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diff --git a/39592.txt b/39592.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e2e002 --- /dev/null +++ b/39592.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6717 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Princess Mary's Gift Book, by Various + +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 + + +Title: Princess Mary's Gift Book + All profits on sale given to the Queen's "Work for Women" + Fund which is acting in Conjunction with The National + Relief Fund + +Author: Various + +Illustrator: Various + +Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39592] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCESS MARY'S GIFT BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _Painted for Princess Mary's Gift Book by J. J. Shannon, +R.A._ + + Mary.] + + + + +[Illustration] + +BUCKINGHAM PALACE + + +_I desire to express my very best thanks to the Authors and Artists who +have so generously contributed to my Gift Book._ + + Mary. + + + + +PRINCESS MARY'S GIFT BOOK + +[Illustration] + + All profits from sale are given to + THE QUEEN'S "WORK FOR + WOMEN" FUND + which is acting in conjunction with + The National Relief Fund + + HODDER & STOUGHTON + LONDON . NEW YORK . TORONTO + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: CONTENTS] + + + H.R.H. PRINCESS MARY _Frontispiece_ + _Painting by_ J. J. SHANNON, R.A. + + PAGE + A HOLIDAY IN BED _J. M. Barrie_ 1 + Author of "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens." + _Painting by_ W. RUSSELL FLINT, A.R.W.S., _and + Drawings by_ C. E. BROCK + + THE SPY _G. A. Birmingham_ 9 + _Drawings by_ H. R. MILLAR Author of "General John Regan." + + CHARLIE THE COX _Hall Caine_ 17 + _Painting by_ CHARLES NAPIER HEMY, R.A., _and_ Author of + "The Manxman." + _Drawings by_ ARCH WEBB + + CANADA'S WORD _Ralph Connor_ 22 + _Drawings by_ A. J. GOUGH Author of "The Sky Pilot." + + BIMBASHI JOYCE _A. Conan Doyle_ 23 + Author of "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes." + _Painting and Drawings by_ R. TALBOT KELLY, R.I. + + THE ANT-LION _J. H. Fabre_ 31 + _Painting and Drawings by_ E. J. DETMOLD + ("The Insects' Homer"). + + AN ANGEL OF GOD _Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler_ 35 + _Drawings by_ STEVEN SPURRIER, R.I. Author of "Concerning + Isabel Carnaby." + + A MODEL SOLDIER _Charles Garvice_ 43 + _Drawings by_ J. H. HARTLEY Author of "Nance." + + THE LAND OF LET'SPRETEND _Lady Sybil Grant_ 57 + Author of "The Chequer Board." + _Painting and Drawings by_ ARTHUR RACKHAM, R.W.S. + + MAGEPA THE BUCK _H. Rider Haggard_ 63 + _Drawings by_ J. BYAM SHAW, A.R.W.S. Author of "She." + + TRUE SPARTAN HEARTS _Beatrice Harraden_ 75 + Author of "Ships that Pass in the Night." + _Painting and Decorations by_ EDMUND DULAC + + BIG STEAMERS _Rudyard Kipling_ 79 + Author of "The Jungle Book." + _Painting and Drawings by_ NORMAN WILKINSON, R.I. + + A TRUE STORY FROM CAMP _The Bishop of London_ 81 + _Drawings by_ JOSEPH SIMPSON, R.B.A. + + THE EBONY BOX _A. E. W. Mason_ 83 + _Painting and Drawings by_ W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. Author of + "The Turnstile." + + A SPELL FOR A FAIRY _Alfred Noyes_ 101 + Author of "A Tale of Old Japan." + _Painting and Drawings by_ CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON, A.R.W.S. + + OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH: A PIMPERNEL + STORY _Baroness Orczy_ 105 + _Painting by_ A. C. MICHAEL _and_ Author of "The Scarlet + Pimpernel." + _Drawings by_ H. M. BROCK, R.I. + + WHAT CAN A LITTLE CHAP DO? _John Oxenham_ 112 + _Painting by_ EUGENE HASTAIN _and_ Author of "Barbe of + Grand Bayou." + _Drawings by_ GORDON BROWNE, R.I. + + ALTOGETHER DIFFERENT _W. Pett Ridge_ 115 + _Painting by_ M. E. GRAY _and_ Author of "Mord Em'ly." + _Drawings by_ LEWIS BAUMER + + THE ESCAPE _Annie S. Swan_ 123 + _Drawings by_ HAROLD EARNSHAW Author of "Mary Garth." + + FLEUR-DE-LIS _Kate Douglas Wiggin_ 130 + Author of "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm." + _Painting by_ CARLTON A. SMITH, R.I., _and_ + _Drawings by_ EDMUND J. SULLIVAN, A.R.W.S. + + SPARTAN HEARTS, by Beatrice Harraden, was first + published in a volume entitled "Untold Tales of the + Past"; BIG STEAMERS, by Rudyard Kipling, in "A History + of England," by C. R. L. Fletcher and Rudyard Kipling; + BIMBASHI JOYCE, by Arthur Conan Doyle, in "The Green + Flag, and other Stories"; and we have to thank Messrs. + William Blackwood & Sons, The Oxford University Press, + and Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. for permission to + include these contributions in Princess Mary's Gift + Book. + + With these exceptions the poems and stories in this + book have not previously been issued in volume form. + The illustrations have all been specially painted and + drawn, and an exhibition of the work of the artists + who have thus contributed to Princess Mary's Gift Book + will be held at the Leicester Galleries, Leicester + Square, W.C., and the originals sold in aid of the + Queen's "Work for Women" Fund. + + + + +A Holiday in Bed by J.M. Barrie + +[Illustration: _Painting by_ W. RUSSELL FLINT, A.R.W.S., _and Drawings +by_ C. E. BROCK] + + +PEOPLE have tried a holiday in bed before now, and found it a failure, +but that was because they were ignorant of the rules. They went to bed +with the open intention of staying there, say, three days, and found to +their surprise that each morning they wanted to get up. This was a novel +experience to them; they flung about restlessly, and probably shortened +their holiday. The proper thing is to take your holiday in bed with a +vague intention of getting up in another quarter of an hour. The real +pleasure of lying in bed after you are awake is largely due to the +feeling that you ought to get up. To take another quarter of an hour +then becomes a luxury. You are, in short, in the position of the man who +dined on larks. Had he seen the hundreds that were ready for him, all +set out on one monster dish, they would have alarmed him; but getting +them two at a time, he went on eating till all the larks were gone. His +feeling of uncertainty as to whether these might not be his last two +larks is your feeling that, perhaps, you will have to get up in a +quarter of an hour. Deceive yourself in this way, and your holiday in +bed will pass only too quickly. + +Sympathy is what all the world is craving for, and sympathy is what the +ordinary holiday-maker never gets. How can we be expected to sympathise +with you when we know you are off to Perthshire to fish? No; we say we +wish we were you, and forget that your holiday is sure to be a hollow +mockery; that your child will jam her finger in the railway carriage, +and scream to the end of the journey; that you will lose your luggage; +that the guard will notice your dog beneath the seat, and insist on its +being paid for; that you will be caught in a Scotch mist on the top of a +mountain, and be put on gruel for a fortnight; that your wife will fret +herself into a fever about the way the servant, who has been left at +home, is treating her cousins, the milkman, and the policeman; and that +you will be had up for trespassing. Yet, when you tell us you are off +to-morrow, we have never the sympathy to say, "Poor fellow, I hope +you'll pull through somehow." If it is an exhibition you go to gaze at, +we never picture you dragging your weary legs from one department to +another, and wondering why your back aches. Should it be the seaside, we +talk heartlessly to you about the "briny," though we must know, if we +would stop to think, that if there is one holiday more miserable than +all the others, it is that spent at the seaside, when you wander along +the weary beach and fling pebbles at the sea, and wonder how long it +will be till dinner-time. Were we to come down to see you, we should +probably find you, not on the beach, but moving slowly through the +village, looking in at the one milliner's window, or laboriously reading +what the one grocer's labels say on the subject of pale ale, compressed +beef, or vinegar. There was never an object that called aloud for +sympathy more than you do, but you get not a jot of it. You should take +the first train home and go to bed for three days. + +To enjoy your holiday in bed to the full, you should let it be vaguely +understood that there is something amiss with you. Don't go into +details, for they are not necessary; and, besides, you want to be dreamy +more or less, and the dreamy state is not consistent with a definite +ailment. The moment one takes to bed he gets sympathy. He may be +suffering from a tearing headache or a tooth that makes him cry out; but +if he goes about his business, or even flops in a chair, true sympathy +is denied him. Let him take to bed with one of those illnesses of which +he can say with accuracy that he is not quite certain what is the matter +with him, and his wife, for instance, will want to bathe his brow. She +must not be made too anxious. That would not only be cruel to her, but +it would wake you from the dreamy state. She must simply see that you +are "not yourself." Women have an idea that unless men are "not +themselves" they will not take to bed, and as a consequence your wife is +tenderly thoughtful of you. Every little while she will ask you if you +are feeling any better now, and you can reply, with the old regard for +truth, that you are "much about it." You may even (for your own +pleasure) talk of getting up now, when she will earnestly urge you to +stay in bed until you feel easier. You consent; indeed, you are ready to +do anything to please her. + +[Illustration: And wonder how long it will be till dinner-time] + +The ideal holiday in bed does not require the presence of a ministering +angel in the room all day. You frequently prefer to be alone, and point +out to her that you cannot have her trifling with her health for your +sake, and so she must go out for a walk. She is reluctant, but finally +goes, protesting that you are the most unselfish of men, and only too +good for her. This leaves a pleasant aroma behind it, for even when +lying in bed, we like to feel that we are uncommonly fine fellows. After +she has gone you get up cautiously, and, walking stealthily to the +wardrobe, produce from the pocket of your greatcoat a good novel. A +holiday in bed must be arranged for beforehand. With a gleam in your eye +you slip back to bed, double your pillow to make it higher, and begin to +read. You have only got to the fourth page, when you make a horrible +discovery--namely, that the book is not cut. An experienced +holiday-maker would have had it cut the night before, but this is your +first real holiday, or perhaps you have been thoughtless. In any case +you have now matter to think of. You are torn in two different ways. +There is your coat on the floor with a knife in it, but you cannot reach +the coat without getting up again. Ought you to get the knife or to give +up reading? Perhaps it takes a quarter of an hour to decide this +question, and you decide it by discovering a third course. Being a sort +of an invalid, you have certain privileges which would be denied you if +you were merely sitting in a chair in the agonies of neuralgia. One of +the glorious privileges of a holiday in bed is that you are entitled to +cut books with your fingers. So you cut the novel in this way, and read +on. + +[Illustration: You are in the middle of a chapter--] + +Those who have never tried it may fancy that there is a lack of incident +in a holiday in bed. There could not be a more monstrous mistake. You +are in the middle of a chapter, when suddenly you hear a step upon the +stairs. Your loving ears tell you that the ministering angel has +returned, and is hastening to you. Now, what happens? The book +disappears beneath the pillow, and when she enters the room softly you +are lying there with your eyes shut. This is not merely incident; it is +drama. + +What happens next depends on circumstances. She says, in a low voice: + +"Are you feeling any easier now, John?" + +No answer. + +"Oh, I believe he is sleeping." + +Then she steals from the room, and you begin to read again. + +[Illustration: A Holiday in Bed + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Russell Flint, A.R.W.S._] + +[Illustration: --Suddenly you hear a step] + +During a holiday in bed one never thinks, of course, of analysing his +actions. If you had done so in this instance, you would have seen that +you pretended sleep because you had got to an exciting passage. You love +your wife, but, wife or no wife, you must see how the passage ends. + +Possibly the little scene plays differently, as thus: + +"John, are you feeling any easier now?" + +No answer. + +"Are you asleep?" + +No answer. + +"What a pity! I don't want to waken him, and yet the fowl will be +spoilt." + +"Is that you back, Marion?" + +"Yes, dear; I thought you were asleep." + +"No, only thinking." + +"You think too much, dear. I have cooked a chicken for you." + +"I have no appetite." + +"I'm so sorry, but I can give it to the children." + +"Oh, as it's cooked, you may as well bring it up." + +[Illustration: You are lying there with your eyes shut] + +In that case the reason of your change of action is obvious. But why do +you not let your wife know that you have been reading? This is another +matter that you never reason about. Perhaps it is because of your +craving for sympathy, and you fear that if you were seen enjoying a +novel the sympathy would go. Or perhaps it is that a holiday in bed is +never perfect without a secret. Monotony must be guarded against, and so +long as you keep the book to yourself your holiday in bed is a healthy +excitement. A stolen book (as we may call it) is like stolen fruit, +sweeter than what you can devour openly. The boy enjoys his stolen apple +because at any moment he may have to slip it down the leg of his +trousers and pretend that he has merely climbed the tree to enjoy the +scenery. You enjoy your book doubly because you feel that it is a +forbidden pleasure. Or do you conceal your book from your wife lest she +should think you are over-exerting yourself? She must not be made +anxious on your account? Ah, that is it. + +People who pretend (for it must be pretence) that they enjoy their +holiday in the country, explain that the hills or the sea give them such +an appetite. I could never myself feel the delight of being able to +manage an extra herring for breakfast, but it should be pointed out that +neither mountains nor oceans give you such an appetite as a holiday in +bed. What makes people eat more anywhere is that they have nothing else +to do, and in bed you have lots of time for meals. As for the quality of +the food supplied, there is no comparison. In the highlands it is ham +and eggs all day till you sicken. At the seaside it is fish till the +bones stick in your mouth. But in bed--oh, there you get something worth +eating. You don't take three big meals a day, but twelve little ones, +and each time it is something different from the last. There are +delicacies for breakfast, for your four luncheons and your five dinners. +You explain to your wife that you have lost your appetite, and she +believes you, but at the same time she has the sense to hurry on your +dinner. At the clatter of dishes (for which you have been lying +listening) you raise your poor head, and say faintly: + +"Really, Marion, I can't touch food." + +"But this is nothing," she says, "only the wing of a partridge." + +You take a side glance at it, and see that there is also the other wing +and the body and two legs. Your alarm thus dispelled, you say: + +"I really can't." + +"But, dear, it is so beautifully cooked." + +"Yes, but I have no appetite." + +"But try to take it, John, for my sake." + +Then for her sake you say she can leave it on the chair, and perhaps you +will just taste it. As soon as she has gone you devour that partridge, +and when she comes back she has the sense to say: + +"Why, you have scarcely eaten anything. What could you take for supper?" + +You say you can take nothing, but if she likes she can cook a large +sole, only you won't be able to touch it. + +[Illustration: "But try to take it, John, for my sake"] + +"Poor dear," she says, "your appetite has completely gone," and then she +rushes to the kitchen to cook the sole with her own hands. In half an +hour she steals into your room with it, and then you (who have been +wondering why she is so long) start up protesting: + +"I hope, Marion, this is nothing for me." + +"Only the least bit of a sole, dear." + +"But I told you I could eat nothing." + +"Well, this is nothing, it is so small." + +You look again, and see with relief that it is a large sole. + +"I would much rather that you took it away." + +"But, dear----" + +"I tell you I have no appetite." + +"Of course I know that; but how can you hope to preserve your strength +if you eat so little? You have had nothing all day." + +You glance at her face to see if she is in earnest, for you can remember +three breakfasts, four luncheons and two dinners; but evidently she is +not jesting. Then you yield. + +"Oh, well, to keep my health up I may just put a fork into it." + +"Do, dear; it will do you good, though you have no caring for it." + +Take a holiday in bed, if only to discover what an angel your wife is. + +[Illustration: The chances are that he won't understand your case] + +There is one thing to guard against. Never call it a holiday. Continue +not to feel sure what is wrong with you, and to talk vaguely of getting +up presently. Your wife will suggest calling in the doctor, but +pooh-pooh him. Be firm on that point. The chances are that he won't +understand your case. + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE SPY + +BY G. A. BIRMINGHAM + +_Drawings by_ H. R. MILLAR + +_Copyright in the U.S.A. by G. A. Birmingham_ + + +OUR village used to be one of the quietest in England. We prided +ourselves that nothing ever happened there to excite or worry us in any +way. Colonel Challenger, of the Royal Engineers, retired, often +congratulated the vicar, who is upwards of sixty-five years of age, on +the unbroken peace which we enjoyed. The vicar used to remind me, once a +fortnight or so, that we owed our happiness largely to the fact that we +were eight miles from a railway station. When I met Hankly, a retired +Indian judge, in the post office I invariably pointed out to him that +our lot would be much less pleasant if we lived in a neighbourhood where +tennis parties were rife or among people who expected us to turn out in +the evenings after dinner to play cards. Lord Manby, who owns the +village and all the country round it, used to pay a visit to his home +every year and ask us each to lunch with him once. We all accepted these +invitations, but we told each other that they were a horrible nuisance +and a most disagreeable break in the monotony of our lives. I think we +were all quite honest and really believed that we were perfectly happy. + +Then Mrs. Clegg C. Mimms rented the Manor House from Lord Manby, and all +peace came to an end for us. She described herself on her visiting cards +as "the Honourable Mrs. Mimms," and that disturbed us to begin with. We +had to meet each other pretty frequently to discuss how she could be the +Honourable Mrs. anything. She was plainly and unmistakably an American, +and the vicar was of opinion that, since there are no titles in the +American Republic, neither Mrs. Mimms nor her late husband could be the +descendant of a lord. Hankly, who has seen a great deal of the world, +told us that American ambassadors are styled the Right Honourable, and +that Mrs. Mimms's husband might have been an ambassador. The Colonel +maintained that ambassadors are like bishops and cannot share their +official titles with their wives, particularly after they are dead. My +own view was that if Mrs. Mimms wanted to be styled "the Honourable" it +would be discourteous to deny her the title. + +We had hardly settled down again after deciding this point when Mrs. +Mimms upset us still more seriously. She gave a Christmas Tree to the +village children. At first we thought that this would not matter to any +one except the vicar. We were mistaken about that. Mrs. Mimms made us +all help. The Colonel and I spent a long afternoon on a step-ladder +sticking candles on the branches. Hankly, who is a lean, yellow little +man, was made to dress himself up as "Father Christmas." We got no +dinner on the evening of the party, and very nearly had to dance with +the children afterwards. The presents which Mrs. Mimms distributed to +the children were of the most gorgeous and expensive kind. We all agreed +that she must be enormously rich, and the Colonel said that she would +demoralise the whole village. + +She certainly demoralised us. We found ourselves invited to dinner at +the Manor House twice, sometimes three times, a week, and had a standing +invitation to supper every Sunday night. It was no use refusing the +invitations. I tried that twice; but Mrs. Mimms simply came round to my +house in her motor and fetched me. The Colonel complained bitterly. He +has been writing a book on Chhota Nagpur ever since I knew him, and he +said that he hated being interrupted in the evenings. He only dined with +Mrs. Mimms in order to avoid unpleasantness with his wife, who wanted to +go. Hankly said plainly that Mrs. Mimms had a very good cook, and we all +came in the end to accept that as our excuse for dining with her. + +It is, I know, scarcely credible, but last Easter she dragged us into +private theatricals. By that time we had agreed that Mrs. Mimms, in +spite of her annoying lack of repose, was a very kind-hearted woman, and +we did not wish to snub her in any way. My own part in the play let me +in for a love scene with Mrs. Challenger, the most grotesquely absurd +thing imaginable, for the lady is sixty at least and enormously fat. I +should never have agreed to do it, however good-hearted Mrs. Mimms might +be, if Hankly had not been cast for the part of an heroic Christian +curate, and I knew he would look even more foolish than I did when I +kissed Mrs. Challenger's left ear. Hankly hated