excitement. And the +worst of over-excitement, at least for young, strong people, is, that +when it is over, everything seems flat, and we find ourselves wishing +something else would happen.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I said; 'that's just what I feel. You do understand so well, +mamma.'</p> + +<p>'I have a mild piece of excitement in store for you to-day or +to-morrow,' mamma went on again. 'I think it is quite time that I called +on our tenants. They must be fairly settled by now.'</p> + +<p>'I don't see that there was any settling for them to do,' I said. 'You +left everything so beautifully neat and nice.'</p> + +<p>Somehow I felt a little cross at the poor things!</p> + +<p>'They have to unpack what they brought with them,' said Geordie; 'and +I'm sure——' he stopped short.</p> + +<p>I knew why he stopped. He thought that what he was going to say might +vex me, for, as I think—or hope I have owned—I have a quick temper. +But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> Dods was not famous for 'tact'; that habit of his of stopping short +all of a sudden often made me crosser than almost anything he could +<i>say</i>.</p> + +<p>'It's very rude not to finish your sentence,' I said sharply. 'What are +you so sure about?'</p> + +<p>'Only that you made fuss enough about our own unpacking,' he replied, +'quite extra from the getting the Hut in order and all that.'</p> + +<p>'You are very unfair, and unkind,' I said, feeling as if I should like +to cry, for <i>I</i> thought I had been very patient and good-tempered. +'Mamma, don't you think he needn't have said that?'</p> + +<p>'He did not want to say it, to give him his due,' said mamma, smiling a +little; 'and to give Ida her due,' she went on, turning to Geordie, 'I +don't see, my boy, that you needed to <i>think</i> it.'</p> + +<p>'Well,' said Dods, and I felt my vexedness begin to go away, 'after all, +I don't know that I did. I suppose we've all been rather fussy, though +it wasn't in a bad sort of way.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed,' said mamma; 'it was in a very good sort of way. You have +all been most helpful; I wish you could have seen my last letter to papa +about you.'</p> + +<p>After that it would have been impossible to go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> on being vexed with any +one, wouldn't it? I never knew any one like mamma for making horrid +feelings go and nice ones come, and yet she is always quite <i>true</i>.</p> + +<p>'Then, do you mean that you want me to go with you when you call on the +Trevors, mamma?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I do, rather particularly,' she replied, so of course I said I +would be ready whatever time she fixed, though I didn't very much want +to go. I was just at the age—I don't think I have quite grown past it +even now—when girls hate paying calls, and I could not bear the idea of +being received as visitors in our very own house. This was extremely +silly of course, as it was such a lucky thing for us to have let it to +good, careful people like the Trevors, but I don't think it was an +unnatural feeling. And afterwards, poor mamma owned to me that it was +something of the same kind that had made her wish to take me with her. +It would make her feel less 'lonely,' she thought. Wasn't it sweet of +her to think that?</p> + +<p>So that afternoon, or the next, I forget which, we found ourselves +walking slowly up through the woods to the big house. I felt rather as +if it must be Sunday, for it was not often, except on Sundays,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> that I +was in the woods in very neat 'get up,'—proper gloves instead of rough +garden ones, and best boots, and hat, and everything like for going to +church, or for going a drive with mamma in the victoria.</p> + +<p>We did not expect—at least I did not—to find our new acquaintances +very interesting. There was nobody young among them, and hearing that +they had come to Eastercove principally for health's sake did not sound +very lively.</p> + +<p>But, after all, something interesting <i>did</i> come of the visit, as I will +tell you.</p> + +<p>We were ushered into the drawing-room—'the ladies were at home,' he +said—by an oldish man-servant, with a nice face.</p> + +<p>Into our own drawing-room—how funny it seemed! And already it did not +seem quite our own, not the same. There were little changes in the +places of the furniture, and there were unfamiliar odds and ends about, +which made it feel strange. I was rather glad that there was no one in +the room to receive us, and I squeezed mamma's hand tight, and I am sure +she understood, and we both had time to get our breath, as it were, +before any one appeared.</p> + +<p>When some one did come, nevertheless, we were taken a little by +surprise, for she—it was Miss Trevor—entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> by the window, and I had +been looking towards the door. There are long, low-down windows in the +drawing-room, and at one side a terracey sort of walk, which is very +pleasant for sitting out on, in summer especially, as it is well shaded.</p> + +<p>Immediately I saw her I felt she was nice. She seemed older than mamma, +though perhaps she was not so really. Her face was very quiet—that is +the best word for it, and though I was so young then and knew so little +of life, I felt that it was a face that had <i>grown</i> quiet through +goodness. Even now I do not know much of Miss Trevor's history, but +mamma has been told enough of it to make her think very highly of her.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 319px;"><a name="ILL_007" id="ILL_007"></a> +<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="319" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">WE WERE OUT ON THE TERRACE, AND MRS. TREVOR COMING TO MEET US.</span> +</div> + +<p>There was not the least bit of hardness, scarcely even of sadness in her +expression, but just a look—a look that made one feel that she had come +through sorrow, and could never care <i>very</i> much about anything for +herself again—anything <i>here</i>, I mean.</p> + +<p>'I am so sorry,' she said at once, in a nice, hearty way, 'to have kept +you waiting. It is such a lovely afternoon that mother and I have +settled ourselves outside!'</p> + +<p>'Then please don't unsettle yourselves,' said mamma, and I saw a gleam +of pleasure creep into Miss Trevor's gray eyes at mamma's pretty voice +and manner. 'May we not join Mrs. Trevor on the terrace, for I suppose +it is there you are sitting?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' was the reply. 'It is so sheltered, and of course it is still +early days for venturing anything of the kind. But mother is quite +strong except for rheumatism, and really who <i>could</i> have rheumatism in +this dry, fragrant air? We are so delighted with everything about your +beautiful home, Mrs. Lanark,' she went on. (It has <i>just</i> struck me that +till now I have never said that 'Lanark' is our family name! Really, I +am not fit to try to write a story.) 'And you have done so much to make +it perfect for us.'</p> + +<p>Mamma and I felt repaid for our trouble by this, but before there was +time to reply, we were out on the terrace, and Mrs. Trevor coming to +meet us. It was not such an easy business for her to do so, as you might +think. She had three dogs—darlings, I must own, and not barking, +snapping darlings—dancing round her, and she was all twisted about with +wool, red and green and white and all colours, unwound from the balls +from her knitting. You never saw anything so funny, especially as the +doggies, though very good-natured, were very lively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a><br /><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> and affectionate, +and very spoilt, evidently accustomed to think the wools and the +knitting and every bit of dear Mrs. Trevor herself only existed for +their benefit. How she managed to keep the wool clean, and to knit the +pretty fluffy things she did, I never found out. I really think there +was some magic about it, for I <i>never</i> saw her without the strands of it +flying loose, <i>and</i> the dogs dancing up and down to catch it!</p> + +<p>She was laughing—such a nice laugh.</p> + +<p>'Really,' she said, 'you will think me a slave to my pugs, Mrs. Lanark, +and I am afraid it is true. Zenia, dear, please untwist me.'</p> + +<p>Miss Trevor was evidently pretty well used to doing so, but she laughed +too; and mamma and I started forward to help, so between us we managed +to get the wool wound up pretty quickly, the doggies standing by more +quietly than usual. They were more in awe of Miss Trevor, it was plain +to see, than of their actual mistress.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> + +<h3>'NO,' SAID MAMMA, 'THAT ISN'T ALL'</h3> + +<p>Then we all sat down at the end of the terrace; Mrs. and Miss Trevor had +already found out exactly the nicest place, one of our own favourite +places, sheltered but not too shut in, with a view of the pine woods +close by, at one side, and a peep of the farther off sea, through an +opening that had been made on purpose, at the other.</p> + +<p>'I love that glimpse of the sea,' said Miss Trevor, who naturally began +to talk to me, as her mother and mamma were entertaining each other.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I said, 'this corner is a very nice one. But you should see the +view from where we are now—down at the Hut, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'It must be charming,' she replied, 'so open and wide. I am very +anxious, indeed,' she went on smiling, 'to see the Hut. It must be +so—picturesque.'</p> + +<p>'No, it isn't exactly that,' I said. 'It's <i>queer</i>, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +out-of-the-common, of course, but the charm of the place <i>is</i> the +place,' and I laughed at my own way of expressing myself. 'It seems so +entirely away from everything, except the sea and the trees and the wild +creatures, though it isn't <i>really</i> lonely.'</p> + +<p>Then mamma turned to Miss Trevor with some little explanation about +something or other in the house which Mrs. Trevor said her daughter took +charge of, and the old lady—I hope it isn't rude to call her that? she +did seem old to me—began talking to me. I liked her very much. She was +<i>so</i> fond of her three doggies, and she was so sympathising about one of +ours that had died a few months before, and whom we had loved so dearly, +that it was not till a good while afterwards that we could bear to have +another.</p> + +<p>The one we did have in the end was a present from Mrs. Trevor, a pug +puppy, and we have him still, and I named him 'Woolly,' which everybody +thinks a most unsuitable name for a pug, as they do not understand the +reason for it. I daresay <i>you</i> will guess that it was because the sight +of a pug always reminds me of Mrs. Trevor's unwound balls, and the wool +all twined round her.</p> + +<p>Soon after, mamma said we must be going, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> we bade Mrs. Trevor +good-bye, but Miss Trevor said she would go a little bit of the way with +us.</p> + +<p>She seemed to have something she wanted to say, and as if she did not +quite know how to begin, till at last, just as we were close to the turn +in the drive that led to the stables and coach-houses, she stood still +for a moment. From where we were there was again a peep of the sea, all +glistening and sparkling, though calm.</p> + +<p>'This is another pretty peep,' said mamma.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' Miss Trevor agreed, 'and the advantage up here is that we can +have these open views and yet be in shade. As the season gets on, I am +afraid you will find it rather too unsheltered from the sun to sit out +on the sea-side of the Hut.'</p> + +<p>'We shall have to rig up shady arrangements,' said mamma laughingly.</p> + +<p>'That reminds me,' said Miss Trevor, which was not quite true, as she +had been thinking of it all this time, I am sure, and wondering how she +was to offer it without seeming officious, or anything of that +sort,—'that reminds me'—then she broke off—'would you mind just +looking in here a moment?'</p> + +<p>'In here' was one of the coach-houses. Miss Trevor led the way towards +it, and pushed open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> the door. Inside stood a sort of Bath-chair, of +lighter build, even though larger, than such things generally are. It +was of wickerwork, covered with pretty stuff like what tents and awnings +are made of—as we saw when she threw off the sheet that was over it.</p> + +<p>'We call this my brother's boudoir,' she said. 'It is quite a +curiosity,' and she began drawing out and showing us all manner of +contrivances—a table which hooked on to one side, another which +fastened itself to the front, a large basket for the other side, a +stool, quite strong enough for a second person to sit on comfortably to +talk or read to whomever was in the chair; and besides all these, +wonderful awnings that pulled out and could be turned and twisted like +big umbrellas, and stretches of wickerwork to make the chair into a +couch—and all this on wheels!</p> + +<p>'It is not meant to be used as a Bath-chair,' went on Miss Trevor; 'the +wheels are just to move it easily for short distances. It is really a +stationary affair. My brother invented a good deal of it himself two or +three years ago when he was very ill—much more of an invalid than now, +I mean.'</p> + +<p>'It is a beautiful thing,' said mamma, in which I quite agreed with her, +though we both wondered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> a little why she was exhibiting it at all to us +so minutely.</p> + +<p>'But Will isn't at all pleased with us for bringing it here,' Miss +Trevor continued. 'He says he never wants to see it again; it reminds +him of his worst time, and he says I must get rid of it. He prefers +sitting out among the pines in a quite well sort of way. So—it just +struck mother and me, that <i>perhaps</i> it might be some little use to you, +down so near the sea where there is no shade,' and she glanced at us +half timidly.</p> + +<p>'Oh!' I exclaimed, before mamma had time to speak, 'it would be +splendid—just in front of the little porch. We could really make a sort +of tiny room with it, and you could be <i>so</i> comfortable, mamma, on sunny +days. Oh, do say we may have it!'</p> + +<p>Miss Trevor seemed delighted, and mamma smiled at my enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>'It is a charming chair,' she said, 'far more than a chair indeed—I +scarcely know what to call it. It is most kind of you to have thought of +it for us, Miss Trevor, and if you are so good as to lend it to us, you +may be sure we shall take the greatest care of it. And, of course, if +Mr. William Trevor ever wants to have it while you are here, you must +not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> for an instant hesitate to tell us and we should send it back at +once.'</p> + +<p>Miss Trevor got rather red.</p> + +<p>'Oh, but,' she said, 'you don't quite understand, Mrs. Lanark. We want +you to have it for good—to keep, I mean, if you care for it. I am +perfectly certain that Will won't want it. In fact, he says he hates the +sight of it. And down at the Hut, it might be of use, even after you +have moved up here again. I will have it wheeled down to you to-morrow +morning; it may need a little cleaning up first. The wheels are quite +strong enough for a short journey, especially with no one inside. I only +meant that it is not built in the peculiarly strong way a regular +Bath-chair needs to be.'</p> + +<p>I did feel so pleased to know it was to be our very own, and so, I +think, did mamma. For when things are lent, there is always a rather +fidgety feeling, for fear they should get spoilt in any way. And Miss +Trevor had said it so nicely—as if our taking it would really be doing +them a favour. For, of course, from almost complete strangers it is a +little difficult to accept presents, though mamma has often told us that +to receive a kindness graciously is quite as much a duty as to offer +one.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then too she had spoken as if our return to our proper home was +quite a certainty, and our absence from it only a question of a little +time, though afterwards we heard that there had been a good deal of +gossip in the neighbourhood about our being completely 'ruined,' and +that Eastercove was sure to have to be sold. I suppose a great deal of +gossip is not meant to be unkind, but still it does seem sometimes as if +people were more ready to exaggerate and talk about other people's +<i>troubles</i> than about their good fortune.</p> + +<p>We said good-bye to Miss Trevor soon after that—she, turning to go back +to the house, and we, after mamma had asked her very heartily to come +soon to see us in our 'gypsy encampment,' as mamma called it (I wished +it had been a good deal more gypsy than it was!), which she seemed very +eager to do, walking slowly towards the Hut. More slowly than I felt +inclined for—I was in a fever to tell Geordie about the wonderful +chair—but mamma was still feeling a little tired after all the bustle +and busy-ness and sad feelings of the last few weeks, and so I tried to +keep down my impatience.</p> + +<p>When we came quite out of the wood into the clear, open view of the sea, +mamma stood still again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> and gazed down at it without speaking for a +moment or two.</p> + +<p>'Are you thinking of papa?' I said softly, giving her arm, through which +I had slipped my hand, a little squeeze.</p> + +<p>'Yes, dear,' she said, turning her face towards me, and I was pleased to +see that she was smiling. 'He must be nearing the end of his long +journey by now. But it was not only because of his voyage that I was +thinking of him. The sea is always associated with him in my mind; it +was the occasion of our first getting to know each other.'</p> + +<p>I felt greatly interested.</p> + +<p>'Did you meet on board ship, do you mean?' I asked. 'Did you make a +voyage together?'</p> + +<p>'No, no,' said mamma, smiling again; 'I have never been a long voyage in +my life. And the time I was thinking of—ever so long ago—had nothing +to do with a voyage. I will tell you the story of it if you like. Shall +we sit down here a little? It is perfectly dry.'</p> + +<p>My hurry to get home to tell Geordie about Miss Trevor's present had +softened down in the interest of what mamma was speaking of; besides, +when I came to think of it, I remembered that he could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> yet be back +from Mr. Lloyd's. So I was very pleased to do as mamma proposed.</p> + +<p>'There is a little bathing-place far up in the North,' she began, when +we had settled ourselves on a little bank made by some old roots which +had spread out beyond the actual pine wood, 'which was rather a +favourite in that part of the world a good many years ago, though now, I +fancy, it is quite out of fashion. It was considered a very safe place +for children, as there are great stretches of sands, and the bathing is +very good, except that the tide at one part goes out with great +swiftness and force, owing to a current of some kind just there. There +is a garrison town—a small one—two miles or so from the bathing +village—a station for cavalry—and the sands used to be, and I daresay +still are, a favourite exercising ground for the horses. Well, one +morning, ever so long ago, as I said——'</p> + +<p>'Do you mean fifty years ago, or a hundred perhaps?' I interrupted +thoughtlessly, forgetting that the story had some connection with mamma +herself.</p> + +<p>'No, no,' she said laughing, 'not quite as "ever so long ago" as that. +Let me see—I need not be quite exact—about twenty-four or twenty-five +years ago, we will say. Well, one fine summer morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> an officer, a +very young one, of only eighteen or nineteen, was galloping with his +men—a small party—up and down these sands, when he heard and saw +something which made him suddenly pull up and gaze down towards the sea, +which had turned and was rapidly going out. It was just above the +bathing-place—a perfectly safe place if the vans were drawn out when +the tide turned, and not allowed to get into the sort of current I told +you of. But by some mischance one of the vans had been allowed to stay +in the water too long—the old bathing man was getting rather stupid, I +fancy, and was busy drying things higher up, with his back to the sea, +and did not hear the cry from the van, or see the white handkerchief +that was frantically waved from its landward side.</p> + +<p>The young man had keen eyes and ears; he saw that there was not a moment +to be lost—and he quickly took in what had happened and what must be +done. The van was <i>almost</i> off its wheels, swaying about with every +little wave that ran in, as the water rose and rose. And just outside +the door, on the ledge at the top of the steps, stood a forlorn little +figure waving a handkerchief, or perhaps it was a towel, and crying at +the top of her small voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Help, help; oh, <i>please</i>, help!"</p> + +<p>'I don't know what the officer did about his men, who were already some +little way off—I suppose he signed to them to wait for him,—but I know +what he did himself, and that was to gallop as fast as his horse would +go, down to the sea, shouting as he went to the bathing-man, who was +quick enough to see what was wrong, as soon as his attention was called +to it.</p> + +<p>'He rushed for his old horse, and was wonderfully soon at the water's +edge and in it, looking horribly frightened, but quick as he was, the +young man was there at least a minute or two before him. And after one +glance at the state of things, the first comer did not hesitate. For he +saw that the van was growing less and less steady; it was <i>almost</i> +lifted off the ground by this time, though it kept recovering itself a +little. And the small figure on the steps was calling more and more +wildly and shaking her white signal more desperately, while she clung on +with the other hand to the side of the lurching and swaying van.</p> + +<p>'His—the young officer's, I mean—first idea was to harness his horse +<i>somehow</i> to the van, and draw it out bodily—riding like a postilion. +But he gave this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> up at once when he found how deep the water was +already and how unsteady the thing was. He was too angry with the +careless owner of it to care whether the van itself swam out to sea or +not, and too anxious, to risk wasting a moment. And the sight of the +little white face and tear-swollen eyes lifted up to him doubled both +these feelings.</p> + +<p>'"Don't be frightened, you will be all right now," he called out to the +child, who by this time scarcely knew what she was saying. He thinks she +changed her piteous "Help, help, do come!" to "Oh, save me, please, save +me!" And when he and his horse got quite close he had no need to +encourage her to come to him—she almost sprang into his arms, so +quickly that he was afraid she would fall into the water. But it was +managed somehow, so that in another moment he found himself riding back +to the shore again, with the little girl perched on the front of his +saddle, clinging to him and tucked up so as to keep even her feet from +getting wet.</p> + +<p>'She was actually quite dry when they got back to the sands and he +lifted her down—getting off himself to get a good shake, for <i>he</i> was +by no means quite dry, nor was the horse, who had behaved so well and +pluckily, as if understanding there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> something the matter, and now +stood snorting with pleasure and satisfaction.</p> + +<p>'And the little girl was sensible too. She had quite left off crying and +held out her hand to her preserver.</p> + +<p>'"Oh, thank you, thank you so velly much," she said, "for saving me. I +was velly neely drowned, wasn't I? Please go home and get dry quick, or +else you'll catch cold."</p> + +<p>'But before he had time to reply, a figure came rushing up to them in +great excitement. It was the little girl's nurse, dreadfully frightened +and ashamed, especially when the boy officer turned upon her very +sharply and asked her what on earth she had been thinking of to leave +her charge in such danger.</p> + +<p>'She had a long story to tell, which he had not patience to listen +to—how she had almost finished dressing the young lady when she found +she had left her parasol on the sands, and had climbed over into the +next van where a friend was, just as it was being drawn out, as she was +so afraid of the parasol being stolen, thinking no harm could come to +the child in that minute or two till the bathing-man came back again, +and how her friend had seen the parasol higher up on the stones, and +how—and then came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> the bathing-man lumbering up with <i>his</i> story—or +how he had thought there was no one in the van, and he was just a-goin' +to fetch it out—not that it would have gone far——</p> + +<p>'"But it <i>would</i>," said the soldier; "and even if it had stuck, the +young lady would have been half killed with fright and soaked through, +and perhaps fallen into the water bodily. The bathing-man deserved to be +reported, and——"</p> + +<p>'There came a shout for the young officer just then. Some one, thinking +<i>he</i> had got drowned or something of the kind, had hurried back to see. +So he rode off though just as he was going, the little girl stopped him +for a moment.</p> + +<p>'"Oh, please, Mr. Soldier," she said, "will you tell me your name, so +that mamma can write to thank you?"</p> + +<p>'He laughed, but he was already in the saddle, and all she heard was the +one word, "Jack."'</p> + +<p>Mamma stopped when she got to this. I waited an instant to see if she +was going on again. I felt a little puzzled, though I thought the story +so interesting.</p> + +<p>'That isn't all, is it, mamma?' I said. 'I do so like it, but—didn't +you say—something about papa—and you and the sea, being mixed up?'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mamma smiled; her pretty blue eyes were fixed on the water below us; +they and it seemed almost the same colour this afternoon.</p> + +<p>'No,' she said, 'that isn't all. It was many, at least several—nine or +ten or so years later, that the story goes on again. The boy officer had +been out in India and seen fighting and many other things that come into +soldiers' lives. But now that was over for him. Other duties had come +into his life and changed it. Well—he was staying near the sea, with +his mother and sisters, and one day, after a boating expedition,—it was +a picnic to a picturesque island not far off,—he was introduced to a +girl who had come with some other acquaintances. And they walked up and +down the sands for a little. He kept looking at her in rather a curious +way, and she wondered why, till at last he said—</p> + +<p>'"I have the strangest feeling that I have seen you before, but I cannot +tell where or when. And your name does not help me to remember."</p> + +<p>'Then the girl looked at him in her turn very carefully. And a sudden +rush of remembrance came over her.</p> + +<p>'"Is your name," she said quite eagerly,—"is your name—your first name +'Jack'?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>'"Yes," he said, more and more puzzled.</p> + +<p>'She smiled, and then she laughed, and then she told him.</p> + +<p>'"I believe I can solve the riddle," she said. "I once rode through the +sea on your horse—in front of you.'"</p> + +<p>'And then Jack remembered.'</p> + +<p>And <i>I</i> understood!</p> + +<p>'Oh, mamma!' I exclaimed, 'what a dear story. And <i>you</i> are the little +girl, and dear papa is "Jack," and—and—it ended in your being married! +How clever it was of him to remember your face again!'</p> + +<p>'Don't you think it was still cleverer of me to remember his name?' said +mamma. '<i>He</i> always says so. But Ida, dearest, look how low the sun is +getting. We must hurry home, or Geordie and the others will be getting +tired of waiting for tea,' and she got up from her root-seat as she +spoke, and we walked on quickly.</p> + +<p>I kept on thinking of the story all the way. It was so pretty and yet so +queer to think of my own papa and mamma as if they were people in a +book, and to picture to myself that once upon a time, or <i>ever</i>, they +were strangers to each other.</p> + +<p>'Mamma must have been a dear little girl,' I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> thought to myself, as I +glanced up at her; 'she is still so pretty and sweet;' and I felt that +to me she <i>always</i> would seem so, even when her golden hair had grown +silver, and her bright eyes dimmer, and her rounded cheeks thin and +worn.</p> + +<p>'She will always be my dear pretty mamma,' I thought.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> + +<h3>'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL'</h3> + +<p>The interest of listening to mamma's story had made me for the time +almost forget about Miss Trevor's present. But as we got close to the +Hut and saw George coming to meet us, it rushed back into my mind again.</p> + +<p>'I say,' he called out, as he caught sight of us, 'it's past tea-time; +Hoskins wanted us to begin without waiting for you, but I wouldn't. She +said she was sure you were having it up there with those people,' and he +nodded his head in the direction of the big house.</p> + +<p>'Oh no!' said mamma, 'I like tea at home best, my boy.'</p> + +<p>And 'Oh no!' I joined in;' I was really in a hurry to get back, Dods, +for I have something very interesting to tell you. And you mustn't call +them "those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> people;" they are very nice indeed and <i>very</i> kind. They're +going to send——'</p> + +<p>'Wait till we are at tea to tell him all about it,' interrupted mamma. +'It will take some time, and I see Esmé and Denzil peeping out +impatiently.'</p> + +<p>Tea, you see, had become rather a settled sort of meal, even for mamma, +though she and Geordie and I had a sort of little dinner or supper, I +scarcely know which to call it, later in the evening. But <i>nursery</i> +meals had of course to be given up at the Hut, as there was no nursery +to have them in, so Esmé and Denzil did not think five o'clock tea a +small affair by any means. And whether it was that the being so <i>very</i> +close to the sea had sharpened our appetites, or that Hoskins and +Margery between them made such very good 'plain cakes,' I can't say, but +I certainly don't remember ever having nicer teas or enjoying them more +than at the Hut.</p> + +<p>'Well,' began Geordie, after we were all seated comfortably at the +table, 'what is the interesting thing you have to tell about, Ida? Has +it anything to do with the—our tenants,' he went on, with a tone of +satisfaction in his voice; 'I may call them <i>that</i>, for that's what they +are.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, of course it has,' I said. 'You might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> guessed that much +without being a—what is it you call a man witch—oh yes, a wizard, as +you knew mamma and I were there this afternoon, and I began to tell you +they were going to send us something. It's the jolliest thing you ever +saw, Dods—isn't it, mamma? Do help me to describe it.'</p> + +<p>Between us we managed to do so pretty well, and I could see that Geordie +was really very pleased about it. But he was in one of those humours +that boys have more often than girls, I think—of not showing that he +was pleased—'contradictious,' Hoskins calls it, and of trying to poke +out something to find fault with or to object to.</p> + +<p>'Hum, hum,' he kept murmuring; 'yes, oh yes, I know the sort of thing. +But there's one point you've forgotten, Ida, and mamma too, haven't +you?—where is this wonderful chair affair to be kept?' and he looked +round the table in a provoking sort of way. 'It won't <i>always</i> be fine +dry weather, and certainly it wouldn't get in at the door here by your +description, even if we had any room for it to stand in.'</p> + +<p>I suppose my face fell, and I think mamma, who is as quick as lightning +to understand one's little changes of feeling, was rather vexed with +Geordie,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> who is—or <i>was</i> rather—he has got out of those half-teasing +ways wonderfully, now that he is older—tiresome sometimes, though he is +so good, for she said quickly—</p> + +<p>'We shall find some place or plan something about it. Don't be afraid, +Ida dear. It is a beautiful present. Geordie will thoroughly appreciate +it when he sees it.'</p> + +<p>'Is it big enough to hold both Denny and me together?' asked Esmé.</p> + +<p>'It's big enough to hide you, so that you couldn't be seen at all, you +small person,' said mamma laughing.</p> + +<p>I felt sure mamma would plan something, so that we need not feel we had +got a white elephant in the shape of a garden chair. All the same, +Geordie's objection did worry me a little. I kept wondering, when I woke +in the night, where we <i>could</i> keep Miss Trevor's present, and hoping +that we should not have to send it back after all.</p> + +<p>I need not have done so, for when it arrived, as it did the next +morning, it was even more complete than we had known. It was enveloped +in a huge waterproof cover, looking like a miniature van or waggon, as +the gardener, sent with it, slowly pushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> it along! And he explained +that, for eight months or so of the year, it would be quite safe +outside. For there were also rollers—I don't know exactly what to call +them—strips of wood you could roll <i>it</i> on to, to keep the wheels from +the damp of the ground, if it <i>was</i> damp, though, as the man said, when +he had told us all this and shown us how to slide the wheels into the +grooves, 'it's really never for to say damp or wet in the pine woods. If +it was wheeled into a good sheltered place, I'd undertake to say it'd be +safer and drier than inside most coach-houses or stables.'</p> + +<p>He was an Eastercove man, I should explain, and of course he thought +there was no place in the world to compare with it!</p> + +<p>There was another addition to the belongings of the chair, which we had +not known of, and that was a hot water tin which fitted into the +footstool, in the same neat, compact way which everything belonging to +it did. Really a very good thing, for of course any one sitting still +out-of-doors may get cold feet, even though it is not winter or wintry +weather.</p> + +<p>Geordie stood with his hands in his pockets admiring it all, without a +fault to find; not that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> he wanted to find one, I feel sure. He was in a +much cheerier humour this morning, and perhaps he was feeling a little +sorry for having wet-blanketed my pleasure at all, the night before.</p> + +<p>Mamma called us all away from our new toy at last. Geordie had to set +off to Mr. Lloyd's, and for me, alas! it was one of the days on which I +had to act governess to the little ones. I did not mind Denzil so much, +though he was—I don't mind if he sees this—I am afraid I must say he +still is, <i>very</i> slow at lessons.</p> + +<p>But he cannot help it, not altogether, anyway, and I do think he +generally does his best, and when you know that of any one, you can be +much less particular with them, can't you? Besides, once he <i>has</i> 'taken +in' anything thoroughly, he does not forget it, which is a great comfort +to a teacher.</p> + +<p>It was Esmé who tried me the most. Such a flibbertigibbet (that is one +of Hoskins's queer words, and mamma does not like me to use them much, +but it is so expressive) you never saw. If you got her to give her +attention, or thought you had, and were feeling quite pleased and even +proud of it, as she sat there with her bright eyes fixed on the map, +we'll say, while you were pointing but how big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> Russia was, and how tiny +England seemed with the sea all round it, all of a sudden she would say +something like this—</p> + +<p>'Ida, <i>did</i> you see that girl just in front of the school-children in +church?' (Geography, I think, came on a Monday morning.) 'I couldn't +make out if the ribbon on her hat was green or blue, or both shaded +together.'</p> + +<p>And then if I scolded her and begged her to think of her lessons and not +of people's hats in church, she would explain in the funniest way, that +thinking of the sea, which sometimes looks blue and sometimes green, and +sometimes you don't know which, had made her remember how puzzled she +had been about the girl's hat.</p> + +<p>Upon which Denzil must come in with his remark, very wise and proper of +course—</p> + +<p>'<i>I</i> think,' he said, 'that Esmé and nobody, shouldn't think about hats +and ribbins and things like that in church—never. <i>I</i> think it'd be +much better if ladies and girls dressed all like each other, like men +and boys, when they go to church.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, indeed,' said Esmé; 'and who was it that was in a terrible fuss +about his tie not being knotted up the right way only last Sunday as +ever was, and——'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Esmé!' I exclaimed, horrified, 'where <i>did</i> you learn anything so +vulgar—"last Sunday as ever was"? What would mamma say if she heard +you?'</p> + +<p>'It was Margery that said it,' replied Esmé, not the least put out; 'and +I thought it sounded rather nice, but I won't say it again if you'd +rather I didn't. <i>Is</i> it nonsense, Ida, about men and boys never +thinking about their clothes? Geordie can't bear his best hat to be +touched, and I've noticed gentlemen, big ones, I mean like papa—looking +as cross as anything if they couldn't put their hats safe. <i>I</i> think +they fuss more on Sundays in church than any other time.'</p> + +<p>'Well, don't talk any more about it just now,' I said, 'or you will +never get your geography into your head.'</p> + +<p>But it was already too late. There was very little use trying to call +back Esmé's wandering wits once they had started off on an expedition of +their own, and I really began to fear I should have to tell mamma that I +was very little, if any, use as the child's governess.</p> + +<p>About this too, as things turned out, I need not have worried. It is +curious how very seldom what we vex ourselves about before it happens +does come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> to pass! I suppose this should show us the harm and +uselessness of fancying troubles, or exaggerating them.</p> + +<p>We were very busy and happy that afternoon, I remember, when George came +back from Kirke, in arranging the wonderful chair. We settled it near +the porch, and to please us, as it was really a very fine, almost warm +day, mamma said we might have tea there, and that she would sit in the +chair with Esmé on the stool, and the little table hooked on for their +cups and plates. I made tea on a little table in the porch, and Dods and +Den handed it out. It was rather a squash, but we didn't mind. Mamma +looked so comfortable under the awning, which we had drawn out, as we +wanted to try everything; the only mistake was having the hot-water +bottle in the footstool filled; poor mamma was obliged to ask to have it +taken out, as she said she was afraid her feet were really nearly +getting boiled, and of course it was not cold enough weather to require +it.</p> + +<p>After tea was over and the things taken away, mamma said she would stay +where she was for a little and finish a letter to papa, in which she +would tell him all about her movable 'boudoir,' as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> called it. She +really seemed to have taken a great fancy to it, which I was very +pleased at, for of us all—though she never said or seemed to think +so—it was certainly mamma who had had to give up the most of what she +was accustomed to, when we came to live at the Hut.</p> + +<p>Esmé and Denzil ran down to the shore to play, and Dods and I strolled +round a little. I remember all about that evening, even without looking +up in my diary. I think I was telling him the story mamma had told me, +of when she was a little girl, and the bathing machine, and papa saving +her, and we had walked up a short way behind the house, to a part of the +path, or road—it was a road, though a small one—from where you could +see a bit of the drive from the lodge to the big house.</p> + +<p>Suddenly something came in view—the queerest-looking thing you ever +saw, like a van, and yet not like one, more like a small omnibus, only +all over the top it was bumped out into all kinds of shapes, so that it +looked like a gypsy's basket waggon, with a cover over.</p> + +<p>'What can that be?' I said to Geordie.</p> + +<p>And we both stared hard, as the thing slowly made its way along.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>'The Trevors must have queer things sent to them,' I said. 'It isn't the +railway van from the station, and yet, if it was travelling pedlars or +anything of that kind, they wouldn't have let it in at the gates.'</p> + +<p>Geordie did not speak. He has better eyes than I—I have always been a +little near-sighted—and he stood there gazing before him with an odd +expression creeping over his face. He saw—what I did not—a head, or +part of one, poked out of the window at the back of the strange vehicle.</p> + +<p>'Geordie,' I said at last, 'what are you staring at so? What <i>do</i> you +think it is? Oh!' as I suddenly caught sight of a new feature in the +mystery, 'I do believe the thing is coming down <i>here</i>, and not going to +the big house at all.'</p> + +<p>For there was a side road out of the drive just about the part that the +strange carriage or waggon had now got to, which led in our direction.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Geordie, turning to me, and speaking very slowly and +distinctly, though there was a twinkle in his eyes, which rather spoilt +the solemnity of his tone, 'you are right, Ida. I will tell you what it +is—it is the <i>balloon</i>.'</p> + +<p>Now indeed it was I who stared!</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>What could he mean?</p> + +<p>Did balloons come in vans, and what had we to do with them? It was not +for a moment or two that I remembered our joke about Taisy,—that she +meant to astonish us by coming down in a balloon or something wonderful +and original of that kind, from her mysterious hints in her letter to +mamma.</p> + +<p>And then I seemed to understand it all, almost better than Dods did. It +quite took my breath away.</p> + +<p>'Come, come, Dods!' I cried, setting off as I spoke, 'let's run to meet +her. Oh, Taisy, Taisy, you funny girl! Oh, how delighted I am!'</p> + +<p>We ran so fast that we reached the waggon almost before the driver and +horses—there were two—seemed fairly launched on the side road, and in +time to hear an eager voice from within calling out, 'All right, +straight on, now. There is plenty of room.'</p> + +<p>It was Theresa of course, but just at first she did not see us. She was +leaning out on the other side to make the driver hear. But she turned, +fast enough, when our shouts reached her, though she did not jump down, +as we half expected.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 322px;"><a name="ILL_008" id="ILL_008"></a> +<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="322" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID.</span> +</div> + +<p>'I can't very well get out,' she said. 'I'm so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> packed in, and there are +some breakable things. But I'll manage it in a minute. Yes, yes—it's I +myself! I've come to stay with you, though I have not been invited. +And—you'll understand directly, I've brought my house—or rather my +room—with me like a snail, so auntie can't turn me away again.'</p> + +<p>She was so excited and delighted with herself, and we were so excited +and delighted too, that we could scarcely speak for laughing. We did not +let her get out; she <i>was</i> so packed in, as she said, but we walked by +the door, she talking as hard as she could, for her vehicle was +lumbering along at a foot's pace.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she said, in answer to our eager questions; 'I've been travelling +like this since ten o'clock. No, not <i>quite</i> like this—we did trot on +the high road. The waggonette——'</p> + +<p>'Waggonette,' interrupted George, 'I should call it a—waggon and a +half!'</p> + +<p>'Well, never mind about that. Call it an omnibus if you like. Anyway, +<i>it</i> started yesterday, and spent the night at Wetherford. Granny wanted +me to come all the way to Kirke by train and to write to tell you, which +would have spoilt the fun. So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> I got her to let me '('to <i>let</i> you +indeed, Miss Taisy,' thought I to myself, though I did not say so; 'I +know better. You said sweetly, "Granny, dear, I just must;" and she +said, "Well, well, my darling, if you must, you must, I suppose")—'to +let me come to Wetherford this morning with her maid, and to meet old +Dawson' (the driver) 'there, and come on as you see. I had hard work to +find room for myself inside, and I did begin to think we should never +get here! But the evenings are long now, and it's been a lovely day; +everything's dry and ready—bedding and all. There'll be plenty of time +to unpack, and Dawson is to stay the night at Kirke, and ride home on +one horse, leading the other.'</p> + +<p>'And leaving the waggon,' I said, rather stupidly I must own; I think I +was really feeling rather bewildered with the excitement and laughing +and Taisy's flow of explanation.</p> + +<p>She burst out laughing again at this.</p> + +<p>'Of course,' she said. 'If I didn't keep my house, I might as well go +back again. But do let us hurry on to tell auntie all about it.'</p> + +<p>I think in her heart of hearts poor Taisy was feeling a tiny atom +anxious as to what mamma would think of it all. But she need not have +done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> Mamma understood her so well and trusted her good sense as well +as her affection, in spite of dear Taisy's <i>rather</i> wild ways sometimes.</p> + +<p>She—mamma, I mean—was sitting quietly where we had left her, reading, +in the new chair. And it was nice to see the bright look of pleasure +which came over her face when she realised that it was Taisy, really +Taisy, and not an 'optical illusion,' who stood before her and then +hugged and kissed her as no illusion could have done.</p> + +<p>'But, my child,' said she, 'where——'</p> + +<p>'Where are you going to put me?' interrupted our new guest; 'look, +auntie, look up and see,' and she pointed to the van, which was just +coming in sight again. 'I have brought my house with me.'</p> + +<p>Mamma's face looked completely puzzled now.</p> + +<p>'I will explain,' Theresa went on, and indeed George and I wanted this +part of it explained as much as mamma did. 'That lovely old thing that's +lumbering along is Granny's discarded luggage-waggonette. It hasn't been +used for centuries; it is really a small omnibus more than a waggonette. +I ferreted it out in one of the coach-houses, where I was poking about +with a vague idea that I might find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> something of the kind to make it +possible for me to come to you after all. And I got the coachman to help +me. We had it thoroughly dried and aired, and the seats at one side +taken out—and a friend of the coachman's, who is a clever carpenter, +has fitted it up. You will see. There is a table that slips down when +not wanted, and a frame in one corner to hold a basin and ewer, and +hooks for hanging things, and a tray like a deep drawer under the seat +that's to be the bed. Oh, it's lovely! and really as good as a cabin on +board ship,' and Taisy stopped to take breath.</p> + +<p>'And did Aunt Emmeline know about it?' asked mamma.</p> + +<p>'She gave me leave to do what I liked with the old thing,' said Taisy; +adding candidly, 'I did not tell her <i>what</i> I was doing till it was all +ready. She thought I was fixing it up for photographing, I think. But in +the end she was nearly as excited about it as I was, and she gave me all +sorts of things—blankets and pillows and crockery and little curtains. +It's just stuffed with things—inside and out—though I brought as few +personal things—clothes, I mean—as possible, for I don't want to crowd +<i>you</i> up, you see. I shall have room for everything when it's all +unpacked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> you will see,' she added, with a touch of apology in her +voice.</p> + +<p>'Dearest child,' said mamma, 'as if we would mind that, if <i>you</i> were +comfortable.'</p> + +<p>Taisy's eyes beamed.</p> + +<p>'Comfortable,' she repeated; 'that is no word for what I am going to +be.'</p> + +<p>'And how long may you stay?' asked Geordie.</p> + +<p>'As long as you like to have me,' was the reply. 'Granny is expecting +her old friend to-morrow, and I <i>know</i> they will be much happier without +me. I have a letter from Granny for you, auntie, explaining her plans. +But there's no hurry about that. I want to begin unpacking. And what a +lovely arrangement all this is!' she went on admiringly, touching the +arm of mamma's chair as she spoke, 'nearly as beautiful as my waggon!'</p> + +<p>Then the history of Miss Trevor's present had to be related, and all its +wonderful perfections exhibited. And then Hoskins appeared with a cup of +fresh tea for Miss Theresa, which she offered with a face all over +smiles, for Taisy was a great favourite of hers. And 'Miss Theresa' +drank the tea, and devoured bread and butter and cake in a most +gratifying way; and then she <i>had</i> to run<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> through the Hut, and see all +that we had done to it.</p> + +<p>So that, after all, it was rather late before we got to the unpacking of +the waggon, though Hoskins and Margery and Dawson had already done a +good deal.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> + +<h3>'THE KIND SEA, TOO, AUNTIE DEAR'</h3> + +<p>We <i>did</i> get everything unpacked that night, but only in a +rough-and-ready way. We should have liked to go on till midnight or +later even, working by moonlight, for it was full moon and very clear +weather just then, but this mamma would not hear of.</p> + +<p>And Hoskins in her sensible way pointed out how much more nicely and +neatly we could finish it all by daylight with the straw and packing +cloths all tidied away, which she would 'see to' first thing in the +morning.</p> + +<p>She and mamma had already arranged for Taisy to sleep in my room that +night, by Esmé's sleeping with mamma, and by taking out the end of +Esmé's cot, to make it longer—long enough after a fashion, for <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p>How we laughed, Taisy and I, though any other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> girl would have been +tired after all she had done, and the tiresomely slow drive from +Wetherford! Mamma was obliged to knock on the—wall, I was going to +say—but of course it was not a wall, only a wooden partition, to tell +us to be quiet. I never knew any one with such spirits as Taisy—not +only high spirits, but <i>nice</i> ones, for she was never boisterous, and +she knew in a moment if you were not inclined for laughing or joking, +though her fun was always there, ready to bubble up again at the right +moment. She was full of sympathy too, in spite of her cheerfulness; no +one could possibly have called her heartless.</p> + +<p>Looking back, I can see what a <i>very</i> good thing it was for us all that +she came, even for mamma. We were in danger just then of being too much +taken up with our own little life—the life of the Hut—which is one +kind of selfishness.</p> + +<p>And dear mamma in her <i>un</i>selfishness might have got too silent about +all she was feeling; she was so afraid of making us young ones +melancholy. But I have seen her sitting or standing, when she thought we +did not notice, gazing at the sea—gazing, gazing, as if she could +scarcely bear it and yet must look at it. The cruel sea, which had taken +dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> papa so far away! On fine, sunny days I almost think somehow it +seemed worse. I know that feeling about the sea myself, as if it <i>were</i> +cruel really, below its loveliness and brilliance. And I am sure she +said something of this to Taisy, the very day after Taisy came, for I +heard <i>her</i> say, though her eyes were full of tears—</p> + +<p>'The <i>kind</i> sea, too, auntie dear, which will bring him back again.'</p> + +<p>And as for us children, it was just delightful past words to have +Theresa. We had been very happy at the Hut already, very busy and +interested, but the <i>fun</i> of the life there came with Taisy. She was +full of it, though the things we found so amusing are too trifling, even +if they would not seem really silly, to write down.</p> + +<p>The arranging of her 'house,' as she would call it, was the nicest part +of all the arranging we had had to do. We pulled it close up to one side +of one of our doors—the 'parish room' doors you understand, where there +were no windows, so that the waggon was, so to say, protected by one of +the iron walls—I don't know what else to call it, and which also gave +the advantage of a tap in the night arousing us at once, <i>in case</i> +Taisy felt frightened, which she never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> did. But the tapping was very +convenient all the same, as she could awaken me in the mornings when +they got warm enough for very early bathing, without 'disturbing the +whole house,' as Hoskins said. And I could tap to her, last thing at +night, to wish her good-night.</p> + +<p>You never saw a cosier place than we made of it; that first day after it +was all arranged, we <i>couldn't</i> leave off admiring it.</p> + +<p>There was Taisy's bed along one side, rather a narrow one of course, +though not worse than a berth at sea, and looking so bright with the +lovely scarlet blankets Lady Emmeline had given her. And in one corner a +little frame which held a ewer and basin, and in the other some hooks +for hanging things with a red curtain that drew round, and short red +curtains to the windows, and a <i>tiny</i> chest of drawers; it was really +one end of an old writing-table, or <i>secretaire</i>, to hold gloves and +pocket-handkerchiefs and belts and small things like that. Then under +the bed there was a long low trunk, what is called a cabin portmanteau, +I believe, which held Taisy's best dresses, of which she had certainly +not brought many, and hooks higher up than the hanging ones, for her +hats. You wouldn't believe, unless you have ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> been a long voyage—I +<i>have</i>, since those days—all that was got into the old omnibus, by +planning and ingenuity.</p> + +<p>Taisy was as proud of it as if she had made or built, I suppose one +should say, the whole carriage; indeed, I think we all were, once we had +got everything perfectly arranged. Mamma carried off some of her <i>most</i> +crushable things, as she said she had really some spare room in her own +cupboards or wardrobes; and I took her best hat, as it had lovely white +feathers, which it would have been a thousand pities to spoil, and which +there was plenty of space for in the big box where Esmé's and mine were. +And then Taisy declared she felt her house quite spacious.</p> + +<p>Lady Emmeline had sent several things for us, some especially for mamma +herself, which I was particularly glad of, as dear mamma, never thinking +of herself and anxious to leave the big house as pretty as usual, had +left behind some little things that I am sure she missed. And old Aunt +Emmeline and Taisy seemed to have guessed by magic what these were.</p> + +<p>'How nice!' I exclaimed, when Taisy had got them unpacked. 'This screen +is just like the one you have in the boudoir at home, and cushions—I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<i>know</i> you will be glad of some cushions, mamma, though you wouldn't +bring any with you.'</p> + +<p>'And a <i>couvre-pied</i>,' added Taisy; 'Granny was sure you hadn't got +enough "wraps." Nothing will persuade her that it is not always as cold +as winter down here.'</p> + +<p>'It is most kind of her,' said mamma; 'and I really am very, very +pleased to have these things. And—did you know, Ida?—Aunt Emmeline has +also sent us two hampers full of all manner of good things to +eat—chickens and a turkey, and a ham and pickled tongues, and I don't +know all what.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Taisy; 'nothing will persuade her either that you are +not——' She stopped suddenly and got rather red.</p> + +<p>'I know,' said mamma, laughing, 'that we are not in danger of starvation +as well as of cold. You need not mind, Taisy dear—as if <i>anything</i> +could offend us that you said or that Aunt Emmeline thought. And of +course it is true that we are anxious to spend as little as we can, +while things are so uncertain.'</p> + +<p>'And then we can't cure hams or pickle tongues like at home,' I added.</p> + +<p>So all the kind old lady's gifts were very welcome.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> I think Hoskins was +more pleased with the eatables than with anything.</p> + +<p>Things had been nice before, but after Taisy came, we really did enjoy +ourselves. She was always planning something amusing or interesting, and +mamma declared she had never heard me or Geordie laugh so much in her +life. It was very good for Geordie to be 'routed out' a little, as Taisy +said. He was inclined to be too serious and anxious, and to overwork, at +this time, because of the scholarship, and as I had put it into his +head, I was doubly glad of being helped to keep him bright and merry, +as I know he worked all the better for it. He was <i>really</i> +anxious-minded—not like Denzil, who never laughed and was as solemn as +an owl, not because <i>he</i> was anxious, but just because he was too fat +and comfortable to worry—poor old Den!—he really <i>is</i> so +good-tempered, I don't like laughing at him.</p> + +<p>It was very nice too that just about this time came the first really +long letter from papa; up to now he had written scarcely more than +scraps. And this letter was decidedly more cheerful and hopeful.</p> + +<p>He had begun to go into things thoroughly, he said, and had got very +good friends to help him, and he was beginning to think that, at worst, +it would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> turn out <i>too</i> awfully bad. And for this mamma felt very +grateful, though she had so bravely prepared for whatever might be to +come.</p> + +<p>So for a few weeks we went on very contentedly, more than that, +indeed—very brightly too. It was, for me, too delightful not to have +much governessing to do, for Taisy at once took the most of this on +herself. And I assure you, she <i>did</i> keep Miss Esmé in order.</p> + +<p>In return for this she joined me in some of my reading with mamma, and +she always has said that she learnt more in this way about some lessons +than she had ever done before. Mamma is very clever.</p> + +<p>We went on, as I said, pretty steadily like this for some weeks till +another rather big thing happened—almost as big as the 'descent of the +balloon,' which we always called Theresa's arrival.</p> + +<p>But before telling about this new event, I must relate a curious thing +that happened one day.</p> + +<p>It was one afternoon—just after tea—we were still sitting out of doors +where we had had tea—mamma in her 'boudoir,' for the days were getting +quite long, and we were specially glad to be in the open air as much as +possible, for we had had a good deal of rain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> for nearly a week—mamma +was reading, and I think I was too—when Hoskins came out of the house +looking rather 'funny'—queer, I mean, as if not quite sure if she were +vexed or not.</p> + +<p>'If you please, ma'am,' she said, 'there's a gypsy at the back door, and +I can't get her to go till she's seen you.'</p> + +<p>'A gypsy,' mamma exclaimed in great surprise; 'how has she managed to +get inside the grounds? And I did not know there were any in the +neighbourhood just now. It is so seldom they come this way too. Taisy,' +she went on, looking round, 'you might speak to her for me and ask what +she wants.'</p> + +<p>But Taisy was not there.</p> + +<p>'Miss Theresa has gone into the woods, I think,' said Hoskins; 'I heard +her calling to Miss Esmé just after tea-time.'</p> + +<p>Mamma and I had not noticed the others going; our books must have been +interesting, and time passes quickly in such a case.</p> + +<p>'How did the gypsy get through the lodge gates?' mamma repeated.</p> + +<p>'That's what I asked her first thing,' Hoskins answered; 'but she did +not answer very distinctly. She says she has come a good bit out of her +way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> see you—there are not any camping about near here. She has a +boy with her—perhaps she wants something for him—quite a little +fellow. She's a pleasant, civil-spoken woman—indeed, gypsies generally +are if they want to get something out of you.'</p> + +<p>'Like most people, I am afraid,' said mamma, smiling as she reluctantly +prepared to move. 'Perhaps I had better speak to her; it would not do to +have her lurking about all night. They are queer people—I should not +like to rouse any ill-feeling in a gypsy.'</p> + +<p>'Mayn't I come with you, mamma?' I said. 'I have never spoken to a real +gypsy.'</p> + +<p>Mamma looked at me rather doubtfully.</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' she said; 'but I don't want her to tell your fortune or +anything of that kind, Ida, so do not encourage her if she begins about +it.'</p> + +<p>We made our way through the Hut, followed by Hoskins, to the door at the +back, where, as she had said, the strange visitor was standing—Margery, +who was washing up (I never saw Margery <i>not</i> washing up, by the bye), +was also keeping an eye on the woman, though I could see by the movement +of her shoulders that she was giggling.</p> + +<p>Mamma went forward.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>'What do you want to see me for?' she said gently but rather coldly.</p> + +<p>The woman lifted her face—she was not quite as tall as mamma, and +looked at her closely, but not rudely. She was older than I had somehow +expected. Her skin was very brown, her hair jet-black, her eyes not +<i>quite</i> as dark as one imagines a gypsy's must be; I thought to myself +that perhaps the very tanned complexion made them seem lighter. She was +wrinkled and weather-beaten, but not by any means ugly, though not +beautiful, except her teeth, which were extremely white and even.</p> + +<p>'Yes, my lady,' she said, 'I did want to see you. I have come far to do +so.'</p> + +<p>Her accent was peculiar, her voice low, and she talked slowly, almost as +if using a foreign language.</p> + +<p>'How did you get through the gates?' mamma asked.</p> + +<p>The answer was a shake of the head.</p> + +<p>'I have not passed through them—not to-day,' she said. 'There are +ways—when one is in earnest.'</p> + +<p>'I hope you have not broken through the hedges, or over the walls,' said +mamma, rather uneasily.</p> + +<p>Another shake of the head.</p> + +<p>'No, no—have no fear; I have done no harm,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> was the reply, and somehow +mamma seemed as if she did not like to say any more about it.</p> + +<p>'But what do you want to see me for?' she repeated. 'Has it anything to +do with the boy? Is he your son, or your grandson?' and she glanced at +the little fellow beside the gypsy. A very little fellow he was—dark +too, very dark-skinned and grave and rather frightened-looking. He stood +there with his eyes cast down, a shock of black hair tumbling over his +forehead, so that it was difficult to distinguish the upper part of his +face.</p> + +<p>Mamma looked at him curiously—afterwards she told me she felt sorry for +him, and wondered if the woman was good to him. She—the woman—glanced +at him and said something rather sharply in a queer-sounding language, +on which the little fellow gave a sort of tug to his cap, though without +actually taking it off—meant, of course, for politeness. But he never +spoke the whole time they were there.</p> + +<p>'No, my lady,' the woman replied, turning again to mamma,—'no, I have +no favour to ask for the child. He is not my son—nor my grandson,' and +here she smiled, showing her white teeth; 'I am not quite old enough for +that, though I may look it. I wanted to see you for a reason of my +own—to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> you no harm, you may be sure. And one day you will know the +reason. But now,' and she held out her hand, 'you will let me tell your +lines? Not much, nor far—I would not ask it. Just a little, and mostly +of the past.'</p> + +<p>Mamma shook her head.</p> + +<p>'Then the young lady's?' said the gypsy, looking at me. Mamma shook her +head still more decidedly.</p> + +<p>'No, no,' she said; 'I would rather you told mine than hers. Such things +make young people fanciful.'</p> + +<p>'Then your own, my lady,' said the woman, and again she held out her +hand persuasively,—'just a little.'</p> + +<p>I drew nearer.</p> + +<p>'Do, mamma,' I whispered; 'she may be offended if you don't.'</p> + +<p>Mamma laughed, and held out her right hand.</p> + +<p>'Cross it with silver,' said the woman, simply but gravely, as if she +were issuing a command. I had my purse in my pocket, and drew it out.</p> + +<p>'Give her a shilling,' said mamma. I did so.</p> + +<p>Then the gypsy bent over mamma's hand, studying it closely and murmuring +to herself.</p> + +<p>'The other too,' she then said, without looking up.</p> + +<p>Mamma gave it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes,' said the gypsy, almost as if speaking to herself,—'yes—you have +come through some dangers—water was the worst, but that was long ago. +Now water has robbed you of your dearest, but only for a time. It will +restore what it has carried away. And you will be happy. You have a +brave heart. Strange things have happened of late to you. You have with +you an unexpected visitor. And you are going to have another unexpected +visit—a shorter one. Show kindness to your guest; it is always well to +do so, though you may not care to receive a stranger. And——'</p> + +<p>'No,' said mamma,—'no, my good woman. I really don't want to hear any +more. It is getting late, and you say you have come far and this little +fellow will be tired. You had better go,'—she drew away her hand as she +spoke, though quite gently.</p> + +<p>'Very well, my lady,' said the woman, without persisting further; 'and I +thank you for your courtesy.'</p> + +<p>'Shall I send some one to see you through the lodge gates?' said mamma; +but the woman shook her head.</p> + +<p>'There is no need,' she said. 'I shall not pass that way,' and she +walked off quietly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hoskins came forward and stood beside us.</p> + +<p>'I declare,' she said, 'she is going by the shore! What a round to get +to the high road!'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps she is going to meet a boat,' I said. For there were little +coves farther on, from where boats were easily launched, and whence an +hour or so's rowing would bring them to a small fishing village called +Brigsea.</p> + +<p>'Very likely,' said mamma; 'that is a good idea and explains the +mystery. But she was a queer woman all the same,' and mamma seemed a +tiny bit upset.</p> + +<p>'She only told you good things, though,' I said. 'I do wonder how she +knew about your escape from a great danger by water, long ago.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said mamma. 'It is very strange how they know things.'</p> + +<p>'And about our unexpected visitor,' I went on; 'that meant Taisy, of +course. But I wonder who the new one coming can be?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, nobody, I daresay,' said mamma. 'Visitors and letters coming are +one of their stock prophecies. Still she did not strike me as quite a +commonplace gypsy. I wish Taisy had been here to see her too. Where can +they all be, I wonder?'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>We were not kept uncertain very long. We heard a whoop, followed by the +appearance of the two boys, who told us that Taisy and Esmé were coming +directly.</p> + +<p>'We've all been in the wood,' said Geordie.</p> + +<p>'I wish you had been here,' I said. 'There's been a gypsy at the back +door,' and I went on to tell him of our strange visitor and what she had +said.</p> + +<p>Geordie whistled.</p> + +<p>'I should have liked to talk to her,' he remarked. 'Did she say how she +got into the grounds?'</p> + +<p>I shook my head.</p> + +<p>'No,' I replied. 'She was very mysterious about it, but she went away in +the direction of the shore, so she prob——'</p> + +<p>I was interrupted by another whoop, and in a moment or two up came Taisy +and Esmé, looking very hot and untidy, but very eager to hear all +details of our rather uncanny visitor, as soon as the word 'gypsy' had +caught their ears.</p> + +<p>And we talked so much about her that at last mamma said we had really +better change the subject, or she would begin to wish she had not agreed +to see the woman.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>'You will all be dreaming about her and fancying she knew much more than +she did,' mamma added; and though she smiled and did not seem at all +vexed, I somehow felt that she rather wished the gypsy had not come. One +little thing which she said helped to explain this.</p> + +<p>'I cannot get the small boy out of my mind,' it was. 'She spoke sharply +to him, and he seemed frightened. I do hope she is not unkind to him.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no,' I said; 'she had not an unkind face at all, though there was +something rather—<i>odd</i>—about it, besides her being a gypsy.'</p> + +<p>Taisy laughed, and stroked mamma's arm.</p> + +<p>'I should think it <i>most</i> unlikely she is unkind to the child,' she +said, 'though he is not her son—or grandson! Dear auntie, you are too +tender-hearted.'</p> + +<p>Just then I heard a sort of giggle from Esmé, who, for a wonder, was +sitting quietly with a book in a corner. I felt vexed with her.</p> + +<p>'Esmé,' I whispered, 'it's very rude to laugh at anything Taisy says to +mamma.'</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h2> + +<h3>'IT'S ANOTHER SNAIL'</h3> + +<p>It was the next morning at breakfast that another strange thing +happened. It was when the letters came.</p> + +<p>We did not get them quite so early as at home, for it would have brought +the postman a good deal out of his way to come down to the Hut, so it +had been arranged for him to leave them at the lodge, and for them to be +sent on from there.</p> + +<p>This morning there were only two: one for mamma—a long one, it seemed, +but not a foreign one, as I saw by a glance at the thick paper while she +was reading it. But I had not noticed anything about Taisy's, and when a +queer kind of little gasp made me look round at her, my first thought +was that there was bad news of papa, which some one had somehow sent +first to her—Taisy—for her to 'break it,' as they say, to mamma.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>And my heart began to beat furiously, and no wonder, I think, for Taisy +was as white as the tablecloth, and was evidently on the point of +bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>'Taisy, Taisy,' I whispered. Luckily she was sitting next me, so that I +could speak to her in a low voice without being overheard. 'Is it—oh, +is it, anything wrong with papa?' and I felt myself clasping my hands +together under the table in an agony of terror.</p> + +<p><i>My</i> face brought back Taisy's presence of mind.</p> + +<p>'No, no,' she said. 'Nothing of that kind—nothing wrong really. I know +I am very silly,' and already the colour was coming back to her cheeks, +for she was not a nervous or delicate girl at all. 'It is only—oh, I +must tell auntie first, and then you will understand the sort of fright +I got.'</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly, for just then mamma looked up from her letter and +spoke to Taisy. She was smiling a little, which made me feel all the +more puzzled as to what was the matter with Taisy when I heard her reply +to mamma's question, 'Have you too a letter from your grandmother?' +'Yes, auntie,' as if the two words were all she could force herself to +say.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Still, mamma did not notice her peculiar manner. She herself turned +again to her letter.</p> + +<p>'I must say my respect for our gypsy has risen,' she remarked, 'though I +suppose it is really only a rather odd coincidence.'</p> + +<p>At this Taisy's colour changed again and her lips began to quiver. And, +happening to glance across the table, I saw that Esmé's mouth was wide +open, and that she was staring gravely at Taisy, in a way quite unusual +with her. I could not make it out at all.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was over by this time. Mamma turned to the children.</p> + +<p>'Run off, dears, but don't be very long. You have just time for a little +blow before Taisy and Ida are ready for lessons.'</p> + +<p>'But, mamma,' began Esmé, 'I want to speak to Taisy first.'</p> + +<p>'No "buts," Esmé,' said mamma decidedly. We were well used to them. +'Taisy won't be ready to speak to you just yet. Run off at——' she had +not time to finish the sentence before she at last noticed Taisy; the +tears were really starting by now, and her breath came in little chokes. +'Go, children,' mamma repeated, looking startled, 'and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> Geordie, dear, +you had better be getting ready for Kirke.'</p> + +<p>Geordie, big boy as he was, was very obedient. He got up, first catching +hold of Denzil by his sailor collar, to make him hurry up. +He—George—must have been as puzzled as any one, for he had no idea of +course what the letters contained. But he contented himself with a kind +of reassuring nod to Taisy as he left the room, and a sign to me as he +gave a little gesture of the hand in her direction, as much as to say, +'Be good to her, Ida.'</p> + +<p>Then Taisy broke down and fairly sobbed. Mamma got up and came round to +her.</p> + +<p>'My dearest child,' she said, 'what <i>is</i> the matter? It has something to +do with your grandmother's letter, I can see. Do you dislike this +boy—what is his name—oh yes, Rolf—Rolf Dacre—that she writes about?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, no, indeed. He is a very nice boy, as nice as he can be,' Taisy +replied, amidst her tears. 'It isn't that at all. It's—it's about the +gypsy—the saying it like a prophecy—it wasn't right. I—I shouldn't +have done it, but I thought it was no harm, only fun;' and she began +sobbing again.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two mamma and I stared at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> each other, as if we thought +Taisy was losing her wits. Then gradually light began to break in upon +us.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> shouldn't have done it," you say, dear,' mamma repeated. 'Do you +mean—can you mean——'</p> + +<p>Taisy nodded.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' she said; 'you have guessed it, I see. But please do not be angry +with me. I meant no harm.'</p> + +<p>'Then <i>you</i> were the gypsy,' mamma exclaimed, as if she could scarcely +believe it.</p> + +<p>'And,' I added, 'the little boy was—oh, he was Esmé, I suppose. That +was why she was looking so queer at breakfast.'</p> + +<p>'Was she?' said Taisy, 'I didn't notice. Yes, she was the little boy. I +did not mean to mix her up in it, but she came poking about when the +boys were helping me to dress up, and we thought the best way to keep +her quiet was for her to join in it. But, auntie—I was going to tell +you all about it to-day—you believe me, don't you?' and she lifted such +an appealing, tear-stained face to mamma, that mamma could not help +patting it reassuringly and kissing her.</p> + +<p>'It was very cleverly done—very,' she said. 'And I see no harm in a +little trick of the kind if not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> carried too far. The only thing is—Why +did you not unmask yourself at once? Perhaps—for Esmé's sake—it would +have been better not to keep up the mystification so long.'</p> + +<p>'I know,' said Taisy, calmer now, but speaking very humbly, 'that is +what I did wrong. It might have led to her telling what was untrue. Last +night when you were pitying the child—who was <i>not</i> my son or +grandson'—and here Taisy's sunny nature broke out again in one of her +own merry laughs—'I could <i>scarcely</i> keep it in.'</p> + +<p>'But why did you, then?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Oh, that is what I wanted to explain! I had a sort of wager with +Geordie. He said I might take you both in <i>once</i>, but certainly not +twice, and he dared me to try it. So I made a second plan. I was coming +again to-day—quite differently—dressed like a rather old-maidish lady, +who wanted to know if you would let her have rooms here, as the sea-air +and pine-wood air would be so good for her. I meant to have made her +very pertinacious, and very funny, and I wanted you to get quite cross +with her, auntie dear,' and Taisy could not help a little sigh of +regret. 'That was why the gypsy foretold that you were going to have +another unexpected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> visitor. I wasn't quite happy about it. When I woke +in the night, I felt as if I was carrying the trick too far, as you say. +And then when I got Granny's letter about another <i>real</i> visitor, all of +a sudden I felt so frightened—as if my joke had been turned into +earnest as a punishment for my—my daring to predict anything.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I understand,' said mamma; 'but do not get exaggerated about it.'</p> + +<p>Then she was silent for a moment or two and seemed to be thinking it +over.</p> + +<p>'Was Esmé to have come again?' I asked.</p> + +<p>Taisy shook her head.</p> + +<p>'Oh no—it was on condition of her keeping quite out of the way the +second time—for of course she would have begun giggling if she had seen +me, and spoilt it all—that I let her act the gypsy boy.'</p> + +<p>'I think,' said mamma, 'that I must unconsciously have recognised +something about her—that it was some feeling of that kind that made me +so sorry for the boy. But about the whole affair—well, yes, Taisy dear. +Perhaps it was scarcely right—not <i>quite</i> respectful to one so much +older than you as I am to let it go on so long. And not quite a good +thing for Esmé.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I know—I see,' said Taisy very penitently.</p> + +<p>'But,' mamma continued, 'don't exaggerate it now. I will—and you will +help me to do so—put it all right by a little explanation to Esmé. And +don't get it into your head that the coincidence of a real visitor being +proposed to us is in any way a "punishment" to you for your piece of +fun, though I can understand your feeling startled.'</p> + +<p>'Oh!' exclaimed Taisy, 'I shall never forget what I felt when I opened +Granny's letter and saw what it was about.'</p> + +<p>'Then,' said mamma, 'you had no sort of idea that the thing was the +least possible?'</p> + +<p>'Not the very slightest,' Taisy replied. 'You see it has happened +unexpectedly to every one.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said mamma, glancing again at her letter; 'but you know Rolf?'</p> + +<p>'I have not seen him for more than a year,' said Taisy. 'He spent one or +two short holidays with us when his aunt, Miss Merry, was with Granny. +He is a very nice boy. I am sure George would like him, though he is two +years or so older than Dods.'</p> + +<p>I was growing rather impatient by this time to hear all about the +contents of the letters which had caused such a sensation.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Do tell me about it, mamma,' I said. 'Is it some one else coming to +stay with us? Where <i>could</i> we put any one?'</p> + +<p>Taisy began to laugh.</p> + +<p>'That's the fun of it,' she said. 'It's another snail—some one who will +bring his house with him!'</p> + +<p>Mamma laughed too, but I could see that she was thinking over the new +proposal, whatever it was, rather seriously. Then between them they told +me all about it.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Aunt Emmeline's friend, Miss Merry, had a nephew, the +son of a sister, much, much younger than herself, who had died some +years ago. The boy's father was in India, so he sometimes, though not +always, spent his holidays with his aunt. And this spring something had +happened—I forget what exactly—illness at his school, or his leaving +school for some reason, sooner than had been expected—which left him +with nowhere to go to for some time.</p> + +<p>'As ill-luck would have it,' Lady Emmeline wrote to mother, 'just as +Taisy had gone to you, and Bertha Merry and I were settled cosily +together, down comes this thunderbolt in the shape of a great +hobbledehoy of a boy, who would be utterly out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> his element with two +elderly ladies and sure to get into mischief. Not that he is not a nice +fellow and a good boy—I know him to be both, otherwise I would +certainly not propose what I am going to do.'</p> + +<p>And this was the proposal which she had written about—she or Miss +Merry, or both perhaps—to Taisy too—that Rolf should come to us at the +Hut, and join Geordie, if possible, in his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and +be just one of the family for the time. <i>He</i> would be as happy as a boy +could be; of that his aunt was sure, and would do anything in his power, +like a big brother, to help mamma with the younger ones. But the fun of +the thing was, that he would bring his room with him! There would be no +difficulty about the expense of it. His father was rich and Rolf an only +child, and his aunt was free to spend whatever she thought right upon +him, and being a very energetic little woman, as I think many old maids +are, she had already written to some place where such things were to be +got, to get sizes and prices and everything required for a neat little +iron room, fitted up as a bedroom; and if mamma was so very, very kind +as to agree to take him in, Rolf would be ready to come the very next +week.</p> + +<p>Of course we talked it over a lot. It had to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> considered if Hoskins +and Margery could manage another guest, and we were almost surprised to +find how pleased Hoskins was about it. 'Miss Theresa,' she said, 'was +such a help; there had not seemed half so much to do since she came. And +the weather was getting so nice and mild, we would scarcely need fires +at all soon, except perhaps 'a little bit, of an evening in the +drawing-room.' And it would be such a good thing for Master George to +have a companion a little older than himself before going to school, +which mamma in her own mind had already thought the same about.</p> + +<p>I never knew Hoskins quite so cheery about anything. I think the truth +was, that she had thoroughly enjoyed the gypsy mystification which had +been confided to her. And I believe, at the bottom of her heart, she +thought that somehow or other Taisy had had a sudden gift of prediction, +and that it would be very unlucky to refuse to receive the unlooked-for +visitor.</p> + +<p>Anyhow it ended in mamma's writing to Aunt Emmeline and Miss Merry, +consenting pleasantly to Rolf's joining us, provided he promised, or +they for him, to be content with our present very simple quarters and +way of living.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>'That I am sure he will be,' said Taisy, who had quite recovered her +spirits by the time, or rather long before, the letters were written. +'Any boy would be a goose who wasn't delighted with the Hut, and Rolf is +certainly not a goose.'</p> + +<p>The only person who did not seem quite pleased about it was George. At +first I thought this very strange, as naturally you would have expected +him to be very delighted at the idea of a companion of his own standing, +so to say, which he had never had. But Dods was a queer boy in some +respects. He is less so now on the whole, though he is just as dear and +'old-fashioned,' in nice ways, as ever, and I do think the <i>right</i> ways +in which he has changed are a good deal thanks to Rolf.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Geordie was a little jealous of him before he came, without +knowing it. It was not unnatural, considering everything. Poor old Dods, +you see, had been left by papa in his own place, as the 'man' of the +party, and we had all got into the habit of looking to him and even +asking his opinion as if he were much older than he really was. And then +he was so devoted to Taisy; he looked upon himself as a sort of knight +to her, I do believe, for down below his matter-of-factness and +practicalness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> I know now that there is a good deal of romance, and +what I can only call poeticalness in dear Geordie, so that the idea of a +big, handsome, rather dashing fellow coming to take place above him must +have been rather trying.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the day Rolf arrived. I had been feeling sorry for +Geordie, as I had begun to understand his rather disagreeable manner +about Rolf, and yet provoked with him too. I did not see after all, I +thought to myself, why he should mind Rolf's coming, any more than I +minded Taisy. For though Taisy was our own cousin and we loved her +dearly, she could not but take a <i>little</i> the place of eldest daughter +with mamma, and if she had not been so sweet, it might have been +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>And after all, Rolf was a stranger—and only to be with us a short time. +There was far less chance of his really interfering with Geordie's own +place.</p> + +<p>These things however are not often set straight by reasoning about them.</p> + +<p>It is the people themselves—their characters and ways and +feelings—that put it all right if it is to be put right.</p> + +<p>And just as Taisy's brightness and unselfishness and simpleness—I can't +find a better word—kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> away any possibility of jealousy of her on my +own part, so it was with Rolf. He and she were no sort of relation to +each other, and yet in some ways they were very alike. I never did know, +and I am sure I never shall know, any one with such a thoroughly +straightforward, unfanciful, and yet very loving and sympathising heart +as Rolf. When I think—but no, I must not allude to that yet—I could +scarcely bear to write of these past happy days if I did.</p> + +<p>But I am wandering away from the day of Rolf's arrival. It was not of +course a 'balloon surprise,' as Dods called Taisy's shooting down upon +us as she had done, for we knew exactly what train he was coming by, and +everything. And it was not so like a 'snail's visit,' which was Taisy's +own name for hers, as in this case the house came before the snail—the +day before.</p> + +<p>It was a different kind of thing from the parish room—that very +substantial affair. This was more like a strong, stout kind of +tent—only it did not go up to a quite small point at the top, as I had +imagined all tents do. But it was partly made of stretched canvas, with +iron rods and bars, and the men who put it up told us it was fireproof +as well as waterproof,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> which mamma was very glad to hear, especially +when she saw that a small stove was among the furnishings that came with +it.</p> + +<p>George was very pleased to find that the men from Kirke who had received +full directions about it all, from the makers, had instructions to set +it up wherever we thought best. It almost reconciled him, I could see, +to the idea of the stranger boy's visit—even to being pleased at it.</p> + +<p>And we three—Taisy and Geordie and I—were not long in finding the best +place for the new addition to our encampment. We made it a sort of +match, on the other side, to Taisy's waggon, though, as it was much +prettier to look at, it was placed so that a bit of it showed from the +front of the house in a rather picturesque way.</p> + +<p>Inside it really was awfully nice when we got the things unpacked. There +was everything that could be wanted for camping out, for I don't think +the people had understood that only an additional bedroom was required. +They had even sent pots and pans and things like that for cooking, if +required, on the stove.</p> + +<p>'All the better,' said Hoskins, whose face grew beamier and beamier with +every article that appeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> 'I shall not be put about now if anything +goes wrong with the kitchen fire, as has been at the back of my mind now +and then. Master Dacre, by what Miss Theresa says, isn't one to grumble +if we had to do a bit of cooking in his room, once in a way.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed,' said Taisy laughing; 'he'd think it the best of fun and be +quite ready to act kitchen-maid.'</p> + +<p>She declared she was getting quite jealous, as all the perfectly new and +fresh furniture and fittings were set in their places, for of course her +waggon had been provided with what she required in rather a makeshift +way. There were tables and chairs and hanging presses and bookshelves +all made to fold up into next to no compass; a squashy bath, which I did +<i>not</i> envy, as I was sure it would topple over and all the water be +spilt. And there was a lovely red carpet, or strips of it, so thick and +firm, which I <i>did</i> envy, as what we had in our rooms was rather shabby, +and two or three rugs, which, by the bye, soon found their way to the +inside of the Hut, when Rolf discovered that we liked them, declaring +that they were always kicking about in his way.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said mamma, when we summoned her to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> see and admire, 'it is +wonderfully nice. And I am glad it has all come the day before. It makes +it seem more like Rolf's being our guest, that his room should be all +ready to receive him.'</p> + +<p>Then Esmé made us laugh. She had been standing gazing at it all with her +mouth wide open, as was her way when very much interested or very +admiring. And then she said, solemnly for once—</p> + +<p>'He must be very—termenjously rich!'</p> + +<p>After all, something of a surprise <i>did</i> come with Rolf, which I must +now tell about.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> + +<h3>'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF</h3> + +<p>We <i>heard</i> it—the surprise I mean—almost before we heard the wheels of +the fly from Kirke, bringing the visitor that <i>was</i> expected. For the +drive from the lodge is on well-rolled gravel, and as there had been a +few showers lately, it was soft, and you scarcely hear a carriage coming +in that case.</p> + +<p>But what we did hear, as we stood about waiting to welcome Rolf +cordially, was a sharp, clear little voice, not talking, but—barking, +and then, almost at the same moment, we caught sight of the fly, as it +reached the turn at which anything coming up the drive could be seen +from the Hut.</p> + +<p>'I do believe,' I exclaimed, turning to Taisy,—'I do believe he has got +a dog!'</p> + +<p>Taisy shook her head.</p> + +<p>'I don't know of it if he has,' she said; 'and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> don't think he would +have brought one without asking if he might.'</p> + +<p>Taisy looked a little frightened. She felt somehow as if she were rather +responsible for Rolf, especially on account of the gypsy affair!</p> + +<p>'It may be a dog belonging to the flyman,' I went on; 'though in that +case it would probably be running alongside, and it doesn't sound as if +it were.'</p> + +<p>Our doubts were soon set at rest.