being an heroic +Christian curate and did not do the part at all well. We got through the +theatricals in June, and after that, except for a couple of picnics +every week, we had a comparatively quiet time until the war broke out. +Mrs. Mimms broke out at the same time. All festivities, even picnics, +stopped at once, of course, and we all began to take life very +strenuously. Mrs. Mimms outdid us easily in every form of activity. + +She began by erecting a flag-staff at the Manor House gates and hoisting +an enormous American flag on it, the largest American flag I have ever +seen. The Colonel, who had his motor decorated with a French and a +Belgian flag as well as a Union Jack, said that Mrs. Mimms's Stars and +Stripes were, under the circumstances, rather bad form. Hankly and I +agreed with him, and we made the vicar speak to her about it. She +explained to him that she had hoisted it entirely for our good. It was, +so she told the vicar, and he told us, the only flag in the world which +the Germans would respect, and that when the Uhlans entered our village +we could all congregate in perfect safety under its folds. The Colonel +was furious--we were all rather angry--at the idea that the Germans +would ever set foot in England; but there was no denying that Mrs. Mimms +meant to be kind when she hoisted the flag. Besides, she is a difficult +woman to argue with, and we did not quite see how we could make her take +the thing down. + +Hankly and I more or less forgave her, though, as it appeared, the +Colonel did not, when she came forward at a meeting summoned by the +vicar and offered to turn the Manor House into a hospital for wounded +soldiers. The generosity of her proposal actually staggered us. She +intended, so she said--and I quite believe it--to turn out all the +existing furniture of the house, fit the place up with the latest +sanitary devices, hire two surgeons and a competent staff of nurses who +should be under her own personal supervision. We at once wired to the +War Office and expected to be thanked gratefully. As a matter of fact we +never got any official acknowledgment of the offer at all. What we did +get--or rather what Mrs. Mimms got--was a letter from Lord Manby's +solicitor pointing out that the agreement under which she had taken the +Manor House did not allow of her getting rid of the furniture or using +the place in any way except as an ordinary dwelling. + +I thought that Lord Manby was a little unsympathetic, and that the War +Office might very well have replied to our telegram, but the Colonel +took quite a different line. He said that Mrs. Mimms was an interfering +old woman who deserved to be snubbed. We all hoped that after this +set-back she would be a little subdued and allow us to manage our own +war in our own way. + +[Illustration: Charlie the Cox + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Charles Napier Hemy, R.A._] + +For a time she kept tolerably quiet. She contented herself with making +shirts and subscribing to various funds like any ordinary woman. She +was, so my wife told me, an amazingly rapid worker, and could turn out +three shirts while any other woman in the village was making two. Her +subscriptions were very generous. Gradually the whole activities of our +village centred in the Manor House. Mrs. Mimms put up another flag-staff +and flew a large Red Cross from it. Working parties went on in her +dining-room from morning to night, and hardly a day passed without a +committee meeting. The vicar, Colonel Challenger, Hankly, and I were the +committee, and we met whenever Mrs. Mimms summoned us. The vicar was +supposed to preside, but it was Mrs. Mimms who suggested the things we +did. The Colonel objected, in private, to every suggestion she made, but +he never succeeded in carrying a point against her. Once or twice she +got us into trouble. There was, for instance, a lot of ill feeling when +we sealed up the village pump and set my chauffeur to keep guard over it +with a gun, only allowing people to draw water for an hour in the +morning and an hour in the evening. Mrs. Mimms had a theory that a +German might come in an aeroplane and poison our water supply. That +would have been a horrible thing: but the people in the village made a +fuss about not being able to get at the pump. Tompkins, the innkeeper, +who was particularly objectionable, said that he only used the water for +washing and would rather have it poisoned than do without it. + +We all began to get rather tired of being rushed into doing things we +didn't want to do; but we were none of us able to withstand Mrs. Mimms. +The Colonel said that we ought to drive her out of the village +altogether, but he never succeeded in suggesting any practical way of +doing it. + +Fortunately she got tired of making shirts and holding committee +meetings after about a month. Then she said she was going up to London +to get a few families of Belgian refugees. We were all greatly pleased, +for we felt that her energies might be turned into a channel which would +save us from making fools of ourselves. I saw her off at the station, +and we waited with the greatest curiosity to see what would happen. I +suppose the Belgian Consul felt doubtful about Mrs. Mimms when he met +her. At all events she came back without a single refugee. Most women +would have been a little disappointed at a failure like that, but Mrs. +Mimms was as full of energy as ever. She had, it appeared, called at +several public offices in London and had been immensely impressed by the +Boy Scouts whom she saw waiting about the doors. + +[Illustration: We sealed up the village pump and set my chauffeur to +keep guard] + +"They're the cutest things I've seen in England," she said, "and their +bare knees are just sweet. I could kiss them all day. I simply must +have a couple to stand on guard while the working parties are going on." + +I talked to the vicar, Hankly, and the Colonel about this. I did not see +how we could possibly provide Mrs. Mimms with Boy Scouts, for there were +none in the parish. The vicar said he was sorry that he had not started +the organisation long ago, but supposed it was too late to do so now. To +my surprise the Colonel, who up to that time had been getting angrier +and angrier with Mrs. Mimms, took her side and said that if she wanted +Boy Scouts she ought to have them. He proposed that we should enrol four +choir boys at once, and offered to buy uniforms for them himself. The +vicar was a little doubtful, but Hankly and I backed up the Colonel. We +were very tired of the constant committee meetings, and we hoped that if +Mrs. Mimms got really interested in Boy Scouts she might let us alone. +We acted promptly, and in a week had four boys ready to stand on guard +at the doors of the Manor House. + +The Colonel gave them a talking to at their first parade. He impressed +on them the fact that discipline and strict obedience to orders are the +essence of a military manhood. He quoted Tennyson, and made the boys +repeat the lines after him: + + "Theirs not to make reply, + Theirs not to reason why." + +He succeeded in inspiring them with a tremendous sense of their own +importance. My idea was that he was trying to prepare them for having +their knees kissed by Mrs. Mimms. + +For a time everything went well. The boys got off going to school and +were immensely pleased. Mrs. Mimms fed them with dainties at odd hours +of the day, and always had a basket of apples in the porch from which +they could help themselves. So far as I knew she never attempted to kiss +either their knees or any other part of them. The Colonel kept on +exhorting them. He paid them a visit every morning, and insisted on +their reporting themselves at his house when they went off duty in the +evening. + +About a fortnight after the boys first went on guard Mrs. Mimms +complained to the vicar that she had found one of them concealed under +the dining-room table while she was at luncheon. She said that she did +not like the feeling that she might kick a boy every time she stretched +her leg while she was at meals. The vicar, of course, promised to speak +to the boy. + +The next day Mrs. Mimms made another complaint. One of the boys had +climbed up by some creepers, and was found by her maid sitting on the +window-sill of a bedroom early in the morning. It was not Mrs. Mimms's +bedroom, but, as she explained, it might have been. She had no +particular objection, so she told the vicar, to a Boy Scout in her +bedroom at any reasonable hour, but she did not want the child to break +his neck. + +Then the postmaster gave me a hint that Mrs. Mimms's letters, which were +posted every day by one of the Scouts, showed signs of having been +opened and closed again before they came into his hands. He said that if +this was being done by the Colonel's orders it was all right, but he +thought he ought to tell me about it. I met the vicar in the street +immediately afterwards and said I thought the Scouts were getting out of +hand and ought to be disbanded at once. He agreed with me. + +While we were discussing the matter Hankly came up to us and said he +heard that Mrs. Mimms was to be arrested at once as a German spy. + +"Tompkins," he said, "is going about the village saying that she ought +to be shot." + +Tompkins always blamed Mrs. Mimms for the sealing up of the village +pump, and had never spoken a good word about her since. The vicar was +greatly put out. + +"Tut--tut!" he said; "arrested! shot! Nonsense. Mrs. Mimms is a most +estimable lady." + +"I'm not so sure about that," said Hankly. "Those boys have been +watching her lately, and there are several things which look +suspicious." + +I suppose the vicar and I showed our surprise. Hankly went on to +explain. + +"She gives the boys peaches and grapes," he said, "and cakes and +meringues. Now I put it to you--the apples of course I understand. I +might give a boy an apple myself, but I put it to you, vicar, would +anybody give boys like that hothouse grapes and peaches unless--well, +unless there was something to conceal. It's not a natural thing to do." + +"Now I come to think of it," said the vicar, "I did meet one of them +yesterday with a peach in his fist." + +"There you are," said Hankly triumphantly, "and, anyhow, the police +inspector is coming over to-day to look into the matter." + +Mrs. Mimms was not actually arrested. The police inspector--acting on +information received from the Boy Scouts, Tompkins, and indeed almost +every one in the village--made a lot of inquiries about her. He did not +succeed in finding out why she called herself "the Honourable," but the +questions he asked her made her so angry that she packed up her trunks +and left the village at once. + +I met the Colonel the day after she left, and told him I was afraid we +should all miss her. The Colonel chuckled in a self-satisfied way. + +"I told you we ought to get rid of her," he said, "and we have." + +"You don't mean to say you think she was really a spy?" I said. + +"She was a good deal worse," said the Colonel; "she was a public +nuisance." + +Later on the Colonel took a kindlier view of Mrs. Mimms. + +"Only for her," he said to me a week ago, "we shouldn't have had Boy +Scouts here. We have quite a good company now. She did us that much +good, anyhow." + +The Colonel did her no more than bare justice. Our Scouts, though they +have caught no more spies, have improved the general tone of the +village. The Colonel is their commanding officer, and, though I do not +say so in public, they have done him a lot of good. + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + +CHARLIE THE COX + +_A LIFE POEM_ + +BY HALL CAINE + +_Painting by_ CHARLES NAPIER HEMY, R.A. + +_Drawings by_ ARCH. WEBB + + +CHARLIE was the cox of our Peel lifeboat. A braver spirit never sailed +the sea. + +Years ago, in a terrific gale, a ship from Norway, the _St. George_, +came dead on for the wildest part of our coast, the fierce headland that +lies back of the old Castle rock. The sound signal was fired, and +Charlie and his brave comrades went out to her. She was reeling on the +top of a tremendous sea, and there was no coming near to her side. + +It was an awful task to get the crew aboard the lifeboat, but Charlie +saved every soul, and lost not a hand of his own. When the "traveller" +was rigged and the "breeches" were ready, and the crew of the doomed +ship were at the bulwarks waiting to leave her, Charlie sang out over +the clamour of the sea: + +"How many are you?" + +"Twenty-four," came back as answer. + +Then Charlie cried, "I can see only twenty-three." + +"The other man is hurt. He's dying. No use saving him," the Norseman +shouted. + +"You'll bring the dying man on deck before a soul of you leaves the +ship," cried Charlie. + +There was a woman among them, and when the carpenter came scudding down +the rope he had a canvas bag on his back. + +"No tools here," shouted Charlie. + +"It's the child," said the man. + +The captain came next. He had left everything else behind him--his +money, his instruments, his clothes, his ship--but out of his pocket +there peeped the head of a baby's doll. + +[Illustration] + +It was a thrilling rescue, but to see it in all its splendour you must +have a drop of our Manx blood in you. Our forefathers were from Norway, +our first Norse king was named Gorry. He landed on this island, not far +from this spot. And on that day of the wreck of the _St. George_ his +children's children rescued from the sea the children's children of the +kinsmen he had left at home. + +Most of our men had Norse names. One of them was a Gorry, lineal +descendant beyond doubt of the old sea king. The Norwegian Government +felt the touch of great things in this incident. It was not merely that +the bravery of the rescue fired their gratitude. Something called to +them from that deep place where blood answers to the cry of blood. They +sent medals for Charlie and his crew, and the Governor of the island +distributed them inside the roofless walls of the old castle of the +"Black Dog." It was like grasping hands with the past across the space +of a thousand years. + +The other day we had another great wind and another brave rescue. The +sun had gone down overnight in a sullen red, very fierce and angry in +his setting, and out of the black north-east the storm had come up while +we slept. In the heavy grey of the dawn the sound-signal fired its +double shot over our little town. A Welsh schooner, which had run in for +shelter during the dark hours, was riding to an anchor in the bay and +flying her ensign for help. + +The sea was terrific--a slaty grey, streaked with white foam, like +quartz veins. It was coming over the breakwater in sheets that hid it. +Sometimes it was flying in clouds to the top of the round tower of the +castle. The white sea-fowl were like dark specks darting through it, but +no human ear could hear the cry of their thousand throats in the +thunderous quake of the breakers on the cavernous rocks. + +A crowd of men answered the call, and there was no shortness of hands to +man the lifeboat. The big, slow-legged fellows who had been idling on +the quay the day before when the sea was calm were struggling, chafing, +and quarrelling to go out on it now that it was in storm, for the blood +of the old Vikings is in our Manxmen still. + +[Illustration] + +It was a splendid rescue. The crew of the Welshman were brought ashore. +Then the abandoned schooner rode three hours longer in the gale, and a +hundred men stood and watched her, talking of other winds and other +wrecks, and of Peel boys who were out on the sea. At last the ship +parted her cables and went rolling like a blinded porpoise dead on for +the jagged coast. + +Seven men took an open fishing-boat and went after her, and we climbed +the Head to look at them. The wind smote us there like an invisible +wing, sometimes swirling us out of our course, often bringing us to our +knees, and whipping our ears with our hair like rods. Sheets of spray +were coming up to us from below and running along the cliffs like driven +rain. The sun, which had broken in fierce brilliance from a green rent +in the sky, made rainbows in the flying foam. + +From the heights we watched the seven men and the open boat. They rose +and fell, appeared and disappeared, but they overtook the Welshman +before she had drifted on to the coast, boarded her with difficulty, let +go another anchor and made her tight. There was nothing else to do, for +she was disabled, and her sails were torn to shreds. The new anchor held +the ship an hour longer, and then there was no help left for her. She +was within a hundred feet of the rocks, and she fell on them with the +groan of a living creature. + +The instant her head was down the white lions of the sea leapt over her, +the water swirled through her bulwarks and plunged down her hatch; her +helm was unshipped, her sails were torn from their gaskets, and the +floating home wherein men had sailed and sung and slept and laughed and +jested was a broken wreck in the heavy wallowings of the waves. + +When it was over and we were coming back, drenched through and green +with the drift of the sea foam caked thick on our faces, some of us +began to think of Charlie. He had not been there that day. A year or +more ago, in the prime of a splendid manhood, he was stricken by heart +disease. He kept a good heart, nevertheless, and by indomitable will +held on for some time. First a little work, then no work at all, only a +sail now and then if the sea was calm, but of late hardly ever well +enough to take the open air. The old hulk of his poor body had been +anchored deep, but she was parting her cables at last. + +[Illustration] + +Charlie lay dying while this second rescue was being made. He had not +answered the signal for the lifeboat, but he had heard it in the fierce +light of morning, and they could not keep him in bed. The soul of the +old sea dog leapt to the call, but his ailing body held him down. He +wanted to go out. Wasn't he cox? Had the boat ever gone out without him? + +[Illustration] + +His house is one of the little places like children's Noah's arks which +dot the line of this hungry shore. He could hear everything and see a +good deal. Often he could hardly keep himself from crying and shouting +aloud. In spirit he was out on the boiling surf, dipping, rising, +stooping, going over, righting again, clambering back, exulting, +glorying, getting nearer the ship, standing off her, rigging the +"traveller," and fetching men aboard in the "breeches." And then away +from the rolling hulk, and sing ho, my lads, and haul through the white +waves for home. But his poor dying body was down on the bed and his face +was sickly scarlet. + +Charlie's volcanic soul did not go off to the deep of deeps on the big +breakers and through the wild noises of the storm. He died later. After +the great wind there came a great calm. The air was quiet and full of +the odour of seaweed; banks of seaweed were on the shore, and the broken +schooner was covered with brown wrack, like any rock of the coast; the +sky was round as the inside of a shell, and pale pink like the shadow of +flame; the water was smooth, and land and sea lay like a sleeping child. +In this broad and steady weather our little town was startled by the +double shot again. We went to the windows in surprise, and saw the red +flag over the rocket house, which is the signal for the lifeboat. + +Charlie was dead. He had just breathed his last, and his rugged +comrades, who know nothing of poetry, but are poets nevertheless to the +deepest grain of them, had run up the flag mast-high (not half-mast) as +signal to the Great Cox of all that here was a soul in the troubled +waters of death waiting for the everlasting lifeboat to bear him to the +eternal shore. + +[Illustration] + +The sea takes some of our bravest and best. Charlie it did not take. Not +so sure is it that he who lives by the sword will perish by the sword, +as that he who baulks the sea the sea will surely have for its prey. +Charlie had battled with the giant time and again, but he has gone to +sleep on the land. + +We buried him to-day in the little cemetery looking on to the grey water +that was more than half his element. The funeral was beautiful in its +old simplicity. First a hymn at the door of the house in the little +alley by the beach, "Safe in the arms of Jesus," with the coffin on the +ground and all standing round; the sea quiet, hardly a breeze as soft as +human breath moving its tranquil surface; the deadly rival in its +everlasting coming and going making no triumphant clamour now the +sea-warrior was down. Then the companions of his dangers, the crew of +his boat, a group of stalwart fellows who have never known what it is to +be afraid, carrying him up the hill, shoulder high, each in his red +stocking cap and his life-belt, emblems of how they had fought the sea +and beaten it. + +There were some of us whose eyes were wet, but if these brave boys wept +at all, it was only for the helpless little ones left behind. For +Charlie they did not weep. His spirit is not dead for them--it cannot +die. When brave deeds have to be done, they will see its light, like a +beacon that does not fail, over the mountains of the fiercest storm; +they will hear its voice above the thunder of the loudest waves. + +A full moon is shining to-night on the place of Charlie's rest, and if +the old Norse story is true, that while the body lies in sight of the +sea the spirit lives in the winds above it, Charlie is not done with his +old enemy yet. He will come back to this sea-bound land in warning +whispers of the mighty and mysterious power that lures men to itself. + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +CANADA'S WORD + +BY RALPH CONNOR + +_Drawings by_ A. J. GOUGH + + + O CANADA! A voice calls through the mist and spume + Across the wide wet salty leagues of foam + For aid. Whose voice thus penetrates thy peace? + Whose? Thy Mother's, Canada, thy Mother's voice. + + O Canada! A drum beats through the night and day, + Unresting, eager, strident, summoning + To arms. Whose drum thus throbs persistent? + Whose? Old England's, Canada, Old England's drum. + + O Canada! A sword gleams, leaping swift to strike + At foes that press and leap to kill brave men + On guard. Whose sword thus gleams fierce death? + Whose? 