</p> + +<p>When the fly drew up, not at the front—there was no place for carriages +there, but on a piece of level ground a little towards the back on one +side—out sprang our visitor—a tall, fair boy, a good bit taller than +Geordie, with nice blue eyes and a very sunny look about him, +altogether. And—in his arms he held—as if very much afraid of losing +it—the dearest, duckiest, little rough-haired terrier you ever saw!</p> + +<p>Rolf—for of course it was Rolf—looking just a trifle shy, for which +we—Geordie and I—liked him all the better—turned at once to Taisy, as +if to a sort of protector. But he could not hold out his hand, as it was +all he could do with both hands to keep the frightened doggie from +escaping there and then from his grasp.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>'How funny!' I thought. 'Why doesn't he let him go? He wouldn't want to +run away from his own master!'</p> + +<p>'I can't shake hands, Taisy—but how are you?' Rolf by this time was +saying: 'Will you introduce me to your cousins? This little beggar—I +declare he's as slippery as an eel, in spite of his coat.'</p> + +<p>We needed no introduction—we all pressed round him to look at the +terrier.</p> + +<p>'Is he so nervous?' said Taisy. 'Has the railway frightened him?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, I don't think so. He was just as bad before we got into the +train. It's just strangeness' was the rather puzzling reply.</p> + +<p>'"Strangeness,"' Taisy repeated, while Geordie and I looked up in +surprise,—'strangeness, with his own master holding him?'</p> + +<p>Rolf gave a funny little laugh, and grew rather red.</p> + +<p>'Oh, but,' he said, 'you see, he doesn't know I'm his master, and I +don't want him to. It isn't worth while. I—I only bought him this +morning from the keeper at Millings—you know Millings?'—Taisy nodded; +it was a place near Lady Emmeline's. 'I asked him to be on the lookout +for one as soon as I knew about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> coming here. I thought he'd suit Miss +Lanark, as you once said something about her wanting a really nice +little dog,' and he smiled at me in his frank, boyish way.</p> + +<p>It was quite true! Rolf must have a good memory, for it was fully six +months ago that I had once said in writing to Taisy that papa had given +me leave to have a dog of my very own if I could get a good-tempered, +well-bred one, and that she must let me know if she came across a +personage of the kind. For, though it seems odd that, living in the +country, we had never had a pet of the kind, it was the case. I think +papa and mamma had rather discouraged it, till we were old enough to +treat a dog well and not to risk being ill-treated by him!</p> + +<p>Since getting papa's leave to have one of my own I had almost forgotten +about it, so many important things and changes had happened.</p> + +<p>But for a moment or two I forgot everything but my delight. The wee +doggie was so sweet—so just exactly what I had pictured to myself as +the perfection of a pet.</p> + +<p>'Oh, thank you, thank you!' I exclaimed, holding out my arms, in which +Rolf carefully deposited the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> little creature, not very sorry, I fancy, +at the bottom of his heart to make him over to me, for he must have been +rather a tiresome travelling companion.</p> + +<p>'He's a young dog, but full-grown,' Rolf said; 'and very affectionate +and good-tempered. I made sure of that. And he's really a lady's +dog—his mother belonged to a lady near Millings, and that has been his +home. She only sold him because she couldn't keep so many. He's a bit +timid, they say, or rather nervous—but plucky too; if any one tried to +hurt you he'd go for them, the keeper said. But it may take him a day or +two to settle down.'</p> + +<p>It scarcely looked like it—already the little round, rough head was +nestling against me, and the nice little cold, black nose rubbing my +fingers approvingly, while Taisy and George pressed up to me to see him.</p> + +<p>'What's his name, Rolf?' asked the former. Geordie did not speak; I +think for a minute or two he was feeling just a little jealous—or +envious rather of Rolf—as <i>he</i> had not been able to give me a dog, when +he saw how delighted I was. But he was too good and unselfish to let +this feeling last, and when the terrier gave him a friendly lick in +return for a patronising little pat, Dods's kind heart was completely +won.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>'His name,' Rolf repeated thoughtfully; 'I'm afraid I forgot to ask. But +he'll soon get used to any name. It's often more the tone than the +actual sound that a dog notices.'</p> + +<p>'I know,' said Taisy in her quick way; 'call him "Rough." It's not very +uncommon perhaps, but it would suit him—his coat—so well, and it is +rather like "Rolf" too.'</p> + +<p>We had just decided this when mamma's voice, coming towards us from the +Hut, made us turn round.</p> + +<p>'What are you all about?' she asked. 'I heard the fly come some minutes +ago. Welcome to Eastercove, Rolf,' she went on, holding out her hand, +which our visitor was now able to take. 'I hope you have had a pleas—— +Oh! so you have brought your dog,' and she looked a very little +startled; 'take care, Ida. Is he quite good with strangers?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, but,' I began, and then I suddenly remembered that without mamma's +leave I had no right to accept Rolf's gift. 'He's mine—my own dog,' I +went on; 'that's to say if you will let me have him. You know papa said +I might have a dog,' I added pleadingly; 'though of course it is +different now. And he is quite good-tempered and gentle.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes,' Rolf repeated; 'I made sure of that.'</p> + +<p>They were the first words mamma had heard him speak. He had not had a +chance of thanking her for her 'welcome,' nor she of finishing her +sentence about his journey, so taken up had we all been by Master Rough! +But at least it had had the good effect of setting us all at our ease.</p> + +<p>Then I went on to explain about Rolf's having remembered what Taisy had +told him ever so long ago about my wish to have a dog—by the bye, it +was lucky that I had not already got one! That possibility had never +struck Rolf; he had only been turning over in his mind what he could do +to please us, whom he thought very kind to 'take him in,' and mamma +turned to him in the pretty way she does, which always makes people like +her.</p> + +<p>'It was very good of you,' she said,—'very good and thoughtful,' and +she too patted the new pet—<i>very</i> gently; mamma is a little afraid, +perhaps wisely so, of strange dogs—so that in her case he thought a wag +of his tail sufficient notice of her attention instead of a lick, for +which omission, if mamma had known of it, she would have been grateful! +'Do you think,' she went on, turning to us three, 'that among you, you +can look after him properly and prevent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> his getting into any trouble, +or straying away in the woods?'</p> + +<p>'And getting shot by mistake for a rabbit?' said Geordie. 'He is so like +one!'</p> + +<p>We all laughed at this; for nothing in dog shape, <i>little</i> dog shape, at +least, could be less like a bunny than Rough, though perhaps it was not +<i>very</i> respectful of Dods to joke at mamma's fears. But she did not +mind, and by this time we were all feeling quite at home with Rolf, and +he with us. So we went in together to tea, where he and the two little +ones had to be introduced to each other, and Rough exhibited to Denzil +and Esmé's admiring eyes. He had fallen asleep in my arms, feeling happy +and comfortable again, and probably thinking I was his old mistress +restored to him after some dreadful doggie nightmare of separation.</p> + +<p>'Mamma need not say, "<i>Among</i> you, will he be looked after?"' I thought +to myself. 'The darling will have looking after enough from his +owner—myself. I only hope the little ones won't tease him, or interfere +with him, even out of kindness.'</p> + +<p>That first evening of Rolf's visit left a very pleasant remembrance, and +it was only a beginning of many happy days.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>He seemed to bring with him just what we needed (though Taisy had done a +good deal, rather of the same kind). It prevented our getting too much +taken up with our own affairs, or becoming too 'old-fashioned,'—Geordie +and I especially—as Hoskins called it, and I don't know that there is a +better word to express what I mean.</p> + +<p>He was so thoroughly a boy, though the very nicest kind of boy—not +ashamed of being a 'gentleman,' too, in lots of little ways, which many +boys either despise, or are too awkward and shy to attend to. I don't +mean to say that he was the least bit of a prig—just the opposite. He +often forgot about wiping his feet, and was rather particularly clever +at tearing his clothes, but never forgot to open the door for mamma and +us girls, or to tug at his old straw hat or cap when he met us! Or more +important things in a sense—such as settling mamma's 'boudoir,' as we +got into the habit of calling Miss Trevor's present, in the best place; +and seeing that her letters were taken in good time to the lodge for the +postman, and things like that.</p> + +<p>And looking back upon those days now that I am so much older, I can see +that he must have had a good deal of 'tact' of the truest kind, as +mamma<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> says it really means care for other people's feelings, not to +make dear old Geordie at all jealous,—actually, indeed, to take away +the touch of it which Dods did feel at the beginning.</p> + +<p>Before a couple of days had passed, all the boys were the best of +friends. Of course, I made Rolf leave off calling me anything but 'Ida,' +and to Esmé he was quite a slave. Rather too much so. He spoilt her, and +it was the only thing Taisy and I were not quite pleased with him for, +as it did make her much more troublesome again at her lessons.</p> + +<p>But there came a day when even he got very, very vexed with Esmé. I +think I must tell the story. She won't mind even if she ever reads this, +for she is <i>much</i> more sensible now, and often says she wonders how we +all had patience with her.</p> + +<p>It had to do with Rough, my doggie.</p> + +<p>Dogs, as I daresay you, whoever you are, know, if you have had much to +do with them, are not always fond of children, or perhaps I should say, +are not fond of <i>all</i> children. They hate fidgety, teasing ones, who +will pull and pinch them for the fun of making them snap and snarl, or +who <i>won't</i> let them have a peaceful snooze on the hearthrug, if they +themselves—the tiresome children, I mean—are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> inclined for noisy +romping. If I were a dog, I should do more than snap and snarl in such a +case, I know!</p> + +<p>Esmé was not as bad as that. She was a kind-hearted little girl, and +never meant to hurt or worry any one. But she was a terrible fidget, and +very mischievous and thoughtless. It would have been better for her +perhaps to have had a rather less free life than ours at the Hut was. +There was no one whose regular business it was to look after her. Out of +lesson hours she might do pretty much as she liked. Mamma knew she would +never do anything really naughty, or that she thought so, anyway, and we +trusted a good deal to the boys, who, even little Denzil, were so +particularly steady-going, and whom she was generally with.</p> + +<p>But after Rolf came, he and George naturally went about together a good +deal, just as Taisy and I did, and I don't think any of us realised how +completely Esmé had the upper hand of Den.</p> + +<p>If I was to blame about her, by not keeping her more with Taisy and +myself, I was well punished for it by the fright she gave us, as you +will hear.</p> + +<p>It was rather a hot day for the time of year—still only spring. We four +elder ones had gone for a good long ramble in the farther off woods, +taking our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> luncheon with us, and for some reason—I think I <i>was</i>, in +my own mind, a little afraid of Rough's getting trapped or some +mischance of the kind—I had left my doggie at home, as safe as could +be, I thought, for he was under Hoskins's care, and she was nearly as +fond of him as I myself.</p> + +<p>He would have been far safer, as it turned out, if we had taken him with +us.</p> + +<p>Esmé must have been 'at a loose end' that afternoon, from what she told +me afterwards. Denzil had got some little carpentering job in hand—he +was rather clever at it, and at dinner-time, Esmé, as well as he, told +mamma about it—so she was quite happy, thinking they had got good +occupation, and that there was no fear of any 'idle hands' trouble.</p> + +<p>But Miss Esmé, as was her way, got very tired of handing Den the nails +and tools and things he wanted, and of watching his rather slow +progress, and told him she must really go for a run.</p> + +<p>'All right,' said Denzil; 'but don't go far.'</p> + +<p>He told us this part of it himself, when he came in for some blame in +having 'let' Esmé' get into mischief. This sounds rather hard upon him, +doesn't it, considering he was fully a year younger than she? but, as I +have explained, he was such a solemn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> old sober-sides, that we had all +got into the way of treating him as if he were the responsible one of +the two.</p> + +<p>'No,' Esmé replied, she would not go far; nor did she.</p> + +<p>She strolled about—I can see her now as she must have looked that +afternoon—her hands behind her back, her black legs—she was a tall +little girl for her age—showing rather long and thin beneath her big, +brown Holland overall, her garden hat tilted very much to the back, her +lovely goldy hair in a great fuzz as usual, and her bright hazel eyes +peering about for something to amuse herself with.</p> + +<p>As ill-luck would have it, she found the 'something' in the shape of my +poor darling Roughie!</p> + +<p>Hoskins had allowed him to go out with a bone to the front of the Hut, +where he was lying very comfortably in the sunshine, on a mat, which he +considered his own property. He had left off nibbling at the bone, and +was half or three-quarters asleep.</p> + +<p>Now when Esmé is—no, I must in fairness say 'was,' she is so different +now—in one of her idle yet restless humours, it irritated her somehow +to see any one else peaceful and quiet, even if the some one else was +only a dog.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>'You lazy little beggar,' she said to Rough. I don't really know that +she said those very words, but I am sure it was something of the kind, +and so I think I may 'draw on my imagination' a little in telling the +story. 'You lazy little beggar, why don't you get up and go for a run? +You are getting far too fat.'</p> + +<p>And—she told me this herself—she gave him a 'tiny' kick, not so as to +hurt him—that I quite believe, but dogs have feelings about other +things than being actually hurt in their bodies. He had been blinking up +at her good-naturedly, though he was not, as I said, very fond of her. +Nor was she of him.</p> + +<p>But now, at the kick, or 'shove,' I think she called it, he gave a +slight growl. And no wonder—it was not the sort of thing to sweeten +even a sweet-tempered dog's temper—when he was doing no harm and only +asking to be left alone in peace. Esmé, however, declared that it was +the growl that made her wish to tease him.</p> + +<p>She put her hand into the pocket of her blouse, meaning to take out her +handkerchief to 'flick' him a little and make him wake up. But in this +pocket, unluckily, besides the handkerchief were some nails and screws +and such things which she had put there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> for convenience while being +supposed to 'help' Denzil, by handing them to him as he wanted them. And +when she touched them, they rattled and jingled, thoroughly rousing poor +Roughie, who opened his eyes and growled again, this time more loudly, +and Esmé, delighted, rattled and jingled, and again he growled.</p> + +<p>Then a wicked idea came into her head.</p> + +<p>She had heard of naughty boys tormenting cats in a certain way.</p> + +<p>'It can't hurt him,' she thought; 'it will only make him run, which is +good for him.'</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 316px;"><a name="ILL_009" id="ILL_009"></a> +<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="316" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POOR LITTLE BODY.</span> +</div> + +<p>And she darted into the Hut, and through it to Rolf's tent, where, as I +said, there was a small compact cooking stove, and among the things +belonging to it a small but strong tin kettle. Esmé looked at it. I +believe she was more afraid just then of damaging the kettle than of +harming the dog!</p> + +<p>Still she lifted it and considered for a moment.</p> + +<p>'No,' she thought, 'it's quite light; it can't hurt him. And it won't +hurt <i>it</i> either. I'll only put a few nails in,' and out she ran again +to the front, where my poor pet was settling down for another nap, +hoping, no doubt, that Miss Esmé had gone for good.</p> + +<p>By ill-luck, her other pocket held a good piece of stout string. She sat +down and quietly tied up the kettle, so that the lid was secure, having +first dropped into it enough nails and screws to make a woful clatter, +but taking care that no jingle should be heard as yet. It is wonderful +how careful a careless child can be if bent on mischief!</p> + +<p>Then speaking for once most gently and caressingly to Roughie, who was +so surprised that he lay quite still, she fastened the other end of the +string to his tail, and round his poor little body too. 'I didn't want +his tail to be pulled off,' she said afterwards—fortunately, for his +tail <i>might</i> have been badly hurt.</p> + +<p>Then when all was ready, she got up cautiously, and walking away a few +steps, called Rough very sweetly. But he was rather suspicious; he first +got up and stretched himself—there was a faint jingle—poor wee man, he +looked behind him—no, Esmé was not there; he moved, more jingle and +rattle, again she called, and he, beginning to be frightened, turned +towards her, on which the cruel little thing 'shoo'ed' him away. She +described it all perfectly. And then the idea must have seized him of +escaping by flight from the unseen terror. He ran—of course the noise +got worse; he ran faster, and it grew louder—faster<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a><br /><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> still—oh, my poor +Roughie!—louder still, Esmé laughing—at <i>first</i>, that is to say—to +herself, till his doggy wits began to desert him, and a sort of +nightmare agony must have seized him.</p> + +<p>And then—too late—the naughty girl saw what she had done.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> + +<h3>'WELL—ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!'</h3> + +<p>What I described in the last chapter will explain the scene that met our +eyes, and the sounds that reached our ears, as we got near the Hut.</p> + +<p>And unluckily the 'we' did not mean only us four—the two bigger boys +and Taisy and I. For as we were passing through that part of the near +woods which skirts the Eastercove gardens—we always took care not to go +very close to the house or more private part of the grounds, as, nice as +the Trevors were, mamma said we must never risk their feeling that the +place was not quite their own for the time being—just, I say, as we +passed the nearest point to the house, we came upon them, all three of +them—Mr., Mrs., and Miss. No, I think I should say all <i>six</i> of them, +for trotting round old Mrs. Trevor's heels were of course the three +pugs. And, of course too, huddled up under one arm, was the bundle of +many-coloured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> knitting; she was working as she walked, and when she +stopped to speak to us, one or two balls rolled on to the ground, so +that before Rolf and Geordie had time to touch their caps almost, they +were both on their knees, trying to catch the truants before they rolled +farther away.</p> + +<p>'We were coming to see you all,' said Miss Trevor smiling; 'do you think +your mother is at home and disengaged?'</p> + +<p>'I think so,' I replied, and then I went on to explain that we had been +out for several hours on a private picnicking expedition of our own, and +we all joined in saying, 'Do come,' for we liked the Trevors very much, +especially Miss 'Zenia.' We were a little frightened of Mr. Trevor; he +was so tall and thin, and had the name of being tremendously learned, +but they were all very kind, though I have nothing <i>very</i> particular to +tell about them. Mrs. Trevor always made us laugh, with her dogs and her +knitting, but she <i>was</i> so good-natured.</p> + +<p>So we strolled on together, in the pleasant, still, sunshiny +afternoon—Rolf and Geordie talking to Mr. Trevor, who was not at all +'awe-inspiring' when he got on the subject of his own schooldays, for we +heard them all laughing most heartily now and then.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Taisy declared afterwards that she had picked up balls of wool at least +twenty times during that walk, as she kept beside Mrs. Trevor. And +seeing that their mistress was thus engaged, the three dogs—they were +really very well-behaved—took to following rather demurely, all three +together, while I chatted to Zenia.</p> + +<p>It was not till we were very near the Hut that any unusual sounds +reached us.</p> + +<p>I was just talking about Roughie to Miss Trevor, descanting on his +perfections, when a sort of queer yelping gasp, or gasping yelp, made us +stand still for a moment.</p> + +<p>'What can that be?' I said.</p> + +<p>'Oh, nothing,' said Miss Trevor. 'One hears all sorts of funny animal +sounds in the woods, I have learnt to know. You are rather like an +anxious mamma, Ida, who has been out and left her baby too long. For I +can see you at once think of the dear doggie,' and she laughed a little, +though of course quite kindly.</p> + +<p>I laughed too, and we walked on—we were just a few steps in front of +the others.</p> + +<p>But—again in another moment I stopped, this time holding up my hand, +and saying, 'Hush!'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then I turned, and I fancy I had grown quite white already.</p> + +<p>'Miss Trevor,' I said, 'it <i>is</i> Rough, and there must be something +dreadful the matter. Just listen.'</p> + +<p>There was the same gasping yelp, almost like a choking human cry, and +the strangest rushing and clanking, jingling sounds, all mixed together.</p> + +<p>'Was he chained up? Can he have broken loose?' said Zenia breathlessly. +'It sounds like——'</p> + +<p>'"Chained up,"' I repeated indignantly; 'my sweet little Roughie! Oh no, +no!' I cried, as I rushed off.</p> + +<p>It was rather rude, I am afraid, to repeat her words like that, but she +was far too kind to mind.</p> + +<p>'Geordie, Geordie, Rolf,' I cried, 'come quickly! There is something +dreadfully the matter with Rough.'</p> + +<p>So indeed it seemed, for the noise grew louder, and mingled with it now +were a child's calls and shrieks.</p> + +<p>'Roughie, Roughie,' I distinguished in Esmé's voice; 'darling Roughie, +come to me. Don't be so frightened, darling. I didn't mean it—oh, I +didn't mean it!'</p> + +<p>And this was what I <i>saw</i>.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Esmé, hair streaming, eyes streaming, scarlet with terror, rushing over +the ground in front and at the side of the Hut, lost to sight for a +moment among the trees, then out again, after <i>something</i>—a small, wild +animal, it seemed—that was tearing before her, evidently trying to +escape from her, or from—yes, what was that strange thing rushing after +<i>it</i>? Another still smaller wild beast of some kind, or what? No, it was +nothing alive; it was a metal thing of some kind, rattling, clanking, +jingling, and—oh, horrors!—tied to my poor pet's little body.</p> + +<p>I saw it all at once—affection quickens one's eyes, they say—I took it +all in before there was time for any explanation, though Esmé screamed +to me as she flew on: 'Oh, Ida, Ida, I didn't mean it! Stop him, stop +him!'</p> + +<p>Naughty, naughty Esmé!</p> + +<p><i>He</i> had already rushed past me—within a few yards, that is to +say—without seeing me, whom he generally caught sight of before you +could think it possible. Blinded by terror—yes, and deafened too—he +did not know I had come; he could not hear his own 'missus's' voice.</p> + +<p>And he was dreadful to look at: his tongue was hanging out; his whole +little head seemed spattered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> with foam; he was rushing like a mad +thing, even though, by the gasping sound he made, you could tell he was +exhausted, and had scarcely any breath left.</p> + +<p>No wonder that, as the boys hurried up behind me, they and Mr. +Trevor—Mr. Trevor especially—thought he <i>was</i> mad.</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevor kept his presence of mind, I must say, under what <i>he</i> +thought the dreadful circumstances. He almost pushed his mother and +sister and Taisy into the porch, and tried to push me in too. But I +evaded him.</p> + +<p>The boys and Esmé were quite out of reach—<i>they</i> were tearing after +<i>her</i>, shouting to her to 'Come back, come back!' which did not tend to +lessen the uproar. And when <i>I</i> started in pursuit, as of course I did, +it must have seemed to any one looking on as if we had all gone mad +together! Indeed, Taisy owned to me afterwards that, terrified as she +was, she had hard work to keep down her laughter, especially when she +heard me turn upon dignified Mr. Trevor, and in answer to his despotic—</p> + +<p>'Go back, Miss Lanark, go back; I insist upon it,' shout back, +'Nonsense; I will <i>not</i> go back.'</p> + +<p>And as I heard his next words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>'The dog must be shot at once. Boys, is there a gun about the place?' I +grew desperate, for I knew that there <i>was</i> a gun—Rolf's—though he and +Geordie had given their word of honour to mamma not to touch it without +leave.</p> + +<p>Then a new idea struck me. Instead of rushing round like the +others—like the boys that is to say, for by this time Esmé had dropped +in front of the porch, whence Zenia Trevor had dragged her in, and she +was now sobbing on Taisy's shoulder—instead of rushing after Roughie, I +'doubled' and <i>met</i> him, my arms outstretched, and using every endearing +and coaxing tone I could think of. And oh, the joy and relief when, +almost dead with exhaustion by now, he flew into my clasp, and, panting +and nearly choking, faintly rubbed his poor little head against me!</p> + +<p>'He knows me, he knows me!' I shouted. 'He is not a bit mad; he is only +wild with terror.'</p> + +<p>But I had some trouble to get the others to believe me; <i>their</i> fright +had only increased tenfold when they saw me catch him. In some +marvellous way Mr. Trevor had got out the gun—I have always suspected +that Taisy or Hoskins or one of them had already thought of it—and +stood within a few paces of my dog and me. But for my having him in my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +arms, he would have made an end of Roughie, and certainly I would never +have told this story.</p> + +<p>As it was, for a moment or two he—Mr. Trevor, not the poor pet—was +very angry.</p> + +<p>'Miss Lanark!' he shouted, 'you are mad yourself to touch him. Has he +bitten you?' for I was crying so by this time that I had hidden my face +in Rough's coat.</p> + +<p>'<i>Bitten</i> me!' I exclaimed, looking up and not caring if Mr. Trevor saw +my tears or not,—'<i>bitten</i> me! How can you imagine such a thing? Look +at him.'</p> + +<p>And, indeed, it was a sight to melt any heart and disarm any fears! +Roughie was lying quite still, nestling against me as close as he could +get, only quivering now and then and giving little sobbing sighs, just +as a tiny child does after some violent trouble and crying.</p> + +<p>I believe he was already asleep!</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevor approached cautiously.</p> + +<p>'He—he certainly looks all right now,' he said. 'Can it have been a fit +of some extraordinary kind, then, or what can——'</p> + +<p>'There is no mystery about it,' I said, 'except the mystery of how any +one <i>could</i> be so cruel. Didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> you hear the rattling, Mr. +Trevor—didn't you see—<i>this</i>?'</p> + +<p>And I gave a gentle tug to the string, still firmly fastened to the poor +little man; but gently as I did it, the horrid kettle and things in it +jingled slightly, and at once Roughie opened his eyes and began to +shake.</p> + +<p>I soothed him again, but Mr. Trevor did the sensible thing. He laid down +the gun, calling to the boys as they hurried up not to touch it, and +taking out his penknife cut the string, close to the kettle end first, +and then handed the knife to me, to cut the string again where it was +fastened to my dog.</p> + +<p>Rolf and Geordie could scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>'Who can have done it?' they exclaimed. '<i>Could</i> Esmé have been so——'</p> + +<p>'Cruel and naughty,' I interrupted,—'yes, I am afraid so, though I +<i>couldn't</i> have believed it of her. Geordie, pick up the kettle please, +without jingling if you can help it, and please throw away the horrid +things that are in it.'</p> + +<p>'No, no, don't throw them away!' exclaimed a newcomer on the scene. +'They're my nails and screws.'</p> + +<p>It was Denzil.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>'And my kettle,' said poor Rolf, rather dolefully, for he was proud of +his cooking stove and all its neat arrangements, and the kettle looked +nearly as miserable for a kettle as Roughie did for a little dog!</p> + +<p>I turned upon Denzil very sharply, I am afraid.</p> + +<p>'Did you know of it, then?' I said.</p> + +<p>Poor Denzil looked very frightened.</p> + +<p>'In course not, Ida,' he said. 'I came out to ask Esmé for my nails. She +had a lot of them in her blouse pockets, and she got tired of helping me +and forgot to give me them back.'</p> + +<p>'I'm very sorry,' I said. 'No, I am sure you would never do such a +thing, Den.'</p> + +<p>Then I got up, very carefully, not to disturb my poor doggie, who was +really asleep by this time, and we all—Mr. Trevor and the three boys +and I—went to the group in the porch, whose anxiety was already +relieved by seeing us more tranquil again. Taisy had been dying to rush +out to us, but Esmé, sobbing in her arms, was not easily disposed of.</p> + +<p>She—Esmé—had begun an incoherent confession of her misdoings, but now +mamma stopped it.</p> + +<p>'Is it all right?' she asked eagerly, speaking to Mr. Trevor. 'The dog +is <i>not</i> mad then? What was it?'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Trevor glanced, still a little doubtfully, at Roughie in my arms.</p> + +<p>'I—yes, I think he is all right again,' he replied. 'He certainly +recognised his mistress's voice, which is the best sign. I do not think +it was any kind of fit; it was just terror. He must be a nervous little +creature.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Rolf; 'he is awfully nervous, though he is not cowardly.'</p> + +<p>'A fine distinction, as applied to a dog,' said Mr. Trevor smiling. 'But +if—you all knew it, how——'</p> + +<p>A howl—really it was a howl—from Esmé interrupted him.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I know, I know!' she wailed. 'It was all my fault. But I only meant +to tease him and make him run. I didn't mean—oh, Ida, I didn't mean—to +make him go mad. Will you ever forgive me? Rough will never look at me +again, I know.'</p> + +<p>She was mistaken. The prettiest thing happened just then: Roughie, +placidly asleep, though giving little quivers and sobs still, was +awakened by the noise she made. He opened his eyes, and his mouth—what +Denzil called 'smiling'—a little; I think he meant to give a friendly +lick, but finding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> nothing handy for this, he contented himself with a +very cheerful tail-wagging, first glancing up at Esmé, who was bending +over him, as much as to say, 'I do forgive you heartily.'</p> + +<p>I have always said that dogs—nice dogs—are sorry for people when they +see them crying. Since that day I have been sure of it.</p> + +<p>But the first effect of Rough's magnanimity was to bring forth another +burst of sobs and tears from poor Esmé.</p> + +<p>Yes, I too forgave her from that moment.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Ida! oh, mamma! oh, everybody!' she cried, 'do forgive me! You see +<i>he</i> does.'</p> + +<p>So now we fell to petting and soothing her; it never took very long to +get up Esmé's spirits again, happily. Before bedtime, except for +reddened eyes, you would not have known there had been anything the +matter, but from that day to this Roughie has had no kinder or truer +friend than her.</p> + +<p>We were all feeling rather overstrained. Mr. Trevor, I <i>fancy</i>, a little +ashamed of the great fuss he had made, though perhaps I should scarcely +speak of it like that, and I think we all felt glad when mamma said +brightly—</p> + +<p>'Well—all is well that ends well! Will you join<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> us at our schoolroom +tea and forgive its being rather a scramble after all this upset?' She +turned to the Trevors, but before they had time to reply there came a +half-laughing but rather distressed appeal from Mrs. Trevor.</p> + +<p>'My dears,' she said, addressing everybody as far as I could make out, +'will some of you disentangle me? The dogs and I have all got mixed up +together—naughty, naughty!' and she switched powerlessly with a +knitting needle at the poodles, who this time were really enjoying +themselves in a good ball-of-wool chase, as the excitement of Rough's +strange behaviour had actually made the old lady leave off knitting for +fully five minutes!</p> + +<p>It was quite impossible not to laugh, but Mrs. Trevor herself laughed as +heartily as any one, and at last, by turning her round and round as if +we were playing at blind man's buff, and catching up first one poodle +and then another, we got her free.</p> + +<p>And of course the wool looked none the worse!</p> + +<p>That laughing set us all still more at our ease, and by the time we had +sobered down, Hoskins appeared to announce tea. And after the kind +Trevors had said good-bye and gone, Denzil set us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> off laughing again by +announcing in his solemn way that he didn't believe Mr. Trevor was at +all ill; he ate such a lot of buttered toast!</p> + +<p>This affair of poor little Roughie was, I think, the most exciting thing +that happened to us all that spring and summer at the Hut. And though +everybody, starting with the good-natured wee man himself, forgave Esmé +thoroughly, we were none of us allowed to <i>forget</i> it. For my dog +behaved in the funniest way. Nothing for at least a fortnight would +persuade him to leave my room, where he installed himself in what he +evidently thought a fortress of security, under the bed. And he would +only come out if I called him, and then expected me to hold him in my +arms as if he were a baby, which, as you can understand, was not very +convenient.</p> + +<p>But by degrees he got over it, and became his own happy little self +again.</p> + +<p>I think it was the very day after this thrilling experience that we got +another really cheering and hopeful letter from papa. And once this +happier turn of things began, it kept on pretty steadily; the only +drawback to our thankfulness being that he could name no date—no +<i>probable</i> one even—for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> his return. So the lengthening days followed +each other till we got to midsummer, and then came July and August, +specially lovely months that year, during which the sun looked down on a +busy and happy party in the queer encampment that was our home for the +time.</p> + +<p>In September Rolf left us for the big school he was bound for. We missed +him sadly, though we had the cheering <i>hope</i> that his aunt would let him +come to us again for the winter holidays.</p> + +<p>And so she did!</p> + +<p>A few days before Christmas he and Taisy—Taisy had spent the autumn +with her grandmother—arrived again, together this time, though less +like snails, as they had left their houses behind them when they went +away. And some changes in the arrangements were made. Taisy had +Geordie's room, and Geordie, to his great delight, took up his quarters +in her waggon, as mamma did not like the idea of a girl's being +outside—even though so near—through the long, dark nights. It was not +a cold winter; it is never very cold at Eastercove, and where the Hut +stands it seems even milder than higher up. So Rolf stuck to his tent, +and was very pleased to have an excuse for keeping his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> patent stove +going all the time. Those holidays came to an end only too soon.</p> + +<p>In March, just about a year after he had left, came the news of papa's +return being fixed for June. It all fitted in. The Trevors had taken the +house for twelve months, and with the fine weather meant to go back to +their own home in the north. And now there was no talk of letting our +dear home again, or, as far as we could see, of ever leaving it except +for pleasant reasons. But we kept the Hut just as it was, for papa to +see. Rolf would not even have his tent moved till after that summer, and +Taisy's waggon is to this day somewhere about the premises, and mamma +still has her movable 'boudoir' wheeled about to different parts of the +grounds, as it suits her.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It is nearly three years since I made the last entry in my 'Hut' diary, +from which I have written out this history of 'The House that Grew.' How +I came to do so I will explain.</p> + +<p>We have been through some very anxious times lately about Rolf. He is a +soldier, and very soon after he got his commission his regiment went to +India, and he with it. I will not tell the particulars,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> as he might not +like it, but he 'came in' almost at once for some <i>very</i> active service, +up in some of those dreadfully out-of-the-way places, where there are so +often disturbances with the natives, which in England do not attract +much attention, unless you happen to have close personal interest in +what is happening, as we had, for Rolf had become almost like another +brother to us, spending half his holidays at Eastercove. And +Geordie—oh, I forgot to say he <i>did</i> get the scholarship!—and he, by a +happy coincidence, had been at school together.</p> + +<p>Well—one sad day there came news that Rolf was badly wounded. We have +been waiting and waiting—and I think the anxiety 'got on my nerves,' as +people say. For one day mamma spoke seriously to me, when she found me +sitting idle, just longing for letters.</p> + +<p>'Ida, dear,' she said, 'you must get something to do—something <i>extra</i>, +I mean, to interest you.'</p> + +<p>And after talking a little, the idea of writing out my 'Hut' diary came +into my head, and, as you see, I have done it!</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>And I have been, if I deserved to be so, rewarded for following mamma's +advice.</p><hr class="tb" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rolf is coming home—on leave—'invalided,' it is true, but his wound is +not so bad as reported; indeed, according to <i>him</i>, not bad at all!</p> + +<p>Papa and Dods are just off to Southampton to meet him and bring him +straight here.</p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>MACMILLAN AND CO.'S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.</h2> + +<h3><i>BY MRS. MOLESWORTH.</i></h3> + +<p>THE HOUSE THAT GREW. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Alice B. Woodward</span>. Crown 8vo. 4s. +6d.</p> + +<p>THIS AND THAT; A TALE OF TWO TINIES. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Hugh Thomson</span>. Crown +8vo. 4s. 6d.</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>ATHENĆUM.</i>—"Sure to be popular in the nursery."</p> + +<p><i>PUNCH.</i>—"Will be received with great pleasure by her many +youthful admirers. A very pretty story."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center" ><i>Illustrated by WALTER CRANE, LESLIE BROOKE, HUGH THOMSON, and others.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Globe 8vo. 2s. 6d. each.</i></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">The Adventures of Herr Baby.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Carrots," Just a Little Boy.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Carved Lions.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Children of the Castle.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Christmas Child. A Sketch of a Boy-Life.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Christmas Posy.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Christmas Tree Land.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Cuckoo Clock.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Four Winds Farm.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Girls and I.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Grandmother Dear." A Book for Boys and Girls.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Little Miss Peggy: only a Nursery Story.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Magic Nuts.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Mary. A Nursery Story for Very Little Children.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Miss Mouse and her Boys.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">My New Home.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nurse Heatherdale's Story.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Oriel Window.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Rectory Children.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rosy.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sheila's Mystery.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Tapestry Room.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Tell Me a Story.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two Little Waifs.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Us: an Old-Fashioned Story.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Also Prize Editions in Ornamental Bindings. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. each.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Cloth elegant, gilt edges. 3s. 6d. each.</i></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">Us: an Old-Fashioned Story.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Grandmother Dear."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Carrots."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Christmas Child.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cuckoo Clock.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Tapestry Room.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">Four Ghost Stories. Crown 8vo. 6s.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">French Life in Letters. Globe 8vo. 1s. 6d.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Summer Stories for Boys and Girls. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>THE APRIL BABY'S BOOK OF TUNES. By the Author of "Elizabeth and her +German Garden." With Coloured Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Kate Greenaway</span>. Small +4to. 6s.</p> + +<p>A NOAH'S ARK GEOGRAPHY. Written and Pictured by <span class="smcap">Mabel Dearmer</span>. Globe +4to. Cloth. Picture Boards. 6s.</p> + +<p>THE TALE OF THE LITTLE TWIN DRAGONS. With Coloured Illustrations by <span class="smcap">S. +Rosamond Praeger</span>. Demy 4to. Picture Boards. 6s.</p> + +<p>THE BOOK OF PENNY TOYS. Written and Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Mabel Dearmer</span>, +printed in Colours by <span class="smcap">Edmund Evans</span>. Demy 4to. Pictorial Boards. 6s.</p> + +<p>THE BRAVEST OF THEM ALL. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Edwin Hohler</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Chas. E. +Brock</span>. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.</p> + +<p>FOR PEGGY'S SAKE. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Edwin Hohler</span>. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F. H. +Townsend</span>. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.</p> + +<p>THE DRUMMER'S COAT. By the Hon. <span class="smcap">J. W. Fortescue</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">H. M. +Brock</span>. Pott 4to. 4s. 6d.</p> + +<p>BEASTS: THUMB-NAIL STUDIES IN PETS. By <span class="smcap">Wardlaw Kennedy</span>. With numerous +Illustrations. Pott 4to.—4s. 6d. Crown 8vo.—2s. 6d.</p> + +<p>ST. NICHOLAS CHRISTMAS BOOK. A Volume of Christmas Stories. Profusely +Illustrated. With Ornamental Cover. 4to. 3s. 6d.</p> + +<h4>MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd</span>., LONDON.</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The House That Grew, by Mrs. Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE THAT GREW *** + +***** This file should be named 39554-h.htm or 39554-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/5/39554/ + +Produced by Annie McGuire. 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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/license + + +Title: The House That Grew + +Author: Mrs. Molesworth + +Illustrator: Alice B. Woodward + +Release Date: April 28, 2012 [EBook #39554] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE THAT GREW *** + + + + +Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Book Cover] + + + + +THE +HOUSE +THAT +GREW + +MRS +MOLESWORTH + + + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW + + + + +[Illustration: ROLF CAREFULLY DEPOSITED THE LITTLE CREATURE.--p. 175.] + + + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW + +BY +MRS. MOLESWORTH + +AUTHOR OF 'CARROTS,' 'CUCKOO CLOCK,' ETC. + +[Illustration] + +ILLUSTRATED BY ALICE B. WOODWARD. + +LONDON +MACMILLAN AND CO LIMITED +NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +1900 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + I. 'IT'S DREADFUL, ISN'T IT?' 1 + II. 'MUFFINS, FOR ONE THING, I HOPE' 18 + III. 'IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, IDA' 35 + IV. 'GEORDIE STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS CAP' 52 + V. 'WHAT _CAN_ SHE MEAN?' 69 + VI. 'YOU DO UNDERSTAND SO WELL, MAMMA' 86 + VII. 'NO,' SAID MAMMA, 'THAT ISN'T ALL' 103 + VIII. 'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL' 120 + IX. 'THE KIND SEA, TOO, AUNTIE DEAR' 138 + X. 'IT'S ANOTHER SNAIL' 155 + XI. 'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF 172 + XII. 'WELL--ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!' 189 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + ROLF CAREFULLY DEPOSITED THE LITTLE CREATURE _Front._ (_p._ 175) + WE WERE WALKING ON SLOWLY _To face page_ 11 + NO--THERE WAS NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO LIE STILL 39 + ORDERING DENZIL ABOUT AS USUAL 73 + WE WERE OUT ON THE TERRACE, AND MRS. TREVOR COMING TO MEET US 101 + 'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID 131 + SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POOR LITTLE BODY 187 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +'IT'S DREADFUL, ISN'T IT?' + + +Mamma sat quite quietly in her favourite corner, on the sofa in the +drawing-room, all the time papa was speaking. I think, or I thought +afterwards, that she was crying a little, though that isn't her way at +all. Dods didn't think so, for I asked him, when we were by ourselves. +She did not speak any way, except just to whisper to me when I ran up to +kiss her before we went out, 'We will have a good talk about it all +afterwards, darling. Run out now with Geordie.' + +I was very glad to get out of the room, I was so dreadfully afraid of +beginning to cry myself. I didn't know which I was the sorriest +for--papa or mamma--mamma, I think, though I don't know, either! Papa +tried to be so cheerful about it; it was almost worse than if he had +spoken very sadly. It reminded me of Dods when he was a very little boy +and broke his arm, and when they let me peep into the room just after +the doctor had set it, he smiled and whistled to make out it didn't hurt +much, though he was as white as white. Poor old Doddie! And poor papa! + +'It'll be worse for us and for mamma than for papa, won't it, Dods?' I +said, as soon as we were outside and quite out of hearing. 'They always +say that it's the worst for those that are left behind--the going-away +ones have the change and bustle, you see.' + +'How can I tell?' said Dods; 'you ask such stupid things, Ida. It's +about as bad as it can be for everybody, and I don't see that it makes +it any better to go on counting which it's the worst for.' + +He gave himself a sort of wriggle, and began switching the hedge with +the little cane he was carrying; by that and the gruff tone of his +voice, I could tell he was feeling very bad, so I didn't mind his being +rather cross, and we walked on for a minute or two without speaking. + +Then suddenly Dods--I call him Dods, but his real name is George, and +mamma calls him Geordie--stopped short. + +'Where are you going, Ida?' he said. 'I hear those children hallooing +over there in the little planting. They'll be down upon us in another +moment, tiresome things, if we don't get out of the way, and I certainly +don't want them just now.' + +I didn't either, though I'm very fond of them. But they're _so_ much +younger, only seven and eight then, and Dods and I were thirteen and +fourteen. And we have always gone in pairs. Dods and I, and Denzil and +Esme. Besides, of course, the poor little things were not to be told +just yet of the strange troubles and sorrows that had come, or were +coming, to us. + +So I agreed with Dods that we had better get out of the way. + +'Esme is so quick,' I said; 'she'd very likely see there was something +the matter, and papa did so warn us not to let them know.' + +'Humph,' said Dods. 'I don't think we need worry about _them_. Denzil is +as dense as a hedgehog, and as comfortable as a fat dormouse. _He'd_ +never worry as long as he has plenty to eat and a jolly warm bed to +sleep in. And Esme's just a----' + +'A what?' I said, rather vexed, for Esme _is_ a sweet. She's not fat or +lazy, and I don't think Denzil is--not extra, for such a little boy. + +'She's just a sort of a butterfly,' said Geordie. '_She'd_ never mind +anything for long. She'd just settle down for half a moment and then fly +up again as merry as a sandboy.' + +I could not help bursting out laughing. It was partly, I daresay, that I +felt as if I must either laugh or cry. But Dods did mix up +his--'similes,' I think, is the right word--so funnily! Hedgehogs and +dormice and butterflies and sandboys, all in a breath. + +'I don't see what there is to laugh at,' said Geordie, very grumpily +again, though he had been getting a little brighter. + +'No more do I, I'm sure,' I replied, sadly enough, and then, I think, +Dods felt sorry. + +'Where shall we go?' he said gently. + +'Wherever you like--to the hut, I think. It is always nice there, and we +can lock ourselves in if we hear the children coming,' I answered. + +The hut, as we called it, was our very most favourite place. It was much +more than you would fancy from the name, as you will hear before long. +But we did not wait to go on talking, till we got there. The children's +voices did not come any nearer, but died away in the distance, so we +walked on quietly, without hurrying. + +'Ida,' said Geordie after a bit, 'it's dreadful, isn't it?' + +'Yes,' I agreed; 'I think it is.' + +The 'it' was the news poor papa had been telling us. We were not quite +like most other children, I think, in some ways. I think we--that is, +Dods and I--were rather more thoughtful, though that sounds like +praising ourselves, which I am sure I don't mean. But papa and mamma had +always had us a good deal with them and treated us almost like +companions, and up to now, though he was getting on for thirteen, Dods +had never been away at school, only going to Kirke, the little town near +us, for some lessons with the vicar, and doing some with me and our +governess, who came over from Kirke every day. So papa had told us what +had to be told, almost as if we were grown-up people. + +We did not understand it quite exactly, for it had to do with business +things, which generally mean 'money' things, it seems to me, and which, +even now, though I am sixteen past, I don't perfectly understand. And I +daresay I shall not explain it all as well as a quite grown-up person +would. But I don't think that will matter. This story is just a real +account of something rather out of the common, and I am writing it +partly as a kind of practice, for I do hope I shall be able to write +stories in books some day, and partly because I think it is interesting +even if it never gets into a book, and I should like Denzil and Esme to +read it all over, for fear of their forgetting about it. + +I must first tell what the news was that we had just heard. Poor papa +had lost a lot of money! + +We were not very rich, but we had had quite enough, and our home +was--and _is_, I am thankful to say--the sweetest, nicest home in the +world. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers back to papa's +great-great ones have always lived here and seen to everything +themselves, which makes a home nicer than anything else. But a good deal +of _papa's_ money came from property a long, long way off--somewhere in +the West Indies. It had been left to _his_ father by his godmother, and +ever since I was quite little I remember hearing papa say what a good +thing it was to have some money besides what came from our own property +at home. For, as everybody knows, land in England--especially, I think, +in our part of it--does not give half as much as it used to, from rents +and those sorts of things. + +And we got into the way--I mean by 'we,' papa and mamma, and grandpapa, +no doubt, in his time--of thinking of the West Indian money as something +quite safe and certain, that could not ever 'go down' like other things. + +But there came a day, not very long before the one I am writing about, +which brought sudden and very bad news. Things had gone wrong, +dreadfully wrong out at that place--Saint Silvio's--and it was quite +possible that _all_ our money from there would stop for good. The horrid +part of it was, that it all came from somebody's wrongdoing--not from +earthquakes or hurricanes or outside troubles of that kind--but from +real dishonesty on the part of the agents papa had trusted. There was +nothing for it but for poor papa himself to go out there, for a year at +least, perhaps for two years, to find out everything and see what could +be done. + +There was a _possibility_, papa said, of things coming right, or partly +right again, once he was there and able to go into it all himself. But +to do this it was necessary that he should start as soon as could be +managed; and with the great doubt of our _ever_ being at all well off +again, it was also necessary that mamma and we four should be very, very +careful about expenses at home, and just spend as little as we could. + +A piece of good fortune had happened in the middle of all this; at least +_papa_ called it good fortune, though I am afraid George and I did not +feel as if it was good at all! Papa had had an offer from some people to +take our house--our own dear Eastercove--for a year, or perhaps more. We +had often been asked to let it, for it is so beautifully placed--close +to the sea, and yet with lovely woods and grounds all round it, which is +very uncommon at the sea-side. Our pine woods are almost famous, and +there are nooks and dells and glens and cliffs that I could not describe +if I tried ever so hard, so deliciously pretty and picturesque are they. + +But till now we had never dreamt of letting it. Indeed, we used to feel +quite angry, which was rather silly, I daresay, if ever we heard of any +offer being made for it. And now the offer that had come was a very good +one; it was not only more money than had ever been proposed before, but +it came from very nice sort of people, whom the agent knew were quite +to be trusted in every way. + +'They will take good care of the house and of all our things,' said +papa, 'and keep on any of the servants who like to stay.' + +'Shall we not have _any_ servants then?' Dods had asked. 'Do you mean +that mamma--mamma and Ida and the little ones--I don't mind for myself, +I'm a boy; I'll go to sea as a common sailor if it would be any +good--but do you mean, that we shall be like _really_ poor people?' And +here there came a choke in his voice that made me feel as if I could +_scarcely_ keep from crying. For I knew what he was thinking of--the +idea of mamma, our pretty mamma, with her merry laugh and nice dresses, +and soft, white hands, having to work and even scrub perhaps, and to +give up all the things and ways she was used to--it was too dreadful! + +Papa looked sorry and went on again quietly-- + +'No, no, my boy,' he said; 'don't exaggerate it. Of course mamma and you +all must have every comfort possible. One servant, anyway--Hoskins is +sure to stay, and a younger one as well, I _hope_. And there must be no +thought of your going to sea, George, or going anywhere, till I come +back again. I look to you to take care of them all--that is why I am +explaining more to you and Ida than many people would to such young +ones. But I know you are both very sensible for your age. You see, we +are sure of the new rent, thanks to this Mr. Trevor's offer--and even +_that_ would prevent us from being in a desperate position. And, of +course, the usual money will go on coming in from the property, though +the most of it must go in keeping things in order, in case----' but here +papa broke off. + +'I know what you were going to say, papa,' said poor Dods, growing +scarlet; he was certainly very quick-witted,--"in case we have to sell +Eastercove!" Oh, papa! anything but that! I'll work--I'll do _anything_ +to make money, so long as we don't have to do that. Our old, old home!' + +He could not say any more, and turned away his head. + +'It has not come to that yet, my boy,' said papa, after a moment or +two's silence. 'Let us keep up heart in the meantime, and hope for the +best.' + +Then he went on to tell us some of the plans he and mamma had already +begun to make--about our going to live in some little house at Kirke, +where we should not feel so strange as farther away, though there were +objections to this too,--anything at all _nice_ in the shape of even a +tiny house there would be dear, as the neighbourhood was much sought +after by visitors in winter as well as in summer. For it was considered +so very healthy for delicate people; the air was always clear and dry, +and the scent of the pine woods so strengthening. Papa, however, was +doing his best; he and mamma were going there that very afternoon, 'To +spy the land,' papa said, trying to speak cheerily. + +So now I come back to where I began my explanation as to what the 'it' +was, that Geordie and I agreed was so dreadful. + +[Illustration: WE WERE WALKING ON SLOWLY.] + +We were walking on slowly to the hut, and just as I had replied, 'I +think it is,' we came in sight of it, and something--I don't know +what--made us both stop and look at this favourite spot of ours. It was +so pretty to-day--perhaps that was it. A sudden clearing brought us out +of the wood, through which we had been following a well-worn, narrow +path, and the bright, soft light of the early afternoon--of an April +afternoon--was falling on the quaint little place. It was more like two +or three huts than one, and indeed it really did consist of three or +four rooms, which we children had been allowed to consider our own +quarters, and to decorate and improve according to our fancy and taste. +To begin with, it had been a bathing-house, of two rooms, partly of +stone, partly of wood, standing on a little plateau, just at the edge of +the pine trees, and well above the sea, so that even in stormy weather +the water could not possibly reach it; besides which, I must say that +stormy weather in the shape of high tides or great waves never did show +itself in this cove. Often and often we had sat there, listening to the +boom and crash at the foot of the cliffs, round at the other side, as +snug and peaceful as if we had been miles inland. + +And the sands that sloped down from our hut were just perfection, both +as to prettiness and niceness for bathing. They shone to-day like gold +and silver mixed in the sunshine; and the hut itself, though queerly +shaped, looked pretty too. We had managed, in spite of the sandy soil, +to get some hardy creepers to grow over it on the inland side, and we +had sunk some old tubs filled with good soil in front of the porch--for +there was a porch--in which flourished some nice, bushy evergreens, and +there was even a tiny terrace with long flower-boxes, where, for six +months of the year at least, geraniums and fuchsias, and for part of +the time, nice, big, white and yellow and straw-coloured daisies seemed +quite at home. It was a _lovely_ place for children to have of their +own; and the year before, papa had added two other rooms to it, for our +photographing--_iron_ rooms, these were, and not at all ugly, though +that would not have mattered much, as they were at the back, beside the +little kitchen, where we were allowed to cook our luncheons and teas +when we were spending a whole day on the shore. + +'Dods!' I exclaimed, as we stood there in silence, admiring our mansion, +'we must see about the flowers for the long boxes. It's getting quite +time, for Bush has settled all about the bedding-out plants--he told me +so yesterday--so he'll be able to tell us what he has to spare.' + +I spoke in utter forgetfulness--but it only lasted a moment--only, that +is to say, till I caught the expression of Geordie's mournful blue +eyes--he _can_ make them look so mournful when he likes--fixed upon me +in silent reproach. + +'Ida,' he said at last, 'what are you thinking of? _What's the use?_' + +'Oh, Dods! oh, dear, dear Doddie!' I cried--I don't think I quite knew +what I was saying,--'forgive me. Oh, how silly and unfeeling I seem! +_Oh_, Doddie!' + +And then--I am not now ashamed to tell it, for I really had been keeping +it in at the cost of a good deal of forcing myself--I just left off +trying to be brave or self-controlled or anything, and burst out +crying--regular loud crying. I am afraid I almost howled. + +George looked at me once more, then for a minute or so he turned away. I +am not sure if he was crying, anyway he wasn't _howling_. But in an +instant or two, while I was rubbing at my eyes with my handkerchief, and +feeling rather, or very ashamed, I felt something come round my neck, +crushing it up so tightly that I was almost choked, and then Doddie's +voice in my ear, very gruff, very gruff indeed of course, saying-- + +'Poor Ida, poor old Ida! I know it's quite as bad or worse for you. For +a _man_ can always go out into the world and fight his way, and have +some fun however hard he works.' + +'That wouldn't make it any better for _me_, Dods,' I said--we both +forgot, I think, that he was a good way off being a man just +yet,--'you're my only comfort. I don't mean that mamma isn't one, of +course; but it's our business now to cheer her up. Papa said so ever so +many times. I don't really know, though, how I _could_ have cheered her +up, or even tried to, if you had been away at school already!' + +Poor George's face darkened at this. It was rather an unlucky speech. He +had thought of things already that had never come into my head. One was +that it seemed unlikely enough now that papa would ever be able to send +him to school at all--I mean, of course, to the big public school, for +which his name had been down for ever so long, and on which, like all +English boys, his heart was set. For he knew how expensive all public +schools are. + +'Don't talk of school, Ida,' he said huskily. 'Luckily it's a good year +off still,' for it had never been intended that he should go till he was +fourteen; 'and,' with a deep sigh, 'we must keep on hoping, I suppose.' + +'Yes, and working,' I added. 'Whatever happens, Dods, you must work +well, and I'll do my best to help you. Mightn't you perhaps gain a +scholarship, or whatever you call them, that would make school cost +less?' + +This remark was as lucky as the other had been unfortunate. Dods +brightened up at once. + +'By Jove,' he said, 'what a good idea! I never thought of it. I'll tell +you what, Ida; I'll ask Mr. Lloyd about it the very first time I see +him--that'll be the day after to-morrow, as to-morrow's Sunday.' + +Mr. Lloyd was the vicar of Kirke. + +I felt quite proud of having thought of something to cheer Geordie up, +and my tears stopped, and by the time we had got to the hut, we were +both in much better spirits. + +'It is to be hoped,' I said, 'that papa and mamma _will_ find some kind +of a house at Kirke, however poky. For you would be very sorry not to go +on with Mr. Lloyd--wouldn't you, Dods?' + +'Of course I should,' he replied heartily. 'He's very kind and very +strict. And if I mean to work harder than ever before, as I do now, +since you put that jolly idea into my head, it's a good thing he _is_ +strict.' + +When we got to the hut and unlocked the door, we found a good deal to +do. For on Saturdays we generally--we _meant_ to do it regularly, but I +am afraid we sometimes forgot--had a sort of cleaning and tidying up. +Photographing is very nice and interesting of course, and so is cooking, +but they are rather messy! And when you've been doing one or the other +nearly all day, it's rather disgusting to have to begin washing up +greasy dishes, and chemicalised rags and glasses, and pots and pans, and +all the rest of it. I don't mean that we ever cleaned up the +photographing things with the kitchen things; we weren't so silly, as, +of course, we should not only have spoilt our instruments, but run a +good risk of poisoning ourselves too. But the whole lot needed cleaning, +and I don't know which were the tiresomest. + +And the last day we had spent at the hut, we had only half-tidied up, we +had got _so_ tired. So there were all the things about, as if they'd +been having a dance in the night, like Hans Andersen's toys, and had +forgotten to put themselves to bed after it. + +Dods and I looked at each other rather grimly. + +'It's got to be done,' I said. 'It's a shame to see the place so bright +and sunny outside and so _dreadfully_ messy indoors.' + +'Yes,' said Dods, 'it is. So fire away, Ida. After all----' but he +didn't finish his sentence and didn't need to. I knew what he +meant--that quite possibly it was the very last time we'd need to have a +good cleaning up in the dear old hut. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +'MUFFINS, FOR ONE THING, I HOPE' + + +The first thing we had to do was really to 'fire away.' That is to say, +to light a fire, for of course nothing in the way of washing up or +cleaning can be done without hot water, and you cannot get hot water +without fire of some kind. But that part of our work we did not dislike +at all. We had grown quite clever at making fires and getting them to +burn up quickly in the little stove, and we had always, or nearly +always, a nice store of beautifully dry wood that we picked up +ourselves. And though the hut was so near the sea, it was wonderfully +dry. We could leave things there for weeks, without their becoming musty +or mouldy. + +And as the fire crackled up brightly, and after a bit we got the kettle +on and it began to sing, our spirits began to rise again a little, to +keep it company. + +'After all,' I said, 'there really is a good strong _likelihood_ that +things won't turn out so badly. Papa is very clever, and once he is out +there himself, he will find out everything, and perhaps get them put +straight once for all. It wouldn't so much matter our having less money +than we have had till now, if all the muddle and cheating was cleared +up.' + +'No, it wouldn't,' Geordie agreed, 'and of course it's best to be +hopeful. So long as there's no talk of our selling Eastercove, Ida, I +don't feel as if I minded anything.' + +'And the great thing is to cheer up poor mamma while papa's away,' I +said, 'and not to seem dull or miserable at having to live differently +and go without things we've always been used to have. I don't think I +shall mind that part of it so _very_ much, Dods--shall you?' + +Dods sighed. + +'I don't know; I hope not for myself--of course what matters to _me_ is +the perhaps not going to a big school. But you have cheered me up about +that, Ida. I shall hate you and mamma not having a carriage and nice +servants and all that, though we must go on hoping it will only be for a +bit.' + +'And I _do_ hope we can stay on near here,' I said, 'so that at least we +can feel that home is close-to. I would rather have ever so little a +house at Kirke than a much better one farther off--except that, well, I +must say I shouldn't like it to be one of those dreadfully +stuffy-looking little ones in rows in a street!' + +'I'm afraid that's just what it is likely to be,' said Dods. 'It will be +pretty horrid; there's no use trying to pretend it won't be. But, Ida, +we're not working at all. We must get on, for papa and mamma will like +to find us at home when they come in.' + +'Especially as to-morrow's Sunday,' I added; 'and very likely, if it's +as fine as to-day, we may all come down here to tea in the afternoon,' +for that was a favourite habit of ours. We children used to consider +that we were the hosts on these occasions, and papa and mamma our +visitors. + +So we set to work with a will, without grumbling at the rather big +collection of things there were to wash up, and the amount of sweeping +and brushing to do. To begin with, we knew we had ourselves to thank for +it, as we had left things in a very untidy way the last day we had spent +at the hut. Then too, even though only an hour or so had passed since we +had heard the bad news, I think we had suddenly grown older. I have +never felt thoroughly a child again since that morning. For the first +time it seemed to come really home to me that life has a serious side to +it, and I think--indeed I know--that George felt the same. I don't mean +that we were made sad or unhappy, for I don't count that we had ever +been very thoughtless children, but we both began to feel that there +were certain things we could do, and should do, that no one else could +do as well. + +I think it must be what people call the sense of 'responsibility,' and +in some ways it is rather a nice feeling. It makes one feel stronger and +braver, and yet more humble too, though that sounds contradictory, for +there comes with it a great anxiety to prove worthy of the trust placed +in one to do one's best. + +And just now it was very specially a case of being trusted. Papa said he +would go away happier, or at least less unhappy, for knowing that he +left two 'big' children to take care of mamma, and though I cannot quite +explain how, the feeling left by his words had begun to influence us +already. We even were extra anxious to do our tidying very well and +quickly, as we knew it would please mamma to see we were keeping the +promises we had made when she first persuaded papa to let us have the +hut for our own, and got it all made nice for us. + +And by four o'clock or so it did look very nice--I never saw it neater, +and we felt we might rest for a few minutes. + +We had put everything ready for Sunday afternoon's tea-party--everything +that could be ready, I mean. The cups and saucers and fat brown tea-pot +were arranged on the round table of the room we counted our parlour; it +was in front of the kitchen, looking towards the sea, and here we did +the unmessy part of the photographing, and kept any little ornaments or +pictures we had. Of the other two rooms one was the 'chemical room,' as +we called it, and in a cupboard out of it we hung up our +bathing-clothes, and the _fourth_ room, which had originally been the +front bathing-house, so to say, or dressing-room, was now a bedroom, all +except the bed. That does sound very 'Irish,' does it not? But what I +mean is that it was furnished simply as a bedroom usually is--only that +there was no bed. + +We had often begged to be allowed to spend a night in the hut, for there +was an old sofa that Geordie could have slept on quite comfortably in +the parlour, or even in the kitchen, and we had saved pocket-money +enough to buy a camp bedstead, for which mamma had two or three +mattresses and pillows and things like that among the spare ones up in +the long garret. But so far we had never got leave to carry our +picnicking quite so far. Papa would not have minded, for of all things +he wanted us to be 'plucky,' and did not even object to my being +something of a tomboy; but mamma said she would certainly not sleep all +night if she knew we were alone in the hut, and perhaps frightened, or +ill, or something wrong with us. + +So _that_ plan had been put a stop to. + +'I wonder what Hoskins will give us in the shape of cakes for +to-morrow,' I said. 'There is enough tea and sugar for two or three more +afternoons'--'more than we shall want,' I added to myself with an inside +sigh. + +Hoskins was a sort of half-nurse, half-housekeeper person. She had not +been with us _very_ long, only since Esme was born--but she really was +very good and dear, and I know she cared for us in a particular way, for +her father had been gardener for ages, though ages ago now, as she +herself was pretty old, at Eastercove. And she wasn't cross, like so +many old servants both in books and real life--rather the other +way--too "spoiling" of us. She had only one fault. She was a little +deaf. + +'Muffins, for one thing, I hope,' said Dods. 'They don't leave off +making them till May, and it isn't May yet.' + +There was a baker in the village--I think I have forgotten to say that +there was a very tiny village called Eastercove, close to our gates--who +was famed for his muffins. + +'Humph,' I said. 'I don't very much care about them. They are such a +bother with toasting and buttering. I think bread and butter--thin and +rolled--is quite as good, and some nice cakes and a big one of that kind +of gingerbread that you hardly taste the ginger in, and that's like +toffee at the top.' + +I was beginning to feel hungry, for we had not eaten much luncheon, +which was our early dinner, and I think that made me talk rather +greedily. + +'You are a regular epicure about cakes,' said Dods. + +I did not like his calling me that, and I felt my face get red, and I +was just going to answer him crossly when I remembered about our great +trouble, and thought immediately to myself how silly it would be to +squabble about tiny things in a babyish way now. So I answered quietly-- + +'Well, you see, it is only polite to think of what other people like, if +you invite them to tea, and I know papa likes that kind of gingerbread. +He ate such a big piece one day that mamma called him a greedy boy.' + +Geordie did not say anything, but I always know when he is sorry for +teasing me, and I could see that he was just now. + +Then we locked up and set off home again. As we came out of the pine +woods and in sight of the drive we saw the pony carriage, and we ran on, +so as to be at the front door when papa and mamma got there. + +They smiled at us very kindly, and papa said in what he meant to be a +cheery voice-- + +'Well, young people, what have you been about? Run in, Ida, and hurry up +tea. Mamma is tired.' + +Yes, poor mamma did look dreadfully tired, and through the outside +cheeriness of papa's words and manner I could see that he was feeling +very sad and dull. + +I hurried in, and we were soon all at tea in the pretty drawing-room. +George and I did not always have tea downstairs, but to-day somehow +there seemed no question of our not doing so. I waited till mamma had +had some tea and was looking a little less white and done up, and then I +said half-frightenedly-- + +'Did you see any nice little house at Kirke?' though in my heart I felt +sure they hadn't, or they would not have come back, looking so +disappointed. + +Mamma shook her head. + +'I am afraid, dearie,' she began, but papa interrupted her-- + +'No,' he said decidedly, 'we saw nothing the least possible to call +"nice," except one or two places far and away too dear. And of course we +knew already that there are plenty of nice houses to be got, if expense +had not to be considered so closely. There is no good beating about the +bush with George and Ida,' he went on, turning to mamma. 'Now that we +have so thoroughly taken them into our confidence it is best to tell +them everything. And the truth is,' he continued, leaning back in his +chair with a rather rueful smile, 'I am really feeling almost in +despair. I am afraid we shall have to give up the idea of staying at +Kirke.' + +'Yet there are so many advantages about it,' said mamma quickly. 'And +there is, after all, that tiny house in the Western Road.' + +'Horrid poky little hole,' said papa. 'I cannot bear to think of you in +it. I would almost rather you went about in a caravan like the gypsies +we passed on the road.' + +'Yes,' I agreed, '_I_ wouldn't mind that at all--not in summer, at +least.' + +'Ah, but unluckily, my dear child, "it is not always May,"' he replied, +though I was pleased to see he held out his cup for some more tea (I +have found out that things do seem much worse when one is tired or +hungry!) and that his voice sounded more like itself. + +'And it isn't always winter either,' said mamma cheerfully. 'Let us be +as happy as we can while we are together, and enjoy this nice spring +weather. I _am_ glad, if sad things had to happen, that they did not +come to us in November or December. Perhaps Mr. Lloyd will find some +nicer house for us.' + +'Does he know about--about our having to leave Eastercove?' I asked. + +Mamma nodded. + +'Yes,' she replied. 'We stopped there on our way back, and papa went in +and told him.' + +I felt glad of that. It would prepare him for Dods's anxiety about a +scholarship. + +'By the bye,' mamma continued, 'how fast they are getting on with the +new parish room! I was looking at it while I was waiting for you, Jack' +(that's papa), 'and it seems really finished. Are they not beginning to +take away the iron room already?' + +'Lloyd says it is to be sold here, or returned to the makers for what +they will give, next week,' papa replied. 'It has served its purpose +very well indeed these two or three years. If----' + +'If what?' said mamma. + +Poor papa shrugged his shoulders. + +'Oh, it's no good thinking of it now,' he answered. 'I was only going to +say--forgetting--that if Geordie and Ida liked I might buy it and add it +on to the hut. It would make into two capital little bedrooms for very +little cost, and Lloyd happened to say to-day that the makers would +rather sell it for less where it stands than have the expense of taking +it back to London. They keep improving these things; it is probably +considered old-fashioned already.' + +Geordie and I looked at each other. How lovely it would have been! Just +what we had always longed for--to be allowed really to _live_ at the +hut now and then. And with two more rooms we could have had Hoskins +with us, and then mamma wouldn't have been nervous about it. But as papa +said, there was no use in thinking about it _now_. + +'Will the people who are coming to live here have the hut too?' I asked. + +Papa did not seem to pay much attention to what I said. He was thinking +deeply, and almost started as I turned to him with the question. + +'I do not know,' he replied. 'It has not been alluded to.' + +'I hope not,' said mamma. 'If we stay at Kirke, as I still trust we may, +it would be nice to come up there to spend an afternoon now and then. It +is so far from the house that we would not seem like intruders. Though, +of course, once they see how nice it is, they may want to have it as a +bathing-box.' + +'That's not very likely,' said papa. 'They seem elderly people, and the +son is a great sufferer from rheumatism. That is why they have taken +such a fancy to this place--the scent of pine woods and the air about +them are considered so good for illnesses of that kind. And sea-air +suits him too, and they think it a wonderful chance to have all this as +well as a dry climate and fairly mild winters. Yes--we who live here +_are_ uncommonly lucky.' + +He strolled to the window as he spoke and stood looking out without +speaking. Then he turned again. + +'I'll remember about the hut,' he said. 'I don't fancy these good people +would be likely to be fussy or ill-natured or to think you intruding. +Their letters are so well-bred and considerate.' + +We felt glad to hear that. + +'Mamma,' I said, 'we have made the hut so nice and tidy for +to-morrow--Sunday, you know. You and papa will come and have tea there, +won't you? It will be the first time this year' (and 'the last perhaps' +seemed whispered into my mind, though I did not utter the words), for +the spring-coming had been uncertain and we had all had colds. + +Mamma looked at papa. + +'Yes,' he said; 'certainly we will. And the little ones too, Ida?' + +'Of course,' I said, and then I went off to talk about cakes--and +muffins if possible, to please Dods--to Hoskins, the result of the +interview proving very satisfactory. + +When I came back to the drawing-room the little ones were +there--Denzil, solemn as usual; Esme hopping and skipping about and +chattering thirteen to the dozen, as usual, too! She is three or four +years older now, and beginning to 'sober down,' as they say, so I hope +if she ever reads this, which certainly will not be for three or four or +more years from now, she will have gone on sobering down, enough to +understand what a 'flibbertigibbet' (that is a word of Hoskins's which I +think very expressive) she was, and not to be hurt at my description of +her. For I do love her dearly, and I always have loved her dearly, and I +should be sorry for her ever to lose her good spirits, though it is +already a comfort that she _sometimes_ sits still now, and listens to +what is said to her. + +All the same, that part of our lives which I am writing this story +about, would have been much duller and harder but for our butterfly's +funny, merry ways. + +This afternoon she was especially laughing and mischievous, and it made +me feel a little cross. I was tired, I daresay, with all the work we had +been doing, _and_ the sadness that had come upon us so suddenly, and I +did want to be quiet and talk sensibly. It was a little papa's fault +too, I must say. He is sometimes rather like a boy still, though he has +four big children. He hates being unhappy! I don't think he would mind +my saying so of him, and he got mischievous and teased Esme, to make her +say funny things, as she often does. + +And I suppose I looked rather too grave, for, after a little, mamma +whispered to me-- + +'Ida, dear, don't look so dreadfully unhappy; you almost make me wish we +had not told you anything till we were obliged to do so.' + +'I don't look worse than Geordie,' I replied, in a whisper too, +'or--or,' as I happened just then to catch sight of my younger brother's +face, 'than Denzil.' + +At this mamma did burst out laughing--a real merry laugh, which, in +spite of my crossness, I was pleased to hear. + +'My dear!' she exclaimed, 'who has ever seen Denzil anything but solemn! +And as he knows nothing, it has certainly not to do with what _we_ are +all thinking about. He was the solemnest _baby_ even that ever was seen, +though many babies are solemn. I used to feel quite ashamed of my +frivolity when Denny was only a couple of months old. And--no, poor old +Geordie is trying to cheer up, so you must too.' + +Yes, it was true. Geordie was laughing and playing with Esme and papa, +though I know his heart was quite as heavy as mine. Geordie is very +particularly good in some ways. So I resolved to choke down, or at least +to hide, my sadness--and still more the sort of crossness I had been +feeling. It was not exactly real ill-tempered crossness, but the kind of +hating being unhappy and thinking that other people are unhappy too, +which comes with troubles when one isn't used to them especially, and +isn't patient and unselfish, though one wants to be. + +However, I managed to look more amiable after mamma's little +warning--still more, I think, after her hearty laugh. Her laughing +always seems to drive away crossness and gloominess; it is so pretty and +bright, and so real. + +And I was helped too by another thing, though as yet it had scarcely +taken shape in my mind, or even in my fancy. But it was there all the +same, fluttering about somewhere, as if waiting for me to catch hold of +it and make something of it. Just yet I did not give myself time to +think it out. All I felt was a sort of presentiment that somewhere or +somehow there was a way out of our troubles, or rather out of one part +of them, and that I was going to find it before long. And I am quite +sure that sometimes the thinking a thing out is more than half done by +our brains before we know it--much in the same way that we--Dods and +I--are quite sure that putting a lesson-book under your pillow at night +helps you to know what you have to learn out of it by the next morning. +Lots of children believe this, though none of us can explain it, and we +don't like to speak of it for fear of being laughed at. But I don't mind +writing about it, as I shall not hear if people do laugh at it or not. + +Anyway it _did_ happen to me this time, that _something_ worked the +cobweb ideas that were beginning to float about in my brain into a real +touchable or speakable plan, before the 'awake' side of it--of my brain, +I mean--knew that anything of the kind was there. + +I will try to tell quite exactly how this came about. But first I must +say that I don't think George was feeling so _very_ bad after all, for +the last thing he said to me that evening as we went up to bed was, 'I +do hope Hoskins has managed to get some muffins for to-morrow.' + + + + +CHAPTER III + +'IT'S A WONDERFUL IDEA, IDA' + + +I remember that I fell asleep very quickly that night. Of course, like +most children when they are well, I generally did. But that night it +would not have been very surprising if I had kept awake and even got +into a tossing-about, fidgety state, just from thinking about the +strange, sudden trouble and change that were coming into our lives. + +On the contrary, I seemed to drop straight down into unconsciousness +almost as soon as my head touched the pillow, and I must have slept +several hours straight off without even dreaming, or at least dreaming +anything that I could remember. For when I awoke the dawn was creeping +in, and though I felt too lazy and comfortable to get up to look out, I +knew that sunrise could not be far off. It was that time of early +morning when one almost fancies that sun and moon stop a moment or two +to say a word to each other on their way, though of course I know +enough astronomy now to understand that those fancies _are_ only +fancies. And yet there is a kind of truth in them, for the sun and moon, +and the stars too, _have_ to do with all of us people living on this +earth; indeed, we owe everything to the sun; and so it is not altogether +fancy to think of him, great big kind thing that he is, as a wonderful +friend, and of the little gentle moon as taking his place, as it were, +when he is at work on the other side. And the curious, mingled sort of +light in the room, faint and dreamy, though clear too, made me think to +myself, 'The sun is saying, "How do you do?" and the moon, "Good-bye."' + +But I soon shut my drowsy eyes again, though not to fall asleep again at +once. On the contrary, I grew awaker and awaker, as I began to feel that +my mind or memory or brain--I don't know which to call it--had something +to tell me. + +What was it? + +I seemed almost to be listening. And gradually it came to me--the +knowledge of the idea that had been working itself out during my sleep +from the thoughts that had been there jumbled up together the day +before. And when I got clear hold of what it was, I nearly called out, +I felt so struck and startled at first, just as if some one had said it +to me, though with astonishing quickness it spread itself out before me +as a really possible and even sensible plan, with nothing dreamy or +fanciful about it. + +It was this. + +'Why should not we all--mamma, that is to say, and we four children--why +should we not live altogether at the hut during the year, or more +perhaps, that papa would have to be away?' + +It may seem to those who read this story--if ever there are readers of +it--a wild idea that had thus come to me. But 'the proof of the pudding +is in the eating,' as Hoskins is fond of saying. So please wait a little +before you judge. + +And no sooner had the idea got into words than all the bits of it began +to place themselves in order like the pieces of a dissected puzzle-map, +or, still better, like the many-coloured skeins of silk in the pretty +fairy story where the touch of the wand made them all arrange +themselves. Still more--no sooner had the first vague thoughts settled +down than others came to join them, each finding its own corner in the +building that I began to see was not a castle in the air but a good +solid piece of work. + +It would be so healthy and airy, and yet not damp; nor, with proper +care, need it be very cold, even in winter. It would be near enough to +Kirke for Geordie to go on with his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and for us +to feel we had old friends close at hand, who would understand all about +us, and very likely be kinder than ever. It would be near enough to +home--dear Eastercove--indeed, it would be Eastercove--for us to take +lots of furniture and things from the house to furnish as much more as +was needed and to make it comfortable and even pretty, without emptying +Eastercove house at all. There was, as I have said, such a lot of +stored-away extra furniture and old carpets and curtains and blankets +and all sorts of things up in the great attic, and Hoskins kept them all +so nice and tidy, and without moths or mildew or horrible things like +that, that it was quite a pleasure to go up there sometimes. It was like +a very neat shop for second-hand things, which is more than can be said +for most box-rooms or lumber-rooms, I fancy. + +And the moving these things would be no expense, and there would be no +travelling expenses for any of us, and--the last idea that came into my +head was the best of all. The old parish room! The iron room that Mr. +Lloyd had told papa about the afternoon before! They wanted to get rid +of it and would sell it for almost nothing. Even if 'almost nothing' +meant--I could not guess how much or how little--a few pounds, +perhaps--it would be far, far less than the rent of a house, however +small, and it would make into two or even three little rooms, easily. +Perhaps it would be enough just to divide it by screens or curtains, +perhaps---- + +Oh, the 'perhapses' that came crowding into my head when I had thought +of the old parish room! I could scarcely lie still another minute--I +felt in such a desperate hurry to tell Geordie of the wonderful thought +that had come to me. But it was still far from getting-up time; I knew +it would be very selfish and unkind to wake up poor old Dods in what +would seem to him the middle of the night, for he was a very sound +sleeper, and had hard enough work to get his eyes properly open by seven +o'clock. + +[Illustration: NO--THERE WAS NOTHING FOR IT BUT TO LIE STILL.] + +No--there was nothing for it but to lie still and be as patient as I +could. It would be interesting to watch the light growing stronger and +changing; it was already doing so in a curious way, as the cold, thin +moonshine gave place to the sun, even then warmer somehow in its tone +than the fullest moon-rays ever are. + +'Yes,' I thought, 'they have met and passed each other by now, I should +think. I wonder--if----' + +Strange to say, I cannot finish the sentence, for I don't know _what_ I +was going to wonder! In spite of all my eagerness and excitement I knew +nothing more, till--the usual summons, in Hoskins's voice-- + +'Miss Ida, my dear, it's the quarter-past. You were sleeping soundly--I +could scarcely find it in my heart to awake you. But it's Sunday +morning, and you know it doesn't do to be late--and a beautiful spring +morning too as ever was seen.' + +I could scarcely believe my ears. + +'Oh, Hoskins!' I exclaimed, 'I _am_ sleepy. I was awake a good bit quite +early, and I had no idea I had gone off again. I was _so_ awake, +thinking.' + +The talking thoroughly roused me, and almost at once all the 'thinking' +came back to me, so that by the time I was dressed, even though Sunday +morning dressing needed a little more care and attention than every +day's, I had got it all clear and compact and ready, as it were, for +Geordie's cool inspection. + +To my great satisfaction he had had a good fit that morning of getting +up promptly and being down the first after me, instead of, as often +happened, the last after everybody. + +'Geordie,' I exclaimed, when I caught sight of him standing at the +dining-room window, staring out--or perhaps I should say' gazing,' for +staring is an ugly word, and the garden that morning was looking so +particularly pretty--'Geordie, I am just bursting to talk to you. Is it +any use beginning before papa and mamma come down, do you think?' + +Geordie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. + +'Yes,' he said; 'we have five minutes, or ten perhaps. Is it anything +particular?' + +'Of course it is,' I replied, 'or I wouldn't say I was bursting to tell +it you. And I think and hope it is something that will please you very +much. You are to listen well and not interrupt me and say "nonsense," +before you have taken it into your mind and thought it over.' + +I saw he already was looking interested, and I was glad of it. His face +had been so sad when he first turned at the sound of my voice, and I +well knew why. I can almost always understand Geordie and very often +guess what he is thinking of. He has such dear blue eyes, but they are +the kind that can look very melancholy sometimes. I do hope he will +have a happy life when he grows up--I am pretty sure he will deserve it. +Even now that he has been a good long while at school--big public +school, I mean--he is just the same to me as ever. When he comes home +for the holidays it seems as if he had never been away. + +'I won't interrupt you--or say "nonsense," if I can help it,' he +answered, with a little fun in his voice and smile coming in his eyes. + +Then I told him. I need not repeat all I said, as I have written a lot +of it already. But it must have been rather hard for Geordie not to +interrupt me. It all bubbled out so fast--all the splendid ideas and +good reasons and perhapses--one on the top of the other, so that if he +hadn't been pretty well accustomed to my ways he could scarcely have +understood. It was quite interesting and exciting, as I went on, to +watch the expression in his face--his cheeks grew pink, then crimson, +and his eyes brighter and brighter. I soon saw I was not going to be +snubbed. + +But real want of breath, and then the sound of mamma's skirts coming +across the hall with a pretty soft rustle--I don't think any one else's +skirts move so nicely; they seem to match her, not like that noisy +flustering that is like saying, 'Here I am; I expect to be attended +to'--made me stop at last. There was only time for George to whisper-- + +'It's a wonderful idea, Ida. I'll think a lot and then we'll talk about +it, by ourselves, first, of course.' + +'We mustn't think about it in church,' I replied in the same tone; 'we +must _try_, I suppose, Dods, not to think of it in church--part of the +time, at least. I don't see that it would matter so much during the +first lesson, and _perhaps_ one of the psalms, if they are very long +ones.' + +'No--o, perhaps not,' he said, and then we both ran forward to kiss +mamma. + +She looked at us, and I saw her face brighten when she saw that ours +were not very sad or dull. I think she had been afraid that in his wish +to help _her_, papa had put too much of the burden on us two, +considering how young we were then. + +'My darlings!' she said, in a rather low voice, 'my own brave boy and +girl,' and I am almost sure the tears came into her eyes. But the smiles +came too. + +'What a lovely day it is going to be!' she went on, as she glanced out +of the window. 