'Tis Britain's, Canada, Great Britain's sword. + + O Canada! A prayer beats hard at Heaven's gate, + Tearing the heart wide open to God's eye, + For righteousness. Whose prayer thus pierces Heaven? + Whose? 'Tis God's prayer, Canada, Thy Kingdom come! + + O Canada! What answer make to calling voice and beating drum, + To sword flash and to pleading prayer of God + For right? What answer makes my soul? + "Mother, to thee! God, to Thy help! Quick! My sword!" + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +BIMBASHI JOYCE + +BY A. CONAN DOYLE + +_Painting and Drawings by_ R. TALBOT KELLY, R.I. + +[Illustration] + + +IT was in the days when the tide of Mahdism, which had swept in such a +flood from the Great Lakes and Darfur to the confines of Egypt, had at +last come to its full, and even begun, as some hoped, to show signs of a +turn. At its outset it had been terrible. It had engulfed Hicks's army, +swept over Gordon and Khartoum, rolled behind the British forces as they +retired down the river, and finally cast up a spray of raiding parties +as far north as Assouan. Then it found other channels to east and west, +to Central Africa and to Abyssinia, and retired a little on the side of +Egypt. For ten years there ensued a lull, during which the frontier +garrisons looked out upon those distant blue hills of Dongola. Behind +the violet mists which draped them lay a land of blood and horror. From +time to time some adventurer went south towards those haze-girt +mountains, tempted by stories of gum and ivory, but none ever returned. +Once a mutilated Egyptian and once a Greek woman, mad with thirst and +fear, made their way to the lines. They were the only exports of that +country of darkness. Sometimes the sunset would turn those distant mists +into a bank of crimson, and the dark mountains would rise from that +sinister reek like islands in a sea of blood. It seemed a grim symbol in +the southern heaven when seen from the fort-capped hills by Wady Halfa. +Ten years of lust in Khartoum, ten years of silent work in Cairo, and +then all was ready, and it was time for Civilisation to take a trip +south once more, travelling as her wont is in an armoured train. +Everything was ready, down to the last pack-saddle of the last camel, +and yet no one suspected it, for an unconstitutional Government has its +advantage. A great administrator had argued, and managed, and cajoled; a +great soldier had organised and planned, and made piastres do the work +of pounds. And then one night these two master spirits met and clasped +hands, and the soldier vanished away upon some business of his own. And +just at that very time, Bimbashi Hilary Joyce, seconded from the Royal +Mallow Fusiliers, and temporarily attached to the Ninth Soudanese, made +his first appearance in Cairo. + +Napoleon had said, and Hilary Joyce had noted, that great reputations +are only to be made in the East. Here he was in the East with four tin +cases of baggage, a Wilkinson sword, a Bond's slug-throwing pistol, and +a copy of "Green's Introduction to the Study of Arabic." With such a +start, and the blood of youth running hot in his veins, everything +seemed easy. He was a little frightened of the general; he had heard +stories of his sternness to young officers, but with tact and suavity he +hoped for the best. So, leaving his effects at "Shepherd's Hotel," he +reported himself at headquarters. It was not the general, but the head +of the Intelligence Department who received him, the chief being still +absent upon that business which had called him. Hilary Joyce found +himself in the presence of a short, thick-set officer, with a gentle +voice and a placid expression which covered a remarkably acute and +energetic spirit. With that quiet smile and guileless manner he had +undercut and outwitted the most cunning of Orientals. He stood, a +cigarette between his fingers, looking at the newcomer. "I heard that +you had come. Sorry the chief isn't here to see you. Gone up to the +frontier, you know." + +"My regiment is at Wady Halfa. I suppose, sir, that I should report +myself there at once?" + +"No; I was to give you your orders." He led the way to a map upon the +wall, and pointed with the end of his cigarette. "You see this place. +It's the Oasis of Kurkur--a little quiet, I am afraid, but excellent +air. You are to get out there as quick as possible. You'll find a +company of the Ninth, and half a squadron of cavalry. You will be in +command." + +Hilary Joyce looked at the name, printed at the intersection of two +black lines without another dot upon the map for several inches around +it. "A village, sir?" + +"No, a well. Not very good water, I'm afraid, but you soon get +accustomed to natron. It's an important post, as being at the junction +of two caravan routes. All routes are closed now, of course, but still +you never know who _might_ come along them." + +"We are there, I presume, to prevent raiding?" + +[Illustration] + +"Well, between you and me, there's really nothing to raid. You are there +to intercept messengers. They must call at the wells. Of course you have +only just come out, but you probably understand already enough about the +conditions of this country to know that there is a great deal of +disaffection about, and that the Khalifa is likely to try and keep in +touch with his adherents. Then, again, Senoussi lives up that way"--he +waved his cigarette to the westward--"the Khalifa might send a messenger +to him along that route. Anyhow, your duty is to arrest every one coming +along, and get some account of him before you let him go. You don't talk +Arabic, I suppose?" + +"I am learning, sir." + +"Well, well, you'll have time enough to study there. And you'll have a +native officer, Ali something or other, who speaks English, and can +interpret for you. Well, good-bye--I'll tell the chief that you reported +yourself. Get on to your post now as quickly as you can." + +[Illustration] + +Railway to Baliani, the post-boat to Assouan, and then two day on a +camel in the Libyan desert, with an Ababdeh guide, and three +baggage-camels to tie one down to their own exasperating pace. However, +even two and a half miles an hour mount up in time, and at last, on the +third evening, from the blackened slag-heap of a hill which is called +the Jebel Kurkur, Hilary Joyce looked down upon a distant clump of +palms, and thought that this cool patch of green in the midst of the +merciless blacks and yellows was the fairest colour effect that he had +ever seen. An hour later he had ridden into the little camp, the guard +had turned out to salute him, his native subordinate had greeted him in +excellent English, and he had fairly entered into his own. It was not an +exhilarating place for a lengthy residence. There was one large, +bowl-shaped, grassy depression sloping down to the three pits of brown +and brackish water. There, also, was the grove of palm trees beautiful +to look upon, but exasperating in view of the fact that Nature has +provided her least shady trees on the very spot where shade is needed +most. A single wide-spread acacia did something to restore the balance. +Here Hilary Joyce slumbered in the heat, and in the cool he inspected +his square-shouldered, spindle-shanked Soudanese, with their cheery +black faces and their funny little pork-pie forage caps. Joyce was a +martinet at drill, and the blacks loved being drilled, so the Bimbashi +was soon popular among them. But one day was exactly like another. The +weather, the view, the employment, the food--everything was the same. +At the end of three weeks he felt that he had been there for +interminable years. And then at last there came something to break the +monotony. + +[Illustration] + +One evening, as the sun was sinking, Hilary Joyce rode slowly down the +old caravan road. It had a fascination for him, this narrow track, +winding among the boulders and curving up the nullahs, for he remembered +how in the map it had gone on and on, stretching away into the unknown +heart of Africa. The countless pads of innumerable camels through many +centuries had beaten it smooth, so that now, unused and deserted, it +still wound away, the strangest of roads, a foot broad, and perhaps two +thousand miles in length. Joyce wondered as he rode how long it was +since any traveller had journeyed up it from the south, and then he +raised his eyes, and there was a man coming along the path. For an +instant Joyce thought that it might be one of his own men, but a second +glance assured him that this could not be so. The stranger was dressed +in the flowing robes of an Arab, and not in the close-fitting khaki of a +soldier. He was very tall, and a high turban made him seem gigantic. He +strode swiftly along, with head erect, and the bearing of a man who +knows no fear. + +Who could he be, this formidable giant coming out of the unknown? The +precursor possibly of a horde of savage spearmen. And where could he +have walked from? The nearest well was a long hundred miles down the +track. At any rate the frontier post of Kurkur could not afford to +receive casual visitors. Hilary Joyce whisked round his horse, galloped +into camp, and gave the alarm. Then, with twenty horsemen at his back, +he rode out again to reconnoitre. The man was still coming on in spite +of these hostile preparations. For an instant he hesitated when first he +saw the cavalry, but escape was out of the question, and he advanced +with the air of a man who makes the best of a bad job. He made no +resistance, and said nothing when the hands of two troopers clutched at +his shoulders, but walked quietly between their horses into camp. +Shortly afterwards the patrol came in again. There were no signs of any +dervishes. The man was alone. A splendid trotting camel had been found +lying dead a little way down the track. The mystery of the stranger's +arrival was explained. But why, and whence, and whither?--these were +questions for which a zealous officer must find an answer. + +[Illustration] + +Hilary Joyce was disappointed that there were no dervishes. It would +have been a great start for him in the Egyptian army had he fought a +little action on his own account. But even as it was, he had a rare +chance of impressing the authorities. He would love to show his +capacity to the head of the Intelligence, and even more to that grim +chief who never forgot what was smart, or forgave what was slack. The +prisoner's dress and bearing showed that he was of importance. Mean men +do not ride pure-bred trotting camels. Joyce sponged his head with cold +water, drank a cup of strong coffee, put on an imposing official +tarboosh instead of his sun-helmet, and formed himself into a court of +inquiry and judgment under the acacia tree. He would have liked his +people to have seen him now, with his two black orderlies in waiting, +and his Egyptian native officer at his side. He sat behind a camp-table, +and the prisoner, strongly guarded, was led up to him. The man was a +handsome fellow, with bold grey eyes and a long black beard. + +"Why!" cried Joyce, "the rascal is making faces at me." A curious +contraction had passed over the man's features, but so swiftly that it +might have been a nervous twitch. He was now a model of Oriental +gravity. "Ask him who he is, and what he wants?" The native officer did +so, but the stranger made no reply, save that the same sharp spasm +passed once more over his face. "Well, I'm blessed!" cried Hilary Joyce. +"Of all the impudent scoundrels! He keeps on winking at me. Who are you, +you rascal? Give an account of yourself! D'ye hear?" But the tall Arab +was as impervious to English as to Arabic. The Egyptian tried again and +again. The prisoner looked at Joyce with his inscrutable eyes, and +occasionally twitched his face at him, but never opened his mouth. The +Bimbashi scratched his head in bewilderment. + +"Look here, Mahomet Ali, we've got to get some sense out of this fellow. +You say there are no papers on him?" + +"No, sir; we found no papers." + +"No clue of any kind?" + +"He has come far, sir. A trotting camel does not die easily. He has come +from Dongola, at least." + +"Well, we must get him to talk." + +"It is possible that he is deaf and dumb." + +"Not he. I never saw a man look more all there in my life." + +"You might send him across to Assouan." + +"And give some one else the credit? No, thank you. This is my bird. But +how are we going to get him to find his tongue?" + +The Egyptian's dark eyes skirted the encampment and rested on the cook's +fire. "Perhaps," said he, "if the Bimbashi thought fit----" He looked at +the prisoner and then at the burning wood. + +"No, no; it wouldn't do. No, by Jove, that's going too far." + +[Illustration] + +"A very little might do it." + +"No, no. It's all very well here, but it would sound just awful if ever +it got as far as Fleet Street. But, I say," he whispered, "we might +frighten him a bit. There's no harm in that." + +"No, sir." + +"Tell them to undo the man's galabeeah. Order them to put a horseshoe in +the fire and make it red-hot." The prisoner watched the proceedings with +an air which had more of amusement than of uneasiness. He never winced +as the black sergeant approached with the glowing shoe held upon two +bayonets. + +"Will you speak now?" asked the Bimbashi, savagely. The prisoner smiled +gently and stroked his beard. + +"Oh, chuck the infernal thing away!" cried Joyce, jumping up in a +passion. "There's no use trying to bluff the fellow. He knows we won't +do it. But I _can_ and I _will_ flog him, and you can tell him from me +that if he hasn't found his tongue by to-morrow morning I'll take the +skin off his back as sure as my name's Joyce. Have you said all that?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Well, you can sleep upon it, you beauty, and a good night's rest may it +give you!" He adjourned the Court, and the prisoner, as imperturbable as +ever, was led away by the guard to his supper of rice and water. Hilary +Joyce was a kind-hearted man, and his own sleep was considerably +disturbed by the prospect of the punishment which he must inflict next +day. He had hopes that the mere sight of the koorbash and the thongs +might prevail over his prisoner's obstinacy. And then, again, he thought +how shocking it would be if the man proved to be really dumb after all. +The possibility shook him so that he had almost determined by daybreak +that he would send the stranger on unhurt to Assouan. And yet what a +tame conclusion it would be to the incident! He lay upon his angareeb +still debating it when the question suddenly and effectively settled +itself. Ali Mahomet rushed into his tent. + +"Sir," he cried, "the prisoner is gone!" + +"Gone!" + +"Yes, sir, and your own best riding camel as well. There is a slit cut +in the tent, and he got away unseen in the early morning." + +[Illustration] + +The Bimbashi acted with all energy. Cavalry rode along every track; +scouts examined the soft sand of the wadys for signs of the fugitive, +but no trace was discovered. The man had utterly disappeared. With a +heavy heart, Hilary Joyce wrote an official report of the matter and +forwarded it to Assouan. Five days later there came a curt order from +the chief that he should report himself there. He feared the worst from +the stern soldier, who spared others as little as he spared himself. And +his worst forebodings were realised. Travel-stained and weary, he +reported himself one night at the general's quarters. Behind a table +piled with papers and strewn with maps the famous soldier and his Chief +of Intelligence were deep in plans and figures. Their greeting was a +cold one. + +[Illustration: Bimbashi Joyce + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by R. Talbot Kelly, R.I._] + +"I understand, Captain Joyce," said the general, "that you have allowed +a very important prisoner to slip through your fingers." + +"I am sorry, sir." + +"No doubt. But that will not mend matters. Did you ascertain anything +about him before you lost him?" + +"No, sir." + +"How was that?" + +"I could get nothing out of him, sir." + +"Did you try?" + +"Yes, sir; I did what I could." + +"What did you do?" + +"Well, sir, I threatened to use physical force." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said nothing." + +"What was he like?" + +"A tall man, sir. Rather a desperate character, I should think." + +"Any way by which we could identify him?" + +"A long black beard, sir. Grey eyes. And a nervous way of twitching his +face." + +"Well, Captain Joyce," said the general, in his stern, inflexible voice, +"I cannot congratulate you upon your first exploit in the Egyptian army. +You are aware that every English officer in this force is a picked man. +I have the whole British army from which to draw. It is necessary, +therefore, that I should insist upon the very highest efficiency. It +would be unfair upon the others to pass over any obvious want of zeal or +intelligence. You are seconded from the Royal Mallows, I understand?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I have no doubt that your colonel will be glad to see you fulfilling +your regimental duties again." Hilary Joyce's heart was too heavy for +words. He was silent. "I will let you know my final decision to-morrow +morning." Joyce saluted and turned upon his heel. + +"You can sleep upon that, you beauty, and a good night's rest may it +give you!" + +[Illustration] + +Joyce turned in bewilderment. Where had those words been used before? +Who was it who had used them? The general was standing erect. Both he +and the Chief of the Intelligence were laughing. Joyce stared at the +tall figure, the erect bearing, the inscrutable grey eyes. + +"Good Lord!" he gasped. + +"Well, well, Captain Joyce, we are quits!" said the general, holding out +his hand. "You gave me a bad ten minutes with that infernal red-hot +horseshoe of yours. I've done as much for you. I don't think we can +spare you for the Royal Mallows just yet awhile." + +"But, sir; but----!" + +"The fewer questions the better, perhaps. But of course it must seem +rather amazing. I had a little private business with the Kabbabish. It +must be done in person. I did it, and came to your post in my return. I +kept on winking at you as a sign that I wanted a word with you alone." + +"Yes, yes. I begin to understand." + +"I couldn't give it away before all those blacks, or where should I have +been the next time I used my false beard and Arab dress? You put me in a +very awkward position. But at last I had a word alone with your Egyptian +officer, who managed my escape all right." + +"He! Mahomet Ali!" + +"I ordered him to say nothing. I had a score to settle with you. But we +dine at eight, Captain Joyce. We live plainly here, but I think I can do +you a little better than you did me at Kurkur." + +[Illustration + + + + + +THE ANT-LION + +BY J. H. FABRE + +("The Insects' Homer") + +_Painting and Drawings by_ E. J. DETMOLD + +_Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. Copyright U.S.A., 1914, by +Hughes Massie & Co._ + + +MY big and little readers, look at the picture illustrating this story +and tell me what you see. First of all, a hideous little monster. It has +six short legs and an enormous body--the sign of an insatiable +appetite--and carries on its head two sharp-pointed, curved, movable +horns, which open and shut like a savage pair of pincers. Suppose we +were to hear that, in a desert island, a monster like that, but the size +of a wolf, was just emerging from the thick jungle and making for a +traveller, for some modern Robinson Crusoe, and that, in another moment, +it would be sticking its tusks into him, how thrilling we should find +it! We should hope that the man whose life was in danger was armed with +the most effective weapons, which would help him to come victorious out +of the contest: a twelve-chambered revolver at least, to say nothing of +a breech-loading rifle and explosive bullets! + +But we must not take an unfair advantage of the animal's ugly appearance +in order to provoke unnatural excitement, for what I am about to tell is +history and not a fairy-tale: proper, genuine history. I will lose no +time in saying that the creature is quite harmless to any of us, even +the smallest. By this I do not mean to suggest that it has not a very +fierce and brutal temper; only, the victims of its bloodthirsty +instincts move in a world so tiny that we tread it under foot unnoticed. +It is an ogre, ever hungering after fresh meat, like the famous ogre of +your fairy-tales: you know, the one who welcomed Hop-o'-my-Thumb and his +brothers to his house one evening, meaning to put them all in a pie like +so many pigeons; in short, just the sort of ogre who makes your blood +run cold. + +[Illustration] + +Our little monster, then, wants its dinner, a thing not always easy to +find in this world, especially for an ogre. Hunger is gnawing at its +inside; it must eat or die. Its usual prey is the Ant, a good runner, +whose nimble legs promptly take to flight and baffle the clumsy, +corpulent hunter's attempts to attack her. You might as well tell the +Tortoise to run and catch the Gazelle. Our ogre possesses no greater +agility in comparison with the Ant; and moreover there is another reason +that makes it quite impossible for him to run after anything: like the +Crab, he can only really walk backwards, which is not exactly the way to +overtake your quarry when it's in front of you. + +To be fat and heavy, to walk backwards and to be obliged to have live +Ant for one's dinner is a difficult, a very difficult problem. What +would you do in such a case? Come, try to find something! Rack your +brains! You can think of nothing? Well, never mind: plenty of others, +including myself, could not think of anything either. + +Everyday common-sense, expressed in proverbs, tells us over and over +again that necessity is the mother of invention. This great truth, which +we have learnt by personal experience, we shall learn once more from the +Ant-hunter. But first let us give him a name, to simplify our story. +Naturalists call him the Ant-lion, a very happy term, which reminds us +that, like the Lion, he lives by carnage, slaughtering live prey, in +this case Ants. Now that we have christened him we can go on. + +When he wants his dinner, the Ant-lion says to himself: + +"You're a fat little beggar, you know, short-legged and slow-moving; +you'll never catch Ants by running after them. On the other hand, you +can walk backwards, that's capital; you have a head flattened like a +navvy's shovel, that's first-rate; your pincers are long and grip like a +knife, that's perfect, absolutely perfect. We'll use that talent for +walking backwards; we'll use those tools, the shovel and tongs; we'll +make craft take the place of the agility which we lack; and the dinner +will come along." + +No sooner said than done. In a nice dry spot, warmed by the sun and +sheltered from the rain by an overhanging rock, the wily animal selects +a place where Ants are incessantly moving to and fro on household +matters. Gravely, with the mathematical accuracy of an engineer tracing +the foundation of a well-planned building, the Ant-lion walks backwards, +with his body dug into the sand; he turns and turns and in this way +hollows out a groove shaped like a perfect circle. Then, still moving +backwards and still digging deeper and deeper into the sand, he repeats +the circuit many times over, but gradually coming nearer the centre, +where he arrives in the end. If any obstacle, such as a large bit of +gravel, which would spoil the work, makes its appearance, the Ant-lion +takes it on his flat head and, with a vigorous jerk of his neck, flings +it to a distance over the edge of the hole. We should use a shovel in +exactly the same way to throw out the rubbish when digging. + +[Illustration] + +The result of this labour is a sort of funnel, two inches wide and a +little less in depth. For that matter, each Ant-lion scoops himself out +one proportioned to his size: the larger ones, the giants of the family, +produce one almost big enough to hold an orange; the younger and smaller +ones are content with a hollow which a walnut would fill. But, whether +great funnels or modest dents, all these cavities are constructed on one +and the same principle: the slope is very steep and formed of extremely +loose sand; nothing, however light, can set foot upon it without +producing a landslip, followed by a headlong fall. + +When the work is finished, the scoundrel buries himself in the sand, +right at the bottom of the funnel; his pincers alone appear outside, +ever ready to snap, but nevertheless hidden as far as possible. And now +the Ant-lion remains completely motionless and waits; he waits for +hours, for days, for weeks, if necessary, for his patience is +unequalled; he waits for his dinner to come to him, as he cannot go +after his dinner himself. + +Let us do as he does and wait, very attentively. What will happen? See, +an Ant comes trotting along, suspecting no harm, bringing a little honey +in her crop for her mates, who are working at a distance, just as the +goodwife, on the stroke of noon, brings the reaper his midday meal in +the fields. In her hurry, or perhaps in her heedlessness, she has not +seen the precipice. She steps upon it, but only just on the edge. It +makes no difference: as soon as her foot is on the perfidious slope, the +sand gives way and the poor thing is dragged down. If our eyes were +sharp enough, we should see signs of fierce delight betrayed by the +formidable jaws at the bottom. + +Thank goodness! A microscopic bit of straw has interfered with the +landslide. The fall ends in the middle of the slope; and the Ant, +recovering her balance, tries to scramble back to the top. The sand +trickles under her feet; no matter: she goes to work with so much +prudence, she so skilfully makes use of the smallest solid support, she +is so careful to move sideways instead of going straight up the slope +that it looks as though the climb ought to be achieved without fresh +impediment. Her knees, her delicate feelers seem atremble with +excitement. One more effort, only a little effort, and the thing is +done. The edge is there, close by; the Ant must reach it. + +[Illustration] + +Alas, she does not reach it! Suddenly from the sky there falls upon the +poor wretch, thick as hailstones, a rain of grains of sand, which, for +the tiny Ant, is as bad as a regular rain of pebbles. Who is the brute +that takes delight in thus stoning the distressed Ant, who clings in her +despair now to this side, now to that, as best she may, so as not to +roll to the bottom of the precipice? The brute is the Ant-lion, the +ruffian, lying in ambush down in his funnel. See what he is doing. He +takes on his flat head a load, a shovelful of sand, and flings it in the +air towards the Ant, with a sudden, quick jerk of the neck, like the +movement of a spring. The shovelfuls follow rapidly, one after the +other. Whoosh! And whoosh! Do you want another? There's one! You don't +want another? There's one all the same! + +What can the Ant do, I ask you, on the slope of that terrible trap, +where the ground falls from under her in a rushing torrent, while a hail +of pebbles dashes down from above? In vain she struggles, with all the +pluck of despair: for each step forward she takes three back, coming +nearer and nearer to the dreadful jaws that are waiting for her at the +bottom of the funnel. Bruised and dazed with the stoning, she rolls over +and over, right into the jaws. The jaws seize her and everything +disappears under the sand; not a trace remains of the recent tragedy. + +Peacefully buried in the sand of his lair, the Ant-lion devours his +astutely-captured prey. When the meal is over, there remains a dry +carcass, which must be thrown away, for, if left in the funnel, it might +frighten any game in future and betray the hunter in his ambush. A jerk +of the shovel, that is to say, a toss of the flat head, flings it +outside the hole. + +Then the Ant-lion repairs the damage done to his trap, removes the +coarser grains of sand, touches up the slopes to make them ready for a +new slide. He buries himself as I have described and awaits the coming +of the next Ant. + +That is how the Ant-lion secures his dinner. And yet there are people +who say that animals have no sense! + +[Illustration + + + + + +AN ANGEL OF GOD + +_A TRUE STORY_ + +BY ELLEN THORNEYCROFT FOWLER + +_Drawings by_ STEVEN SPURRIER, R.I. + + +"YOU may talk about the Germans as much as you like," remarked Mrs. +Batterby with her customary decision; "but, for my part, I have no doubt +that we shall beat them in the end: no doubt whatsoever!" + +"Still, the German hosts are very numerous, and their artillery is +magnificent," said Mrs. Veale, who, much as she longed for the defeat of +Germany, longed for the defeat of Mrs. Batterby still more. + +Little Miss Skipworth hastened, as usual, to thrust in the olive-branch. +"Dear Mrs. Batterby is thinking of the superior courage of our brave +English soldiers," she explained gently. + +But Mrs. Batterby could not stand being Bowdlerised, or even translated. +"No, I wasn't, Matilda; at least not at that particular minute, though +nobody admires the courage of the British Army more than I do, and +always have done, and especially with Lord Kitchener at their head and +in action against the enemy. I've got a very high opinion of the British +soldier myself; none higher: much too high, in fact, to allow him to +wear a collar to his bed-jacket like the one you are making, Matilda, +without speaking a word in his defence." + +Matilda collapsed at once: she was composed of the most collapsible +material ever provided for the manufacture of souls. "What is wrong with +my collar, Mrs. Batterby? I thought I was exactly copying the pattern +sent to us by the Red Cross. Anyway, I was trying to do so." + +"Trying and succeeding are two different things, which I should have +thought you'd have found out by this time, Matilda, and you +five-and-forty, if you are a day! Give me the collar, and I'll fix it +for you, or else the wounded soldier that wears it will wish he had died +in the trenches before he had the chance of putting it on." + +It was the afternoon of the Red Cross weekly working-party, held in the +village of Summerglade, in the early stages of the Great War. The party +was a small one, consisting of Mrs. Batterby, a farmer's wife, in whose +parlour the meeting was held; Mrs. Veale, the wife of the village +doctor; Mrs. Windybank, a gloomy widow; and Miss Skipworth, an ingenuous +and tender-hearted spinster. Between Mrs. Batterby and Mrs. Veale there +existed a bitter and abiding warfare. + +"May I ask what you were thinking of--if not of the bravery of our own +dear soldiers--when you expressed your assurance of the ultimate success +of the Allied Forces?" asked Mrs. Veale, with her needle in her fingers +and the light of battle in her eye. + +"By all means," replied Mrs. Batterby; "and, a civil question demanding +a civil answer, I don't mind telling you that I feel sure we shall win, +because we know that God is on our side and is fighting for us." + +"But their numbers are so great and their guns so magnificent," repeated +Mrs. Windybank with a lugubrious sigh. "I sometimes fear that they will +win in the end, and we shall all be blown up by Zeppelins and trampled +underfoot. I'm sure I pray every morning that our armies may win, but I +tremble when I think of the forces against us." + +"So did the Prophet's servant till his eyes were opened and he saw the +mountain full of horses and chariots," replied Mrs. Batterby. "But some +folk's eyes seem made not to open, like the stained-glass windows in +Summerglade Church." + +"It is right to pray, but we must beware of presumptuousness in our +prayers," said Mrs. Veale sententiously. + +"We'd much better beware of want of faith," retorted the hostess. + +"But it is difficult to have faith when things seem going against us," +said Matilda Skipworth. + +"Stuff and nonsense, Matilda! It's when things seem going against us +that our faith is really any compliment to the Almighty. I can't see +anything very complimentary to Him when every morning I pray with faith, +'Give us this day our daily bread,' knowing all the time that it's in +the larder with a damp cloth over it. But it's when people pray that +particular prayer, with no bread in the house and no money to pay for +any, that their faith is any compliment to God or worthy of His +acceptance." + +[Illustration] + +"I know my faith is very feeble and my prayers are unworthy," sighed +Miss Skipworth, "but I do try to believe. Still, I cannot help envying +the Prophet's servant who _saw_ the horses and the chariots fighting on +his side. I wish we could _see_ the angel hosts fighting for us. I do so +wish that we had appearances of that kind nowadays: it would make faith +so much easier and life altogether so much more beautiful." + +[Illustration] + +"But it would not be in accordance with God's teaching in these later +times. Such assistance to faith as the appearance of saints and angels +would not be at all in accordance with our modern religious thought, and +I am sure that the Almighty would not permit it," said Mrs. Veale. + +"I am not so sure of that," retorted Mrs. Batterby. "I think that +visions of angels are granted to-day to those that have eyes to see +them, just as they were in Old Testament times." + +"Oh! Mrs. Batterby," exclaimed Matilda in excitement, "do you really +believe that?" + +"I do. But I don't believe that the angels appear as you would expect +them, Matilda--all got up in harps and crowns and flaming swords. I +believe that when they come nowadays they look so commonplace and what +you might call ordinary-looking, that only those folks that have the eye +of faith can perceive them at all. They can _see_ them all right, mind +you! But they can't recognise them as the angels of God." + +"How I should like to see somebody who had actually seen an angel!" +sighed Miss Skipworth. + +"Did you ever come across any one who had enjoyed such an experience, +Mrs. Batterby?" asked Mrs. Veale in a sceptical tone. + +"Yes, I did, Mrs. Veale--that is, if you can say that you ever came +across yourself." + +"Oh, how interesting!--how very interesting!" cried Miss Skipworth. "But +you don't look at all the sort of person that would see angels and +spirits." + +Mrs. Batterby took the last remark as a compliment; as indeed it was +intended. "That's just my point, Matilda. The real angels don't look +like the Scripture-picture sort of angels; and they don't appear to the +high-flown, star-gazing sort of people who are always looking for them." + +"Do tell us what you saw, Mrs. Batterby," besought the emotional +Matilda. + +"And also what calamity it foretold," added Mrs. Windybank. "I always +believe that supernatural appearances precede some terrible misfortune." + +"Well, my experience, or whatever you call it, happened five-and-thirty +years ago, and no calamity has happened to me since. On the contrary, it +taught me that no calamity _could_ happen to me as long as I lay safe in +my Heavenly Father's Hand. That's just the lesson that I learnt from +it." + +"Do tell us the story," urged Miss Skipworth. + +"I will, Matilda, if you'll get on with your bed-jacket, and not leave +off your sewing whenever anybody speaks, as if your hearing lay in your +fingers, and you couldn't sew and listen at the same time. + +"Well, when I was a young woman I lived with an aunt in Merchester who +kept a stationer's shop; and every Sunday I used to walk over to see my +mother who lived at a village about three miles off, she being a widow +and keeping the post-office there and my two little sisters as well. + +"It was one Sunday in September--one of those deceitful sort of days +that look like summer, and then take you all of a heap by getting dark +before you can say _Jack Robinson_--and I had been spending the day with +my mother as usual; I stayed for the evening service, it being the +Sunday-school Anniversary and a special preacher for the occasion; quite +a young man, but one of the finest preachers I ever heard. Though it was +five-and-thirty years ago, I remember that sermon as if I'd heard it +last Sunday." + +"What was it about?" asked Mrs. Windybank. "For my part, I always enjoy +funeral-sermons the most; but I've heard some very sweet ones in times +of war, and on the last Sundays in the Old Year." + +"It was on the very subject that Matilda was speaking about--in fact, it +was her conversation that recalled the whole incident to my mind. The +text was, 'Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him'; and +the preacher said--what I've just being saying to you--that the angels +of God meet us far oftener than we think; only we are so busy looking +out for them to come in our own particular way that we don't recognise +them. Unless they are in their flowing robes with their harps and halos +and fiery swords, we don't know that they are angels at all: which is +just as stupid of us as if we didn't believe we'd seen the Queen, unless +we'd seen her with her crown on. I remember that this impressed us very +much: Queen Victoria had just been to Merchester to lay the +foundation-stone of some public building or other (I forget what), and +we had all cried at seeing her in a widow's bonnet; it seemed to make +her so much more real and human than if she'd had her crown on. I'm sure +that black bonnet brought her nearer to our hearts than all the Crown +Jewels out of the Tower of London could have done; and taught us to love +and reverence her as a woman as well as obey and serve her as a Queen. +And so, as the young minister said, it ought to be with the angels; +because when the Lord came among us, He came as One of ourselves, and +led us by the paths that we were used to. + +"Well, the sermon was so grand, and the hymn after the sermon so +beautiful--I remember it was a six-lines-eight, sung to the tune called +_Stella_, and mother and I swayed to it till we kept bumping against +each other--that by the time we got out of chapel it was quite dark--so +dark that mother didn't like the idea of my walking to Merchester alone, +as it was three miles at the least, and along a very lonely road. But +there was nobody to go with me, and I was bound to get back to aunt's +that night, for some special reason that I forget now; so--like it or +not like it--I had to go, though I was very timid." + +"Oh, how dreadful! I should have been terrified," groaned Miss +Skipworth. "I don't wonder that you were frightened." + +"I shouldn't have minded if I'd been your age, Matilda: surely a woman +of five-and-forty is old enough to go anywhere by herself! But I was +only eighteen, and that makes all the difference." + +Matilda returned a soft answer--or, to be more accurate, a soft +question. + +"Then did you venture, Mrs. Batterby?" + +[Illustration] + +"Of course I did: there was nothing else to do; and I didn't want mother +to know I was frightened for fear of worrying her. But I didn't like it, +I can tell you; and I started with my heart in my mouth, ready to jump +at my own shadow. And then it came into my mind (I remember it as if it +had happened last night) that I was a poor sort of Christian to enjoy a +sermon and then make no sort of effort to put it into practice; in fact, +that I was only a hearer of the Word, and not a doer, letting God's +message go in at one ear and out at the other, leaving nothing behind +it. So I set to to pray that as I went on my way the angels of God might +meet me, as they met Jacob, and save me from all harm. And what with the +excitement of the sermon, and my own fears, and the darkness of the +road, I got worked up to such a pitch that I shouldn't have been +surprised if a white-robed angel with shining wings had flown over the +hedge and perched beside me." + +"Which, of course, no angel did," interrupted Mrs. Veale. + +"That is as may be," retorted Mrs. Batterby darkly. "In the middle of my +prayer I heard a rustle in the hedge on the side of the road, which, of +course, I thought was a thief lying in wait to waylay me and murder me, +and I prayed harder and harder. But then, in the fading light, I +perceived that it was no thief, but a huge yellow collie dog, such as +they have for minding sheep." + +"Oh dear!" said Miss Skipworth; "I should have been as much afraid of a +strange dog as of a strange man, if I'd been you." + +"Fortunately, however, you weren't me, nor ever likely to be, which +seems fortunate for all parties concerned," replied her hostess dryly. +"And as for being afraid of a dog--why! I'd been accustomed to dogs from +a child, though I'm not the one to deny that collies are uncertain in +temper and apt to snap at strangers unawares. So I spoke kindly to this +one, in case it should take me for a thief come after its master's +sheep; though where the sheep were I hadn't a notion, there being +nothing but cornfields ready for cutting on both sides of the road, the +harvest being very late that year." + +"It was rather foolish, to my thinking, to speak to it at all," remarked +Mrs. Windybank. "I had a friend once who spoke to a strange collie; and +it bit her thimble finger so badly that she was never able to sew +properly again." + +"Then she must have said the wrong thing to it," replied Mrs. Batterby; +"and it served her right. I know when folks say the wrong thing to me, +I'd give anything to be able to bite their thimble finger, and dogs feel +the same as we do. But to get on with my story. The dog came up to me +quite friendly-like, and didn't attempt to snap or anything; but though +it came close to me, it wouldn't let me touch or pet it. It shied away +the moment I put out my hand to fondle it. So--being accustomed to dogs +and their ways--I treated it as it evidently wished to be treated, and +just talked to it pleasantly as it trotted along by my side." + +[Illustration: "For my part, I believe it was one of the angels of +God"] + +"Then it followed you?" asked Miss Skipworth. + +"Yes; all the way to Merchester, just as if it had been my own dog. When +there was nobody in sight, it ran backwards and forwards and scampered +about by itself; but whenever we met anybody--and we met some +nasty-looking tramps, I can tell you, that I should have been terrified +to meet alone--it came close to me, looking that big and fierce that the +tramps kept well to the other side of the road, as far away from us as +they could; and it stalked by me till they were out of sight, as is the +way of collies when they scent danger ahead. I can't tell you how +delighted I was to have found such a splendid pet; and I made up my mind +to take it home with me and keep it, unless some one claimed it; as aunt +and I had long wanted a house-dog to take care of the shop at nights. +And, besides, I thought it would be such a nice companion for me on all +the long country-walks which I was so fond of taking out of shop-hours." + +"And did any one ever come and claim it?" asked Miss Skipworth with +breathless interest. + +"No; never. It followed me all the way to Merchester, wagging its tail +whenever I spoke to it, and looking up at me with its soft brown eyes as +friendly as never was; but it never let me touch it, though I tried to +pat it once or twice." + +"And you took it home with you, the dear creature?" + +Mrs. Batterby shook her head. "It followed me right into Merchester; but +when I was safe in the town among all the gas-lamps and the people and +the traffic, it turned round and scampered back along the road by which +we had come. I whistled to it to come back, but it took no notice; and +the last I saw of it was its yellow coat disappearing into the +darkness." + +Miss Skipworth gave a deep sigh. "And you never saw it again?" + +"Never." + +"And you never found out who it belonged to?" + +A look came into Mrs. Batterby's eyes that was new to Miss Skipworth. "I +wouldn't say that. As a matter of fact, I believe I did find out Who it +belonged to." + +"I suppose it was the sheep-dog of one of the neighbouring farmers," +suggested Mrs. Veale. + +"Some might suppose so; but I don't," replied Mrs. Batterby, still with +that wonderful smile in her sharp grey