'I am so glad. We must put cares aside as much as we can +and try to be happy and hopeful.' + +'Yes, dear mamma,' I answered cheerfully, and with all the delightful +exciting ideas in my head, it was quite easy to be bright, as you can +understand, 'yes, we _are_ going to have a nice day. Geordie and I'--I +glanced at him; he had not exactly said so, but I knew he would not +mind,--'Geordie and I want to go down to the hut very soon after +luncheon, if you say we may, to get it all ready for you and papa and +the little ones, to come to tea.' + +'All right,' said mamma, though I saw a tiny shadow cross her face as I +spoke, and I knew she was thinking to herself that very likely it would +be our last Sunday afternoon tea-party for a very long time, perhaps for +ever, as far as the hut was concerned! But these solemn kinds of +'perhapses' are always in our lives, and if we were always thinking of +them, it would be more than our minds and hearts could bear. We should +not _forget_ them, but I am sure we are not meant to be gloomy about +them. Still, at the best, even if my grand plan was carried out, there +was plenty to be sad about, I knew. Poor papa's going so far away, first +and worst of all, and worst of course for mamma, for though we loved him +dearly, she must love him, I suppose, still more. + +He came into the room just as these thoughts were flying about my +brain. I thought he looked more tired and troubled than mamma--men are +not so patient and not always so good at hiding their feelings as _some_ +women. At least _I_ think so! + +We two, however, were really feeling cheerful, and I think our +brightness made it easier for mamma to be, at least, less sad than she +would otherwise have been. And I said to myself-- + +'Papa will cheer up too _if_ he likes our idea, and I really can't see +why he should not like it.' + +So breakfast got on pretty well on the whole, and as soon as it was +over, Dods and I went off for a talk. How we did talk! But first of +all--that was so like Dods--he pulled out his watch and looked what +o'clock it was. + +'It's just half-past nine, Ida,' he said, 'and we must be quite ready by +half-past ten. So let's talk till ten, no longer; it always takes you +twenty minutes or half an hour to get dressed for church, and you know +it vexes papa to be kept waiting. And to-day it's really very important +not to vex him at all, if anything is to come of our plan.' + +'Very well,' I said; 'I promise to go in at ten.' + +Then we went to one of our favourite garden seats and set to work at our +idea. It grew and grew; we kept thinking of new bits to it, each saying +something which made the other think of something else, till by ten +o'clock we began to feel as if it were all quite settled--'cut and dry.' + +The very last thing I called out to Geordie as we ran in was about a +certain old breakfast set of china we had espied in one of our visits to +the garret. + +'Yes,' I was saying, 'those willow pattern cups and things would do +beautifully. It wouldn't matter their being odd, for then mamma wouldn't +mind if some got broken. And very likely, Doddie, things _will_ get +broken, more than----' + +'What are you talking about, my dear child?' said mamma's voice, and, +looking round, I saw that she was just coming out of the drawing-room on +her way upstairs to get ready for church. 'You don't mean to say that +your tea-things at the hut are all broken?' + +'Oh no, no, mamma dear,' I replied in a great hurry, and feeling myself +grow red, though I don't think she noticed it; 'they are all right--none +broken, and only one saucer chipped. But--I was only saying--we _might_ +need more some time.' + +'Ah, well!' said mamma, with a little sigh, 'not at present, at any +rate.' + +And oh how I wished I could tell her of the plan at once! But of course +it was best to wait a little. + +I shall never forget that morning at church, and how _awfully_ difficult +it was to give my attention. I found myself counting up the things we +should need to make the hut comfortable, even while my voice was saying +the responses quite correctly, and any one noticing me would very likely +have thought I was being quite good and listening rightly. Dods, whom I +glanced at now and then, was looking very grave but not unhappy. I felt +sure he was being much better than I--I mean about listening to what he +heard and thinking of the words he said--though afterwards he told me +that he too had found it difficult. + +'What was most bothering me,' he said, 'was about the new rooms--the old +parish room, I mean. What do you think, Ida--should it be made into a +dining-room and drawing-room, or----' + +'Oh no,' I interrupted, 'certainly not. The two front ones looking to +the sea must decidedly be the sitting-rooms--the one to the left of the +porch, in front of the kitchen, must be the dining-room, and the big +dressing-room, the one we have always meant to be a real bedroom, must +be the drawing-room. It is quite a nice, large room, and behind it, the +'messy' room must be _yours_, Dods, which leaves the parish room to be +divided for mamma and Esme and me. Denzil can be with you--there's +plenty of room.' + +'But,' said Geordie, 'you're forgetting the servants?' + +My face fell at this--I should have said that this conversation was on +our way down to the hut that afternoon. We could not talk much before +then, as we drove back from church with the others, but we set off as +soon as we could after we had had dinner. + +'Yes,' I said, 'I was forgetting them altogether, and what's more, +Geordie, I haven't the least idea who they are to be, or how many we +should have.' + +'We must let mamma settle that of course,' he replied. 'Hoskins will be +one, anyway. Still--it's a pity we can't propose some place for them, +Ida. It makes the whole plan seem rather unfinished and--childish.' + +'Like the man who built a house for himself and when it was all finished +found he had forgotten a staircase!' I said, half laughing, but feeling +rather mortified all the same. + +George did not at once reply. He was thinking. We were close to the hut +by this time, and he did not say anything till we had unlocked the door +and put down our packages and looked round us. + +Everything was just exactly as we had left it the evening before, but +somehow everything seemed different! + +The truth was, I suppose, that we were looking at it all through +different spectacles--yesterday it was only a kind of summer-house or +play-room--to-day it was a possible _home_. In some ways I felt as if I +had never liked it as much; in others I began to be almost frightened at +the ideas I was so full of! But as often happened with us, George's +cool, common sense put me right. + +'Yes,' he said, after he had strolled into the other rooms and stared at +them well as if he had never seen them before,--'yes, I don't see why it +shouldn't do. And, about the servants, Ida. Of course papa and mamma +must _settle_ everything; but if they do take it up seriously and papa +buys the iron room, I rather think it's a good deal larger than we have +been counting it. I believe it would divide into three quite well. There +might be a partitioned-off little room for me, and a large curtain might +do to separate mamma from you and Esme?' + +'Yes,' I said, my spirits rising again, 'and that would leave the back +room for Hoskins and whomever else we have--_I_ should like +Margery--wouldn't you, Dods? She is such a good-natured, sturdy little +thing. And----' + +'We'd better not try to settle too much,' said sensible Geordie. 'And +you must talk quietly, Ida, so as to show we have really thought of it +not in a--oh, a babyish way, you know.' + +I felt a little ruffled at this. + +'You'd better tell them all about it yourself, then,' I said; '_I_ don't +want any of the honour and glory of it, and if there is any fear of +their thinking us silly babies, why, then, we had better give up the +whole idea.' + +'Nonsense, Ida,' said Geordie. 'It was you who first thought of it, and +I think you deserve a lot of credit for it. And I expect you'll get it +too. I only want papa and mamma--papa especially--to hear of it at first +in the best sort of way.' + +'Yes--yes, I know!' I exclaimed, 'and you are a sensible old Dods as you +always are. And see what I have got to please you,' and I held up three +lovely, fat muffins. + +We got the kitchen fire lighted and the tea-table spread in the +parlour--I felt inclined to begin calling it 'the dining-room' now--and +everything nice and ready before they all came. The first announcement +of them was Esme, who flew in as usual, followed very deliberately by +Denzil. She gave me a hug when she saw the table. + +'Oh, what a lovely tea!' she said, 'and how delicious the hut looks. Oh, +_don't_ you wish, Ida, we could live here always?' + +I glanced at Dods--we could not help smiling at each other--it seemed a +sort of good omen, her saying that, but we did not say anything. Then +came papa and mamma--they had walked down slowly through the wood, and +as they came to the little 'plateau' where stood the hut, I saw them +stop and look at it. I _wondered_ if the same idea was in their minds at +all. I did not exactly want it to be, for I was rather pleased at being +the first finder of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +'GEORDIE STOOD UP AND WAVED HIS CAP' + + +No--papa and mamma had not been thinking of anything of that +kind--afterwards mamma told me they had only been saying to each other +how sweet and pretty it all looked and--though perhaps they did not say +so aloud--feeling no doubt how sad it was that we should so soon have to +leave it. + +But they came in quite brightly, and mamma answered gaily to Esme's +exclamations about the 'lovely tea-party.' + +'Yes,' she said, 'it does look nice. And muffins too'--as Geordie +glanced up with a very red face from the fire where he was toasting one; +'don't scorch yourself _too_ much, in our service, my dear boy.' + +'It's a good bit for myself as well,' said Geordie in his rather gruff +way. He always spoke like that if he thought he was being praised--above +all, the least _over_-praised. 'I like muffins better than any kind of +cake or things.' + +He certainly knew how to toast and butter them to perfection. I remember +how very good they were that day. Indeed, the tea-party was a great +success altogether. After it was over we carried all the cups and +saucers and plates into the kitchen, to be ready for Margery to wash up, +for mamma had left word at home that she was to come down to the hut to +do so, which we were very glad of. + +'I wanted to be together as much as possible to-day,' said mamma in her +kind way. And just as we had cleared away everything in the parlour we +saw Margery coming, and to my great delight Esme asked if she and Denzil +might 'help her' in the kitchen, for Dods and I had been wondering how +we could get rid of the little ones without seeming unkind. + +So off they ran, and then for a few minutes we four--'big ones,' I was +going to say, only that does seem putting Geordie and myself too much on +a line with papa and mamma, doesn't it?--sat silent. I was feeling +rather nervous, not afraid of papa and mamma, but afraid of them +thinking it was all a perfectly impossible plan. + +But at last, after looking at me several times and even giving me two +or three little kicks, Geordie plunged in, as was his way-- + +'Ida has something to say to you,' he began. 'It's only fair for her to +say it, for it's all her own idea, though we have talked about it a good +deal.' + +Papa looked at me very kindly. + +'What is it, my little girl?' he said. 'I am sure you know how pleased +I--and your mother--will be to do anything we can to--to brighten all +these troubles.' + +He seemed to know by instinct that what I had to say must have to do +with what he had told us the day before. Yes--only the day before! I +could scarcely believe it--it seemed years ago. + +I felt my face growing red; mamma was looking at me too, and though her +eyes were very kind, I grew more and more nervous, and of course I +blurted it out quite differently from what I had meant to. + +'It isn't only for us ourselves,' I began, 'though we should like it +ever so much--awfully much better than anything else. But I feel as if +it would be nicer for everybody--for mamma too, and for papa, when you +are far away, you know,' and here I turned specially to him, 'not to +have to think of us in a strange place and among strange people. +And--and--there are lots of little bits of it that seem to fit in so +well.' + +'But, my dear child, I must interrupt you,' said papa smiling, 'before +you go on to the "bits," do tell us what the whole is?' + +I had really forgotten that I had not done so--my own mind was so full +of it, you see. + +'Oh,' I said, feeling very much ashamed of myself, especially as I knew +Geordie's blue eyes were fixed on me reproachfully. 'I'm very sorry for +being so stupid. It's just this, papa--we've been thinking, at least I +thought of it first, and Dods has joined in the planning, that--why +shouldn't we all, mamma and us four, come to _live_ here, really to live +here altogether, while you are away?' + +Papa gazed at me as if he did not understand, and no doubt just at first +he did not. + +'Live _here_,' he repeated, 'but that is just----' + +'Yes,' I interrupted,--'here, in the hut. I don't mean of course go on +living at home, at Eastercove, though it would be Eastercove too. That's +the beauty of it; you would be able to feel that we _were_ at home, and +close to all our friends.' + +But still papa repeated, in a dazed sort of way, I would say 'stupid,' +only it would seem rude-- + +'Live _here_.' + +(I do think men are far slower at taking up new ideas than women.) + +'Live _here_,' he said again, till I really wished it would not be +disrespectful to give him a little shake, and even Dods, who is far +patienter and less im----what should I say?--impetuous or impulseful, I +must ask mamma which is best, began to look rather provoked. But mamma +put it all right. + +'Yes, Jack,' she said, the colour rushing into her face and her eyes +sparkling,--'yes, _here_ in the hut, is what the child means, and, +really, I think it is an inspiration.' Mamma _is_ quick, and she has +such a beautifully ready imagination. 'I don't see why we shouldn't. It +is perfectly healthy; dry and airy and quite warm except perhaps in the +middle of winter, and we surely could find ways and means of making a +_dry_ house warm. Ida, darling, I believe you have hit upon a way out of +our greatest difficulty. _Do_ say you think so too, Jack!' + +Light was gradually penetrating into papa's mind. + +'Here in the hut! Yes, I wish it were possible,' he said, 'and I agree +with you both so far. It _is_ dry and healthy, and might be made warm, +but--it is so small! Ah!' and he started to his feet, his whole face +changing, 'talking of inspirations, I'm not sure but that _I_ have got +one too--the------' + +Here to our amazement, mamma's and mine I mean, in _his_ turn up jumped +Dods, and, respectful or not, interrupted papa in the most barefaced +way-- + +'Stop, stop!' he cried, 'let me say it, Dad, do, before you do. I want +to have a bit of it. Is your inspiration the old parish room? The iron +room they want to get rid of? _Is_ it?--do say.' + +They were both so excited it was quite funny to see them, Geordie +especially, for he is much calmer than papa naturally. Papa turned to +him smiling-- + +'You have guessed it, my boy. Yes, we might buy the room and turn it +into two or three at least. It could not cost much--our own men could do +it, I believe. It has doorways and windows and fireplaces too, I think, +all ready, and I believe we can have it for an old song----' + +'I hope I shan't be the one chosen to sing it!' exclaimed Dods, at which +we all laughed, though it was not particularly witty. But we were just +in the sort of humour to laugh at the least little piece of fun. + +'I wish--upon my word, I wish I could see about it this very +afternoon,' went on papa, who was now racing ahead of us all in his +eagerness. + +'But you can't, dear; it's Sunday, you know,' said mamma, patting his +arm; 'and we have plenty to think about. There is no fear of Mr. Lloyd's +selling it before to-morrow morning. Let us hear some more of your plan, +Ida, dear.' + +I was only too ready to tell it--I was bursting to do so, and so was +Geordie. We set to work and talked--how we did talk!--papa and mamma +putting in a word now and then, though they were so kind, understanding +our wish to be considered the 'discoverers,' as it were, of the new +home, that they really let us talk ourselves out. Then we four made a +sort of progress through the rooms, papa measuring here and there with +the little folding-up foot-rule he always carried in his pocket, and +mamma planning where she would put such and such a piece of furniture +which could be quite well spared from the almost too full rooms up at +the house, not to speak of the stores--treasures they were fast becoming +in our eyes now--crowded away in the big garret. + +'We must go up there first thing to-morrow morning,' said mamma, 'and +have a good look round. I don't believe I know half the things we +have--no one does, except Hoskins.' + +'You will have to take her into your confidence at once, I expect,' said +papa. + +'Yes, I was just thinking so,' mamma replied; 'but I shall wait till you +have inquired about the iron room. She knows our troubles already,' she +went on, turning to Geordie and me; 'she has known about them for some +days, and she says whatever we do, or wherever we go, she will not leave +us.' + +'Oh, I _am_ so glad!' exclaimed Geordie and I in a breath. 'We thought +she would be like that,' I went on; 'and I should hope she'd like the +hut far, far better than going away to some horrid little poky house +among strangers. And, mamma, don't you think Margery would be the best +for the other servant.' + +'Are we to have two?' said mamma laughing. 'Your plans are getting quite +grand, Ida!' + +'Of course you must have two,' said papa, 'and one of the men to look +after things outside. I have an idea about that; Geordie and I will talk +about it together,' and he nodded to Geordie, who looked very pleased at +being consulted in this way, as if he were quite big. + +'When will you ask about the parish room?' he said to papa. 'May I go +with you when you do? Perhaps I could help about the measuring.' + +For they had already settled as to where it should be placed--at one +side of the hut, but a little to the back, so that it should not spoil +the rather pretty look we were gradually managing to give to the front, +by training creepers over the porch, and filling two or three large +square tubs with bushy, hardy plants which would stand the winter, and +placing them at each side of the long low windows. + +'Certainly,' said papa. 'We can drive down to Kirke immediately after +breakfast to-morrow morning. And if it is all right about the room, I +will see the man whom, I think, Mr. Lloyd employed to put it up. He will +understand the best way of partitioning it off, and our own men can work +under his directions.' + +So it was in the best of spirits--considering, that is to say, the real +sorrow of parting with dear papa, and the real anxiety that _must_ hang +over us for many months to come, at least--that we set off home again, +Esme chattering about how she had wiped all the tea-cups and saucers, +and how Margery had said that she could not possibly have 'got through' +without her. + +'That is not a very elegant expression, my little girl,' said papa. +'Don't you think you could say it some other way.' + +Esme looked rather puzzled. + +'You says,' she replied, and at that papa laughed--I think he felt it +was out of the frying-pan into the fire,--'you says to mamma or to Ida +when we're playing croquet, "Now see if you can't get through that +hoop."' + +'But cups and saucers isn't croquet hoops,' said Denzil solemnly, at +which we all laughed. A very small joke will go a long way when people +are all happy together, and each one trying to do his best to please or +amuse the others. + +When I awoke on Monday morning it was with much more quietly hopeful +feelings than on that sad Saturday I could have believed possible. I +seemed to myself to have grown years older in the two days, which was +partly nice and partly, just a very little, 'frightening.' I was proud +of my idea being thought so well of, and I was very anxious to think it +out more and more, so as really to help mamma and to prove that it _was_ +a good one. So, though it was still very early, I lay quite quietly and +did not mind the having a good while to wait till it was time to get +up, so busied was my brain in going into all the details which I was +able to think about. + +'Two little beds for Esme and me,' I began. 'Let me see which are the +smallest, to take up the least room? This one is rather too big, and +besides, the people who have taken the house will most likely need it +left. I wonder what they will do with this room. I daresay they will use +it for visitors. It is so pretty--my own dear room!' For since my last +birthday I had had a room to myself, all freshly done up with light +chintz curtains and covers and white furniture. But I resolutely put the +thought of my regret out of my mind, and went on thinking about the hut. +Esme's cot would be big enough for her for a good while, and there was +at least one old small bedstead up in the garret, and then Dods and I +had saved enough money to buy one, as I said. + +'We must spend it on _something_ for the hut,' I reflected. 'Perhaps we +had better ask mamma what would be the most useful.' + +Then my mind went on again about the other rooms and what would be +needed for them, and I had just arrived at the chests of drawers when I +must have fallen asleep, for when I was awakened by Margery and the +announcement, 'Seven o'clock, Miss Ida,' I found myself dreaming that I +was hanging up curtains in front of the fireplace instead of the window, +and wondering how we could prevent their flying up the chimney! + +After breakfast papa and Geordie set off almost immediately for Kirke, +to catch Mr. Lloyd before his week's work began again, papa said. And as +soon as mamma had finished her regular housekeeping business for the +day, she and I went up to the garret together, to spy the land, or +rather the stores. I forget if I said that we happened to be in the +middle of our Easter holidays just then, which was most lucky, was it +not? + +Mamma and I really enjoyed ourselves up in the garret. It was all so +neat, and not fusty or dusty or musty, and we came upon treasures--as +often is the case if you explore a lumber-room--whose very existence +even mamma had forgotten. + +'I really think, Ida,' mamma began, pushing her hair out of her eyes in +a pretty way she has; her hair is lovely, so curly and fuzzy, like +Esme's, though mine is dreadfully smooth! and theirs never _looks_ +messy, however untidy it really may get,--'I really think we could find +enough furniture here to do for all the rooms, after a fashion. And we +can certainly take a few things away from downstairs without spoiling +the look of the house. Two beds at least--and one or two small tables. I +must have a writing-table for myself--and several of the wicker chairs +in the verandah might be spared. Yes--I really don't think the +furnishing will be much difficulty or expense.' + +'And Doddie and I have saved sixteen and sixpence, you know, mamma,' I +said. 'We meant to buy a camp bedstead for the hut, you know, whenever +you would let us furnish the room that is going to be our drawing-room +now. So we can still get one for Dods if you like, or anything else +needed.' + +'Yes, darling,' said mamma. 'That will be very nice. We can wait a +little till we see what is most required.' + +She spoke quite as seriously as I had done, though I know _now_ that +sixteen and sixpence is really not nearly as much money as I then +thought it. But that is what has always been so dear about mamma; she +never 'snubs' us. And many people, even really very kind people, do hurt +children's feelings dreadfully sometimes without in the least meaning +it. It is one of the things I mean to try always to remember when I am +quite grown-up myself, and it would be very wrong and ungrateful of any +of _us_ ever to forget it, for our father and mother have shown us such +a good example about it. + +Then mamma went off to write some letters and I to the schoolroom to +practise, which had to be done, holidays or no holidays! + +'I wonder if we shall have a piano at the hut,' I thought. 'I shan't +very much mind if we don't,' for at that time I did not care much for +music, not, at least, for my own performances. Since then I have come to +'appreciate' it a little better, though I am not at all clever about it, +and I am afraid papa and mamma are rather disappointed at this. But Esme +is learning the violin and plays already so well that I hope she will +make up for me. + +I kept running to the window--the schoolroom overlooks the drive--every +time I heard the sound of wheels, to see if it was papa and Geordie +coming back, which was very silly, as of course they would have a good +deal to do, measuring and seeing the carpenter and arranging it all. But +I felt as if I could not settle to anything till I knew about the iron +room, as it did seem as if the whole plan depended a good deal on our +getting it. And when at last I did catch sight of the dogcart coming +swiftly along the avenue, my heart began to beat so fast that I had to +stop once or twice to take breath on my way to the hall-door. + +Mamma was there before me, as anxious as I, I do believe, though she was +too sensible to show it. + +But before they got to the house, we knew it was all right. Geordie +stood up in the cart and waved his cap for us to understand. + +'Oh, I am so glad!' I cried, and mamma smiled. + +How strangely things change their--oh, dear, I can't find just the right +word; yes, I have it now 'aspects'--in life sometimes. This was Monday; +on Saturday only had we heard _the_ sad news, and here we were, quite in +good, almost high spirits again, about a little bettering of what, if we +had foreseen it a week ago, we should certainly have thought a cloud +with no silver lining! + +Papa and Dods jumped down in a moment, and threw the reins to the groom. + +'Is it----' I began. + +'All right,' papa interrupted. 'Lloyd is delighted. Very kind and +sympathising, of course, with us, but so interested in our--I should +say,' with a smile to me, 'Ida's scheme. He thinks it a first-rate +idea, at any rate till the autumn.' + +'And he is coming up himself this afternoon,' said Geordie, 'with the +drawings and measures of the room, that he got when he bought it.' + +'Very good of him,' said mamma. + +'And Jervis, the carpenter, is coming too,' George went on; 'and we must +all go down to the hut together. Mr. Lloyd said _particularly_ Ida.' + +I felt myself grow red with pleasure. + +'Yes,' said papa; 'we must all go and give our opinions. I am very glad +to have secured the room. They were already beginning to take it down. +It is a very good size really, larger than you would think; and there +are two doorways, I am glad to find, and a little porch. I have two or +three ideas in my head as to how to join it on and so forth, but I can +go into them better on the spot.' + +'Ida and I have been busy too,' said mamma. 'Really, Jack, you would +scarcely believe the amount of extra furniture we have. There will be +very little to buy--only, I do believe, one camp bedstead for Geordie, +and perhaps a servant's one; and a few bright, warm-looking rugs.' + +'_We_ might buy those, mamma,' I interrupted eagerly. 'I have told +mamma about our sixteen and sixpence, Doddie,' I went on, turning to +George. 'I knew you wouldn't mind.' + +Geordie nodded. + +'Sixteen and sixpence,' repeated papa. 'How have you managed to get +together all that?' + +'It's _hut_ money,' I replied. 'I mean it's on purpose to spend on the +hut. We have other savings, too, for Christmas and birthdays--this is +all for the hut.' + +'And it shall be spent on the hut,' said papa, 'on something lasting--to +do honour to you both.' + +Wasn't that nice of him? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +'WHAT _CAN_ SHE MEAN?' + + +I remember that Monday afternoon so well. It was very interesting. Mr. +Lloyd was very kind and clever about things, and the carpenter, though a +rather slow, very silent man, understood his business and was quite +ready to do all that was wanted. Papa was as eager as a boy, and Geordie +full of ideas too. So between us we got it beautifully planned. + +It was far nicer than I had dared to hope. They fixed to run a tiny +passage between the side of the hut where the room was to be placed, so +that the two doorways into it could both be used,--one to enter into +Geordie's room, so that he could run in and out without having to go +through mamma's or ours, and the other leading into mamma's, from which +we could pass to ours. And the partitions made them really as good as +three proper rooms, each with a nice window. There could be no +fireplace in ours, but as it was the middle one, and therefore sure to +be the warmest, that would not matter, as there were two, one at each +end in the iron room. If it was very cold, mamma said Esme and I might +undress in hers, and _dress_ in his, Geordie added, as he meant always +to be up very early and light his own fire to work by, which rather +amused us all, as he was _not_ famed for early rising. Indeed, I never +knew such a sleepy head as he was--poor old Dods! + +We felt satisfied, as we walked home, that we had done a good day's +work. + +'Though it _couldn't_ have been managed without the iron room,' Geordie +and I agreed. + +And a day or two later we felt still more settled and pleased when mamma +told us that Hoskins and Margery were coming with us. Hoskins was just a +little melancholy about it all, not a bit for herself, I do believe, but +because she thought it would be 'such a change, so different' for mamma +and us. + +She cheered up however when we reminded her how much nicer it would be +than a poky little house in a back street at Kirke, or, worse still, +away in some other place altogether, among strangers. And when she said +something about the cold, in case we stayed at the hut through the +winter, Geordie said we could afford plenty of fires as we should have +no rent to pay, and that _he_ was going to be 'stoker' for the whole +family. + +'You won't need to look after any fire but your own, Master George,' +said she, 'and not that, unless it amuses you. Margery is not a lazy +girl--I would not own her for my niece if she was. And besides that, +there will be Barnes to help to carry in the coal.' + +Barnes was one of the under-gardeners. He lived with his father and +mother at the Lodge, but he had never had anything to do with the house, +so I was surprised at what Hoskins said. + +'Oh yes,' George explained, looking very business-like and nodding in a +way he had, 'that is one of the things papa and I have settled about. We +are rigging up a room for Barnes, much nearer than the Lodge--the old +woodman's hut within a stone's throw of _our_ hut, Ida, so that a +whistle would bring him in a moment. He will still live at the Lodge for +eating, you see, but he will come round first thing and last thing. He's +as proud as a peacock; he thinks he's going to be a kind of Robinson +Crusoe; it will be quite a nice little room; there is even a fireplace +in it. He says he won't need coals; there's such lots of brushwood +about.' + +'_I_ have been thinking of that,' I said eagerly. 'It would seem much +more in keeping to burn brushwood than commonplace coals----' + +'Except in my kitchen, if you please, Miss Ida,' put in Hoskins. + +'And better still than brushwood,' I went on, taking no notice of +Hoskins's 'kitchen,'--I would much rather have had a gypsy fire with a +pot hanging on three iron rods, the way gypsies do, or are supposed to +do,--'better than brushwood, fir cones. They do smell so delicious when +they are burning. We might make a great heap of them before next winter. +It would give the children something to do when they are playing in the +wood.' + +[Illustration: ORDERING DENZIL ABOUT AS USUAL.] + +They--the two little ones--were of course in tremendous spirits about +the whole thing,--such spirits that they could not even look sad for +very long when at last--about three weeks after the days I have just +been describing--the sorrowful morning arrived on which dear papa had to +leave us. Esme cried loudly, as was her way; Denzil, more silently and +solemnly, as was his; but an hour or two afterwards we heard the little +butterfly laughing outside in the garden and ordering Denzil about as +usual. + +'Never mind,' said mamma, glancing up from the lists of all sorts of +things she was already busy at and reading what was in my mind, 'rather +let us be glad that the child does not realise it. She is very young; it +does not mean that she is heartless,' and mamma herself choked down her +tears and turned again to her writing-table. + +I too had done my best not to cry, though it was _very_ difficult. I +think George and I 'realised' it all--the long, lonely voyage for papa; +the risks at sea which are always there; the dangers for his health, for +the climate was a bad one, and it was not the safest season by any +means. All these, and then the possibility of great disappointment when +he got there--of finding that, after all, the discovery of things going +wrong had come too late to put them right, and of all that would follow +this--the leaving our dear, dear home, not for a few months, or even a +year, but for _always_. + +It would not do even to think of it. And I had promised papa to be brave +and cheerful. + +By this time I must explain that the Hut--from now I must write it with +a capital, as mamma did in her letters: 'The Hut, Eastercove' looked +quite grand, we thought--was ready for us to move into. Our tenants were +expected at the house in a week or ten days, and we were now to leave it +as soon as we could. + +A great part of the arranging, carting down furniture, and so on had +been done, but it had been thought better to put off our actually taking +up our quarters in our quaint new home till after papa had gone. _He_ +said it would have worried him rather if we had left sooner, but I know +the truth was, that he thought the having to be very busy, in a bustle +in fact, at once on his going, would be the best for us all--mamma +especially. + +And a bustle it was, though things had been hurried on wonderfully fast. +The fixing up of the iron room was quite complete and the partitions +were already in their places, the furniture roughly in the rooms too. +But as everybody who has ever moved from one house to another knows, +there were still _heaps_ to be done, and seen to by ourselves, which no +work-people could do properly. And besides the arranging at the Hut of +course, there was a great deal for mamma to settle at the house, so as +to leave everything nice for the people who were coming. + +That afternoon, I remember, the afternoon of the day papa left, we were +at the Hut till dark, working as hard as we could, even the little ones +helping, by running messages and fetching and carrying. And by the time +we went home we were very tired and beginning to find it very difficult +to look on the bright side of things. + +'I don't believe it will ever be really comfortable for mamma,' said +Geordie in the growly tone he used when he was anxious or unhappy. 'It's +just a horrid business altogether. I don't believe papa will be able to +get things right, out at that old hole of a place, and even if he +doesn't get ill, as he very likely will, he'll only come home to leave +it for good--I mean we'll have to sell Eastercove. I'm almost sorry we +did not go away now at once and get it over.' + +I glanced before us. Mamma was some little way in front--I could just +see her dimly, for it was dusk, with Denzil and Esme, one on each side; +Esme walking along soberly for once, and I caught snatches of mamma's +voice coming back to us, for there was a light, though rather chilly +evening breeze, blowing our way. I could hear that she was talking +brightly to the children; no doubt it was not easy for her to do so. + +'Listen, Geordie,' I said, nodding forwards, so to say, towards mamma. + +And he understood, though he did not say anything just at once. + +'It is a good thing,' I went on, after a moment's silence, 'that the +wind is not the other way. I would not like her to hear you talking like +that, within a few hours of papa's going.' + +It was not often--very, very seldom indeed--that I felt it my place to +blame good old Dods; and honestly, I don't think I did it or meant it in +any 'superior' way. I am sure I did not, for the words had scarcely +passed my lips before they seemed to me to have been unkind. Geordie was +tired; he had been working very hard the last few days, and even a +strong boy may feel out of heart when he is tired. + +'I don't know what _I_ should do, not to speak of mamma,' I went on, 'if +you got gloomy about things. We all depend on you so,' and for a moment +or two I really felt as if I must begin to cry! + +Then something crept round my neck, and I knew it was all right again. +The something was Geordie's arm, and it gave me a little hug, not the +most comfortable thing in the world when you are out walking, and it +tilts up your hat, but of course I did not mind. + +'Yes, Ida,' he said, 'it's very babyish and cowardly of me, and I'm very +sorry. I won't be like that again, I promise you.' + +Then I gave him a sort of a hug in return, and we hurried on a little, +not to leave mamma with the children dragging on at each side of her, as +they are apt to do when they are tired. We none of us spoke much the +rest of the way home, but Geordie said one or two little things about +how comfortable the Hut was getting to look and so on, which _I_ +understood, and which prevented poor mamma's suspecting that he was at +all in low spirits. + +When people really _try_ to do right, I think outside things often come +to help them. That very evening we were cheered and amused by a letter +which had arrived by the second post while we were all out--a quite +unexpected letter. + +It was from a cousin of ours, a girl, though a grown-up one, whom we +were very fond of. She was _almost_ like a big sister, and her name was +Theresa. She was generally called 'Taisy' for short. I have not spoken +of her before; but, indeed, when I come to think of it I have not spoken +of any of our relations, I have been so entirely taken up with the Hut. +We had however none _very_ near. Taisy was almost the nearest. She lived +with her grandmother, who was papa's aunt, so Taisy was really only +second cousin to us children. + +She was now about seventeen, and she was an orphan. Many people like her +would have been spoilt, for old Aunt Emmeline adored her and gave her +nearly everything she could possibly want. But Taisy wasn't a bit +spoilt. + +She often came to stay with us, and one of the smaller parts of our big +trouble was that we could not look forward to having her _this_ year, at +any rate. Papa had written to Lady Emmeline to tell her of what had +happened; she was one of the few whom he felt he must write to about it, +and it was partly because of Taisy's not coming--I mean our not being +able to have her--that he did so. + +And he had had a very kind letter back from his aunt. She wished she +could help him, but though she was comfortably off, her money was what +they call 'tied up,' somehow, and Taisy would have none of _hers_ till +she was twenty-one. Besides, papa was not the sort of man to take or +expect help, while he was strong and active and could work for us +himself, and it was the kind of trouble in which a little help would +really have been no use--a large fortune was at stake. + +Taisy had not written; she had only sent loving messages to us all, and +something about that 'by hook or by crook' she must see us before the +summer was over. + +But the letter to mamma which was waiting for us roused our curiosity, +and kept us quite bright and interested all that evening, in wondering +what she _could_ mean. + +'Ever since I heard from grandmamma of your worries, dear auntie,' she +wrote,--I must explain that Taisy always called papa and mamma uncle and +aunt, though they were really only cousins,-'I have been thinking and +thinking about how I could still manage to pay you a visit. I really +cannot face the idea of all the long summer without seeing you.' + +'It _is_ very dull for her at Longfields,' said mamma, interrupting +herself in the reading aloud the letter to us. 'Aunt Emmeline never has +cared much to have visitors, though she is a wonderfully strong and +active old lady. And now that Taisy is giving up regular lessons, it +will be still duller. But it can't be helped, I suppose. Yet I do wonder +what the child has in her head,' and she went on reading. + + 'And, once I was with you, I am _sure_ I would not be any trouble, + if only you had room for me. You don't know what a help I should + be! So--don't be surprised if you see a balloon coming down + towards the Hut one day, and me getting out of it. I have not got + my plan quite ready yet, and I am not going to say anything to + Granny about it till it is all cut and dried and ready to be + stacked!--though, as she always lets me do whatever I want, I am + not much afraid of her making any difficulties. Her old friend, + Miss Merry, will be coming over from Ireland as usual, I suppose, + and I am sure I should only be in the way, especially as I have no + governess now. My best love to you all, and I do hope dear Uncle + Jack will have a nice voyage and come back feeling quite happy + again.--Your loving + + TAISY.' + +'What _can_ she mean?' said Geordie, looking up with a puzzled face. + +'Of course about a balloon is quite a joke, isn't it?' I said, though I +spoke rather doubtfully, not knowing much about balloons! + +'Of course,' said Geordie, in a superior tone. 'Besides, there is no +difficulty about her getting to us. The railway and the roads are not +blocked up because of our troubles. The thing is, that there is nowhere +to put her if she did come.' + +'No,' I agreed, running over the rooms at the Hut in my mind; 'we are +quite closely enough packed as it is. There isn't any possible corner +for another bed even.' + +'Unless,' said Geordie slowly,--'unless you would let me really camp +out, mamma? I could rig up a little tent, or--I wouldn't much mind +sleeping in Barnes's hut?' + +'No, no,' mamma replied decidedly. 