eyes. "For my part, I believe it +was one of the angels of God." + + + + + +[Illustration] + +A MODEL SOLDIER[1] + +[Illustration] + +BY CHARLES GARVICE + +_Author of "Nance," etc._ + +_Drawings by_ J. H. HARTLEY + + +KITTY came into the studio and, dropping on to a stool, said, as she +drew the pins from her hat: + +"Dad, I've had an adventure." + +She made the assertion with seeming gravity, but her father glanced at +her dancing eyes with a mixture of interest and a suspicion of being +spoofed; for past experiences of his light-hearted, mischief-loving +daughter had taught him to be wary; so he said nothing, but continued to +chalk in the rough sketch on the easel. + +"Behold in me a heroine of romance!" said Kitty, striking an attitude +and regarding the toes of her dainty boots with her head on one side; +and her father, as he glanced at her again, noted vaguely her pose and +expression for future use; for Kitty served frequently as a model, and +her pretty face and svelte figure had appeared in numerous magazines as +the heroine of all sorts of stories. + +"Father, I have saved a fellow creature's life," she went on. "Told in +the language of popular fiction it would run thus: 'A young girl of +pleasing appearance was seen going down one of our leading +thoroughfares. She was of meek and modest demeanour----'" + +"I thought you said the adventure happened to you, Kitty," said Mr. +Thorold. + +"'The road was crowded with the carriages and motor-cars of the wealthy +and noble,'" continued Kitty, disregarding the mild sarcasm; "'the young +girl, lost "in maiden meditation, fancy-free," was startled suddenly by +a cry of anguished terror. Raising her downcast eyes, she saw a pretty +young thing running across the road right in front of an approaching +motor-car, from the occupant of which, a lady of mature age and buxom +form, the cry had arisen. Without a thought of her own fair young life, +the maiden rushed forward, seized the young thing in her arms and +carried it in safety to the pavement. The magnificent 2,000-h.p. +motor-car pulled up beside her, and the richly dressed lady, with a gasp +of relief and admiration, expressed her appreciation of the young girl's +heroism, demanded her name and address, and, handing her a card, desired +the rescuer to call. The heroine, murmuring something inaudible, blushed +sweetly and, making her way through the small but loudly cheering crowd +which had collected, modestly disappeared.'" + +[Illustration] + +"All very well," grumbled Mr. Thorold; "but you'll be brought home on a +stretcher some day, Kit. You're too venturesome by far. What became of +the child?" + +"Oh, it wasn't a child; it was a collie pup." + +"I thought you said 'fellow-creature,'" remarked her father plaintively. + +"All dogs are my fellow-creatures," declared Kitty simply. + +"I am a credulous as well as a sinfully indulgent parent," said Mr. +Thorold, stepping back to view his sketch; "but I don't believe a word +of your story." + +"'Documentary evidence was instantly forthcoming,'" retorted Kitty, +extending a tiny paw with a card inserted delicately between her +fingers. + +Her father took it, read aloud: "Lady Hawborough, 209, Belgrave Square," +and then emitted a low whistle. + +"My word, Kitty, you've gone and done it!" he said. "If this is _the_ +Lady Hawborough--and Nature, with all her audacity, cannot have made two +of them--you've run up against a celebrity of the deepest dye." + +"Oh?" said Kitty. "Never heard of her. What's she celebrated for?" + +"For good works--which means, in most cases, a disposition and a +capacity for interfering in the affairs of other people. And her +ladyship is one of the biggest and most incorrigible interferers in this +crank of a world of ours. She is immensely rich; she is also 'powerful,' +as the novelists say; she is a tyrant to her relations, a terror to her +friends, and a well-meaning, charitable bugbear to the world in +general." + +"Oh!" said Kitty, somewhat dismayed. "But how is it you are so +intimately acquainted with the history and characteristics of this lady +of lofty rank and goodly oof?" + +"My dear Kitty, 'oof' is not nearly such a good word as 'wealth.'" + +[Illustration: The Ant Lion + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by E. J. Detmold_] + +"Maybe, but it's easier to pronounce," retorted Kitty. + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mr. Thorold, as if he were weary of the +subject. "Heard some one at the Club talking about her; seen her name in +the papers. Take my advice and don't call. She'll enlist you in one of +her gangs of workers, hustle you into a hospital as a nurse, make you +into a district visitor, or turn you a lecturer on vegetarianism or some +other fad." + +[Illustration] + +"Oh no, she won't," said Kitty, with sublime confidence; "not that I +should object to being a nurse--that is, if I hadn't already to look +after an aged and infirm parent. Yes; much as I value your advice, Dad, +I think I'll call. I'll go to-morrow; and if I come back, say, in a +Salvation Army kit, and banging a tambourine--and, mind you! I might do +worse: I've a whole-hearted admiration for the S.A. and the uniform is +distinctly fetching--you can indulge in the exquisite pleasure of +exclaiming, 'I told you so!' What are you on this morning, Dad?" she +asked, going to him, putting her arm round his neck, and giving him a +little hug. + +"Sketch for an illustration for the _Long Acre Magazine_," he said, with +a kind of resignation; for your most gifted artist has to do pot-boilers +nowadays: and generally he does them well. + +"The girl's all right, anyhow," said Kitty. "Where's the man?" + +"Oh, I'm going to stick him in directly," said Mr. Thorold. "He's to be +a soldier, and I've got a young fellow coming as a model presently. Ran +against him in a rather extraordinary way. He called on me yesterday +with an introduction from Bloxham: said he had never sat as model +before; but that he was hard up, and would do his best. Fine young +fellow, and a nice taking sort of chap altogether." + +"Burglar in disguise, coming to inspect the premises, no doubt," +surmised Kitty cheerfully. + +"Well, he's welcome to anything he takes a fancy to," remarked Mr. +Thorold. + +"Oh, well!" she said. "I'm off to consult Selinar-Ann as to whether it's +to be bread-and-butter pudding or a baked roly-poly; expect me back, or +what remains of me, in an hour." + +Carefully rumpling her father's already disordered hair, she screwed up +his patient face between her hands, kissed him and ran out, singing as +she went. + +In less than an hour she re-entered the studio, still singing; but the +song snapped off suddenly, and she stood just within the doorway, +staring with wide-open eyes at a young soldier in khaki who stood on the +model's dais, one arm in a sling, the other extended with a sword in the +hand, in the kind of attitude beloved by the populace, and forming the +picture which bears inevitably the legend, "Charge!" + +[Illustration] + +The young man turned his eyes--he dared not move anything else--and, at +sight of the stricken maiden, his tanned face grew the colour of a +healthy beetroot. + +"Getting on famously, Kit," remarked Mr. Thorold in a preoccupied +manner. "Arm a little higher, if you please, Captain----Pardon, didn't +catch your name." + +"Barnard," said the model, in a small voice quite inconsistent with his +fine and manly proportions. + +"Ah, thank you! Could you--er--put on something of a scowl? You're +wounded, you know, and you're leading a forlorn hope, or something of +the sort." + +The young man's good-looking face assumed as much of a scowl as it was +capable of doing, and Mr. Thorold dashed it on the paper. + +"Capital! Now you can rest a minute. I've got to go and get some more +ochre. Perhaps you'd like a drink?" + +"Thank you; I should," confessed the young man, with a slight huskiness. + +"All right; I'll bring it," said Mr. Thorold; and, as he was leaving the +room, he said over his shoulder, "My daughter; Captain Barnard." + +Kitty closed the door carefully; then, seating herself on the divan, she +rested her chin in her hand and, regarding the young man severely, she +demanded sternly: + +"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to inform me of the--the meaning of +this?" + +He had seated himself on the edge of the dais and was wiping his face, +as if he were just going through a dangerous action, with the enemy +pressing on all sides. + +"I beg your pardon?" he faltered, with meekness in his voice, mien, and +eye. + +"I asked you why you are masquerading here?" she said, uncompromisingly. + +"Well, come to that, I'm not masquerading. This is my own kit; I'm a +soldier, as you know. This is a genuine wound, not a fake; and I'm +really hard up: had a run of bad luck lately. No harm in earning an +honest shilling." + +"But why come to my father, this particular studio, to earn it?" +demanded Kitty, cutting short his feeble attempts at plausible +explanation. + +"Oh, well," he replied desperately: "you see, when I met you at the +Thomsons' the other night, and asked you if I might have the honour of +calling on you, you said that your father was a very busy man and that +you yourself had no time for receiving visitors." + +[Illustration] + +"Well?" demanded Kitty, as icily as before. + +"Well," he resumed, looking down and then up at her, as if he could not +keep his eyes from her face, stern and almost ferocious as it was, +"well, I asked the Thomsons who your father was, and when they told me, +I thought--I thought----Well, don't you know, it seemed to me that he +might want a model. War pictures are all the go now, aren't they? And +so----" He broke down, made a little gesture with his unwounded arm, and +blurted out, "Of course you know why I've come. I wanted to see you +again. I told you so the other night; like my cheek, of course, but--I +don't know how it is--I feel as if I'd _got_ to see you, to know you. +Look here, Miss Kitty--I beg your pardon, all the Thomsons call you +that--I hope you won't mind my saying that I've fallen in love with +you?" + +"Excuse me; I mind it very much," Kitty informed him with distressing +promptitude; but her eyes wavered and the colour came into her face and +made it, in the unfortunate young man's opinion, more maddeningly +fascinating than ever. + +"Oh, well, I'm sorry," he said, but without much penitence in his tone; +"but the truth should always be told, shouldn't it? And it is the +truth." + +"Is it?" queried Kitty. "You've seen me only once before, and then only +for an hour or two." + +"Two hours and three-quarters," he said, as if he were a stickler for +accuracy; "and I fell in love with you after the first quarter of an +hour. That being the case--as it certainly is--what was I to do? I shall +have to go back to the regiment as soon as this old arm of mine is +right; and it's getting right quickly; and I felt that I couldn't go +without at any rate telling you what--what was the matter with me." + +"You speak as if--as if love were a disease," said Kitty, with an +attempt at mockery which was an abject failure. + +"So it is," he declared, "and I've got it bad--very bad indeed. I'll ask +you to believe me, Miss Kitty--I mean Miss Thorold--that I haven't had +you out of my mind for one moment since we parted." + +"It's a pity you haven't something better to think of," said Kitty. + +"There I disagree with you," observed the young man stoutly. "I couldn't +have anything better to think of, and I don't want to. I shall think of +you for the rest of my natural life. One moment, Miss Kitty, before you +refuse me. I ought to tell you that I'm a poor young captain, in a +marching regiment, with no prospects." + +"The allurement is irresistible----" began Kitty, with admirable +gravity. + +"I'm delighted to hear it," he said. "So you accept me?" + +"The politeness of a soldier should have compelled you to hear me out. I +was going to add, that it would be irresistible if I were in love with +you; but----" + +"Don't go on, I beg of you!" he implored. "I'm not such a fat-headed +idiot as to suppose that you _are_ in love with me. What I wanted to ask +you was to give me a show. You see, I've arranged with Mr. Thorold to +stand, not only for this picture, but for an oil-painting, which I +suppose--don't know much about art--will take some time." + +"You have? Well, of all the----!" + +"Quite so," he said meekly. "You see, it will give me a chance of trying +to explain to you that, if you refuse me, it will be--oh, worse than a +conical bullet in a particularly vital spot. All I ask is that you will +look in now and again, and--and give me an opportunity of--of----" + +"Bothering me to death," finished Kitty for him. + +"No; bothering you into an engagement--which is sometimes a serious +affair, but not always fatal," he said frankly. "Come, Miss Kitty, don't +be hard on me! It's not much to ask----" + +"Oh, isn't it?" interjected Kitty with fine irony. "Thank you. Captain +Barnard." + +"If you were in love with me--absurd idea, of course! but I'm just +putting the case--I'd come and sit with you and give you any amount of +chances." + +Kitty heard her father's returning footsteps, and she stood up and +looked from side to side, and then at this meekly audacious young man, +with a mixture of astonishment and bewilderment--and something else I +cannot define--in her really wonderful eyes. + +"Well, of all the cool----" she said again. But he cut her short. + +"That's all right," he said breathlessly; "thank you ever so much. Your +father's coming. I'm to be here at eleven o'clock every morning." + +"And you think," said Kitty, as hurriedly, "that, by simply sitting here +and regarding you in that absurd attitude, I shall fall in----?" + +[Illustration] + +"Oh, no; not at all. Fortune will have pity on me and give me an +opportunity for seeing you for a minute or two alone. Besides, +perhaps--I only say perhaps, mind!--you might be induced to lunch at an +A.B.C. shop," he jerked out in a rapid whisper, as the innocent parent +returned with his yellow ochre. + +Kitty went up to her room, flung herself into a chair in her favourite +attitude, with her chin in her hands, and stared at nothing--no, not +nothing, but at the handsome face and manly form of a wounded soldier. + +Of course, she would not go near the studio while he was there. +Consequently, the next morning, at half-past eleven, she entered with +refreshment on a tray; and, with downcast eyes and a blush, informed her +father that she had left his soda-and-milk in the dining-room because a +change of scene and air would be good for him. + +[Illustration] + +She was still rosy with shame when the model sprang from the dais, +caught her hand, and declared fervently that she was an angel. + +"No, I am a sly and deceitful, not to say forward, girl," said Kitty. +"But I've only made an opportunity to tell you that I'm not coming into +the studio again while you're here." + +"That's all right," he responded cheerfully. "Come in just about this +time. And I've found a jolly little A.B.C. shop where we can get some +lunch to-day: second turning to the right, in the corner--I should like +you to be able to tell me, quite quietly, why you find it necessary to +refuse me. I think that's only fair to you." + +"And I think," said Kitty emphatically, "that you possess the +concentrated cheek--I am sorry there is no stronger word--of the whole +British Army; and I decline your invitation." + +She kept him waiting at the A.B.C. shop for a good quarter of an hour. + + * * * * * + +In the afternoon Kitty presented herself at 209, Belgrave Square, and +was shown into what a house-agent would call "the magnificent and +spacious salon." Lady Hawborough was seated in a capacious chair, +knitting for dear life; on a small table beside her was an orderly +disorder of blue books, reports of charitable societies, vegetarian +tracts, and the debris of her morning's correspondence. She received +Kitty with more than graciousness; for her ladyship, notwithstanding her +crankiness, was the owner of that organ the possession of which we are +led to believe atones for all minor faults, not to say crimes--a "good +heart." + +Besides, she had been immensely taken with Kitty, and admired genuinely +the pluck and readiness which the girl had displayed in the rescue of +the puppy: of course, Lady Hawborough was a prominent member of the +S.P.C.A. + +She gave Kitty some tea, patted her hand several times, and proceeded to +put her through a kindly, but searching, catechism; and, before tea was +over, had obtained sufficient information respecting Kitty's life to +convince her that the girl was a fitting object of her ladyship's +benevolence. It is true that, every now and then, Kitty caught a glimpse +of the somewhat masterful spirit which her ladyship displayed in her +favourite occupation of ordering the lives of all who came in contact +with her; but Kitty was not so stupid as to fail to recognise the +presence of the aforesaid good heart, or not to credit the old lady with +the amiable intention which smiled behind the mask of tyranny. + +[Illustration] + +"She's not at all a bad sort," Kitty informed her father on her return +home. "Oh, I daresay she's fond of interfering and all that; but she +can't interfere with me; I'm not her relation--I was going to say 'Thank +goodness,' but I really do like her, Dad. She's coming to see some of +your pictures some day." + +"Oh, my great aunt!" groaned Mr. Thorold, who, like a true artist, had a +loathing for the necessary, but sometimes maddening, art patron. + +The drawing for the _Long Acre Magazine_ being duly finished, Mr. +Thorold began on the more important battle-piece. + +"I think I'm going to make a hit with this, Kitty," he said to his +daughter one morning, as he was preparing for the arrival of his +admirably punctual and singularly patient model. "You see, I've got a +splendid young chap to stand for it. He's the real thing, instead of a +coster dressed up in an officer's uniform. And he's a pleasant chap, +too," he continued meditatively. "A modest, well-mannered young fellow: +no swank or swagger; in fact, a gentleman. By the way, Kitty, you might +remember that little fact, and not be quite so short and sharp with him +when he speaks to you." + +"Oh, it won't hurt him," retorted Kitty, turning her back quickly. "From +what I have seen of him, I should say that Captain Barnard would not be +easily snubbed." + +"And you try pretty hard," remarked her father. "For instance, yesterday +there was no occasion for you to tell him to shut up when he observed +that it was a fine day." + +"All I said was that a model was much more effective when he kept his +mouth closed," said Kitty. + +"That strikes me as being pretty much the same thing," said her father. +"He looked quite crushed." + +"Do him good," murmured Kitty. "Besides, he can talk the hind leg off an +army mule when he likes." + +"How do you know?" asked her parent, with mild surprise. + +"Oh, I'm only drawing inferences from--from his general appearance," +said Kitty, looking a trifle confused. + +"Going out to lunch again to-day?" demanded her father, repiningly, as, +clad in outdoor things, she passed him in the passage a couple of hours +later. + +"Sorry, dear; got a pressing engagement. Besides, you never eat +anything. There! did it miss its nurse? Never mind! I'll be in all the +evening." She scrunched up his face, gave him what she called her +"screw" kiss, and departed to the A.B.C. shop. + +By this time, it must be confessed, the fortress besieged by Captain +Barnard with such ingenuous strategy, but manly courage, had +surrendered; and to-day the wounded soldier had brought a pretty but +inexpensive ring with him. + +"It's all I can afford, dearest," he said, as he slipped it on the +finger. + +"It's a perfect duck," she returned, touching the ring with her lips--a +wicked and maddening thing to do; for you can't kiss a girl in an A.B.C. +shop, however much in love with her you may be. + +"And to-morrow I'll tell your father. What--what do you think he'll say, +darling?" + +"I know what he'll say, but I couldn't repeat it, because I've been +properly brought up," replied Kitty. + +"But he won't refuse his consent, won't chuck me out?" cried her lover, +aghast. + +"No; because, strange as it may seem, he's really fond of me. Oh, I +don't deserve it; for he's the dearest dad that ever had a hussy and a +minx for a daughter. No, he won't throw you out, at any rate until the +picture's finished. And perhaps you'll be tired of me--I mean, I shall +be tired of you--we shall be tired of each other, before that time." + +"I'll risk that," he said confidently, pressing her hand under the +table. + +[Illustration] + +That afternoon Kitty, in a state of perfect bliss, paid one of her +frequent visits to Lady Hawborough, with whom she had now become great +friends; in fact, the old lady had grown quite fond of the girl; and the +extent of this affection was proved that afternoon to Kitty by an +extraordinary mischance. The footman had shown her into a small +ante-room, which Lady Hawborough called her "study"; the adjoining +apartment was divided from that in which Kitty was waiting by a pair of +folding doors, and, one of these being partly open, Kitty heard the +rustling of dresses, followed by Lady Hawborough's clear and very +distinct voice saying: + +"Must you go, dear? I'm so sorry, because I wanted you to see her. She's +quite a nice girl--in fact, a really sweet little soul. Oh, yes, of +course, I've plans for her," she continued, as if in response to a +remark by the other lady. "I'm afraid she has not many opportunities; +the father is a struggling artist and they don't move in society, of +course. I'm thinking of--in fact, I've made up my mind to marry her to +Archibald." + +"Lucky Archibald!" observed the other lady. + +"Yes; I think he will be," assented Lady Hawborough, with a complacency +she always exhibited when disposing of the fate of those belonging to +her. "He is a good boy, a little wild, perhaps, but really no harm in +him; and it's time he was married. I'm a little anxious about him, +because he's so--so impetuous, like all the Hawboroughs." Her ladyship's +"dearest friend" could not have accused her of impetuosity; and Kitty +could almost see the other lady smile. "He is the sort of boy who might +fall in love with a barmaid or a ballet girl and marry her." + +"Then this young lady doesn't come within the category of undesirables?" + +"Oh, dear, no," said Lady Hawborough. "She's quite a lady and will suit +Archibald very nicely. I am very pleased with him; he has been doing so +well lately: quite distinguished himself; you've heard, of course? It +was in the papers. I am going to look after him." + +Kitty had been listening with burning face and twitching lips. She had +been so astonished as to be incapable of carrying out her desire to +spring to the door and declare her presence, and escape from the +position of an eavesdropper; but she recovered sufficiently to rise and +confront Lady Hawborough as, on having said farewell to her visitor, she +entered the room. + +"Why, my dear!" said her ladyship, almost embarrassed, "I didn't know +that you were here: have you been waiting long?" + +"Long enough to hear what you said," replied Kitty bluntly, her face +pale now, her eyes flashing. "I couldn't help listening. I'm sorry. Yet +it's just as well, because, Lady Hawborough, I don't think you have any +right to--to dispose of me in the way you intended doing.--I don't know +who 'Archibald' is." + +"Archibald is my nephew," said Lady Hawborough stiffly; and when Lady +Hawborough was stiff, the common or kitchen poker compared with her was +a soft and flexible article. "My nephew and heir. He is a very good and +brave young man." + +"He may be a saint for all I care," said Kitty; "but I don't want to +marry him, and I won't. In fact, I'm----" She was going to say +"engaged," but she was really too angry to confide in Lady Hawborough +"--I'm resolved not to do so. I am afraid you will think me very +ungrateful, and that--well, that this is the end of our friendship." + +"I think you are stating the situation very accurately," said Lady +Hawborough, whose face was exceeding red. + +"I'm sorry," said Kitty, rather wistfully and sadly, her resentment +waning; for the old lady had been very kind to her, and Kitty saw that +even this absurd intention of hers sprang from a benevolent desire to +benefit her protegee. "I want to thank you for all your goodness to me, +and----Good-bye, Lady Hawborough." + +She held out her hand, but Lady Hawborough appeared not to see it, and +Kitty got outside the "stately and desirable mansion" and hastened home +to enjoy a good cry. + +When she made her appearance in the studio next morning, she found her +father seated on his stool in an attitude of profound dismay, his long +figure bowed, his rumpled hair clutched in his hands, his painting-brush +between his teeth. + +On the dais stood the wounded soldier, his face flushed, an expression +of keen discomfort all over him. + +"Here, look here, Kitty!" wailed her distracted parent. "Just listen to +what this young man's been telling me? He says that you and he have got +engaged! Heavens!" + +"Quite true, father," said Kitty calmly, but with a blush. + +"Oh, my goodness! And he tells me that he's poor, and has nothing to +live on excepting his pay and a small allowance." + +"That's true also, I believe, father," said Kitty. "I'm sorry; but it +can't be helped. You'll have to paint me as 'The Mendicant's Bride.'" + +"Don't joke about it, you foolish, abandoned girl!" groaned Mr. Thorold. + +"But you don't want me to cry about it, Dad dear," said Kitty, going to +him, taking the brush from between his teeth, and putting her arm round +his neck. "Haven't you got anything to say for yourself?" she asked, +addressing the discomfited young man. + +"Not a word," he returned. "Said all I've got to say. And look at the +effect of it!" + +[Illustration] + +"Yes," she retorted. "You've broken the heart of an affectionate and +devoted parent. You're a wicked young man.--Oh, dad dear, do get up and +go on with your work! You know as well as I do that you're not going to +make us unhappy? Say, 'Bless you, my children!' like a good father, and +let's all go up and mingle our tears over a lunch at the Floriani." + +"Ripping idea!" cried the infatuated lover, who would have said the same +if Kitty had proposed they should lunch in the moon. + +"Oh, well," said Mr. Thorold, a trifle more cheerfully, and with a shrug +of resignation. "But I shall not go unavenged. Young man, you do not +know what lies before you. She will make a slave of you, as she has made +a slave of me; this girl is a tyrant of the most outrageous kind. You +will not possess a soul of your own; you will----" + +"Bravo, Dad!" interrupted Kitty. "But it will be quite time enough to +give me away when we get to the church. There's your hat, on the bust +there." + +"And now we'll go on the bust ourselves," said the young man joyously. +"I say, how jolly it all is! Would you mind my kissing her, sir?" + +He was in the middle of the somewhat lengthy act, when the door opened, +and Selinar-Ann announced in awe-stricken tones: + +"Lidy 'Awborough!" And her ladyship swept in. + +[Illustration] + +With his arm still round Kitty, her lover stared at the portly dame as +if she were a gorgon. Kitty, with a stifled exclamation of astonishment, +freed herself with difficulty from the young man's grasp, and, with +blushing face, hastened to greet the august visitor, whom Mr. Thorold +was regarding with an air of patient resignation. + +But Lady Hawborough put out one hand to keep Kitty back, and, fixing her +lover with a stony stare, exclaimed sepulchrally: + +"Archibald!" + +There was a profound silence for a moment; then Kitty, staring in her +turn at her lover, echoed the objectionable word; for it was a name she +detested. + +"Archibald! His name's Harry!" + +"His name is _Archibald_," said Lady Hawborough sternly. "I ought to +know; for he is my nephew." + +"Your nephew!" gasped Kitty. + +The young man, having recovered from a fright which no shrapnel built by +Krupp could have caused him, now came forward with hand extended. + +"How are you, Aunt?--yes, it's my aunt, right enough. Didn't I tell you? +Must have forgotten to mention it: ought to be ashamed of myself, for +Aunt Philippa's been awfully good to me. Aunt, this young lady is----" + +"I know quite well enough who she is, Archibald," broke in Lady +Hawborough severely. "What I want to know is--What does this mean?" + +"Oh, I see!" he stammered. "Oh, well, it means--of course, you saw when +you came in? It means that Kitty here--Miss Thorold, allow me to +introduce you to my aunt. Mr. Thorold, my aunt, Lady Hawborough. Aunt +Philippa, Mr. Thorold: he is the father of this young lady, Kitty here, +who has done me the very great honour of promising to marry me. Sounds +impossible; but it's true!" + +Lady Hawborough stalked to the nearest chair and, with stately dignity +seated herself on it, very much as a judge might take his place on the +dreadful bench. + +"Girl," she said, in her deepest tones, "why have you tricked, deceived +me?" + +Then, suddenly, as if influenced by a peculiar expression in Kitty's +eyes, an expression which conveyed a kind of warning, her ladyship +faltered, opened her lips once or twice, then said, in quite a different +tone, indeed, almost meekly: + +"This--this is quite a surprise. You will forgive me if I am a little +upset. I think I ought to have been prepared. However, as you young +people have taken the matter into your own hands----" + +"Just what we have done, haven't we, Kitty?" exclaimed her lover, as if +he were proclaiming the supernal wisdom of his relative. + +"--there is no more to be said," concluded Lady Hawborough rather +lamely. "At least, I should like to have a word or two with Miss--Miss +Thorold--I mean, Kitty----" + +"Outside, Eliza!" cried Harry, otherwise Archibald, joyously, as, +catching the bewildered Mr. Thorold by the arm, he walked, almost +danced, him out. + +Kitty did not wait for any question. + +"You see," she said, explaining the significance of her warning look, +"it was just as well not to tell these foolish men everything. It might +happen that if Harry--I mean Archibald--knew that you had meant to +insist upon his marrying me--well, men get huffy so quickly, don't +they?--he might refuse to do so now." + +"Well, he might, but I don't think it's very likely, my dear," said Lady +Hawborough; and she patted the little hand that lay on her knee. "But I +think you are right. We will not say anything about--yesterday. You're a +clever little thing," she added, kissing her. + +"Can we come in?" demanded Harry, a few minutes later. "Aunt, we're all +going up to the Floriani to get some lunch. Come with us, like a good +soul!" + +"The--Flo--Floriani! _What_ is it?" asked her ladyship fearsomely. + +"It's a restaurant in Soho, where you get a thorough blow-out--I mean a +Continental lunch--for one-and-nine," her nephew informed her. "Come on, +Aunt Philippa!" + +Lady Hawborough shuddered. "I should be delighted, Archibald dear, +but--but I think you'd better all go round to Belgrave Square with me. +It--it would be safer." + +It was after lunch, when the two young and silly lovers were in the very +ante-room where Kitty had overheard Lady Hawborough's fell designs, that +Kitty, holding his head back from her for a moment, asked: + +"But why does she call you Archibald?" + +"Because it's my name, or one of 'em," he replied. "Harry Archibald +Stephen Fitzwilliam----" + +"Oh, stop, stop! I shall feel as if I were marrying half a dozen men. +But you haven't told me _why_ she calls you Archibald; and has thus +caused all this confusion!" + +"Oh, because a lawyer chap who bolted with a lot of her money was called +Henry; and, moreover, a bishop we've got in the family, and a chap my +aunt's very proud of, is called Archibald." + +[Illustration] + +"She'll have to drop that name, Harry," said Kitty firmly. "I can't bear +it. Do you think she will?" + +"I'm perfectly certain she will, if you've made up your mind she shall," +he returned, with an air of profound conviction; "for it's plain to me +you've captured the aunt as well as the nephew. Yes, it's a fair cop." +"She's a dear," murmured Kitty, very close to his ear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[1] Copyright in Great Britain, the Colonies, and the United States of +America by Charles Garvice, 1914. Dramatic and other rights reserved. + + + + +THE LAND OF LET'SPRETEND + +BY LADY SYBIL GRANT + +_Painting and Drawings by_ ARTHUR RACKHAM, R.W.S. + + +I.--LET'SPRETEND + + THIS country is not on the map, + But sometimes, curled on Mother's lap, + Or sitting in my bedtime bath, + I wish that I could find the path. + + THERE no one's ever called a dunce, + And you eat jam and cake at once, + Or chocolate and lemon squash, + While nobody need ever wash. + + MOTHERS have nothing else to do + Except to kiss and cuddle you; + And fathers need not "earn their bread," + But stay and romp with you instead. + + THERE are no girls: just men and boys + And mothers; _all_ the shops sell toys; + Just _every one_ plays Hide and Seek, + And Christmas happens twice a week. + + WHILE everybody has a car, + Also a yacht, like Grandpapa, + And lives in wigwams, tents, or huts, + And owns a knife that really cuts. + + BUT some things you can never find, + However tired you make your mind; + Like other things you never know + For sure--if you try ever so. + + JUST as: how God turns on the rain, + So nobody can quite explain + Exactly where the rainbows end. + And so it is with Let'spretend. + + MY Father says that all his life + With my Mamma (who is his wife) + They've looked; and they are _very_ old. + My father's thirty, I've been told! + +[Illustration: + + "And they are _very_ old. + My father's thirty, I've been told!"] + + +II.--SUPPOSING + + SUPPOSING one had been + Shut up in Noah's Ark + (During the flood, I mean)-- + It would have been a lark! + + THE animals, you know, + Were not as they are now; + _Quite_ different long ago-- + Just see this purple cow! + + THE lion, it seems, was pink, + The bears and tigers too, + While zebras had, I _think_, + Most lovely stripes of blue. + + BUT really, I forget, + For now the stripes are faint, + In my own Noah's Ark set + I once licked off the paint. + + AT least, so I am told + (A stupid thing to do! + But I was not so old + Then--only half-past two). + + NOAH'S sons--just look at Ham, + Japhet, of course, and Shem! + I think I really am + Glad I don't look like them! + +[Illustration: JAPHET + + JUST LOOK + _at Ham_ + + OF COURSE + + AND + _Shem_!] + + THEY all stand on green rings + Of grass. Perhaps at night + The cows and sheep and things + Prowled round to steal a bite. + + HORRID for Shem to feel + Tickling around his toes, + Hoping to snatch a meal, + Two hungry buffaloes! + + BUT think what lovely pets + Noah had all for his own; + Each one in double sets, + And mostly quite unknown. + + EVEN a tame baboon!-- + See, he is painted red-- + Would get to know you soon + And sleep upon your bed. + + THE kangaroo that jumps, + Camels that learn to kneel + And let you ride their bumps, + Or follow you to heel. + + THE pets that I keep now + Are guinea-pigs and such; + My parents won't allow + The ones I want so much. + + A baby crocodile + Or _really_ tame giraffe, + I wonder why you smile; + They, too, say "no" and laugh. + + [Illustration: NOAH] + + I WOULD have loved it so + To travel in the Ark, + With all the Zoo, you know-- + Except when it was dark + + + + + +[Illustration: + + "So nobody can quite explain + Exactly where the rainbows end." + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Arthur Rackham. R.W.S._] + +[Illustration: + + "The animals, you know, + Were not as they are now"] + + +III.--WHEN JIM IS QUITE GROWN UP + + WHEN Jim is quite grown up, + And has a bulldog pup, + And sits up very late + _Always_ till half-past eight, + Then, when he is a man, + He means to marry Ann. + + HER age is twenty-two, + But he _thinks_ she will do; + He has not told her yet, + Or she might be upset + At having got to wait + Until this distant date. + + THE life that he will lead + Sounds very fine indeed: + Adventures, wounds, and fights, + And hunting raids of nights; + Murders and blug and fun + With sword and axe and gun. + + AIRSHIPS and hydroplanes, + Mustangs and prairie flames! + Deserts and jungles vast, + And, when quite tired at last + With being on the roam, + Of course, he would come home. + + AND, after miles of tramp, + Reel, wounded, into camp, + Bound with a handkerchief, + And munching bully-beef; + While Ann at the camp fire + Would listen and admire. + + WHAT fun he will have, too! + Nothing he will not do. + He often says to me + (Excepting the V.C.) + Medals he would decline-- + They are not in his line. + + BUT he would soar to fame + And win a glorious name. + And Ann? How odd you are! + Why, just like his Mamma, + Would sit at home and sew, + Like women do, you know. + +[Illustration: NOT IN HIS LINE + + + + + +MAGEPA THE BUCK + +BY H. RIDER HAGGARD + +_Drawings by_ J. BYAM SHAW, A.R.W.S. + +_Copyright in the U.S.A. by H. Rider Haggard_ + +[Illustration] + + +IN a preface to the story of the early life of the late Allan +Quatermain, known in Africa as Macumazahn, which has recently been +published under the name of "Marie," Mr. Curtis, the brother of Sir +Henry Curtis, tells of how he found a number of manuscripts that were +left by Mr. Quatermain in his house in Yorkshire. Of these "Marie" was +one, but in addition to it and sundry other completed stories, I, the +Editor to whom it was directed that these manuscripts should be handed +for publication, have found a quantity of unclassified notes and papers. + +One of these notes--it is contained in a book, much soiled and worn, +that evidently its owner had carried about with him for years--reminds +me of a conversation I had with Mr. Quatermain long ago when I was his +guest in Yorkshire. The note itself is short; I think that he must have +jotted it down within an hour or two of the event to which it refers. It +runs thus: + +"I wonder whether in the 'Land Beyond' any recognition is granted for +acts of great courage and unselfish devotion--a kind of spiritual +Victoria Cross. If so I think it ought to be accorded to that poor old +savage, Magepa, at least it would be if I had any voice in the matter. +Upon my word he has made me feel proud of humanity. And yet he was +nothing but a 'nigger,' as so many call the Kaffirs." + +For a while I, the Editor, wondered to what this entry could allude. +Then of a sudden it all came back to me. I saw myself, as a young man, +seated in the hall of Quatermain's house one evening after dinner. With +me were Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good. We were smoking, and the +conversation had turned upon deeds of heroism. Each of us detailed such +acts as he could remember which had made the most impression on him. +When we had finished, old Allan said: + +"With your leave I'll tell you a story of what I think was one of the +bravest things I ever saw. It happened at the beginning of the Zulu war, +when the troops were marching into Zululand. Now at that time, as you +know, I was turning an honest penny transport-riding for Government, or +rather for the military authorities. I hired them three wagons with the +necessary voorloopers and drivers, sixteen good salted oxen to each +wagon, and myself in charge of the lot. They paid me--well, never mind +how much--I am rather ashamed to mention the amount. I asked a good +price for my wagons, or rather for the hire of them, of a very well +satisfied young gentleman in uniform who had been exactly three weeks in +the country, and, to my surprise, got it. But when I went to those in +command and warned them what would happen if they persisted in their way +of advance, then in their pride they would not listen to the old hunter +and transport-rider, but politely bowed me out. If they had, there would +have been no Isandhlwana disaster." + +[Illustration] + +He brooded awhile, for, as I knew, this was a sore subject with him, one +of which he would rarely talk. Although he escaped himself, Quatermain +had lost friends on that fatal field. He went on: + +To return to old Magepa. I had known him for many years. The first time +we met was in the battle of the Tugela. I was fighting for the king's +son, Umbelazi the Handsome, in the ranks of the Amawombe regiment--I +mean to write all that story, for it should not be lost.[2] Well, as I +have told you before, the Amawombe were wiped out; of the three thousand +or so of them I think only about fifty remained alive after they had +annihilated the three of Cetewayo's regiments that set upon them. But +Magepa was one who survived. + +I met him afterwards at old King Panda's kraal and recognised him as +having fought by my side. Whilst I was talking with him the Prince +Cetewayo came by; to me he was civil enough, for he knew how I chanced +to be in the battle, but he glared at Magepa, and said: + +"Why, Macumazahn, is not this man one of the dogs with which you tried +to bite me by the Tugela not long ago? He must be a cunning dog also, +one who can run fast, for how comes it that he lives to snarl when so +many will never bark again? _Ow!