'I could not allow anything of the +kind. Our living at the Hut is only possible because it is _not_ to be +like rough camping out, but as healthy and "civilised" as if we were in +a house. So put that out of your head, my dear boy. I could not risk +your catching cold, or anything of that sort. Remember, I feel +responsible to your father in _my_ way for you all, just as you two big +ones feel so for me,' she added with one of her own dear smiles. + +'And then, Dods,' I said, 'it wouldn't be safe--I know _I_ wouldn't feel +safe--without having you actually in the house, even though Barnes's +hut is so near.' + +I think Geordie liked my saying that. But I really meant it. + +So we went on wondering and puzzling as to what Taisy meant. It was +quite an amusement to us that first evening of papa's being away. And it +was worth wondering about, for Taisy was a very clever girl--what is +called 'practical.' + +'If she could come and be with us, I'm sure she would be a great help,' +I thought. 'She is so full of nice ideas and funny ones too, and she +never has headaches or neuralgia or horrid things like that. And yet she +is _so_ kind--I remember that time I sprained my ankle. She was so +good.' + +The next few days were so busy, however, that all thought even of Taisy +and her balloon went out of our heads. I only remember packings and +unpackings and arranging and rearrangings, all in a jumble together, +ending, nevertheless, in a great deal of satisfaction. The afternoon we +went to the Hut 'for good,' it really looked nice enough for us to feel +it, for the time, more 'home' than the big house, which, on the surface, +seemed rather upset still, though in reality it was nearly ready for the +tenants, having gone through a magnificent spring cleaning. But our own +little belongings were absent, and such of the rooms as were quite in +order, to our eyes looked bare and unfamiliar, so that we were not sorry +to be actually settled at the Hut. + +The evenings were still a little chilly, which I, for one, did not +regret, as it gave an excuse for nice bright fires in the sitting-rooms +and mamma's bedroom. And the children had already picked up a good lot +of fir cones, so that the pleasant scent of the trees seemed to be +inside as well as out of doors. + +'It _is_ cosy, isn't it, mamma?' I said, as we stood for a minute or two +in what was now the little drawing-room; 'and oh, _aren't_ you glad not +to be starting on a railway journey to some strange place, or even +driving to that little house at Kirke which you told me about as the +best we could have got?' + +'Yes, indeed, darling,' mamma replied. 'And I am _so_ glad to be able to +date my first letter to papa from the Hut. I must make time to write to +him to-morrow morning; it will just catch the mail.' + +'And to-night,' I went on, 'you must rest. There isn't really very much +more to do, is there? Not at least anything that we need hurry about.' + +'No,' said mamma, looking round. But she spoke rather doubtfully, and I +felt that she was longing to get everything into perfectly 'apple-pie +order,' though what that means I have never been able to understand, for +as far as we know them nowadays, apple-pies are rather untidy-looking! +'There is very little now for me to see to at--home--at the house,' she +went on. 'I am not going there at all for a day or two, and then just to +give a look round and pay the wages owing till the Trevors come.' + +The Trevors were our tenants--a mother and an invalid son, and a +not-very-young daughter--and several of our servants were staying on +with them, which we were very glad of. + +'And I want,' mamma began again, 'to get things started here regularly. +Your lessons, and the little ones' too, and--and--everything. Our own +clothes will take some time to arrange, and I must not expect Hoskins to +be everywhere at once. + +'I will do _lots_, mamma,' I said. 'You don't know what I can do when I +regularly set-to, and I promise you I won't open a story-book till the +boxes are unpacked and arranged,' though I gave a little silent sigh as +I said this. There seemed such heaps to unpack, for you see we had had +to bring all our winter things with us too, and I was sensible enough +to know that there must now be a lot of planning how to make frocks and +coats and things last, that hitherto we should have given away without a +second thought to those whom they might be of use to. And in my secret +heart I was trembling a little at the idea that perhaps one of the +things I should have to 'set-to' at would be sewing--above all, mending! + +'For of course, as mamma says,' I reflected, 'we can't expect Hoskins to +do _everything_! And I knew it was a case of just spending the very +least we could--without risking health or necessary comforts--till papa +came home again, or at least till he got _some_ idea of what the future +was likely to be. + +But for the moment it was worse than foolish to go on looking forward, +when the _present_ was pretty clearly to be seen. And just then Esme +came dancing in to tell us that tea was ready in the dining-room. + +'Quite ready and getting cold. So come quick,' she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +'YOU DO UNDERSTAND SO WELL, MAMMA' + + +I shall never forget the first morning's awaking in the Hut. Well, as I +knew it, it seemed as if I had not till then ever been there before. I +do not mean so much the actual waking; that of course is always a little +confusing, even if only in a different _room_ from the one you are used +to, and I was particularly accustomed to my own room at Eastercove, as +we were not people who went away very much. We loved home too well for +that. + +No, though I rubbed my eyes and stared about me and wondered why the +window had changed its place, I soon remembered where I was, especially +when I caught sight of Esme's little bed beside mine, and of Esme's pink +cheeks and bright hair as she lay fast asleep still, looking like a +comfortable doll. + +I was thinking rather of the feelings I had when I was dressed--I +dressed very quickly, despising any warm water in my bath for once, and +moved about very quietly, so as not to waken Esme and thereby vex +Hoskins the very first morning--and made my way out to the porch and +stood there gazing about me. + +It was not so very early after all--half-past seven by mamma's little +clock in the drawing-room, and I heard the servants working busily in +the kitchen and dining-room, though there was no sound from poor old +Geordie's corner, in spite of his overnight intentions of being up by +six! + +But outside it seemed very, very early. It was so absolutely _alone_--so +strangely far from any sight or sound of common human life, except for +just one little thing--a tiny white sail, far, far away on the +horizon--a mere speck it seemed. And below where I stood,--I think I +have said that the hut was on a sort of 'plateau,--' though at some +little distance, came the sound of the waves, lapping in softly, for it +was a calm day, and now and then the flash of a gull as it flew past, or +the faint, peculiar cry of some other sea-bird or coast-bird nearer +inland. For the spot was so quiet and seemingly isolated that rather +wild, shy birds were not afraid of visiting it, even when there was no +stormy weather or signs of such out at sea. + +And behind me were our dear pine woods, and the feeling of the squirrels +and the home birds all busy and happy in the coming of the spring, +though any sounds from there were very vague and soft. + +At first I did not know what it all reminded me of. Something out of my +own experiences I knew, but I had to think for a minute or two before it +came back to my mind. And then I remembered that it was a story in a +French book that mamma had read to us, partly in French, which Geordie +and I knew fairly well, and partly translating as she read. It was +called _Les Ailes de Courage_, by some great French author, who wrote +it, I think, for his or her grandchildren, and it is almost the most +interesting and strangest story I ever heard--about a boy who lived +quite, quite alone in a cave by the seashore, and got to know all the +wild creatures and their habits in the most wonderful way, so that they +came to trust him as if he was one of themselves. I cannot give any +right idea of the story; I doubt if any one could, but I wish you--if +'you' ever come to exist--would all read it. + +Just as I was standing there, pleased to have remembered the +association in my mind, I felt a hand slipped gently round my neck. It +was not one of Geordie's 'hugs,' and I looked up in surprise. It was +mamma. + +'How quietly you came,' I said; 'and oh, mamma, _doesn't_ it remind you +of _Les Ailes de Courage_?' + +'Yes,' she replied, 'I know exactly what you mean.' + +And then we stood perfectly still and silent for a moment or two, taking +it all in, more and more, till a _very_ tiny sigh from mamma reminded me +of something else--that dear papa was on that same great sea that we +were gazing at--perhaps standing on the deck of the steamer and thinking +of us--but _so_ far away already! + +'It is chilly,' said mamma, 'and we must not begin our life here by +catching cold. We had better go in, dear. I think it is going to be a +lovely day, but in the meantime I hope Hoskins has given us a fire in +the dining-room.' + +Yes--a nice bright little fire was crackling away merrily, a handful or +two of the children's cones on the top. And the room looked quite cosy +and tidy, as Margery had finished dusting and so on, in here, and was +now busy at the other side. + +'I will go and see how Esme is getting on,' said mamma. 'She had had +her bath before I came out, but there may be difficulties with her hair. +And you might hurry up the boys, Ida, for I have promised Hoskins to be +very punctual, and breakfast will be ready by eight.' + +It was a good thing I did go to hurry up the boys--they were both fast +asleep! Geordie looked dreadfully ashamed when I at last managed to get +him really awake, and Denzil almost began to cry. He had planned with +Esme, he said, to have a run down to the sands before breakfast, and +Hoskins knew and had promised them a slice of bread and butter and a +drink of milk. + +'Did she not wake you then?' I asked. 'She woke Esme at seven, but I was +already up.' + +Geordie could not remember if he had been awakened or not. Denzil +thought Margery had come in and said something about 'seven o'clock,' +but it was all mixed up with a wonderful dream that he wanted me to stay +to listen to, about a balloon (he had heard us talking about Taisy's +balloon) with long cords hanging from it, like those in the +grandfather's clock in the hall 'at home,' for you to climb up and down +by, as if they were rope-ladders. + +'You must have gone to sleep again and dreamt it through the word +"o'clock" getting into your brain,' I said, whereupon I felt as if I had +got out of the frying-pan into the fire, for instead of telling the rest +of his dream, Denzil now wanted to know exactly what I meant, and what +his brain was 'like,' and how a word could get into it--was it a box in +his head, and his ears the doors, etc., etc.--Denzil had a dreadfully +'inquiring mind,' in those days--till I really had to cut him short and +fly. + +'You will neither of you be ready for breakfast, as it is,' I said; 'and +if you are not quick you will have none at all, or at least quite cold.' + +I nearly ran against the coffee, which Hoskins was just carrying in, as +I got to the dining-room door, which would not have been a happy +beginning. But I pulled up just in time, and took in good part Hoskins's +reminder that it wouldn't do to rush about as if we were in the wide +passages at home. Then she went on to tell me what it all made her think +of, she was so glad to have remembered. + +'It is just like a _ship_, Miss Ida. I have never been at sea, but I +spent a day or two once on board one of the big steamers at Southampton +that a cousin of my mother's is stewardess of. Yes, it's that that's +been running in my head.' + +'It can't have been a _very_ big one, then,' I said, rather pertly, I am +afraid. But Hoskins did not see the joke. + +'Oh, but it was, Miss Ida,' she went on, after she had placed the +coffee-pot in safety. 'The big rooms, saloons, as they call them, were +really beautiful, but the passages quite narrow, and the kitchens and +pantries so small, you'd wonder they do do any washing-up in them, let +alone cooking. Not an inch of space lost, you may say. And as to how +they manage in rough weather when everything's atop of the other, it's +just wonderful, not that I've any wish to see for myself; the sea's all +very well to be beside of, but as for going _on_ it,' and Hoskins shook +her head, but said no more. For mamma just then came into the room, and +the kind-hearted woman did not want to remind her who _was_ on the sea +at the present moment. + +We three--mamma and Esme and I--had made some way with our breakfast +before the two lazy ones joined us, Geordie rather shy and ashamed; +Denzil eager to explain the whole story of his dream, and to tease poor +mamma about his brain and how it was made and what it was like, till I +did wish I had not mentioned its existence to him. + +I don't remember anything very particularly interesting in the course +of the first few days at the Hut, or rather perhaps, _everything_ was so +interesting that no one thing stands out very much in my memory or in my +diary. I kept a diary in those days, as I daresay you who read this have +suspected, otherwise I could not have been so exact about details, +though it needs no diary to remind myself of the _feeling_ of it all, of +the curious charm of the half gypsy life. Not that it really was nearly +as 'gypsy' as we would have liked it to be, or as we _thought_ we would +have liked it to be! It was really so comfortable, and we were all so +pleased with our own efforts to make it so, and their success, that by +the end of a week or ten days we began to long for some adventures. + +'A storm,' said Geordie one day,--'a storm at sea. How would that do? +Not a very bad one of course, and------' + +'No,' I said decidedly, frowning at him to remind him about papa's being +on the sea,--'no, that wouldn't do at all. Besides, there never are +storms at this time of year. It's past the bad time. No, something more +like real gypsies camping near us, and coming to ask us to lend them +things, and telling our fortunes.' + +But at this idea _mamma_ shook her head. + +'No, thank you,' she said, though she smiled; 'I have no wish for any +such neighbours. Besides, Ida, you forget that though we are living in a +hut, we are still at home on our own ground, and certainly gypsies have +never been allowed to camp inside the lodge gates.' + +'They never come nearer than Kirke Common now,' said George. 'They have +been frightened of Eastercove, Barnes says, ever since papa was made a +magistrate.' + +'I think we must be content if we want adventures,' said mamma, 'with +reading some aloud. I have got one or two nice books that none of you +know, and I think it would be a very good plan to read aloud in the +evenings.' + +We were not very eager about it. We liked very much to be read to, but +we were not fond of being the readers, and though mamma read aloud +beautifully, I knew it was not right to let it all fall upon her, as her +voice was not very strong. + +'It isn't as if Taisy were here, to take turns with you, mamma,' I said, +'as she always does.' + +'After this week,' said mamma, 'you will not want any more excitement, +for we must really arrange about your lessons, Ida--yours and the +little ones. And Geordie, of course, will begin again regularly with Mr. +Lloyd, now that we are settled.' + +Our daily governess was given up. She was not now quite 'advanced' +enough for me, and to have her for Denzil and Esme alone was very +expensive, so it had been fixed that I was to work with mamma; and, on +the other hand, be myself teacher to the little ones for the time. Mamma +had thought she would have so much less to do, with papa away, and no +calls to pay, or going out to dinners and luncheons, all of which she +had given up for the time. But it did not look very like it so far--I +mean not very like her 'having more time' than at the big house, for +there were always things turning up for her to do, and then she wrote +enormously long letters to papa every week. And there were things about +the place, the whole property, which she had to be consulted about now +he was away. + +And for my part I was not at all looking forward to my new post of +governess! + +'It is such a pity,' I thought, 'that we can't have Taisy. She wouldn't +have minded teaching the children a bit, and she is so clever. Lots of +my own lessons I could have done with her too. And I know the little +ones won't obey me; Denzil would, but not Esme, and she will set him +off.' + +I suppose my face was looking rather cloudy, for mamma went on again. + +'I daresay we shall all feel a little depressed for a time, for we have +had a good deal of really tiring work as well as excitement. And the +worst of over-excitement, at least for young, strong people, is, that +when it is over, everything seems flat, and we find ourselves wishing +something else would happen.' + +'Yes,' I said; 'that's just what I feel. You do understand so well, +mamma.' + +'I have a mild piece of excitement in store for you to-day or +to-morrow,' mamma went on again. 'I think it is quite time that I called +on our tenants. They must be fairly settled by now.' + +'I don't see that there was any settling for them to do,' I said. 'You +left everything so beautifully neat and nice.' + +Somehow I felt a little cross at the poor things! + +'They have to unpack what they brought with them,' said Geordie; 'and +I'm sure----' he stopped short. + +I knew why he stopped. He thought that what he was going to say might +vex me, for, as I think--or hope I have owned--I have a quick temper. +But Dods was not famous for 'tact'; that habit of his of stopping short +all of a sudden often made me crosser than almost anything he could +_say_. + +'It's very rude not to finish your sentence,' I said sharply. 'What are +you so sure about?' + +'Only that you made fuss enough about our own unpacking,' he replied, +'quite extra from the getting the Hut in order and all that.' + +'You are very unfair, and unkind,' I said, feeling as if I should like +to cry, for _I_ thought I had been very patient and good-tempered. +'Mamma, don't you think he needn't have said that?' + +'He did not want to say it, to give him his due,' said mamma, smiling a +little; 'and to give Ida her due,' she went on, turning to Geordie, 'I +don't see, my boy, that you needed to _think_ it.' + +'Well,' said Dods, and I felt my vexedness begin to go away, 'after all, +I don't know that I did. I suppose we've all been rather fussy, though +it wasn't in a bad sort of way.' + +'No, indeed,' said mamma; 'it was in a very good sort of way. You have +all been most helpful; I wish you could have seen my last letter to papa +about you.' + +After that it would have been impossible to go on being vexed with any +one, wouldn't it? I never knew any one like mamma for making horrid +feelings go and nice ones come, and yet she is always quite _true_. + +'Then, do you mean that you want me to go with you when you call on the +Trevors, mamma?' I asked. + +'Yes, I do, rather particularly,' she replied, so of course I said I +would be ready whatever time she fixed, though I didn't very much want +to go. I was just at the age--I don't think I have quite grown past it +even now--when girls hate paying calls, and I could not bear the idea of +being received as visitors in our very own house. This was extremely +silly of course, as it was such a lucky thing for us to have let it to +good, careful people like the Trevors, but I don't think it was an +unnatural feeling. And afterwards, poor mamma owned to me that it was +something of the same kind that had made her wish to take me with her. +It would make her feel less 'lonely,' she thought. Wasn't it sweet of +her to think that? + +So that afternoon, or the next, I forget which, we found ourselves +walking slowly up through the woods to the big house. I felt rather as +if it must be Sunday, for it was not often, except on Sundays, that I +was in the woods in very neat 'get up,'--proper gloves instead of rough +garden ones, and best boots, and hat, and everything like for going to +church, or for going a drive with mamma in the victoria. + +We did not expect--at least I did not--to find our new acquaintances +very interesting. There was nobody young among them, and hearing that +they had come to Eastercove principally for health's sake did not sound +very lively. + +But, after all, something interesting _did_ come of the visit, as I will +tell you. + +We were ushered into the drawing-room--'the ladies were at home,' he +said--by an oldish man-servant, with a nice face. + +Into our own drawing-room--how funny it seemed! And already it did not +seem quite our own, not the same. There were little changes in the +places of the furniture, and there were unfamiliar odds and ends about, +which made it feel strange. I was rather glad that there was no one in +the room to receive us, and I squeezed mamma's hand tight, and I am sure +she understood, and we both had time to get our breath, as it were, +before any one appeared. + +When some one did come, nevertheless, we were taken a little by +surprise, for she--it was Miss Trevor--entered by the window, and I had +been looking towards the door. There are long, low-down windows in the +drawing-room, and at one side a terracey sort of walk, which is very +pleasant for sitting out on, in summer especially, as it is well shaded. + +Immediately I saw her I felt she was nice. She seemed older than mamma, +though perhaps she was not so really. Her face was very quiet--that is +the best word for it, and though I was so young then and knew so little +of life, I felt that it was a face that had _grown_ quiet through +goodness. Even now I do not know much of Miss Trevor's history, but +mamma has been told enough of it to make her think very highly of her. + +There was not the least bit of hardness, scarcely even of sadness in her +expression, but just a look--a look that made one feel that she had come +through sorrow, and could never care _very_ much about anything for +herself again--anything _here_, I mean. + +'I am so sorry,' she said at once, in a nice, hearty way, 'to have kept +you waiting. It is such a lovely afternoon that mother and I have +settled ourselves outside!' + +'Then please don't unsettle yourselves,' said mamma, and I saw a gleam +of pleasure creep into Miss Trevor's gray eyes at mamma's pretty voice +and manner. 'May we not join Mrs. Trevor on the terrace, for I suppose +it is there you are sitting?' + +'Yes,' was the reply. 'It is so sheltered, and of course it is still +early days for venturing anything of the kind. But mother is quite +strong except for rheumatism, and really who _could_ have rheumatism in +this dry, fragrant air? We are so delighted with everything about your +beautiful home, Mrs. Lanark,' she went on. (It has _just_ struck me that +till now I have never said that 'Lanark' is our family name! Really, I +am not fit to try to write a story.) 'And you have done so much to make +it perfect for us.' + +[Illustration: WE WERE OUT ON THE TERRACE, AND MRS. TREVOR COMING TO +MEET US.] + +Mamma and I felt repaid for our trouble by this, but before there was +time to reply, we were out on the terrace, and Mrs. Trevor coming to +meet us. It was not such an easy business for her to do so, as you might +think. She had three dogs--darlings, I must own, and not barking, +snapping darlings--dancing round her, and she was all twisted about with +wool, red and green and white and all colours, unwound from the balls +from her knitting. You never saw anything so funny, especially as the +doggies, though very good-natured, were very lively and affectionate, +and very spoilt, evidently accustomed to think the wools and the +knitting and every bit of dear Mrs. Trevor herself only existed for +their benefit. How she managed to keep the wool clean, and to knit the +pretty fluffy things she did, I never found out. I really think there +was some magic about it, for I _never_ saw her without the strands of it +flying loose, _and_ the dogs dancing up and down to catch it! + +She was laughing--such a nice laugh. + +'Really,' she said, 'you will think me a slave to my pugs, Mrs. Lanark, +and I am afraid it is true. Zenia, dear, please untwist me.' + +Miss Trevor was evidently pretty well used to doing so, but she laughed +too; and mamma and I started forward to help, so between us we managed +to get the wool wound up pretty quickly, the doggies standing by more +quietly than usual. They were more in awe of Miss Trevor, it was plain +to see, than of their actual mistress. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +'NO,' SAID MAMMA, 'THAT ISN'T ALL' + + +Then we all sat down at the end of the terrace; Mrs. and Miss Trevor had +already found out exactly the nicest place, one of our own favourite +places, sheltered but not too shut in, with a view of the pine woods +close by, at one side, and a peep of the farther off sea, through an +opening that had been made on purpose, at the other. + +'I love that glimpse of the sea,' said Miss Trevor, who naturally began +to talk to me, as her mother and mamma were entertaining each other. + +'Yes,' I said, 'this corner is a very nice one. But you should see the +view from where we are now--down at the Hut, I mean.' + +'It must be charming,' she replied, 'so open and wide. I am very +anxious, indeed,' she went on smiling, 'to see the Hut. It must be +so--picturesque.' + +'No, it isn't exactly that,' I said. 'It's _queer_, and +out-of-the-common, of course, but the charm of the place _is_ the +place,' and I laughed at my own way of expressing myself. 'It seems so +entirely away from everything, except the sea and the trees and the wild +creatures, though it isn't _really_ lonely.' + +Then mamma turned to Miss Trevor with some little explanation about +something or other in the house which Mrs. Trevor said her daughter took +charge of, and the old lady--I hope it isn't rude to call her that? she +did seem old to me--began talking to me. I liked her very much. She was +_so_ fond of her three doggies, and she was so sympathising about one of +ours that had died a few months before, and whom we had loved so dearly, +that it was not till a good while afterwards that we could bear to have +another. + +The one we did have in the end was a present from Mrs. Trevor, a pug +puppy, and we have him still, and I named him 'Woolly,' which everybody +thinks a most unsuitable name for a pug, as they do not understand the +reason for it. I daresay _you_ will guess that it was because the sight +of a pug always reminds me of Mrs. Trevor's unwound balls, and the wool +all twined round her. + +Soon after, mamma said we must be going, and we bade Mrs. Trevor +good-bye, but Miss Trevor said she would go a little bit of the way with +us. + +She seemed to have something she wanted to say, and as if she did not +quite know how to begin, till at last, just as we were close to the turn +in the drive that led to the stables and coach-houses, she stood still +for a moment. From where we were there was again a peep of the sea, all +glistening and sparkling, though calm. + +'This is another pretty peep,' said mamma. + +'Yes,' Miss Trevor agreed, 'and the advantage up here is that we can +have these open views and yet be in shade. As the season gets on, I am +afraid you will find it rather too unsheltered from the sun to sit out +on the sea-side of the Hut.' + +'We shall have to rig up shady arrangements,' said mamma laughingly. + +'That reminds me,' said Miss Trevor, which was not quite true, as she +had been thinking of it all this time, I am sure, and wondering how she +was to offer it without seeming officious, or anything of that +sort,--'that reminds me'--then she broke off--'would you mind just +looking in here a moment?' + +'In here' was one of the coach-houses. Miss Trevor led the way towards +it, and pushed open the door. Inside stood a sort of Bath-chair, of +lighter build, even though larger, than such things generally are. It +was of wickerwork, covered with pretty stuff like what tents and awnings +are made of--as we saw when she threw off the sheet that was over it. + +'We call this my brother's boudoir,' she said. 'It is quite a +curiosity,' and she began drawing out and showing us all manner of +contrivances--a table which hooked on to one side, another which +fastened itself to the front, a large basket for the other side, a +stool, quite strong enough for a second person to sit on comfortably to +talk or read to whomever was in the chair; and besides all these, +wonderful awnings that pulled out and could be turned and twisted like +big umbrellas, and stretches of wickerwork to make the chair into a +couch--and all this on wheels! + +'It is not meant to be used as a Bath-chair,' went on Miss Trevor; 'the +wheels are just to move it easily for short distances. It is really a +stationary affair. My brother invented a good deal of it himself two or +three years ago when he was very ill--much more of an invalid than now, +I mean.' + +'It is a beautiful thing,' said mamma, in which I quite agreed with her, +though we both wondered a little why she was exhibiting it at all to us +so minutely. + +'But Will isn't at all pleased with us for bringing it here,' Miss +Trevor continued. 'He says he never wants to see it again; it reminds +him of his worst time, and he says I must get rid of it. He prefers +sitting out among the pines in a quite well sort of way. So--it just +struck mother and me, that _perhaps_ it might be some little use to you, +down so near the sea where there is no shade,' and she glanced at us +half timidly. + +'Oh!' I exclaimed, before mamma had time to speak, 'it would be +splendid--just in front of the little porch. We could really make a sort +of tiny room with it, and you could be _so_ comfortable, mamma, on sunny +days. Oh, do say we may have it!' + +Miss Trevor seemed delighted, and mamma smiled at my enthusiasm. + +'It is a charming chair,' she said, 'far more than a chair indeed--I +scarcely know what to call it. It is most kind of you to have thought of +it for us, Miss Trevor, and if you are so good as to lend it to us, you +may be sure we shall take the greatest care of it. And, of course, if +Mr. William Trevor ever wants to have it while you are here, you must +not for an instant hesitate to tell us and we should send it back at +once.' + +Miss Trevor got rather red. + +'Oh, but,' she said, 'you don't quite understand, Mrs. Lanark. We want +you to have it for good--to keep, I mean, if you care for it. I am +perfectly certain that Will won't want it. In fact, he says he hates the +sight of it. And down at the Hut, it might be of use, even after you +have moved up here again. I will have it wheeled down to you to-morrow +morning; it may need a little cleaning up first. The wheels are quite +strong enough for a short journey, especially with no one inside. I only +meant that it is not built in the peculiarly strong way a regular +Bath-chair needs to be.' + +I did feel so pleased to know it was to be our very own, and so, I +think, did mamma. For when things are lent, there is always a rather +fidgety feeling, for fear they should get spoilt in any way. And Miss +Trevor had said it so nicely--as if our taking it would really be doing +them a favour. For, of course, from almost complete strangers it is a +little difficult to accept presents, though mamma has often told us that +to receive a kindness graciously is quite as much a duty as to offer +one. + +And then too she had spoken as if our return to our proper home was +quite a certainty, and our absence from it only a question of a little +time, though afterwards we heard that there had been a good deal of +gossip in the neighbourhood about our being completely 'ruined,' and +that Eastercove was sure to have to be sold. I suppose a great deal of +gossip is not meant to be unkind, but still it does seem sometimes as if +people were more ready to exaggerate and talk about other people's +_troubles_ than about their good fortune. + +We said good-bye to Miss Trevor soon after that--she, turning to go back +to the house, and we, after mamma had asked her very heartily to come +soon to see us in our 'gypsy encampment,' as mamma called it (I wished +it had been a good deal more gypsy than it was!), which she seemed very +eager to do, walking slowly towards the Hut. More slowly than I felt +inclined for--I was in a fever to tell Geordie about the wonderful +chair--but mamma was still feeling a little tired after all the bustle +and busy-ness and sad feelings of the last few weeks, and so I tried to +keep down my impatience. + +When we came quite out of the wood into the clear, open view of the sea, +mamma stood still again and gazed down at it without speaking for a +moment or two. + +'Are you thinking of papa?' I said softly, giving her arm, through which +I had slipped my hand, a little squeeze. + +'Yes, dear,' she said, turning her face towards me, and I was pleased to +see that she was smiling. 'He must be nearing the end of his long +journey by now. But it was not only because of his voyage that I was +thinking of him. The sea is always associated with him in my mind; it +was the occasion of our first getting to know each other.' + +I felt greatly interested. + +'Did you meet on board ship, do you mean?' I asked. 'Did you make a +voyage together?' + +'No, no,' said mamma, smiling again; 'I have never been a long voyage in +my life. And the time I was thinking of--ever so long ago--had nothing +to do with a voyage. I will tell you the story of it if you like. Shall +we sit down here a little? It is perfectly dry.' + +My hurry to get home to tell Geordie about Miss Trevor's present had +softened down in the interest of what mamma was speaking of; besides, +when I came to think of it, I remembered that he could not yet be back +from Mr. Lloyd's. So I was very pleased to do as mamma proposed. + +'There is a little bathing-place far up in the North,' she began, when +we had settled ourselves on a little bank made by some old roots which +had spread out beyond the actual pine wood, 'which was rather a +favourite in that part of the world a good many years ago, though now, I +fancy, it is quite out of fashion. It was considered a very safe place +for children, as there are great stretches of sands, and the bathing is +very good, except that the tide at one part goes out with great +swiftness and force, owing to a current of some kind just there. There +is a garrison town--a small one--two miles or so from the bathing +village--a station for cavalry--and the sands used to be, and I daresay +still are, a favourite exercising ground for the horses. Well, one +morning, ever so long ago, as I said----' + +'Do you mean fifty years ago, or a hundred perhaps?' I interrupted +thoughtlessly, forgetting that the story had some connection with mamma +herself. + +'No, no,' she said laughing, 'not quite as "ever so long ago" as that. +Let me see--I need not be quite exact--about twenty-four or twenty-five +years ago, we will say. Well, one fine summer morning an officer, a +very young one, of only eighteen or nineteen, was galloping with his +men--a small party--up and down these sands, when he heard and saw +something which made him suddenly pull up and gaze down towards the sea, +which had turned and was rapidly going out. It was just above the +bathing-place--a perfectly safe place if the vans were drawn out when +the tide turned, and not allowed to get into the sort of current I told +you of. But by some mischance one of the vans had been allowed to stay +in the water too long--the old bathing man was getting rather stupid, I +fancy, and was busy drying things higher up, with his back to the sea, +and did not hear the cry from the van, or see the white handkerchief +that was frantically waved from its landward side. + +The young man had keen eyes and ears; he saw that there was not a moment +to be lost--and he quickly took in what had happened and what must be +done. The van was _almost_ off its wheels, swaying about with every +little wave that ran in, as the water rose and rose. And just outside +the door, on the ledge at the top of the steps, stood a forlorn little +figure waving a handkerchief, or perhaps it was a towel, and crying at +the top of her small voice-- + +"Help, help; oh, _please_, help!" + +'I don't know what the officer did about his men, who were already some +little way off--I suppose he signed to them to wait for him,--but I know +what he did himself, and that was to gallop as fast as his horse would +go, down to the sea, shouting as he went to the bathing-man, who was +quick enough to see what was wrong, as soon as his attention was called +to it. + +'He rushed for his old horse, and was wonderfully soon at the water's +edge and in it, looking horribly frightened, but quick as he was, the +young man was there at least a minute or two before him. And after one +glance at the state of things, the first comer did not hesitate. For he +saw that the van was growing less and less steady; it was _almost_ +lifted off the ground by this time, though it kept recovering itself a +little. And the small figure on the steps was calling more and more +wildly and shaking her white signal more desperately, while she clung on +with the other hand to the side of the lurching and swaying van. + +'His--the young officer's, I mean--first idea was to harness his horse +_somehow_ to the van, and draw it out bodily--riding like a postilion. +But he gave this up at once when he found how deep the water was +already and how unsteady the thing was. He was too angry with the +careless owner of it to care whether the van itself swam out to sea or +not, and too anxious, to risk wasting a moment. And the sight of the +little white face and tear-swollen eyes lifted up to him doubled both +these feelings. + +'"Don't be frightened, you will be all right now," he called out to the +child, who by this time scarcely knew what she was saying. He thinks she +changed her piteous "Help, help, do come!" to "Oh, save me, please, save +me!" And when he and his horse got quite close he had no need to +encourage her to come to him--she almost sprang into his arms, so +quickly that he was afraid she would fall into the water. But it was +managed somehow, so that in another moment he found himself riding back +to the shore again, with the little girl perched on the front of his +saddle, clinging to him and tucked up so as to keep even her feet from +getting wet. + +'She was actually quite dry when they got back to the sands and he +lifted her down--getting off himself to get a good shake, for _he_ was +by no means quite dry, nor was the horse, who had behaved so well and +pluckily, as if understanding there was something the matter, and now +stood snorting with pleasure and satisfaction. + +'And the little girl was sensible too. She had quite left off crying and +held out her hand to her preserver. + +'"Oh, thank you, thank you so velly much," she said, "for saving me. I +was velly neely drowned, wasn't I? Please go home and get dry quick, or +else you'll catch cold." + +'But before he had time to reply, a figure came rushing up to them in +great excitement. It was the little girl's nurse, dreadfully frightened +and ashamed, especially when the boy officer turned upon her very +sharply and asked her what on earth she had been thinking of to leave +her charge in such danger. + +'She had a long story to tell, which he had not patience to listen +to--how she had almost finished dressing the young lady when she found +she had left her parasol on the sands, and had climbed over into the +next van where a friend was, just as it was being drawn out, as she was +so afraid of the parasol being stolen, thinking no harm could come to +the child in that minute or two till the bathing-man came back again, +and how her friend had seen the parasol higher up on the stones, and +how--and then came the bathing-man lumbering up with _his_ story--or +how he had thought there was no one in the van, and he was just a-goin' +to fetch it out--not that it would have gone far---- + +'"But it _would_," said the soldier; "and even if it had stuck, the +young lady would have been half killed with fright and soaked through, +and perhaps fallen into the water bodily. The bathing-man deserved to be +reported, and----" + +'There came a shout for the young officer just then. Some one, thinking +_he_ had got drowned or something of the kind, had hurried back to see. +So he rode off though just as he was going, the little girl stopped him +for a moment. + +'"Oh, please, Mr. Soldier," she said, "will you tell me your name, so +that mamma can write to thank you?" + +'He laughed, but he was already in the saddle, and all she heard was the +one word, "Jack."' + +Mamma stopped when she got to this. I waited an instant to see if she +was going on again. I felt a little puzzled, though I thought the story +so interesting. + +'That isn't all, is it, mamma?' I said. 'I do so like it, but--didn't +you say--something about papa--and you and the sea, being mixed up?' + +Mamma smiled; her pretty blue eyes were fixed on the water below us; +they and it seemed almost the same colour this afternoon. + +'No,' she said, 'that isn't all. It was many, at least several--nine or +ten or so years later, that the story goes on again. The boy officer had +been out in India and seen fighting and many other things that come into +soldiers' lives. But now that was over for him. Other duties had come +into his life and changed it. Well--he was staying near the sea, with +his mother and sisters, and one day, after a boating expedition,--it was +a picnic to a picturesque island not far off,--he was introduced to a +girl who had come with some other acquaintances. And they walked up and +down the sands for a little. He kept looking at her in rather a curious +way, and she wondered why, till at last he said-- + +'"I have the strangest feeling that I have seen you before, but I cannot +tell where or when. And your name does not help me to remember." + +'Then the girl looked at him in her turn very carefully. And a sudden +rush of remembrance came over her. + +'"Is your name," she said quite eagerly,--"is your name--your first name +'Jack'?" + +'"Yes," he said, more and more puzzled. + +'She smiled, and then she laughed, and then she told him. + +'"I believe I can solve the riddle," she said. "I once rode through the +sea on your horse--in front of you.'" + +'And then Jack remembered.' + +And _I_ understood! + +'Oh, mamma!' I exclaimed, 'what a dear story. And _you_ are the little +girl, and dear papa is "Jack," and--and--it ended in your being married! +How clever it was of him to remember your face again!' + +'Don't you think it was still cleverer of me to remember his name?' said +mamma. '_He_ always says so. But Ida, dearest, look how low the sun is +getting. We must hurry home, or Geordie and the others will be getting +tired of waiting for tea,' and she got up from her root-seat as she +spoke, and we walked on quickly. + +I kept on thinking of the story all the way. It was so pretty and yet so +queer to think of my own papa and mamma as if they were people in a +book, and to picture to myself that once upon a time, or _ever_, they +were strangers to each other. + +'Mamma must have been a dear little girl,' I thought to myself, as I +glanced up at her; 'she is still so pretty and sweet;' and I felt that +to me she _always_ would seem so, even when her golden hair had grown +silver, and her bright eyes dimmer, and her rounded cheeks thin and +worn. + +'She will always be my dear pretty mamma,' I thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL' + + +The interest of listening to mamma's story had made me for the time +almost forget about Miss Trevor's present. But as we got close to the +Hut and saw George coming to meet us, it rushed back into my mind again. + +'I say,' he called out, as he caught sight of us, 'it's past tea-time; +Hoskins wanted us to begin without waiting for you, but I wouldn't. She +said she was sure you were having it up there with those people,' and he +nodded his head in the direction of the big house. + +'Oh no!' said mamma, 'I like tea at home best, my boy.' + +And 'Oh no!' I joined in;' I was really in a hurry to get back, Dods, +for I have something very interesting to tell you. And you mustn't call +them "those people;" they are very nice indeed and _very_ kind. They're +going to send----' + +'Wait till we are at tea to tell him all about it,' interrupted mamma. +'It will take some time, and I see Esme and Denzil peeping out +impatiently.' + +Tea, you see, had become rather a settled sort of meal, even for mamma, +though she and Geordie and I had a sort of little dinner or supper, I +scarcely know which to call it, later in the evening. But _nursery_ +meals had of course to be given up at the Hut, as there was no nursery +to have them in, so Esme and Denzil did not think five o'clock tea a +small affair by any means. And whether it was that the being so _very_ +close to the sea had sharpened our appetites, or that Hoskins and +Margery between them made such very good 'plain cakes,' I can't say, but +I certainly don't remember ever having nicer teas or enjoying them more +than at the Hut. + +'Well,' began Geordie, after we were all seated comfortably at the +table, 'what is the interesting thing you have to tell about, Ida? Has +it anything to do with the--our tenants,' he went on, with a tone of +satisfaction in his voice; 'I may call them _that_, for that's what they +are.' + +'Yes, of course it has,' I said. 'You might have guessed that much +without being a--what is it you call a man witch--oh yes, a wizard, as +you knew mamma and I were there this afternoon, and I began to tell you +they were going to send us something. It's the jolliest thing you ever +saw, Dods--isn't it, mamma? Do help me to describe it.' + +Between us we managed to do so pretty well, and I could see that Geordie +was really very pleased about it. But he was in one of those humours +that boys have more often than girls, I think--of not showing that he +was pleased--'contradictious,' Hoskins calls it, and of trying to poke +out something to find fault with or to object to. + +'Hum, hum,' he kept murmuring; 'yes, oh yes, I know the sort of thing. +But there's one point you've forgotten, Ida, and mamma too, haven't +you?