_ if I had my way I would find a strip +of hide to fit his neck." + +"Not so," I answered; "he has the king's peace and he is a brave +man--braver than I am, anyway, Prince, seeing that I ran from the ranks +of the Amawombe, while he stood where he was." + +"You mean that your horse ran, Macumazahn. Well, since you like this +dog, I will not hurt him"; and with a shrug he went his way. + +"Yet soon or late he will hurt me," said Magepa, when the Prince had +gone. "U'Cetewayo has a memory long as the shadow thrown by a tree at +sunset. Moreover, as he knows well, it is true that I ran, Macumazahn, +though not till all was finished and I could do no more by standing +still. You remember how, after we had eaten up the first of Cetewayo's +regiments, the second charged us and we ate that up also. Well, in that +fight I got a tap on the head from a kerry. It struck me on my man's +ring which I had just put on, for I think I was the youngest soldier in +that regiment of veterans. The ring saved me; still, for a while I lost +my mind and lay like one dead. When I found it again the fight was over +and Cetewayo's people were searching for our wounded that they might +kill them. Presently they found me and saw that there was no hurt on me. + +"'Here is one who shams dead like a stink-cat,' said a big fellow, +lifting his spear. + +"Then it was that I sprang up and ran, I who was but just married and +desired to live. He struck at me, but I jumped over the spear, and the +others that they threw missed me. Then they began to hunt me, but, +Macumazahn, I, who am named 'The Buck' because I am swifter of foot than +any man in Zululand, outpaced them all and got away safe." + +"Well done, Magepa," I said. "Still, remember the saying of your people, +'At last the strong swimmer goes with the stream and the swift runner is +run down.'" + +"I know it, Macumazahn," he answered, with a nod, "and perhaps in a day +to come I shall know it better." + +I took little heed of his words at the time, but more than thirty years +afterwards I remembered them. + +Such was my first acquaintance with Magepa. Now, friends, I will tell +you how it was renewed at the time of the Zulu war. + +As you know, I was attached to the centre column that advanced into +Zululand by Rorke's Drift on the Buffalo River. Before war was declared, +or at any rate before the advance began, while it might have been and +many thought it would be averted, I was employed transport-riding goods +to the little Rorke's Drift station, that which became so famous +afterwards, and incidentally in collecting what information I could of +Cetewayo's intentions. Hearing that there was a kraal a mile or so the +other side of the river, of which the people were said to be very +friendly to the English, I determined to visit it. You may think this +was rash, but I was so well known in Zululand, where for many years, by +special leave of the king, I was allowed to go whither I would quite +unmolested, that I felt no fear for myself so long as I went alone. + +Accordingly one evening I crossed the drift and headed for a kloof in +which I was told the kraal stood. Ten minutes' ride brought me in sight +of it. It was not a large kraal; there may have been six or eight huts +and a cattle enclosure surrounded by the usual fence. The situation, +however, was very pretty, a knoll of rising ground backed by the wooded +slopes of the kloof. As I approached I saw women and children running to +the kraal to hide, and when I reached the gateway for some time no one +would come out to meet me. At length a small boy appeared who informed +me that the kraal was "empty as a gourd." + +"Quite so," I answered; "still, go and tell the headman that Macumazahn +wishes to speak with him." + +The boy departed, and presently I saw a face that seemed familiar to me +peeping round the gateway. After a careful inspection its owner emerged. + +He was a tall, thin man of indefinite age, perhaps between sixty and +seventy, with a finely-cut face, a little grey beard, kind eyes and very +well shaped hands and feet, the fingers, which twitched incessantly, +being remarkably long. + +"Greeting, Macumazahn," he said. "I see you do not remember me. Well, +think of the battle of the Tugela, and of the last stand of the +Amawombe, and of a certain talk at the kraal of our Father-who-is-dead" +(that is, King Panda), "and of how he who sits in his place" (he meant +Cetewayo) "told you that if he had his way he would find a hide rope to +fit the neck of a certain one." + +"Ah!" I said, "I know you now; you are Magepa the Buck. So the Runner +has not yet been run down." + +"No, Macumazahn, not yet; but there is still time. I think that many +swift feet will be at work ere long." + +"How have you prospered?" I asked him. + +"Well enough, Macumazahn, in all ways except one. I have three wives, +but my children have been few and are dead, except one daughter, who is +married and lives with me, for her husband, too, is dead. He was killed +by a buffalo, and she has not yet married again. But enter and see." + +[Illustration] + +So I went in and saw Magepa's wives, old women all of them. Also, at his +bidding, his daughter, whose name was Gita, brought me some _maas_, or +curdled milk, to drink. She was a well-formed woman, very like her +father, but sad-faced, perhaps with a prescience of evil to come. +Clinging to her finger was a beautiful boy of something under two years +of age, who, when he saw Magepa, ran to him and threw his little arms +about his legs. The old man lifted the child and kissed him tenderly, +saying: + +"It is well that this toddler and I should love one another, Macumazahn, +seeing that he is the last of my race. All the other children here are +those of the people who have come to live in my shadow." + +"Where are their fathers?" I asked, patting the little boy (who, his +mother told me, was named Sinala) upon the cheek, an attention that he +resented. + +"They have been called away on duty," answered Magepa shortly; and I +changed the subject. + +[Illustration] + +Then we began to talk about old times, and I asked him if he had any +oxen to sell, saying that this was my reason for visiting his kraal. + +"Nay, Macumazahn," he answered, in a meaning voice. "This year all the +cattle are the king's." + +I nodded and replied that, as it was so, I had better be going; whereon, +as I half expected, Magepa announced that he would see me safe to the +drift. So I bade farewell to the wives and the widowed daughter, and we +started. + +As soon as we were clear of the kraal Magepa began to open his heart to +me. + +"Macumazahn," he said, looking up at me earnestly, for I was mounted and +he walked beside my horse, "there is to be war. Cetewayo will not +consent to the demands of the great White Chief from the Cape"--he meant +Sir Bartle Frere. "He will fight with the English; only he will let them +begin the fighting. He will draw them on into Zululand and then +overwhelm them with his _impis_ and stamp them flat, and eat them up; +and I, who love the English, am very sorry. Yes, it makes my heart +bleed. If it were the Boers now, I should be glad, for we Zulus hate the +Boers; but the English we do not hate; even Cetewayo likes them; still +he will eat them up if they attack him." + +"Indeed," I answered; and then, as in duty bound, I proceeded to get +what I could out of him, and that was not a little. Of course, however, +I did not swallow it all, since I suspected that Magepa was feeding me +with news that he had been ordered to disseminate. + +Presently we came to the mouth of the kloof in which the kraal stood, +and here, for greater convenience of conversation, we halted, for I +thought it as well that we should not be seen in close talk on the open +plain beyond. The path here, I should add, ran past a clump of green +bushes; I remember they bore a white flower that smelt sweet, and were +backed by some tall grass, elephant-grass I think it was, among which +grew mimosa trees. + +"Magepa," I said, "if in truth there is to be fighting, why don't you +move over the river one night with your people and cattle, and get into +Natal?" + +[Illustration] + +"I would if I could, Macumazahn, who have no stomach for this war +against the English. But there I should not be safe, since presently the +king will come into Natal too, or send thirty thousand assegais as his +messengers. Then what will happen to those who have left him?" + +"Oh, if you think that," I answered, "you had better stay where you +are." + +"Also, Macumazahn, the husbands of those women at my kraal have been +called up to their regiments, and if their wives fled to the English +they would be killed. Again, the king has sent for nearly all our +cattle, 'to keep it safe.' He fears lest we Border Zulus might join our +people in Natal, and that is why he is keeping our cattle 'safe.'" + +"Life is more than cattle, Magepa. At least you might come." + +"What! And leave my people to be killed? Macumazahn, you did not use to +talk so. Still, hearken. Macumazahn, will you do me a service? I will +pay you well for it. I would get my daughter Gita and my little grandson +Sinala into safety. If I and my wives are wiped out it does not matter, +for we are old. But her I would save, and the boy I would save, so that +one may live who will remember my name. Now, if I were to send them +across the drift, say at the dawn, not to-morrow, and not the next day, +but the day after, would you receive them into your wagon and deliver +them safe to some place in Natal? I have money hidden, fifty pieces of +gold, and you may take half of these and also half of the cattle if ever +I live to get them back out of the keeping of the king." + +"Never mind about the money, and we will speak of the cattle +afterwards," I said. "I understand that you wish to send your daughter +and your little grandson out of danger, and I think you wise, very wise. +When once the advance begins, if there is an advance, who knows what may +happen? War is a rough game, Magepa. It is not the custom of you black +people to spare women and children, and there will be Zulus fighting on +our side as well as on yours; do you understand?" + +"_Ow!_ I understand, Macumazahn. I have known the face of war and seen +many a little one like my grandson Sinala assegaied upon his mother's +back." + +"Very good. But if I do this for you, you must do something for me. Say, +Magepa, does Cetewayo _really_ mean to fight, and if so, how? Oh yes, I +know all you have been telling me, but I want not words, but truth from +the heart." + +"You ask secrets," said the old fellow, peering about him into the +gathering gloom. "Still, 'a spear for a spear and a shield for a +shield,' as our saying runs. I have spoken no lie. The king _does_ mean +to fight, not because he wants to, but because the regiments swear that +they will wash their assegais, they who have never seen blood since that +battle of the Tugela in which we two played a part; and if he will not +suffer it, well, there are more of his race! Also he means to fight +thus," and he gave me some very useful information; that is, information +which would have been useful if those in authority had deigned to pay +any attention to it when I passed it on. + +Just as he finished speaking I thought that I heard a sound in the dense +green bush behind us. It reminded me of the noise a man makes when he +tries to stifle a cough, and frightened me. For if we had been overheard +by a spy, Magepa was as good as dead, and the sooner I was across the +river the better. + +"What's that?" I asked. + +"A bush buck, Macumazahn. There are lots of them about here." + +Not being satisfied, though it is true that buck do cough like this, I +turned my horse to the bush, seeking an opening. Thereon something +crashed away and vanished into the long grass. In those shadows, of +course, I could not see what it was, but such light as remained glinted +on what might have been the polished tip of the horn of an antelope +or--an assegai. + +"I told you it was a buck, Macumazahn," said Magepa. "Still, if you +smell danger, let us come away from the bush, though the orders are that +no white man is to be touched as yet." + +Then, while we walked on towards the ford, he set out with great detail, +as Kaffirs do, the exact arrangements that he proposed to make for the +handing over of his daughter and her child into my care. I remember that +I asked him why he would not send her on the following morning, instead +of two mornings later. He answered because he expected an outpost of +scouts from one of the regiments at his kraal that night, who would +probably remain there over the morrow and perhaps longer. While they +were in the place it would be difficult for him to send away Gita and +her son without exciting suspicion. + +[Illustration] + +Near the drift we parted, and I returned to our provisional camp and +wrote a beautiful report of all that I had learned, of which report, I +may add, no one took the slightest notice. + +I think it was the morning before that whereon I had arranged to meet +Gita and the little boy at the drift that just about dawn I went down to +the river for a wash. Having taken my dip I climbed on to a flat rock to +dress myself, and looked at the billows of beautiful, pearly mist which +hid the face of the water, and considered--I almost said listened +to--the great silence, for as yet no live thing was stirring. + +Ah! if I had known of the hideous sights and sounds that were destined +to be heard ere long in this same haunt of perfect peace! Indeed, at +that moment there came a kind of hint or premonition of them, since +suddenly through the utter quiet broke the blood-curdling wail of a +woman. It was followed by other wails and shouts, distant and yet +distinct. Then the silence fell again. + +Now, thought I to myself, that noise might very well have come from old +Magepa's kraal; luckily, however, sounds are deceptive in mist. + +Well, the end of it was that I waited there till the sun rose. The first +thing on which its bright beams struck was a mighty column of smoke +rising to heaven from where Magepa's kraal had stood! + +I went back to my wagons very sad, so sad that I could scarcely eat my +breakfast. While I walked I wondered hard whether the light had glinted +upon the tip of a buck's horn in that patch of green bush with the +sweet-smelling white flowers a night or two ago. Or had it perchance +fallen upon the point of the assegai of some spy who was watching my +movements! In that event yonder column of smoke and the horrible cries +which preceded it were easy to explain. For had not Magepa and I talked +secrets together, and in Zulu. + +On the following morning at the dawn I attended at the drift in the +faint hope that Gita and her boy might arrive there as arranged. But +nobody came, which was not wonderful, seeing that Gita lay dead, stabbed +through and through, as I saw afterwards (she made a good fight for the +child), and that her spirit had gone to wherever go the souls of the +brave-hearted, be they white or black. Only on the farther bank of the +river I saw some Zulu scouts who seemed to know my errand, for they +called to me, asking mockingly where was the pretty woman I had come to +meet? + +After that I tried to put the matter out of my head, which indeed was +full enough of other things, since now definite orders had arrived as to +the advance, and with these many troops and officers. + +[Illustration: "Then he lifted himself upon one arm, and with the other +saluted"] + +It was just then that the Zulus began to fire across the river at such +of our people as they saw upon the bank. At these they took aim, and, as +a result, hit nobody. A raw Kaffir with a rifle, in my experience, is +only dangerous when he aims at nothing, for then the bullet looks after +itself, and may catch you. To put a stop to this nuisance a regiment of +the friendly natives--there may have been several hundred of them--was +directed to cross the river and clear the kloofs and rocks of the Zulu +skirmishers who were hidden among them. I watched them go off in fine +style. + +[Illustration] + +Towards evening some one told me that our _impi_, as he grandiloquently +called it, was returning victorious. Having at the moment nothing else +to do, I walked down to the river at a point where the water was deep +and the banks were high. Here I climbed to the top of a pile of +boulders, whence with my field-glasses I could sweep a great extent of +plain which stretched away on the Zululand side till at length it merged +into hills and bush. + +Presently I saw some of our natives marching homewards in a scattered +and disorganised fashion, but evidently very proud of themselves, for +they were waving their assegais and singing scraps of war-songs. A few +minutes later, a mile or more away, I caught sight of a man running. + +Watching him through the glasses I noted three things: first, that he +was tall; secondly, that he ran with extraordinary swiftness; and, +thirdly, that he had something tied upon his back. It was evident, +further, that he had good reason to run, since he was being hunted by a +number of our Kaffirs, of whom more and more continually joined in the +chase. From every side they poured down upon him, trying to cut him off +and kill him, for as they got nearer I could see the assegais which they +threw at him flash in the sunlight. + +Very soon I understood that the man was running with a definite object +and to a definite point; he was trying to reach the river. I thought the +sight very pitiful, this one poor creature being hunted to death by so +many. Also I wondered why he did not free himself from the bundle on his +back, and came to the conclusion that he must be a witch-doctor, and +that the bundle contained his precious charms or medicines. + +This was while he was yet a long way off, but when he came nearer, +within three or four hundred yards, of a sudden I caught the outline of +his face against a good background, and knew it for that of Magepa. + +"My God!" I said to myself, "it is old Magepa the Buck, and the bundle +in the mat will be his grandson, Sinala!" + +Yes, even then I felt certain that he was carrying the child upon his +back. + +What was I to do? It was impossible for me to cross the river at that +place, and long before I could get round by the ford all would be +finished. I stood up on my rock and shouted to those brutes of Kaffirs +to let the man alone. They were so excited that they did not hear my +words; at least, they swore afterwards that they thought I was +encouraging them to hunt him down. + +But Magepa heard me. At that moment he seemed to be failing, but the +sight of me appeared to give him fresh strength. He gathered himself +together and leapt forward at a really surprising speed. Now the river +was not more than three hundred yards away from him, and for the first +two hundred of these he quite outdistanced his pursuers, although they +were most of them young men and comparatively fresh. Then once more his +strength began to fail. + +Watching through the glasses I could see that his mouth was wide open, +and that there was red foam upon his lips. The burden on his back was +dragging him down. Once he lifted his hands as though to loose it; then +with a wild gesture let them fall again. + +Two of the pursuers who had outpaced the others crept up to him--lank, +lean men of not more than thirty years of age. They had stabbing spears +in their hands, such as are used at close quarters, and these of course +they did not throw. One of them gained a little on the other. + +Now Magepa was not more than fifty yards from the bank, with the first +hunter about ten paces behind him and coming up rapidly. Magepa glanced +over his shoulder and saw, then put out his last strength. For forty +yards he went like an arrow, running straight away from his pursuers, +until he was within a few feet of the bank, when he stumbled and fell. + +"He's done," I said, and, upon my word, if I had a rifle in my hand I +think I would have stopped one or both of those bloodhounds and taken +the consequences. + +[Illustration] + +But, no! Just as the first man lifted his broad spear to stab him +through the back on which the bundle lay, Magepa leapt up and wheeled +round to take the thrust in his chest. Evidently he did not wish to be +speared in the back--for a certain reason. He took it sure enough, for +the assegai was wrenched out of the hand of the striker. Still, as he +was reeling backwards, it did not go through Magepa, or perhaps it hit a +bone. He drew out the spear and threw it at the man, wounding him. Then +he staggered on, back and back, to the edge of the little cliff. + +It was reached at last. With a cry of "Help me, Macumazahn!" Magepa +turned, and before the other man could spear him, leapt straight into +deep water. He rose. Yes, the brave old fellow rose and struck out for +the other bank, leaving a little line of red behind him. + +I rushed, or rather sprang and rolled down to the edge of the stream, to +where a point of shingle ran out into the water. Along this I clambered, +and beyond it up to my middle. Now Magepa was being swept past me. I +caught his outstretched hand and pulled him ashore. + +"The boy!" he gasped; "the boy! Is he dead?" + +I severed the lashings of the mat that had cut right into the old +fellow's shoulders. Inside of it was little Sinala, spluttering out +water, but very evidently alive and unhurt, for presently he set up a +yell. + +"No," I said, "he lives, and will live." + +"Then all is well, Macumazahn." (_A pause._) "It _was_ a spy in the +bush, not a buck. He overheard our talk. The king's slayers came. Gita +held the door of the hut while I took the child, cut a hole through the +straw with my assegai, and crept out at the back. She was full of spears +before she died, but I got away with the boy. Till your Kaffirs found me +I lay hid in the bush, hoping to escape to Natal. Then I ran for the +river, and saw you on the further bank. _I_ might have got away, but +that child is heavy." (_A pause._) "Give him food, Macumazahn, he must +be hungry," (_A pause._) "Farewell. That was a good saying of yours--the +swift runner is outrun at last. Ah! yet I did not run in vain." +(_Another pause, the last._) Then he lifted himself upon one arm and +with the other saluted, first the boy Sinala and next me, muttering, +"Remember your promise, Macumazahn." + + * * * * * + +"That is how Magepa the Buck died. I never saw any one carrying weight +who could run quite so well as he," and Quatermain turned his head away +as though the memory of this incident affected him somewhat. + +"What became of the child Sinala?" I asked presently. + +"Oh, I sent him to an institution in Natal, and afterwards was able to +get some of his property back for him. I believe that he is being +trained as an interpreter." + +[Illustration] + +FOOTNOTE: + +[2] For this story see the book named "Child of Storm," by H. Rider +Haggard. + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + + +TRUE SPARTAN HEARTS + +BY + +BEATRICE HARRADEN + +_Painting and Decorations by_ EDMUND DULAC + + +IN times of war the Spartan women used to say to their husbands and +sons, "Return with your shield, or on it," meaning that they must either +conquer or die. There was no affection or indulgence shown towards the +warriors who survived a defeat; for loyalty to the State was thought of +more account than personal loss, and he who had not died striking his +last blow for Sparta, was deemed unworthy of remembrance, and could +expect no mercy from those who had loved him and sent him to the +battlefield "to conquer or die." + +So this was how the Spartans felt about their warriors; and you can +imagine their indignation as well as their dismay when, in the year 371 +B.C., news reached Sparta that their army had been defeated at the +battle of Leuctra by the Boeotians, a rival Grecian State, and that +three hundred men had saved their lives in flight. The news was brought +at the moment when some great festival was being celebrated in the city. +The _Ephors_ commanded the names of the slain to be made known to their +relatives, and the women were forbidden to mourn. But the mother of +Eucrates could not at first hide her grief, and her neighbours said +among themselves: + +"Why should she be sorrowful? Her son has died bravely. If he had +disgraced himself by flight, then only would she have the right to +mourn." + +The old man Phidon came in to see her, and found her spinning, busily +engaged at her work, it is true, but with tears in her saddened eyes. He +was a very stern old man, a Spartan every inch of him, and he spoke +harshly to poor Ione. + +"Ione," he said, "not one single tear should course down your cheeks, +not one single pang of grief should assail your heart. I it is who +should weep. I it is who should mourn. For Callias, my grandson, is not +amongst the slain. Unlike your brave son Eucrates, my Callias has not +died at his post of duty. He lives, and by living he has brought +dishonour and shame on his family. How can I meet him? What can I say to +him? Nay, I will not look upon his