--where is this wonderful chair affair to be kept?' and he looked +round the table in a provoking sort of way. 'It won't _always_ be fine +dry weather, and certainly it wouldn't get in at the door here by your +description, even if we had any room for it to stand in.' + +I suppose my face fell, and I think mamma, who is as quick as lightning +to understand one's little changes of feeling, was rather vexed with +Geordie, who is--or _was_ rather--he has got out of those half-teasing +ways wonderfully, now that he is older--tiresome sometimes, though he is +so good, for she said quickly-- + +'We shall find some place or plan something about it. Don't be afraid, +Ida dear. It is a beautiful present. Geordie will thoroughly appreciate +it when he sees it.' + +'Is it big enough to hold both Denny and me together?' asked Esme. + +'It's big enough to hide you, so that you couldn't be seen at all, you +small person,' said mamma laughing. + +I felt sure mamma would plan something, so that we need not feel we had +got a white elephant in the shape of a garden chair. All the same, +Geordie's objection did worry me a little. I kept wondering, when I woke +in the night, where we _could_ keep Miss Trevor's present, and hoping +that we should not have to send it back after all. + +I need not have done so, for when it arrived, as it did the next +morning, it was even more complete than we had known. It was enveloped +in a huge waterproof cover, looking like a miniature van or waggon, as +the gardener, sent with it, slowly pushed it along! And he explained +that, for eight months or so of the year, it would be quite safe +outside. For there were also rollers--I don't know exactly what to call +them--strips of wood you could roll _it_ on to, to keep the wheels from +the damp of the ground, if it _was_ damp, though, as the man said, when +he had told us all this and shown us how to slide the wheels into the +grooves, 'it's really never for to say damp or wet in the pine woods. If +it was wheeled into a good sheltered place, I'd undertake to say it'd be +safer and drier than inside most coach-houses or stables.' + +He was an Eastercove man, I should explain, and of course he thought +there was no place in the world to compare with it! + +There was another addition to the belongings of the chair, which we had +not known of, and that was a hot water tin which fitted into the +footstool, in the same neat, compact way which everything belonging to +it did. Really a very good thing, for of course any one sitting still +out-of-doors may get cold feet, even though it is not winter or wintry +weather. + +Geordie stood with his hands in his pockets admiring it all, without a +fault to find; not that he wanted to find one, I feel sure. He was in a +much cheerier humour this morning, and perhaps he was feeling a little +sorry for having wet-blanketed my pleasure at all, the night before. + +Mamma called us all away from our new toy at last. Geordie had to set +off to Mr. Lloyd's, and for me, alas! it was one of the days on which I +had to act governess to the little ones. I did not mind Denzil so much, +though he was--I don't mind if he sees this--I am afraid I must say he +still is, _very_ slow at lessons. + +But he cannot help it, not altogether, anyway, and I do think he +generally does his best, and when you know that of any one, you can be +much less particular with them, can't you? Besides, once he _has_ 'taken +in' anything thoroughly, he does not forget it, which is a great comfort +to a teacher. + +It was Esme who tried me the most. Such a flibbertigibbet (that is one +of Hoskins's queer words, and mamma does not like me to use them much, +but it is so expressive) you never saw. If you got her to give her +attention, or thought you had, and were feeling quite pleased and even +proud of it, as she sat there with her bright eyes fixed on the map, +we'll say, while you were pointing but how big Russia was, and how tiny +England seemed with the sea all round it, all of a sudden she would say +something like this-- + +'Ida, _did_ you see that girl just in front of the school-children in +church?' (Geography, I think, came on a Monday morning.) 'I couldn't +make out if the ribbon on her hat was green or blue, or both shaded +together.' + +And then if I scolded her and begged her to think of her lessons and not +of people's hats in church, she would explain in the funniest way, that +thinking of the sea, which sometimes looks blue and sometimes green, and +sometimes you don't know which, had made her remember how puzzled she +had been about the girl's hat. + +Upon which Denzil must come in with his remark, very wise and proper of +course-- + +'_I_ think,' he said, 'that Esme and nobody, shouldn't think about hats +and ribbins and things like that in church--never. _I_ think it'd be +much better if ladies and girls dressed all like each other, like men +and boys, when they go to church.' + +'Oh, indeed,' said Esme; 'and who was it that was in a terrible fuss +about his tie not being knotted up the right way only last Sunday as +ever was, and----' + +'Esme!' I exclaimed, horrified, 'where _did_ you learn anything so +vulgar--"last Sunday as ever was"? What would mamma say if she heard +you?' + +'It was Margery that said it,' replied Esme, not the least put out; 'and +I thought it sounded rather nice, but I won't say it again if you'd +rather I didn't. _Is_ it nonsense, Ida, about men and boys never +thinking about their clothes? Geordie can't bear his best hat to be +touched, and I've noticed gentlemen, big ones, I mean like papa--looking +as cross as anything if they couldn't put their hats safe. _I_ think +they fuss more on Sundays in church than any other time.' + +'Well, don't talk any more about it just now,' I said, 'or you will +never get your geography into your head.' + +But it was already too late. There was very little use trying to call +back Esme's wandering wits once they had started off on an expedition of +their own, and I really began to fear I should have to tell mamma that I +was very little, if any, use as the child's governess. + +About this too, as things turned out, I need not have worried. It is +curious how very seldom what we vex ourselves about before it happens +does come to pass! I suppose this should show us the harm and +uselessness of fancying troubles, or exaggerating them. + +We were very busy and happy that afternoon, I remember, when George came +back from Kirke, in arranging the wonderful chair. We settled it near +the porch, and to please us, as it was really a very fine, almost warm +day, mamma said we might have tea there, and that she would sit in the +chair with Esme on the stool, and the little table hooked on for their +cups and plates. I made tea on a little table in the porch, and Dods and +Den handed it out. It was rather a squash, but we didn't mind. Mamma +looked so comfortable under the awning, which we had drawn out, as we +wanted to try everything; the only mistake was having the hot-water +bottle in the footstool filled; poor mamma was obliged to ask to have it +taken out, as she said she was afraid her feet were really nearly +getting boiled, and of course it was not cold enough weather to require +it. + +After tea was over and the things taken away, mamma said she would stay +where she was for a little and finish a letter to papa, in which she +would tell him all about her movable 'boudoir,' as she called it. She +really seemed to have taken a great fancy to it, which I was very +pleased at, for of us all--though she never said or seemed to think +so--it was certainly mamma who had had to give up the most of what she +was accustomed to, when we came to live at the Hut. + +Esme and Denzil ran down to the shore to play, and Dods and I strolled +round a little. I remember all about that evening, even without looking +up in my diary. I think I was telling him the story mamma had told me, +of when she was a little girl, and the bathing machine, and papa saving +her, and we had walked up a short way behind the house, to a part of the +path, or road--it was a road, though a small one--from where you could +see a bit of the drive from the lodge to the big house. + +Suddenly something came in view--the queerest-looking thing you ever +saw, like a van, and yet not like one, more like a small omnibus, only +all over the top it was bumped out into all kinds of shapes, so that it +looked like a gypsy's basket waggon, with a cover over. + +'What can that be?' I said to Geordie. + +And we both stared hard, as the thing slowly made its way along. + +'The Trevors must have queer things sent to them,' I said. 'It isn't the +railway van from the station, and yet, if it was travelling pedlars or +anything of that kind, they wouldn't have let it in at the gates.' + +Geordie did not speak. He has better eyes than I--I have always been a +little near-sighted--and he stood there gazing before him with an odd +expression creeping over his face. He saw--what I did not--a head, or +part of one, poked out of the window at the back of the strange vehicle. + +'Geordie,' I said at last, 'what are you staring at so? What _do_ you +think it is? Oh!' as I suddenly caught sight of a new feature in the +mystery, 'I do believe the thing is coming down _here_, and not going to +the big house at all.' + +For there was a side road out of the drive just about the part that the +strange carriage or waggon had now got to, which led in our direction. + +'Yes,' said Geordie, turning to me, and speaking very slowly and +distinctly, though there was a twinkle in his eyes, which rather spoilt +the solemnity of his tone, 'you are right, Ida. I will tell you what it +is--it is the _balloon_.' + +Now indeed it was I who stared! + +What could he mean? + +Did balloons come in vans, and what had we to do with them? It was not +for a moment or two that I remembered our joke about Taisy,--that she +meant to astonish us by coming down in a balloon or something wonderful +and original of that kind, from her mysterious hints in her letter to +mamma. + +And then I seemed to understand it all, almost better than Dods did. It +quite took my breath away. + +'Come, come, Dods!' I cried, setting off as I spoke, 'let's run to meet +her. Oh, Taisy, Taisy, you funny girl! Oh, how delighted I am!' + +We ran so fast that we reached the waggon almost before the driver and +horses--there were two--seemed fairly launched on the side road, and in +time to hear an eager voice from within calling out, 'All right, +straight on, now. There is plenty of room.' + +It was Theresa of course, but just at first she did not see us. She was +leaning out on the other side to make the driver hear. But she turned, +fast enough, when our shouts reached her, though she did not jump down, +as we half expected. + +[Illustration: 'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID.] + +'I can't very well get out,' she said. 'I'm so packed in, and there are +some breakable things. But I'll manage it in a minute. Yes, yes--it's I +myself! I've come to stay with you, though I have not been invited. +And--you'll understand directly, I've brought my house--or rather my +room--with me like a snail, so auntie can't turn me away again.' + +She was so excited and delighted with herself, and we were so excited +and delighted too, that we could scarcely speak for laughing. We did not +let her get out; she _was_ so packed in, as she said, but we walked by +the door, she talking as hard as she could, for her vehicle was +lumbering along at a foot's pace. + +'Yes,' she said, in answer to our eager questions; 'I've been travelling +like this since ten o'clock. No, not _quite_ like this--we did trot on +the high road. The waggonette----' + +'Waggonette,' interrupted George, 'I should call it a--waggon and a +half!' + +'Well, never mind about that. Call it an omnibus if you like. Anyway, +_it_ started yesterday, and spent the night at Wetherford. Granny wanted +me to come all the way to Kirke by train and to write to tell you, which +would have spoilt the fun. So I got her to let me '('to _let_ you +indeed, Miss Taisy,' thought I to myself, though I did not say so; 'I +know better. You said sweetly, "Granny, dear, I just must;" and she +said, "Well, well, my darling, if you must, you must, I suppose")--'to +let me come to Wetherford this morning with her maid, and to meet old +Dawson' (the driver) 'there, and come on as you see. I had hard work to +find room for myself inside, and I did begin to think we should never +get here! But the evenings are long now, and it's been a lovely day; +everything's dry and ready--bedding and all. There'll be plenty of time +to unpack, and Dawson is to stay the night at Kirke, and ride home on +one horse, leading the other.' + +'And leaving the waggon,' I said, rather stupidly I must own; I think I +was really feeling rather bewildered with the excitement and laughing +and Taisy's flow of explanation. + +She burst out laughing again at this. + +'Of course,' she said. 'If I didn't keep my house, I might as well go +back again. But do let us hurry on to tell auntie all about it.' + +I think in her heart of hearts poor Taisy was feeling a tiny atom +anxious as to what mamma would think of it all. But she need not have +done. Mamma understood her so well and trusted her good sense as well +as her affection, in spite of dear Taisy's _rather_ wild ways sometimes. + +She--mamma, I mean--was sitting quietly where we had left her, reading, +in the new chair. And it was nice to see the bright look of pleasure +which came over her face when she realised that it was Taisy, really +Taisy, and not an 'optical illusion,' who stood before her and then +hugged and kissed her as no illusion could have done. + +'But, my child,' said she, 'where----' + +'Where are you going to put me?' interrupted our new guest; 'look, +auntie, look up and see,' and she pointed to the van, which was just +coming in sight again. 'I have brought my house with me.' + +Mamma's face looked completely puzzled now. + +'I will explain,' Theresa went on, and indeed George and I wanted this +part of it explained as much as mamma did. 'That lovely old thing that's +lumbering along is Granny's discarded luggage-waggonette. It hasn't been +used for centuries; it is really a small omnibus more than a waggonette. +I ferreted it out in one of the coach-houses, where I was poking about +with a vague idea that I might find something of the kind to make it +possible for me to come to you after all. And I got the coachman to help +me. We had it thoroughly dried and aired, and the seats at one side +taken out--and a friend of the coachman's, who is a clever carpenter, +has fitted it up. You will see. There is a table that slips down when +not wanted, and a frame in one corner to hold a basin and ewer, and +hooks for hanging things, and a tray like a deep drawer under the seat +that's to be the bed. Oh, it's lovely! and really as good as a cabin on +board ship,' and Taisy stopped to take breath. + +'And did Aunt Emmeline know about it?' asked mamma. + +'She gave me leave to do what I liked with the old thing,' said Taisy; +adding candidly, 'I did not tell her _what_ I was doing till it was all +ready. She thought I was fixing it up for photographing, I think. But in +the end she was nearly as excited about it as I was, and she gave me all +sorts of things--blankets and pillows and crockery and little curtains. +It's just stuffed with things--inside and out--though I brought as few +personal things--clothes, I mean--as possible, for I don't want to crowd +_you_ up, you see. I shall have room for everything when it's all +unpacked, you will see,' she added, with a touch of apology in her +voice. + +'Dearest child,' said mamma, 'as if we would mind that, if _you_ were +comfortable.' + +Taisy's eyes beamed. + +'Comfortable,' she repeated; 'that is no word for what I am going to +be.' + +'And how long may you stay?' asked Geordie. + +'As long as you like to have me,' was the reply. 'Granny is expecting +her old friend to-morrow, and I _know_ they will be much happier without +me. I have a letter from Granny for you, auntie, explaining her plans. +But there's no hurry about that. I want to begin unpacking. And what a +lovely arrangement all this is!' she went on admiringly, touching the +arm of mamma's chair as she spoke, 'nearly as beautiful as my waggon!' + +Then the history of Miss Trevor's present had to be related, and all its +wonderful perfections exhibited. And then Hoskins appeared with a cup of +fresh tea for Miss Theresa, which she offered with a face all over +smiles, for Taisy was a great favourite of hers. And 'Miss Theresa' +drank the tea, and devoured bread and butter and cake in a most +gratifying way; and then she _had_ to run through the Hut, and see all +that we had done to it. + +So that, after all, it was rather late before we got to the unpacking of +the waggon, though Hoskins and Margery and Dawson had already done a +good deal. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +'THE KIND SEA, TOO, AUNTIE DEAR' + + +We _did_ get everything unpacked that night, but only in a +rough-and-ready way. We should have liked to go on till midnight or +later even, working by moonlight, for it was full moon and very clear +weather just then, but this mamma would not hear of. + +And Hoskins in her sensible way pointed out how much more nicely and +neatly we could finish it all by daylight with the straw and packing +cloths all tidied away, which she would 'see to' first thing in the +morning. + +She and mamma had already arranged for Taisy to sleep in my room that +night, by Esme's sleeping with mamma, and by taking out the end of +Esme's cot, to make it longer--long enough after a fashion, for _me_. + +How we laughed, Taisy and I, though any other girl would have been +tired after all she had done, and the tiresomely slow drive from +Wetherford! Mamma was obliged to knock on the--wall, I was going to +say--but of course it was not a wall, only a wooden partition, to tell +us to be quiet. I never knew any one with such spirits as Taisy--not +only high spirits, but _nice_ ones, for she was never boisterous, and +she knew in a moment if you were not inclined for laughing or joking, +though her fun was always there, ready to bubble up again at the right +moment. She was full of sympathy too, in spite of her cheerfulness; no +one could possibly have called her heartless. + +Looking back, I can see what a _very_ good thing it was for us all that +she came, even for mamma. We were in danger just then of being too much +taken up with our own little life--the life of the Hut--which is one +kind of selfishness. + +And dear mamma in her _un_selfishness might have got too silent about +all she was feeling; she was so afraid of making us young ones +melancholy. But I have seen her sitting or standing, when she thought we +did not notice, gazing at the sea--gazing, gazing, as if she could +scarcely bear it and yet must look at it. The cruel sea, which had taken +dear papa so far away! On fine, sunny days I almost think somehow it +seemed worse. I know that feeling about the sea myself, as if it _were_ +cruel really, below its loveliness and brilliance. And I am sure she +said something of this to Taisy, the very day after Taisy came, for I +heard _her_ say, though her eyes were full of tears-- + +'The _kind_ sea, too, auntie dear, which will bring him back again.' + +And as for us children, it was just delightful past words to have +Theresa. We had been very happy at the Hut already, very busy and +interested, but the _fun_ of the life there came with Taisy. She was +full of it, though the things we found so amusing are too trifling, even +if they would not seem really silly, to write down. + +The arranging of her 'house,' as she would call it, was the nicest part +of all the arranging we had had to do. We pulled it close up to one side +of one of our doors--the 'parish room' doors you understand, where there +were no windows, so that the waggon was, so to say, protected by one of +the iron walls--I don't know what else to call it, and which also gave +the advantage of a tap in the night arousing us at once, _in case_ +Taisy felt frightened, which she never did. But the tapping was very +convenient all the same, as she could awaken me in the mornings when +they got warm enough for very early bathing, without 'disturbing the +whole house,' as Hoskins said. And I could tap to her, last thing at +night, to wish her good-night. + +You never saw a cosier place than we made of it; that first day after it +was all arranged, we _couldn't_ leave off admiring it. + +There was Taisy's bed along one side, rather a narrow one of course, +though not worse than a berth at sea, and looking so bright with the +lovely scarlet blankets Lady Emmeline had given her. And in one corner a +little frame which held a ewer and basin, and in the other some hooks +for hanging things with a red curtain that drew round, and short red +curtains to the windows, and a _tiny_ chest of drawers; it was really +one end of an old writing-table, or _secretaire_, to hold gloves and +pocket-handkerchiefs and belts and small things like that. Then under +the bed there was a long low trunk, what is called a cabin portmanteau, +I believe, which held Taisy's best dresses, of which she had certainly +not brought many, and hooks higher up than the hanging ones, for her +hats. You wouldn't believe, unless you have ever been a long voyage--I +_have_, since those days--all that was got into the old omnibus, by +planning and ingenuity. + +Taisy was as proud of it as if she had made or built, I suppose one +should say, the whole carriage; indeed, I think we all were, once we had +got everything perfectly arranged. Mamma carried off some of her _most_ +crushable things, as she said she had really some spare room in her own +cupboards or wardrobes; and I took her best hat, as it had lovely white +feathers, which it would have been a thousand pities to spoil, and which +there was plenty of space for in the big box where Esme's and mine were. +And then Taisy declared she felt her house quite spacious. + +Lady Emmeline had sent several things for us, some especially for mamma +herself, which I was particularly glad of, as dear mamma, never thinking +of herself and anxious to leave the big house as pretty as usual, had +left behind some little things that I am sure she missed. And old Aunt +Emmeline and Taisy seemed to have guessed by magic what these were. + +'How nice!' I exclaimed, when Taisy had got them unpacked. 'This screen +is just like the one you have in the boudoir at home, and cushions--I +_know_ you will be glad of some cushions, mamma, though you wouldn't +bring any with you.' + +'And a _couvre-pied_,' added Taisy; 'Granny was sure you hadn't got +enough "wraps." Nothing will persuade her that it is not always as cold +as winter down here.' + +'It is most kind of her,' said mamma; 'and I really am very, very +pleased to have these things. And--did you know, Ida?--Aunt Emmeline has +also sent us two hampers full of all manner of good things to +eat--chickens and a turkey, and a ham and pickled tongues, and I don't +know all what.' + +'Yes,' said Taisy; 'nothing will persuade her either that you are +not----' She stopped suddenly and got rather red. + +'I know,' said mamma, laughing, 'that we are not in danger of starvation +as well as of cold. You need not mind, Taisy dear--as if _anything_ +could offend us that you said or that Aunt Emmeline thought. And of +course it is true that we are anxious to spend as little as we can, +while things are so uncertain.' + +'And then we can't cure hams or pickle tongues like at home,' I added. + +So all the kind old lady's gifts were very welcome. I think Hoskins was +more pleased with the eatables than with anything. + +Things had been nice before, but after Taisy came, we really did enjoy +ourselves. She was always planning something amusing or interesting, and +mamma declared she had never heard me or Geordie laugh so much in her +life. It was very good for Geordie to be 'routed out' a little, as Taisy +said. He was inclined to be too serious and anxious, and to overwork, at +this time, because of the scholarship, and as I had put it into his +head, I was doubly glad of being helped to keep him bright and merry, +as I know he worked all the better for it. He was _really_ +anxious-minded--not like Denzil, who never laughed and was as solemn as +an owl, not because _he_ was anxious, but just because he was too fat +and comfortable to worry--poor old Den!--he really _is_ so +good-tempered, I don't like laughing at him. + +It was very nice too that just about this time came the first really +long letter from papa; up to now he had written scarcely more than +scraps. And this letter was decidedly more cheerful and hopeful. + +He had begun to go into things thoroughly, he said, and had got very +good friends to help him, and he was beginning to think that, at worst, +it would not turn out _too_ awfully bad. And for this mamma felt very +grateful, though she had so bravely prepared for whatever might be to +come. + +So for a few weeks we went on very contentedly, more than that, +indeed--very brightly too. It was, for me, too delightful not to have +much governessing to do, for Taisy at once took the most of this on +herself. And I assure you, she _did_ keep Miss Esme in order. + +In return for this she joined me in some of my reading with mamma, and +she always has said that she learnt more in this way about some lessons +than she had ever done before. Mamma is very clever. + +We went on, as I said, pretty steadily like this for some weeks till +another rather big thing happened--almost as big as the 'descent of the +balloon,' which we always called Theresa's arrival. + +But before telling about this new event, I must relate a curious thing +that happened one day. + +It was one afternoon--just after tea--we were still sitting out of doors +where we had had tea--mamma in her 'boudoir,' for the days were getting +quite long, and we were specially glad to be in the open air as much as +possible, for we had had a good deal of rain for nearly a week--mamma +was reading, and I think I was too--when Hoskins came out of the house +looking rather 'funny'--queer, I mean, as if not quite sure if she were +vexed or not. + +'If you please, ma'am,' she said, 'there's a gypsy at the back door, and +I can't get her to go till she's seen you.' + +'A gypsy,' mamma exclaimed in great surprise; 'how has she managed to +get inside the grounds? And I did not know there were any in the +neighbourhood just now. It is so seldom they come this way too. Taisy,' +she went on, looking round, 'you might speak to her for me and ask what +she wants.' + +But Taisy was not there. + +'Miss Theresa has gone into the woods, I think,' said Hoskins; 'I heard +her calling to Miss Esme just after tea-time.' + +Mamma and I had not noticed the others going; our books must have been +interesting, and time passes quickly in such a case. + +'How did the gypsy get through the lodge gates?' mamma repeated. + +'That's what I asked her first thing,' Hoskins answered; 'but she did +not answer very distinctly. She says she has come a good bit out of her +way to see you--there are not any camping about near here. She has a +boy with her--perhaps she wants something for him--quite a little +fellow. She's a pleasant, civil-spoken woman--indeed, gypsies generally +are if they want to get something out of you.' + +'Like most people, I am afraid,' said mamma, smiling as she reluctantly +prepared to move. 'Perhaps I had better speak to her; it would not do to +have her lurking about all night. They are queer people--I should not +like to rouse any ill-feeling in a gypsy.' + +'Mayn't I come with you, mamma?' I said. 'I have never spoken to a real +gypsy.' + +Mamma looked at me rather doubtfully. + +'Oh yes,' she said; 'but I don't want her to tell your fortune or +anything of that kind, Ida, so do not encourage her if she begins about +it.' + +We made our way through the Hut, followed by Hoskins, to the door at the +back, where, as she had said, the strange visitor was standing--Margery, +who was washing up (I never saw Margery _not_ washing up, by the bye), +was also keeping an eye on the woman, though I could see by the movement +of her shoulders that she was giggling. + +Mamma went forward. + +'What do you want to see me for?' she said gently but rather coldly. + +The woman lifted her face--she was not quite as tall as mamma, and +looked at her closely, but not rudely. She was older than I had somehow +expected. Her skin was very brown, her hair jet-black, her eyes not +_quite_ as dark as one imagines a gypsy's must be; I thought to myself +that perhaps the very tanned complexion made them seem lighter. She was +wrinkled and weather-beaten, but not by any means ugly, though not +beautiful, except her teeth, which were extremely white and even. + +'Yes, my lady,' she said, 'I did want to see you. I have come far to do +so.' + +Her accent was peculiar, her voice low, and she talked slowly, almost as +if using a foreign language. + +'How did you get through the gates?' mamma asked. + +The answer was a shake of the head. + +'I have not passed through them--not to-day,' she said. 'There are +ways--when one is in earnest.' + +'I hope you have not broken through the hedges, or over the walls,' said +mamma, rather uneasily. + +Another shake of the head. + +'No, no--have no fear; I have done no harm,' was the reply, and somehow +mamma seemed as if she did not like to say any more about it. + +'But what do you want to see me for?' she repeated. 'Has it anything to +do with the boy? Is he your son, or your grandson?' and she glanced at +the little fellow beside the gypsy. A very little fellow he was--dark +too, very dark-skinned and grave and rather frightened-looking. He stood +there with his eyes cast down, a shock of black hair tumbling over his +forehead, so that it was difficult to distinguish the upper part of his +face. + +Mamma looked at him curiously--afterwards she told me she felt sorry for +him, and wondered if the woman was good to him. She--the woman--glanced +at him and said something rather sharply in a queer-sounding language, +on which the little fellow gave a sort of tug to his cap, though without +actually taking it off--meant, of course, for politeness. But he never +spoke the whole time they were there. + +'No, my lady,' the woman replied, turning again to mamma,--'no, I have +no favour to ask for the child. He is not my son--nor my grandson,' and +here she smiled, showing her white teeth; 'I am not quite old enough for +that, though I may look it. I wanted to see you for a reason of my +own--to do you no harm, you may be sure. And one day you will know the +reason. But now,' and she held out her hand, 'you will let me tell your +lines? Not much, nor far--I would not ask it. Just a little, and mostly +of the past.' + +Mamma shook her head. + +'Then the young lady's?' said the gypsy, looking at me. Mamma shook her +head still more decidedly. + +'No, no,' she said; 'I would rather you told mine than hers. Such things +make young people fanciful.' + +'Then your own, my lady,' said the woman, and again she held out her +hand persuasively,--'just a little.' + +I drew nearer. + +'Do, mamma,' I whispered; 'she may be offended if you don't.' + +Mamma laughed, and held out her right hand. + +'Cross it with silver,' said the woman, simply but gravely, as if she +were issuing a command. I had my purse in my pocket, and drew it out. + +'Give her a shilling,' said mamma. I did so. + +Then the gypsy bent over mamma's hand, studying it closely and murmuring +to herself. + +'The other too,' she then said, without looking up. + +Mamma gave it. + +'Yes,' said the gypsy, almost as if speaking to herself,--'yes--you have +come through some dangers--water was the worst, but that was long ago. +Now water has robbed you of your dearest, but only for a time. It will +restore what it has carried away. And you will be happy. You have a +brave heart. Strange things have happened of late to you. You have with +you an unexpected visitor. And you are going to have another unexpected +visit--a shorter one. Show kindness to your guest; it is always well to +do so, though you may not care to receive a stranger. And----' + +'No,' said mamma,--'no, my good woman. I really don't want to hear any +more. It is getting late, and you say you have come far and this little +fellow will be tired. You had better go,'--she drew away her hand as she +spoke, though quite gently. + +'Very well, my lady,' said the woman, without persisting further; 'and I +thank you for your courtesy.' + +'Shall I send some one to see you through the lodge gates?' said mamma; +but the woman shook her head. + +'There is no need,' she said. 'I shall not pass that way,' and she +walked off quietly. + +Hoskins came forward and stood beside us. + +'I declare,' she said, 'she is going by the shore! What a round to get +to the high road!' + +'Perhaps she is going to meet a boat,' I said. For there were little +coves farther on, from where boats were easily launched, and whence an +hour or so's rowing would bring them to a small fishing village called +Brigsea. + +'Very likely,' said mamma; 'that is a good idea and explains the +mystery. But she was a queer woman all the same,' and mamma seemed a +tiny bit upset. + +'She only told you good things, though,' I said. 'I do wonder how she +knew about your escape from a great danger by water, long ago.' + +'Yes,' said mamma. 'It is very strange how they know things.' + +'And about our unexpected visitor,' I went on; 'that meant Taisy, of +course. But I wonder who the new one coming can be?' + +'Oh, nobody, I daresay,' said mamma. 'Visitors and letters coming are +one of their stock prophecies. Still she did not strike me as quite a +commonplace gypsy. I wish Taisy had been here to see her too. Where can +they all be, I wonder?' + +We were not kept uncertain very long. We heard a whoop, followed by the +appearance of the two boys, who told us that Taisy and Esme were coming +directly. + +'We've all been in the wood,' said Geordie. + +'I wish you had been here,' I said. 'There's been a gypsy at the back +door,' and I went on to tell him of our strange visitor and what she had +said. + +Geordie whistled. + +'I should have liked to talk to her,' he remarked. 'Did she say how she +got into the grounds?' + +I shook my head. + +'No,' I replied. 'She was very mysterious about it, but she went away in +the direction of the shore, so she prob----' + +I was interrupted by another whoop, and in a moment or two up came Taisy +and Esme, looking very hot and untidy, but very eager to hear all +details of our rather uncanny visitor, as soon as the word 'gypsy' had +caught their ears. + +And we talked so much about her that at last mamma said we had really +better change the subject, or she would begin to wish she had not agreed +to see the woman. + +'You will all be dreaming about her and fancying she knew much more than +she did,' mamma added; and though she smiled and did not seem at all +vexed, I somehow felt that she rather wished the gypsy had not come. One +little thing which she said helped to explain this. + +'I cannot get the small boy out of my mind,' it was. 'She spoke sharply +to him, and he seemed frightened. I do hope she is not unkind to him.' + +'Oh no,' I said; 'she had not an unkind face at all, though there was +something rather--_odd_--about it, besides her being a gypsy.' + +Taisy laughed, and stroked mamma's arm. + +'I should think it _most_ unlikely she is unkind to the child,' she +said, 'though he is not her son--or grandson! Dear auntie, you are too +tender-hearted.' + +Just then I heard a sort of giggle from Esme, who, for a wonder, was +sitting quietly with a book in a corner. I felt vexed with her. + +'Esme,' I whispered, 'it's very rude to laugh at anything Taisy says to +mamma.' + + + + +CHAPTER X + +'IT'S ANOTHER SNAIL' + + +It was the next morning at breakfast that another strange thing +happened. It was when the letters came. + +We did not get them quite so early as at home, for it would have brought +the postman a good deal out of his way to come down to the Hut, so it +had been arranged for him to leave them at the lodge, and for them to be +sent on from there. + +This morning there were only two: one for mamma--a long one, it seemed, +but not a foreign one, as I saw by a glance at the thick paper while she +was reading it. But I had not noticed anything about Taisy's, and when a +queer kind of little gasp made me look round at her, my first thought +was that there was bad news of papa, which some one had somehow sent +first to her--Taisy--for her to 'break it,' as they say, to mamma. + +And my heart began to beat furiously, and no wonder, I think, for Taisy +was as white as the tablecloth, and was evidently on the point of +bursting into tears. + +'Taisy, Taisy,' I whispered. Luckily she was sitting next me, so that I +could speak to her in a low voice without being overheard. 'Is it--oh, +is it, anything wrong with papa?' and I felt myself clasping my hands +together under the table in an agony of terror. + +_My_ face brought back Taisy's presence of mind. + +'No, no,' she said. 'Nothing of that kind--nothing wrong really. I know +I am very silly,' and already the colour was coming back to her cheeks, +for she was not a nervous or delicate girl at all. 'It is only--oh, I +must tell auntie first, and then you will understand the sort of fright +I got.' + +She stopped abruptly, for just then mamma looked up from her letter and +spoke to Taisy. She was smiling a little, which made me feel all the +more puzzled as to what was the matter with Taisy when I heard her reply +to mamma's question, 'Have you too a letter from your grandmother?' +'Yes, auntie,' as if the two words were all she could force herself to +say. + +Still, mamma did not notice her peculiar manner. She herself turned +again to her letter. + +'I must say my respect for our gypsy has risen,' she remarked, 'though I +suppose it is really only a rather odd coincidence.' + +At this Taisy's colour changed again and her lips began to quiver. And, +happening to glance across the table, I saw that Esme's mouth was wide +open, and that she was staring gravely at Taisy, in a way quite unusual +with her. I could not make it out at all. + +Breakfast was over by this time. Mamma turned to the children. + +'Run off, dears, but don't be very long. You have just time for a little +blow before Taisy and Ida are ready for lessons.' + +'But, mamma,' began Esme, 'I want to speak to Taisy first.' + +'No "buts," Esme,' said mamma decidedly. We were well used to them. +'Taisy won't be ready to speak to you just yet. Run off at----' she had +not time to finish the sentence before she at last noticed Taisy; the +tears were really starting by now, and her breath came in little chokes. +'Go, children,' mamma repeated, looking startled, 'and Geordie, dear, +you had better be getting ready for Kirke.' + +Geordie, big boy as he was, was very obedient. He got up, first catching +hold of Denzil by his sailor collar, to make him hurry up. +He--George--must have been as puzzled as any one, for he had no idea of +course what the letters contained. But he contented himself with a kind +of reassuring nod to Taisy as he left the room, and a sign to me as he +gave a little gesture of the hand in her direction, as much as to say, +'Be good to her, Ida.' + +Then Taisy broke down and fairly sobbed. Mamma got up and came round to +her. + +'My dearest child,' she said, 'what _is_ the matter? It has something to +do with your grandmother's letter, I can see. Do you dislike this +boy--what is his name--oh yes, Rolf--Rolf Dacre--that she writes about?' + +'Oh no, no, indeed. He is a very nice boy, as nice as he can be,' Taisy +replied, amidst her tears. 'It isn't that at all. It's--it's about the +gypsy--the saying it like a prophecy--it wasn't right. I--I shouldn't +have done it, but I thought it was no harm, only fun;' and she began +sobbing again. + +For a moment or two mamma and I stared at each other, as if we thought +Taisy was losing her wits. Then gradually light began to break in upon +us. + +"_You_ shouldn't have done it," you say, dear,' mamma repeated. 'Do you +mean--can you mean----' + +Taisy nodded. + +'Yes,' she said; 'you have guessed it, I see. But please do not be angry +with me. I meant no harm.' + +'Then _you_ were the gypsy,' mamma exclaimed, as if she could scarcely +believe it. + +'And,' I added, 'the little boy was--oh, he was Esme, I suppose. That +was why she was looking so queer at breakfast.' + +'Was she?' said Taisy, 'I didn't notice. Yes, she was the little boy. I +did not mean to mix her up in it, but she came poking about when the +boys were helping me to dress up, and we thought the best way to keep +her quiet was for her to join in it. But, auntie--I was going to tell +you all about it to-day--you believe me, don't you?' and she lifted such +an appealing, tear-stained face to mamma, that mamma could not help +patting it reassuringly and kissing her. + +'It was very cleverly done--very,' she said. 'And I see no harm in a +little trick of the kind if not carried too far. The only thing is--Why +did you not unmask yourself at once? Perhaps--for Esme's sake--it would +have been better not to keep up the mystification so long.' + +'I know,' said Taisy, calmer now, but speaking very humbly, 'that is +what I did wrong. It might have led to her telling what was untrue. Last +night when you were pitying the child--who was _not_ my son or +grandson'--and here Taisy's sunny nature broke out again in one of her +own merry laughs--'I could _scarcely_ keep it in.' + +'But why did you, then?' I asked. + +'Oh, that is what I wanted to explain! I had a sort of wager with +Geordie. He said I might take you both in _once_, but certainly not +twice, and he dared me to try it. So I made a second plan. I was coming +again to-day--quite differently--dressed like a rather old-maidish lady, +who wanted to know if you would let her have rooms here, as the sea-air +and pine-wood air would be so good for her. I meant to have made her +very pertinacious, and very funny, and I wanted you to get quite cross +with her, auntie dear,' and Taisy could not help a little sigh of +regret. 'That was why the gypsy foretold that you were going to have +another unexpected visitor. I wasn't quite happy about it. When I woke +in the night, I felt as if I was carrying the trick too far, as you say. +And then when I got Granny's letter about another _real_ visitor, all of +a sudden I felt so frightened--as if my joke had been turned into +earnest as a punishment for my--my daring to predict anything.' + +'Yes, I understand,' said mamma; 'but do not get exaggerated about it.' + +Then she was silent for a moment or two and seemed to be thinking it +over. + +'Was Esme to have come again?' I asked. + +Taisy shook her head. + +'Oh no--it was on condition of her keeping quite out of the way the +second time--for of course she would have begun giggling if she had seen +me, and spoilt it all--that I let her act the gypsy boy.' + +'I think,' said mamma, 'that I must unconsciously have recognised +something about her--that it was some feeling of that kind that made me +so sorry for the boy. But about the whole affair--well, yes, Taisy dear. +Perhaps it was scarcely right--not _quite_ respectful to one so much +older than you as I am to let it go on so long. And not quite a good +thing for Esme.' + +'I know--I see,' said Taisy very penitently. + +'But,' mamma continued, 'don't exaggerate it now. I will--and you will +help me to do so--put it all right by a little explanation to Esme. And +don't get it into your head that the coincidence of a real visitor being +proposed to us is in any way a "punishment" to you for your piece of +fun, though I can understand your feeling startled.' + +'Oh!' exclaimed Taisy, 'I shall never forget what I felt when I opened +Granny's letter and saw what it was about.' + +'Then,' said mamma, 'you had no sort of idea that the thing was the +least possible?' + +'Not the very slightest,' Taisy replied. 'You see it has happened +unexpectedly to every one.' + +'Yes,' said mamma, glancing again at her letter; 'but you know Rolf?' + +'I have not seen him for more than a year,' said Taisy. 'He spent one or +two short holidays with us when his aunt, Miss Merry, was with Granny. +He is a very nice boy. I am sure George would like him, though he is two +years or so older than Dods.' + +I was growing rather impatient by this time to hear all about the +contents of the letters which had caused such a sensation. + +'Do tell me about it, mamma,' I said. 'Is it some one else coming to +stay with us? Where _could_ we put any one?' + +Taisy began to laugh. + +'That's the fun of it,' she said. 'It's another snail--some one who will +bring his house with him!' + +Mamma laughed too, but I could see that she was thinking over the new +proposal, whatever it was, rather seriously. Then between them they told +me all about it. + +It appeared that Aunt Emmeline's friend, Miss Merry, had a nephew, the +son of a sister, much, much younger than herself, who had died some +years ago. The boy's father was in India, so he sometimes, though not +always, spent his holidays with his aunt. And this spring something had +happened--I forget what exactly--illness at his school, or his leaving +school for some reason, sooner than had been expected--which left him +with nowhere to go to for some time. + +'As ill-luck would have it,' Lady Emmeline wrote to mother, 'just as +Taisy had gone to you, and Bertha Merry and I were settled cosily +together, down comes this thunderbolt in the shape of a great +hobbledehoy of a boy, who would be utterly out of his element with two +elderly ladies and sure to get into mischief. Not that he is not a nice +fellow and a good boy--I know him to be both, otherwise I would +certainly not propose what I am going to do.' + +And this was the proposal which she had written about--she or Miss +Merry, or both perhaps--to Taisy too--that Rolf should come to us at the +Hut, and join Geordie, if possible, in his lessons with Mr. Lloyd, and +be just one of the family for the time. _He_ would be as happy as a boy +could be; of that his aunt was sure, and would do anything in his power, +like a big brother, to help mamma with the younger ones. But the fun of +the thing was, that he would bring his room with him! There would be no +difficulty about the expense of it. His father was rich and Rolf an only +child, and his aunt was free to spend whatever she thought right upon +him, and being a very energetic little woman, as I think many old maids +are, she had already written to some place where such things were to be +got, to get sizes and prices and everything required for a neat little +iron room, fitted up as a bedroom; and if mamma was so very, very kind +as to agree to take him in, Rolf would be ready to come the very next +week. + +Of course we talked it over a lot. It had to be considered if Hoskins +and Margery could manage another guest, and we were almost surprised to +find how pleased Hoskins was about it. 'Miss Theresa,' she said, 'was +such a help; there had not seemed half so much to do since she came. And +the weather was getting so nice and mild, we would scarcely need fires +at all soon, except perhaps 'a little bit, of an evening in the +drawing-room.' And it would be such a good thing for Master George to +have a companion a little older than himself before going to school, +which mamma in her own mind had already thought the same about. + +I never knew Hoskins quite so cheery about anything. I think the truth +was, that she had thoroughly enjoyed the gypsy mystification which had +been confided to her. And I believe, at the bottom of her heart, she +thought that somehow or other Taisy had had a sudden gift of prediction, +and that it would be very unlucky to refuse to receive the unlooked-for +visitor. + +Anyhow it ended in mamma's writing to Aunt Emmeline and Miss Merry, +consenting pleasantly to Rolf's joining us, provided he promised, or +they for him, to be content with our present very simple quarters and +way of living. + +'That I am sure he will be,' said Taisy, who had quite recovered her +spirits by the time, or rather long before, the letters were written. +'Any boy would be a goose who wasn't delighted with the Hut, and Rolf is +certainly not a goose.' + +The only person who did not seem quite pleased about it was George. At +first I thought this very strange, as naturally you would have expected +him to be very delighted at the idea of a companion of his own standing, +so to say, which he had never had. But Dods was a queer boy in some +respects. He is less so now on the whole, though he is just as dear and +'old-fashioned,' in nice ways, as ever, and I do think the _right_ ways +in which he has changed are a good deal thanks to Rolf. + +Perhaps Geordie was a little jealous of him before he came, without +knowing it. It was not unnatural, considering everything. Poor old Dods, +you see, had been left by papa in his own place, as the 'man' of the +party, and we had all got into the habit of looking to him and even +asking his opinion as if he were much older than he really was. And then +he was so devoted to Taisy; he looked upon himself as a sort of knight +to her, I do believe, for down below his matter-of-factness and +practicalness, I know now that there is a good deal of romance, and +what I can only call poeticalness in dear Geordie, so that the idea of a +big, handsome, rather dashing fellow coming to take place above him must +have been rather trying. + +I shall never forget the day Rolf arrived. I had been feeling sorry for +Geordie, as I had begun to understand his rather disagreeable manner +about Rolf, and yet provoked with him too. I did not see after all, I +thought to myself, why he should mind Rolf's coming, any more than I +minded Taisy. For though Taisy was our own cousin and we loved her +dearly, she could not but take a _little_ the place of eldest daughter +with mamma, and if she had not been so sweet, it might have been +uncomfortable. + +And after all, Rolf was a stranger--and only to be with us a short time. +There was far less chance of his really interfering with Geordie's own +place. + +These things however are not often set straight by reasoning about them. + +It is the people themselves--their characters and ways and +feelings--that put it all right if it is to be put right. + +And just as Taisy's brightness and unselfishness and simpleness--I can't +find a better word--kept away any possibility of jealousy of her on my +own part, so it was with Rolf. He and she were no sort of relation to +each other, and yet in some ways they were very alike. I never did know, +and I am sure I never shall know, any one with such a thoroughly +straightforward, unfanciful, and yet very loving and sympathising heart +as Rolf. When I think--but no, I must not allude to that yet--I could +scarcely bear to write of these past happy days if I did. + +But I am wandering away from the day of Rolf's arrival. It was not of +course a 'balloon surprise,' as Dods called Taisy's shooting down upon +us as she had done, for we knew exactly what train he was coming by, and +everything. And it was not so like a 'snail's visit,' which was Taisy's +own name for hers, as in this case the house came before the snail--the +day before. + +It was a different kind of thing from the parish room--that very +substantial affair. This was more like a strong, stout kind of +tent--only it did not go up to a quite small point at the top, as I had +imagined all tents do. But it was partly made of stretched canvas, with +iron rods and bars, and the men who put it up told us it was fireproof +as well as waterproof, which mamma was very glad to hear, especially +when she saw that a small stove was among the furnishings that came with +it. + +George was very pleased to find that the men from Kirke who had received +full directions about it all, from the makers, had instructions to set +it up wherever we thought best. It almost reconciled him, I could see, +to the idea of the stranger boy's visit--even to being pleased at it. + +And we three--Taisy and Geordie and I--were not long in finding the best +place for the new addition to our encampment. We made it a sort of +match, on the other side, to Taisy's waggon, though, as it was much +prettier to look at, it was placed so that a bit of it showed from the +front of the house in a rather picturesque way. + +Inside it really was awfully nice when we got the things unpacked. There +was everything that could be wanted for camping out, for I don't think +the people had understood that only an additional bedroom was required. +They had even sent pots and pans and things like that for cooking, if +required, on the stove. + +'All the better,' said Hoskins, whose face grew beamier and beamier with +every article that appeared. 'I shall not be put about now if anything +goes wrong with the kitchen fire, as has been at the back of my mind now +and then. Master Dacre, by what Miss Theresa says, isn't one to grumble +if we had to do a bit of cooking in his room, once in a way.' + +'No, indeed,' said Taisy laughing; 'he'd think it the best of fun and be +quite ready to act kitchen-maid.' + +She declared she was getting quite jealous, as all the perfectly new and +fresh furniture and fittings were set in their places, for of course her +waggon had been provided with what she required in rather a makeshift +way. There were tables and chairs and hanging presses and bookshelves +all made to fold up into next to no compass; a squashy bath, which I did +_not_ envy, as I was sure it would topple over and all the water be +spilt. And there was a lovely red carpet, or strips of it, so thick and +firm, which I _did_ envy, as what we had in our rooms was rather shabby, +and two or three rugs, which, by the bye, soon found their way to the +inside of the Hut, when Rolf discovered that we liked them, declaring +that they were always kicking about in his way. + +'Yes,' said mamma, when we summoned her to see and admire, 'it is +wonderfully nice. And I am glad it has all come the day before. It makes +it seem more like Rolf's being our guest, that his room should be all +ready to receive him.' + +Then Esme made us laugh. She had been standing gazing at it all with her +mouth wide open, as was her way when very much interested or very +admiring. And then she said, solemnly for once-- + +'He must be very--termenjously rich!' + +After all, something of a surprise _did_ come with Rolf, which I must +now tell about. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF + + +We _heard_ it--the surprise I mean--almost before we heard the wheels of +the fly from Kirke, bringing the visitor that _was_ expected. For the +drive from the lodge is on well-rolled gravel, and as there had been a +few showers lately, it was soft, and you scarcely hear a carriage coming +in that case. + +But what we did hear, as we stood about waiting to welcome Rolf +cordially, was a sharp, clear little voice, not talking, but--barking, +and then, almost at the same moment, we caught sight of the fly, as it +reached the turn at which anything coming up the drive could be seen +from the Hut. + +'I do believe,' I exclaimed, turning to Taisy,--'I do believe he has got +a dog!' + +Taisy shook her head. + +'I don't know of it if he has,' she said; 'and I don't think he would +have brought one without asking if he might.' + +Taisy looked a little frightened. She felt somehow as if she were rather +responsible for Rolf, especially on account of the gypsy affair! + +'It may be a dog belonging to the flyman,' I went on; 'though in that +case it would probably be running alongside, and it doesn't sound as if +it were.' + +Our doubts were soon set at rest. + +When the fly drew up, not at the front--there was no place for carriages +there, but on a piece of level ground a little towards the back on one +side--out sprang our visitor--a tall, fair boy, a good bit taller than +Geordie, with nice blue eyes and a very sunny look about him, +altogether. And--in his arms he held--as if very much afraid of losing +it--the dearest, duckiest, little rough-haired terrier you ever saw! + +Rolf--for of course it was Rolf--looking just a trifle shy, for which +we--Geordie and I--liked him all the better--turned at once to Taisy, as +if to a sort of protector. But he could not hold out his hand, as it was +all he could do with both hands to keep the frightened doggie from +escaping there and then from his grasp. + +'How funny!' I thought. 'Why doesn't he let him go? He wouldn't want to +run away from his own master!' + +'I can't shake hands, Taisy--but how are you?' Rolf by this time was +saying: 'Will you introduce me to your cousins? This little beggar--I +declare he's as slippery as an eel, in spite of his coat.' + +We needed no introduction--we all pressed round him to look at the +terrier. + +'Is he so nervous?' said Taisy. 'Has the railway frightened him?' + +'Oh no, I don't think so. He was just as bad before we got into the +train. It's just strangeness' was the rather puzzling reply. + +'"Strangeness,"' Taisy repeated, while Geordie and I looked up in +surprise,--'strangeness, with his own master holding him?' + +Rolf gave a funny little laugh, and grew rather red. + +'Oh, but,' he said, 'you see, he doesn't know I'm his master, and I +don't want him to. It isn't worth while. I--I only bought him this +morning from the keeper at Millings--you know Millings?'--Taisy nodded; +it was a place near Lady Emmeline's. 'I asked him to be on the lookout +for one as soon as I knew about coming here. I thought he'd suit Miss +Lanark, as you once said something about her wanting a really nice +little dog,' and he smiled at me in his frank, boyish way. + +It was quite true! Rolf must have a good memory, for it was fully six +months ago that I had once said in writing to Taisy that papa had given +me leave to have a dog of my very own if I could get a good-tempered, +well-bred one, and that she must let me know if she came across a +personage of the kind. For, though it seems odd that, living in the +country, we had never had a pet of the kind, it was the case. I think +papa and mamma had rather discouraged it, till we were old enough to +treat a dog well and not to risk being ill-treated by him! + +Since getting papa's leave to have one of my own I had almost forgotten +about it, so many important things and changes had happened. + +But for a moment or two I forgot everything but my delight. The wee +doggie was so sweet--so just exactly what I had pictured to myself as +the perfection of a pet. + +'Oh, thank you, thank you!' I exclaimed, holding out my arms, in which +Rolf carefully deposited the little creature, not very sorry, I fancy, +at the bottom of his heart to make him over to me, for he must have been +rather a tiresome travelling companion. + +'He's a young dog, but full-grown,' Rolf said; 'and very affectionate +and good-tempered. I made sure of that. And he's really a lady's +dog--his mother belonged to a lady near Millings, and that has been his +home. She only sold him because she couldn't keep so many. He's a bit +timid, they say, or rather nervous--but plucky too; if any one tried to +hurt you he'd go for them, the keeper said. But it may take him a day or +two to settle down.' + +It scarcely looked like it--already the little round, rough head was +nestling against me, and the nice little cold, black nose rubbing my +fingers approvingly, while Taisy and George pressed up to me to see him. + +'What's his name, Rolf?' asked the former. Geordie did not speak; I +think for a minute or two he was feeling just a little jealous--or +envious rather of Rolf--as _he_ had not been able to give me a dog, when +he saw how delighted I was. But he was too good and unselfish to let +this feeling last, and when the terrier gave him a friendly lick in +return for a patronising little pat, Dods's kind heart was completely +won. + +'His name,' Rolf repeated thoughtfully; 'I'm afraid I forgot to ask. But +he'll soon get used to any name. It's often more the tone than the +actual sound that a dog notices.' + +'I know,' said Taisy in her quick way; 'call him "Rough." It's not very +uncommon perhaps, but it would suit him--his coat--so well, and it is +rather like "Rolf" too.' + +We had just decided this when mamma's voice, coming towards us from the +Hut, made us turn round. + +'What are you all about?' she asked. 'I heard the fly come some minutes +ago. Welcome to Eastercove, Rolf,' she went on, holding out her hand, +which our visitor was now able to take. 'I hope you have had a pleas---- +Oh! so you have brought your dog,' and she looked a very little +startled; 'take care, Ida. Is he quite good with strangers?' + +'Oh, but,' I began, and then I suddenly remembered that without mamma's +leave I had no right to accept Rolf's gift. 'He's mine--my own dog,' I +went on; 'that's to say if you will let me have him. You know papa said +I might have a dog,' I added pleadingly; 'though of course it is +different now. And he is quite good-tempered and gentle.' + +'Yes,' Rolf repeated; 'I made sure of that.' + +They were the first words mamma had heard him speak. He had not had a +chance of thanking her for her 'welcome,' nor she of finishing her +sentence about his journey, so taken up had we all been by Master Rough! +But at least it had had the good effect of setting us all at our ease. + +Then I went on to explain about Rolf's having remembered what Taisy had +told him ever so long ago about my wish to have a dog--by the bye, it +was lucky that I had not already got one! That possibility had never +struck Rolf; he had only been turning over in his mind what he could do +to please us, whom he thought very kind to 'take him in,' and mamma +turned to him in the pretty way she does, which always makes people like +her. + +'It was very good of you,' she said,--'very good and thoughtful,' and +she too patted the new pet--_very_ gently; mamma is a little afraid, +perhaps wisely so, of strange dogs--so that in her case he thought a wag +of his tail sufficient notice of her attention instead of a lick, for +which omission, if mamma had known of it, she would have been grateful! +'Do you think,' she went on, turning to us three, 'that among you, you +can look after him properly and prevent his getting into any trouble, +or straying away in the woods?' + +'And getting shot by mistake for a rabbit?' said Geordie. 'He is so like +one!' + +We all laughed at this; for nothing in dog shape, _little_ dog shape, at +least, could be less like a bunny than Rough, though perhaps it was not +_very_ respectful of Dods to joke at mamma's fears. But she did not +mind, and by this time we were all feeling quite at home with Rolf, and +he with us. So we went in together to tea, where he and the two little +ones had to be introduced to each other, and Rough exhibited to Denzil +and Esme's admiring eyes. He had fallen asleep in my arms, feeling happy +and comfortable again, and probably thinking I was his old mistress +restored to him after some dreadful doggie nightmare of separation. + +'Mamma need not say, "_Among_ you, will he be looked after?"' I thought +to myself. 'The darling will have looking after enough from his +owner--myself. I only hope the little ones won't tease him, or interfere +with him, even out of kindness.' + +That first evening of Rolf's visit left a very pleasant remembrance, and +it was only a beginning of many happy days. + +He seemed to bring with him just what we needed (though Taisy had done a +good deal, rather of the same kind). It prevented our getting too much +taken up with our own affairs, or becoming too 'old-fashioned,'--Geordie +and I especially--as Hoskins called it, and I don't know that there is a +better word to express what I mean. + +He was so thoroughly a boy, though the very nicest kind of boy--not +ashamed of being a 'gentleman,' too, in lots of little ways, which many +boys either despise, or are too awkward and shy to attend to. I don't +mean to say that he was the least bit of a prig--just the opposite. He +often forgot about wiping his feet, and was rather particularly clever +at tearing his clothes, but never forgot to open the door for mamma and +us girls, or to tug at his old straw hat or cap when he met us! Or more +important things in a sense--such as settling mamma's 'boudoir,' as we +got into the habit of calling Miss Trevor's present, in the best place; +and seeing that her letters were taken in good time to the lodge for the +postman, and things like that. + +And looking back upon those days now that I am so much older, I can see +that he must have had a good deal of 'tact' of the truest kind, as +mamma says it really means care for other people's feelings, not to +make dear old Geordie at all jealous,--actually, indeed, to take away +the touch of it which Dods did feel at the beginning. + +Before a couple of days had passed, all the boys were the best of +friends. Of course, I made Rolf leave off calling me anything but 'Ida,' +and to Esme he was quite a slave. Rather too much so. He spoilt her, and +it was the only thing Taisy and I were not quite pleased with him for, +as it did make her much more troublesome again at her lessons. + +But there came a day when even he got very, very vexed with Esme. I +think I must tell the story. She won't mind even if she ever reads this, +for she is _much_ more sensible now, and often says she wonders how we +all had patience with her. + +It had to do with Rough, my doggie. + +Dogs, as I daresay you, whoever you are, know, if you have had much to +do with them, are not always fond of children, or perhaps I should say, +are not fond of _all_ children. They hate fidgety, teasing ones, who +will pull and pinch them for the fun of making them snap and snarl, or +who _won't_ let them have a peaceful snooze on the hearthrug, if they +themselves--the tiresome children, I mean--are inclined for noisy +romping. If I were a dog, I should do more than snap and snarl in such a +case, I know! + +Esme was not as bad as that. She was a kind-hearted little girl, and +never meant to hurt or worry any one. But she was a terrible fidget, and +very mischievous and thoughtless. It would have been better for her +perhaps to have had a rather less free life than ours at the Hut was. +There was no one whose regular business it was to look after her. Out of +lesson hours she might do pretty much as she liked. Mamma knew she would +never do anything really naughty, or that she thought so, anyway, and we +trusted a good deal to the boys, who, even little Denzil, were so +particularly steady-going, and whom she was generally with. + +But after Rolf came, he and George naturally went about together a good +deal, just as Taisy and I did, and I don't think any of us realised how +completely Esme had the upper hand of Den. + +If I was to blame about her, by not keeping her more with Taisy and +myself, I was well punished for it by the fright she gave us, as you +will hear. + +It was rather a hot day for the time of year--still only spring. We four +elder ones had gone for a good long ramble in the farther off woods, +taking our luncheon with us, and for some reason--I think I _was_, in +my own mind, a little afraid of Rough's getting trapped or some +mischance of the kind--I had left my doggie at home, as safe as could +be, I thought, for he was under Hoskins's care, and she was nearly as +fond of him as I myself. + +He would have been far safer, as it turned out, if we had taken him with +us. + +Esme must have been 'at a loose end' that afternoon, from what she told +me afterwards. Denzil had got some little carpentering job in hand--he +was rather clever at it, and at dinner-time, Esme, as well as he, told +mamma about it--so she was quite happy, thinking they had got good +occupation, and that there was no fear of any 'idle hands' trouble. + +But Miss Esme, as was her way, got very tired of handing Den the nails +and tools and things he wanted, and of watching his rather slow +progress, and told him she must really go for a run. + +'All right,' said Denzil; 'but don't go far.' + +He told us this part of it himself, when he came in for some blame in +having 'let' Esme' get into mischief. This sounds rather hard upon him, +doesn't it, considering he was fully a year younger than she? but, as I +have explained, he was such a solemn old sober-sides, that we had all +got into the way of treating him as if he were the responsible one of +the two. + +'No,' Esme replied, she would not go far; nor did she. + +She strolled about--I can see her now as she must have looked that +afternoon--her hands behind her back, her black legs--she was a tall +little girl for her age--showing rather long and thin beneath her big, +brown Holland overall, her garden hat tilted very much to the back, her +lovely goldy hair in a great fuzz as usual, and her bright hazel eyes +peering about for something to amuse herself with. + +As ill-luck would have it, she found the 'something' in the shape of my +poor darling Roughie! + +Hoskins had allowed him to go out with a bone to the front of the Hut, +where he was lying very comfortably in the sunshine, on a mat, which he +considered his own property. He had left off nibbling at the bone, and +was half or three-quarters asleep. + +Now when Esme is--no, I must in fairness say 'was,' she is so different +now--in one of her idle yet restless humours, it irritated her somehow +to see any one else peaceful and quiet, even if the some one else was +only a dog. + +'You lazy little beggar,' she said to Rough. I don't really know that +she said those very words, but I am sure it was something of the kind, +and so I think I may 'draw on my imagination' a little in telling the +story. 'You lazy little beggar, why don't you get up and go for a run? +You are getting far too fat.' + +And--she told me this herself--she gave him a 'tiny' kick, not so as to +hurt him--that I quite believe, but dogs have feelings about other +things than being actually hurt in their bodies. He had been blinking up +at her good-naturedly, though he was not, as I said, very fond of her. +Nor was she of him. + +But now, at the kick, or 'shove,' I think she called it, he gave a +slight growl. And no wonder--it was not the sort of thing to sweeten +even a sweet-tempered dog's temper--when he was doing no harm and only +asking to be left alone in peace. Esme, however, declared that it was +the growl that made her wish to tease him. + +She put her hand into the pocket of her blouse, meaning to take out her +handkerchief to 'flick' him a little and make him wake up. But in this +pocket, unluckily, besides the handkerchief were some nails and screws +and such things which she had put there for convenience while being +supposed to 'help' Denzil, by handing them to him as he wanted them. And +when she touched them, they rattled and jingled, thoroughly rousing poor +Roughie, who opened his eyes and growled again, this time more loudly, +and Esme, delighted, rattled and jingled, and again he growled. + +Then a wicked idea came into her head. + +She had heard of naughty boys tormenting cats in a certain way. + +'It can't hurt him,' she thought; 'it will only make him run, which is +good for him.' + +And she darted into the Hut, and through it to Rolf's tent, where, as I +said, there was a small compact cooking stove, and among the things +belonging to it a small but strong tin kettle. Esme looked at it. I +believe she was more afraid just then of damaging the kettle than of +harming the dog! + +Still she lifted it and considered for a moment. + +'No,' she thought, 'it's quite light; it can't hurt him. And it won't +hurt _it_ either. I'll only put a few nails in,' and out she ran again +to the front, where my poor pet was settling down for another nap, +hoping, no doubt, that Miss Esme had gone for good. + +By ill-luck, her other pocket held a good piece of stout string. She sat +down and quietly tied up the kettle, so that the lid was secure, having +first dropped into it enough nails and screws to make a woful clatter, +but taking care that no jingle should be heard as yet. It is wonderful +how careful a careless child can be if bent on mischief! + +[Illustration: SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POOR +LITTLE BODY.] + +Then speaking for once most gently and caressingly to Roughie, who was +so surprised that he lay quite still, she fastened the other end of the +string to his tail, and round his poor little body too. 'I didn't want +his tail to be pulled off,' she said afterwards--fortunately, for his +tail _might_ have been badly hurt. + +Then when all was ready, she got up cautiously, and walking away a few +steps, called Rough very sweetly. But he was rather suspicious; he first +got up and stretched himself--there was a faint jingle--poor wee man, he +looked behind him--no, Esme was not there; he moved, more jingle and +rattle, again she called, and he, beginning to be frightened, turned +towards her, on which the cruel little thing 'shoo'ed' him away. She +described it all perfectly. And then the idea must have seized him of +escaping by flight from the unseen terror. He ran--of course the noise +got worse; he ran faster, and it grew louder--faster still--oh, my poor +Roughie!--louder still, Esme laughing--at _first_, that is to say--to +herself, till his doggy wits began to desert him, and a sort of +nightmare agony must have seized him. + +And then--too late--the naughty girl saw what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +'WELL--ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!' + + +What I described in the last chapter will explain the scene that met our +eyes, and the sounds that reached our ears, as we got near the Hut. + +And unluckily the 'we' did not mean only us four--the two bigger boys +and Taisy and I. For as we were passing through that part of the near +woods which skirts the Eastercove gardens--we always took care not to go +very close to the house or more private part of the grounds, as, nice as +the Trevors were, mamma said we must never risk their feeling that the +place was not quite their own for the time being--just, I say, as we +passed the nearest point to the house, we came upon them, all three of +them--Mr., Mrs., and Miss. No, I think I should say all _six_ of them, +for trotting round old Mrs. Trevor's heels were of course the three +pugs. And, of course too, huddled up under one arm, was the bundle of +many-coloured knitting; she was working as she walked, and when she +stopped to speak to us, one or two balls rolled on to the ground, so +that before Rolf and Geordie had time to touch their caps almost, they +were both on their knees, trying to catch the truants before they rolled +farther away. + +'We were coming to see you all,' said Miss Trevor smiling; 'do you think +your mother is at home and disengaged?' + +'I think so,' I replied, and then I went on to explain that we had been +out for several hours on a private picnicking expedition of our own, and +we all joined in saying, 'Do come,' for we liked the Trevors very much, +especially Miss 'Zenia.' We were a little frightened of Mr. Trevor; he +was so tall and thin, and had the name of being tremendously learned, +but they were all very kind, though I have nothing _very_ particular to +tell about them. Mrs. Trevor always made us laugh, with her dogs and her +knitting, but she _was_ so good-natured. + +So we strolled on together, in the pleasant, still, sunshiny +afternoon--Rolf and Geordie talking to Mr. Trevor, who was not at all +'awe-inspiring' when he got on the subject of his own schooldays, for we +heard them all laughing most heartily now and then. + +Taisy declared afterwards that she had picked up balls of wool at least +twenty times during that walk, as she kept beside Mrs. Trevor. And +seeing that their mistress was thus engaged, the three dogs--they were +really very well-behaved--took to following rather demurely, all three +together, while I chatted to Zenia. + +It was not till we were very near the Hut that any unusual sounds +reached us. + +I was just talking about Roughie to Miss Trevor, descanting on his +perfections, when a sort of queer yelping gasp, or gasping yelp, made us +stand still for a moment. + +'What can that be?' I said. + +'Oh, nothing,' said Miss Trevor. 'One hears all sorts of funny animal +sounds in the woods, I have learnt to know. You are rather like an +anxious mamma, Ida, who has been out and left her baby too long. For I +can see you at once think of the dear doggie,' and she laughed a little, +though of course quite kindly. + +I laughed too, and we walked on--we were just a few steps in front of +the others. + +But--again in another moment I stopped, this time holding up my hand, +and saying, 'Hush!' + +Then I turned, and I fancy I had grown quite white already. + +'Miss Trevor,' I said, 'it _is_ Rough, and there must be something +dreadful the matter. Just listen.' + +There was the same gasping yelp, almost like a choking human cry, and +the strangest rushing and clanking, jingling sounds, all mixed together. + +'Was he chained up? Can he have broken loose?' said Zenia breathlessly. +'It sounds like----' + +'"Chained up,"' I repeated indignantly; 'my sweet little Roughie! Oh no, +no!' I cried, as I rushed off. + +It was rather rude, I am afraid, to repeat her words like that, but she +was far too kind to mind. + +'Geordie, Geordie, Rolf,' I cried, 'come quickly! There is something +dreadfully the matter with Rough.' + +So indeed it seemed, for the noise grew louder, and mingled with it now +were a child's calls and shrieks. + +'Roughie, Roughie,' I distinguished in Esme's voice; 'darling Roughie, +come to me. Don't be so frightened, darling. I didn't mean it--oh, I +didn't mean it!' + +And this was what I _saw_. + +Esme, hair streaming, eyes streaming, scarlet with terror, rushing over +the ground in front and at the side of the Hut, lost to sight for a +moment among the trees, then out again, after _something_--a small, wild +animal, it seemed--that was tearing before her, evidently trying to +escape from her, or from--yes, what was that strange thing rushing after +_it_? Another still smaller wild beast of some kind, or what? No, it was +nothing alive; it was a metal thing of some kind, rattling, clanking, +jingling, and--oh, horrors!--tied to my poor pet's little body. + +I saw it all at once--affection quickens one's eyes, they say--I took it +all in before there was time for any explanation, though Esme screamed +to me as she flew on: 'Oh, Ida, Ida, I didn't mean it! Stop him, stop +him!' + +Naughty, naughty Esme! + +_He_ had already rushed past me--within a few yards, that is to +say--without seeing me, whom he generally caught sight of before you +could think it possible. Blinded by terror--yes, and deafened too--he +did not know I had come; he could not hear his own 'missus's' voice. + +And he was dreadful to look at: his tongue was hanging out; his whole +little head seemed spattered with foam; he was rushing like a mad +thing, even though, by the gasping sound he made, you could tell he was +exhausted, and had scarcely any breath left. + +No wonder that, as the boys hurried up behind me, they and Mr. +Trevor--Mr. Trevor especially--thought he _was_ mad. + +Mr. Trevor kept his presence of mind, I must say, under what _he_ +thought the dreadful circumstances. He almost pushed his mother and +sister and Taisy into the porch, and tried to push me in too. But I +evaded him. + +The boys and Esme were quite out of reach--_they_ were tearing after +_her_, shouting to her to 'Come back, come back!' which did not tend to +lessen the uproar. And when _I_ started in pursuit, as of course I did, +it must have seemed to any one looking on as if we had all gone mad +together! Indeed, Taisy owned to me afterwards that, terrified as she +was, she had hard work to keep down her laughter, especially when she +heard me turn upon dignified Mr. Trevor, and in answer to his despotic-- + +'Go back, Miss Lanark, go back; I insist upon it,' shout back, +'Nonsense; I will _not_ go back.' + +And as I heard his next words-- + +'The dog must be shot at once. Boys, is there a gun about the place?' I +grew desperate, for I knew that there _was_ a gun--Rolf's--though he and +Geordie had given their word of honour to mamma not to touch it without +leave. + +Then a new idea struck me. Instead of rushing round like the +others--like the boys that is to say, for by this time Esme had dropped +in front of the porch, whence Zenia Trevor had dragged her in, and she +was now sobbing on Taisy's shoulder--instead of rushing after Roughie, I +'doubled' and _met_ him, my arms outstretched, and using every endearing +and coaxing tone I could think of. And oh, the joy and relief when, +almost dead with exhaustion by now, he flew into my clasp, and, panting +and nearly choking, faintly rubbed his poor little head against me! + +'He knows me, he knows me!' I shouted. 'He is not a bit mad; he is only +wild with terror.' + +But I had some trouble to get the others to believe me; _their_ fright +had only increased tenfold when they saw me catch him. In some +marvellous way Mr. Trevor had got out the gun--I have always suspected +that Taisy or Hoskins or one of them had already thought of it--and +stood within a few paces of my dog and me. But for my having him in my +arms, he would have made an end of Roughie, and certainly I would never +have told this story. + +As it was, for a moment or two he--Mr. Trevor, not the poor pet--was +very angry. + +'Miss Lanark!' he shouted, 'you are mad yourself to touch him. Has he +bitten you?' for I was crying so by this time that I had hidden my face +in Rough's coat. + +'_Bitten_ me!' I exclaimed, looking up and not caring if Mr. Trevor saw +my tears or not,--'_bitten_ me! How can you imagine such a thing? Look +at him.' + +And, indeed, it was a sight to melt any heart and disarm any fears! +Roughie was lying quite still, nestling against me as close as he could +get, only quivering now and then and giving little sobbing sighs, just +as a tiny child does after some violent trouble and crying. + +I believe he was already asleep! + +Mr. Trevor approached cautiously. + +'He--he certainly looks all right now,' he said. 'Can it have been a fit +of some extraordinary kind, then, or what can----' + +'There is no mystery about it,' I said, 'except the mystery of how any +one _could_ be so cruel. Didn't you hear the rattling, Mr. +Trevor--didn't you see--_this_?' + +And I gave a gentle tug to the string, still firmly fastened to the poor +little man; but gently as I did it, the horrid kettle and things in it +jingled slightly, and at once Roughie opened his eyes and began to +shake. + +I soothed him again, but Mr. Trevor did the sensible thing. He laid down +the gun, calling to the boys as they hurried up not to touch it, and +taking out his penknife cut the string, close to the kettle end first, +and then handed the knife to me, to cut the string again where it was +fastened to my dog. + +Rolf and Geordie could scarcely speak. + +'Who can have done it?' they exclaimed. '_Could_ Esme have been so----' + +'Cruel and naughty,' I interrupted,--'yes, I am afraid so, though I +_couldn't_ have believed it of her. Geordie, pick up the kettle please, +without jingling if you can help it, and please throw away the horrid +things that are in it.' + +'No, no, don't throw them away!' exclaimed a newcomer on the scene. +'They're my nails and screws.' + +It was Denzil. + +'And my kettle,' said poor Rolf, rather dolefully, for he was proud of +his cooking stove and all its neat arrangements, and the kettle looked +nearly as miserable for a kettle as Roughie did for a little dog! + +I turned upon Denzil very sharply, I am afraid. + +'Did you know of it, then?' I said. + +Poor Denzil looked very frightened. + +'In course not, Ida,' he said. 'I came out to ask Esme for my nails. She +had a lot of them in her blouse pockets, and she got tired of helping me +and forgot to give me them back.' + +'I'm very sorry,' I said. 'No, I am sure you would never do such a +thing, Den.' + +Then I got up, very carefully, not to disturb my poor doggie, who was +really asleep by this time, and we all--Mr. Trevor and the three boys +and I--went to the group in the porch, whose anxiety was already +relieved by seeing us more tranquil again. Taisy had been dying to rush +out to us, but Esme, sobbing in her arms, was not easily disposed of. + +She--Esme--had begun an incoherent confession of her misdoings, but now +mamma stopped it. + +'Is it all right?' she asked eagerly, speaking to Mr. Trevor. 'The dog +is _not_ mad then? What was it?' + +Mr. Trevor glanced, still a little doubtfully, at Roughie in my arms. + +'I--yes, I think he is all right again,' he replied. 'He certainly +recognised his mistress's voice, which is the best sign. I do not think +it was any kind of fit; it was just terror. He must be a nervous little +creature.' + +'Yes,' said Rolf; 'he is awfully nervous, though he is not cowardly.' + +'A fine distinction, as applied to a dog,' said Mr. Trevor smiling. 'But +if--you all knew it, how----' + +A howl--really it was a howl--from Esme interrupted him. + +'Oh, I know, I know!' she wailed. 'It was all my fault. But I only meant +to tease him and make him run. I didn't mean--oh, Ida, I didn't mean--to +make him go mad. Will you ever forgive me? Rough will never look at me +again, I know.' + +She was mistaken. The prettiest thing happened just then: Roughie, +placidly asleep, though giving little quivers and sobs still, was +awakened by the noise she made. He opened his eyes, and his mouth--what +Denzil called 'smiling'--a little; I think he meant to give a friendly +lick, but finding nothing handy for this, he contented himself with a +very cheerful tail-wagging, first glancing up at Esme, who was bending +over him, as much as to say, 'I do forgive you heartily.' + +I have always said that dogs--nice dogs--are sorry for people when they +see them crying. Since that day I have been sure of it. + +But the first effect of Rough's magnanimity was to bring forth another +burst of sobs and tears from poor Esme. + +Yes, I too forgave her from that moment. + +'Oh, Ida! oh, mamma! oh, everybody!' she cried, 'do forgive me! You see +_he_ does.' + +So now we fell to petting and soothing her; it never took very long to +get up Esme's spirits again, happily. Before bedtime, except for +reddened eyes, you would not have known there had been anything the +matter, but from that day to this Roughie has had no kinder or truer +friend than her. + +We were all feeling rather overstrained. Mr. Trevor, I _fancy_, a little +ashamed of the great fuss he had made, though perhaps I should scarcely +speak of it like that, and I think we all felt glad when mamma said +brightly-- + +'Well--all is well that ends well! Will you join us at our schoolroom +tea and forgive its being rather a scramble after all this upset?' She +turned to the Trevors, but before they had time to reply there came a +half-laughing but rather distressed appeal from Mrs. Trevor. + +'My dears,' she said, addressing everybody as far as I could make out, +'will some of you disentangle me? The dogs and I have all got mixed up +together--naughty, naughty!' and she switched powerlessly with a +knitting needle at the poodles, who this time were really enjoying +themselves in a good ball-of-wool chase, as the excitement of Rough's +strange behaviour had actually made the old lady leave off knitting for +fully five minutes! + +It was quite impossible not to laugh, but Mrs. Trevor herself laughed as +heartily as any one, and at last, by turning her round and round as if +we were playing at blind man's buff, and catching up first one poodle +and then another, we got her free. + +And of course the wool looked none the worse! + +That laughing set us all still more at our ease, and by the time we had +sobered down, Hoskins appeared to announce tea. And after the kind +Trevors had said good-bye and gone, Denzil set us off laughing again by +announcing in his solemn way that he didn't believe Mr. Trevor was at +all ill; he ate such a lot of buttered toast! + +This affair of poor little Roughie was, I think, the most exciting thing +that happened to us all that spring and summer at the Hut. And though +everybody, starting with the good-natured wee man himself, forgave Esme +thoroughly, we were none of us allowed to _forget_ it. For my dog +behaved in the funniest way. Nothing for at least a fortnight would +persuade him to leave my room, where he installed himself in what he +evidently thought a fortress of security, under the bed. And he would +only come out if I called him, and then expected me to hold him in my +arms as if he were a baby, which, as you can understand, was not very +convenient. + +But by degrees he got over it, and became his own happy little self +again. + +I think it was the very day after this thrilling experience that we got +another really cheering and hopeful letter from papa. And once this +happier turn of things began, it kept on pretty steadily; the only +drawback to our thankfulness being that he could name no date--no +_probable_ one even--for his return. So the lengthening days followed +each other till we got to midsummer, and then came July and August, +specially lovely months that year, during which the sun looked down on a +busy and happy party in the queer encampment that was our home for the +time. + +In September Rolf left us for the big school he was bound for. We missed +him sadly, though we had the cheering _hope_ that his aunt would let him +come to us again for the winter holidays. + +And so she did! + +A few days before Christmas he and Taisy--Taisy had spent the autumn +with her grandmother--arrived again, together this time, though less +like snails, as they had left their houses behind them when they went +away. And some changes in the arrangements were made. Taisy had +Geordie's room, and Geordie, to his great delight, took up his quarters +in her waggon, as mamma did not like the idea of a girl's being +outside--even though so near--through the long, dark nights. It was not +a cold winter; it is never very cold at Eastercove, and where the Hut +stands it seems even milder than higher up. So Rolf stuck to his tent, +and was very pleased to have an excuse for keeping his patent stove +going all the time. Those holidays came to an end only too soon. + +In March, just about a year after he had left, came the news of papa's +return being fixed for June. It all fitted in. The Trevors had taken the +house for twelve months, and with the fine weather meant to go back to +their own home in the north. And now there was no talk of letting our +dear home again, or, as far as we could see, of ever leaving it except +for pleasant reasons. But we kept the Hut just as it was, for papa to +see. Rolf would not even have his tent moved till after that summer, and +Taisy's waggon is to this day somewhere about the premises, and mamma +still has her movable 'boudoir' wheeled about to different parts of the +grounds, as it suits her. + + * * * * * + +It is nearly three years since I made the last entry in my 'Hut' diary, +from which I have written out this history of 'The House that Grew.' How +I came to do so I will explain. + +We have been through some very anxious times lately about Rolf. He is a +soldier, and very soon after he got his commission his regiment went to +India, and he with it. I will not tell the particulars, as he might not +like it, but he 'came in' almost at once for some _very_ active service, +up in some of those dreadfully out-of-the-way places, where there are so +often disturbances with the natives, which in England do not attract +much attention, unless you happen to have close personal interest in +what is happening, as we had, for Rolf had become almost like another +brother to us, spending half his holidays at Eastercove. And +Geordie--oh, I forgot to say he _did_ get the scholarship!--and he, by a +happy coincidence, had been at school together. + +Well--one sad day there came news that Rolf was badly wounded. We have +been waiting and waiting--and I think the anxiety 'got on my nerves,' as +people say. For one day mamma spoke seriously to me, when she found me +sitting idle, just longing for letters. + +'Ida, dear,' she said, 'you must get something to do--something _extra_, +I mean, to interest you.' + +And after talking a little, the idea of writing out my 'Hut' diary came +into my head, and, as you see, I have done it! + + * * * * * + +And I have been, if I deserved to be so, rewarded for following mamma's +advice. + +Rolf is coming home--on leave--'invalided,' it is true, but his wound is +not so bad as reported; indeed, according to _him_, not bad at all! + +Papa and Dods are just off to Southampton to meet him and bring him +straight here. + + +THE END + + + + +MACMILLAN AND CO.'S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. + +_BY MRS. MOLESWORTH._ + + +THE HOUSE THAT GREW. Illustrated by ALICE B. WOODWARD. Crown 8vo. 4s. +6d. + +THIS AND THAT; A TALE OF TWO TINIES. Illustrated by HUGH THOMSON. 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