face. I will not vouchsafe one word +of greeting to him. His father was the glory of my life, but he is the +soul of its shame. The gods have been cruel to me in my old age; but +they have been merciful to you, Ione. For your son, death with honour. +For my Callias, life with dishonour. His father won the crown of wild +olive in the Olympic games, and earned the right of fighting by the +king's side, and died there; and I was proud of him. But woe is me that +I cannot be proud of Callias." + +And, Spartan mother as she truly was, Ione knew well that here was a +grief far greater than her own loss of her beloved son. She brushed her +last tear aside, and tried to comfort old Phidon, whom she had known all +her life. Her son Eucrates and this very Callias had been friends +together ever since they were children; and in the days gone by, Phidon +and Ione's father had fought side by side for Sparta. + +"May be, Phidon," she said, "the gods have spared Callias and his +comrades, so that they may yet serve Sparta, and help her to triumph +over her enemies." + +But he shook his head, and would hear no word of comfort, though, as the +days went by, it seemed to ease his stern spirit to sit beside her, and +watch her at her work. And then she would speak to him of Callias, and +urge him not to be over hard on the lad when he returned. + +"You must pardon him, Phidon," she said. "Perchance he will live to do +great things for Sparta." + +But the old man said proudly: "Nay, Ione, never a word will I speak to +Callias again." + +And it was in vain that Ione pleaded for the friend of Eucrates, always +imploring the old man to believe that the gods in their wisdom had +preserved Callias for some splendid act of service and sacrifice yet to +come. + +Full of these thoughts, and haunted by Phidon's unyielding severity, she +had a strange dream one night. She dreamed that King Agesilaus was +willing to pardon all those three hundred soldiers who had fled from the +field of Leuctra; but that Phidon interposed, and standing in the Public +Assembly, gave his vote against the pardon. + +"My own grandson is one of the survivors," he cried. "Sparta may pardon +him, but _I_ never will." + +[Illustration: True Spartan Hearts + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Edmund Dulac_] + +The next day she told her dream to Phidon, and described to him how with +her mind's eye she had seen Callias standing lonely and forsaken, the +only one of the three hundred survivors who had been spurned and +unforgiven. His loneliness stabbed her to her heart, more even than the +loss of her son; and because there was no one else, she had been +impelled to stand by his side, to greet him, to encourage him, to +reassure him. And just as he lifted his head, bowed in grief and shame, +she awoke. When Phidon had heard her dream-story, his stern heart was +softened. + +"I will not turn from Callias," he said. "It may be that you are right, +Ione. It may be that the gods will yet give him some great and glorious +chance. I will steel my heart to receive him." + +So Ione triumphed at last. And truly her dream would seem to have been +some kind of divination, for, two or three days afterwards, a decree was +proposed by the king, and passed in the Assembly, to the effect that all +those who had fled from the field of Leuctra were to be pardoned and +received home without dishonour. + +Ordinarily all survivors of a defeat were subject to penalties of civil +offence, and so this was quite an unusual proceeding; but no doubt it +was thought dangerous to take stern measures against such a large number +of Spartan citizens. Well, whatever the reason was, there were many glad +hearts in Sparta that day, and old Phidon himself owned in secret to +Ione that he longed to see Callias once more. + +"For I must needs forgive him wholeheartedly," he said, "since Sparta +has forgiven him; but with my last breath I would tell you and all the +world that I would far, far rather he had fallen by the side of the +brave Eucrates. That would have been my glory." + +As soon as news had come of the defeat of the Spartan army, the whole +remaining military force of Sparta was sent to the rescue, and after +some time returned to Sparta, bringing back the survivors from the +disastrous field of Leuctra. + +Then Spartan hearts were softened, and mothers, wives, and sisters stood +waiting to greet those whom the gods had spared for further service. But +Ione sat at home spinning. There were no tears in her eyes now, and her +countenance was lit up by a calm pride. She had learnt to be glad that +she had no one to meet that day. + +Suddenly the door opened, and Phidon came in. His manner was strangely +excited. + +"Callias is not amongst us," he cried. "I have asked for him, and no one +knows. Could there have been some mistake, I wonder? Is it possible +that----" + +At that moment there came a loud knock at the door, and Ione opened it +to Timotheus, a neighbour's son. + +"Greetings to the mother of Eucrates," he said, as he stood before Ione. +"I am from Leuctra. I saw Eucrates fighting in the thickest of the fray. +I saw him fall; and there fell another by his side, fighting as +gallantly as he--his comrade in death as well as in life." + +"And who was it that died with my brave son?" asked Ione, whose hands +were pressed together deep into her breast, and whose face was ashen, +though tearless. + +"It was Callias," answered the young man. "Farewell, honoured mother of +Eucrates. I must go and seek Phidon to tell him." + +But Phidon rose to his full height, and there was a smile of triumph on +his face and a new life in his bearing. + +"Phidon has heard the news," he said, "and he thanks the gods for this +crowning mercy. For though in his inmost heart he would fain have seen +the face of his grandson once more, there was something dearer to him +than the face of Callias--it was the honour of Callias." + +Then, turning to Ione, he said: "Now we can think of them together, and +share our pride in them, Ione." + +For one fleeting moment Ione saw a vision of her young, fair son falling +before the foe, but her voice never faltered as she said: "Yes, we can +share our pride in them." + +That was the true Spartan tribute to the heroes of Leuctra. + + * * * * * + +You see, the Spartans would not admit of despair in their lives; they +believed that while there was yet strength in the body, there must needs +be hope in the heart that the victory would be won. And so it was the +duty of a true Spartan to fight and conquer and live, or to die, +striving to conquer to the very last, with no thought of any possibility +of failure. + +What do you think about this grand old Spartan code of honour? Do you +not think that we ourselves, each in our own way, young and old, man and +woman, boy and girl, may find something helpful in it to bring to the +service of our country? + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +BIG STEAMERS + +BY RUDYARD KIPLING + +_Painting and Drawings by_ NORMAN WILKINSON, R.I. + + + "OH, where are you going to, all you Big Steamers, + With England's own coal, up and down the salt seas?" + "We are going to fetch you your bread and your butter, + Your beef, pork, and mutton, eggs, apples, and cheese." + + "And where will you fetch it from, all you Big Steamers, + And where shall I write you when you are away?" + "We fetch it from Melbourne, Quebec, and Vancouver, + Address us at Hobart, Hong-kong, and Bombay." + +[Illustration] + + "But if anything happened to all you Big Steamers, + And suppose you were wrecked up and down the salt sea?" + "Why, you'd have no coffee or bacon for breakfast, + And you'd have no muffins or toast for your tea." + + "Then I'll pray for fine weather for all you Big Steamers, + For little blue billows and breezes so soft." + "Oh, billows and breezes don't bother Big Steamers, + For we're iron below and steel-rigging aloft." + + "Then I'll build a new lighthouse for all you Big Steamers, + With plenty wise pilots to pilot you through." + "Oh, the Channel's as bright as a ball-room already, + And pilots are thicker than pilchards at Looe." + + "Then what can I do for you, all you Big Steamers, + Oh, what can I do for your comfort and good?" + "Send out your big warships to watch your big waters, + That no one may stop us from bringing you food. + + "_For the bread that you eat and the biscuits you nibble, + The sweets that you suck and the joints that you carve, + They are brought to you daily by all us Big Steamers, + And if any one hinders our coming you'll starve!_" + + Copyright in the U.S.A. by Rudyard Kipling. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: Big Steamers + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Norman Wilkinson, R.I._ + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +A TRUE STORY FROM CAMP + +BY THE BISHOP OF LONDON + +_Drawings by_ JOSEPH SIMPSON, R.B.A. + + +YOU boys and girls must picture a huge common, and four groups of +khaki-clad soldiers standing at attention in different parts of it. They +are about to be reviewed by the Commander-in-Chief of the Home Forces. + +The men had given up a great deal to come and join the Territorial +Forces, but it had not yet thoroughly dawned on them any more than on +the rest of England, how great was the crisis, and none of the +battalions had come out in sufficient strength to be sent out on foreign +service. + +The inspection by the great General took a long time, and when the order +came for rank after rank to lie down, they did so with obvious relief. +At last the inspection was over, and all the battalions were asked to +converge on one point. At this point a waggon was placed, and all the +five thousand men lay down round it, the Generals and their staffs lying +behind it. It was a fine sight from the waggon to see those five +thousand fine fellows lying there in the light of the setting sun, but +was it possible to rouse them to see the country's urgent need? + +I began by painting the beauty and the glory of England, the loveliest +place in the world, for you may go all over the world, children, and you +will never find anything so glorious or welcome on your return as the +white cliffs of Dover, and the railway run through the hop gardens of +Kent. + +[Illustration] + +But what touched them most was the thought of what England stood for in +the life of the world. It always has been, and always will be, the _Home +of Freedom_. Let a slave once reach a British man-of-war--he is free. +Britannia's daughters are rallying to her now because she has given +them _Freedom_, for they see that she is the champion in this war of +the Freedom of the World against a universal Tyranny. + +Then I turned to what they themselves owed to England, their homes, +their faith, their security to work, their happy friendships, and their +love of wife, mother, and children. What they had not realised up to now +was that _all this was in deadly peril for the first time for a hundred +years_! + +One mistake of our Fleets, one crushing defeat in France, and the foe +would be upon us; the fate of Belgium would be the fate of England! + +What more glorious than to follow the example of those who had fought +and died for England? + + "Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence + Who goes to join the men of Agincourt." + +[Illustration] + +In spite of the presence of the Generals a great cheer broke from the +five thousand men when I said, "I would rather die than see England a +German province"; but finding that they were allowed to cheer, as deep a +cheer followed the statement that, if it came to the last Waterloo, it +was far better to slip across the silver streak and fight it on the +other side than let an invaders foot _for the first time for a thousand +years_ stain our native land. + +In the evening all the four battalions present volunteered for foreign +service, and as four more at the neighbouring Camp had volunteered the +day before in answer to a similar appeal, eight battalions were added to +the fighting strength abroad of the British Army. + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE EBONY BOX + +BY A. E. W. MASON + +_Painting and Drawings_ by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. + +_Copyright in the U.S.A. by A. E. W. Mason_ + + +"NO, no," said Colonel von Altrock abruptly. "It is not always true." + +The conversation died away at once, and every one about that dinner +table in the Rue St. Florentin looked at him expectantly. He played +nervously with the stem of his wineglass for a few moments, as though +the complete silence distressed him. Then he resumed with a more +diffident air: + +"War no doubt inspires noble actions and brings out great qualities in +men from whom you expected nothing. But there is another side to it +which becomes apparent, not at once, but after a few months of +campaigning. Your nerves get overstrained, fatigue and danger tell their +tale. You lose your manners, sometimes you degenerate into a brute. I +happen to know. Thirty years have passed since the siege of Paris, yet +even to-day there is no part of my life which I regret so much as the +hours between eleven and twelve o'clock of Christmas night in the year +'seventy. I will tell you about it if you like, although the story may +make us late for the opera." + +"It will not matter if we are a little late," said his hostess, the +Baroness Hammerstein, and her guests agreed with her. + +"It is permitted to smoke?" asked the Colonel. For a moment the flame of +a match lit up and exaggerated the hollows and the lines upon his lean, +rugged face. Then, drawing in his chair to the table, he told his story. + + * * * * * + +I was a lieutenant of the fifth company of the second battalion of the +103rd Regiment, which belonged to the 23rd Infantry Division. It is as +well to be exact. That division was part of the 12th Army Corps under +the Crown Prince of Saxony, and in the month of December formed the +south-eastern segment of our circle about Paris. On Christmas night I +happened to be on duty at a forepost in advance of Noisy-le-Grand. The +Centigrade thermometer was down to twelve degrees below zero, and our +little wooden hut with the sloping roof, which served us at once as +kitchen, mess-room, and dormitory, seemed to us all a comfortable +shelter. Outside its door the country glimmered away into darkness, a +great white silent plain of snow. Inside, the camp-bedsteads were neatly +ranged along the wall where the roof was lowest. A long table covered +with a white cloth--for we were luxurious on Christmas night--occupied +the middle of the floor; in a corner stood a fine big barrel of Bavarian +beer which had arrived that morning as a Christmas present from my +mother at Leipzig. We were none of us anxious to turn out into the +bitter cold, I can tell you. But we were not colonels in those days, and +while the Hauptmann was proposing my mother's health the door was thrust +open and an orderly muffled up to the eyes stood on the threshold at the +salute. + +"The Herr Oberst wishes to see the Herr Lieutenant von Altrock," said +he, and before I had time even to grumble he turned on his heels and +marched away. + +I took down my great-coat, drew the cape over my head, and went out of +the hut. There was no wind, nor was the snow falling, but the cold was +terrible, and to me who had come straight from the noise of my +companions the night seemed unnaturally still. I plodded away through +the darkness. Behind me in the hut the Hauptmann struck up a song, and +the words came to me quite clearly and very plaintively across the snow: + + Ich hatte einen Kamaraden + Einen besseren findest du nicht. + +I wondered whether in the morning, like that comrade, I should be a man +to be mentioned in the past tense. For more than once a sentinel had +been found frozen dead at his post, and I foresaw a long night's work +before me. My Colonel had acquired a habit of choosing me for special +services, and indeed to his kindness in this respect I owed my +commission. + +[Illustration] + +I found him sitting at a little table drawn close to the fire in a bare, +dimly-lighted room. A lamp stood on the table, and he was peering at a +crumpled scrap of paper and smoothing out its creases. So engrossed was +he, indeed, in his scrutiny that it was some minutes before he raised +his head and saw me waiting for his commands. + +"Lieutenant von Altrock," he said, "you must ride to Raincy." + +Raincy was only five miles distant, as the crow flies. Yes, but the +French had made a sortie on the 21st, they had pushed back our lines, +and they now held Ville Evrart and Maison Blanche between Raincy and +Noisy-le-Grand. I should have to make a circuit; my five miles became +ten. I did not like the prospect at all. I liked it still less when the +Colonel added: + +"You must be careful. More than one German soldier has of late been +killed upon that road. There are _francs-tireurs_ about. And you _must_ +reach Raincy." + +It was a verbal message which he gave me, and I was to deliver it in +person to the commandant of the battery at Raincy. + +"There is a horse ready for you at the stables," said the Colonel, and +with a nod he turned again to his scrap of paper. I saluted and walked +to the door. As my hand was on the knob he called me back. + +"What do you make of it?" he asked, holding the paper out to me. "It was +picked out of the Marne in a sealed wine-bottle." + +I took the paper, and saw that a single sentence was written upon it in +a round and laborious hand with the words misspelt. The meaning of the +sentence seemed simple enough. It was apparently a message from a M. +Bonnet to his son in the Mobiles at Paris, and it stated that the big +black cat had had five kittens. + +"What do you make of it?" repeated the Colonel. + +"Why, that M. Bonnet's black cat has kittens," said I. + +I handed the paper back. The Colonel looked at it again, shrugged his +shoulders, and laughed. + +"Well, after all, perhaps it does mean no more than that," said he. + +But for the Colonel's suspicions I should not have given another thought +to that misspelt scrawl. M. Bonnet was probably some little peasant +engrossed in domestic affairs, who thought that no message could be more +consoling to his son locked up in Paris than this great news about the +black cat. + +[Illustration] + +The wildest rumours were flying about our camp at that time, as I think +will always happen when you have a large body of men living under a +great strain of cold and privation and peril. They perplexed the +seasoned officers and they were readily swallowed by the youngsters, of +whom I was one. Now, this scrap of paper happened to fit in with the +rumour which most of all exercised our imaginations. + +It was known that in spite of all our precautions news was continually +leaking into Paris which we did not think it good for the Parisians to +have. On that very Christmas Day they already knew that General +Faidherbe, at Pont Noyelles, had repulsed a portion of our first army +under General Manteuffel. How did they know? We were not satisfied that +pigeons and balloons completely explained the mystery. No, we believed +that the news passed somewhere through our lines on the south-east of +Paris--news in cipher which was passed on and on to a house close to our +lines, whence, as occasion served, it was carried into Paris. + +That was the rumour. There may have been truth in it, or it may have +been entirely false. But, at all events, it had just the necessary +element of fancy to appeal to the imagination of a very young man, and +as I walked to the stables and mounted the horse which the Colonel had +lent me, I kept wondering whether this message, so simple in appearance, +had travelled so, and was covering its last stage between the +undiscovered chateau and Paris in the sealed wine-bottle. I tried to +make out what the black cat stood for in the cipher, and whose identity +was concealed under the pseudonym of M. Bonnet. So I rode down the slope +of Noisy-le-Grand. + +But at the bottom of the slope these speculations passed entirely from +my mind. In front, hidden away in the darkness, lay the dangers of Ville +Evrart and Maison Blanche. German soldiers had ridden along this path +and had not returned; the _francs-tireurs_ were abroad. Yet I must reach +Raincy. Moreover, in my own mind, I was equally convinced that I must +return. I saw the little beds against the wall of the hut under the +sloping roof. I rode warily, determined to sleep in one of them that +night, determined to keep my life if it could be kept. + +I crossed the Marne and turned off the road into a forest path. Ville +Evrart with its French garrison lay now upon my left behind the screen +of trees. Fortunately there was no moon that night and a mist hung in +the air. The snow, too, deadened the sound of my horse's hoofs. But I +rode, nevertheless, very gently and with every sense alert. Each moment +I expected the challenge of a sentinel in French. + +[Illustration] + +I came to the end of the wood and rode on to Chesnay. Here the country +was more open, and I had passed Ville Evrart. But I did not feel any +greater security. I was possessed with a sort of rage to get my business +done and live--yes, at all costs _live_. A mile beyond Chesnay I came to +cross-roads, and within the angle which the two roads made a little +cabin stood upon a plot of grass. I was in doubt which road to take. The +cabin was all dark, and riding up to the door I hammered upon it with +the butt of my pistol. It was not immediately opened. There must indeed +have been some delay, since the inmates were evidently in bed. But I was +not in any mood to show consideration. I wanted to get on--to get on and +live. A little window was within my reach. I dashed the butt of the +pistol violently through the glass. + +[Illustration] + +"Will that waken you, eh?" I cried, and almost before I had finished I +heard a shuffling footstep in the passage and the door was opened. A +poor old peasant-woman, crippled with rheumatism, stood in the doorway +shading a lighted candle with a gnarled, trembling hand. In her haste to +obey she had merely thrown a petticoat over the shoulders of her +nightdress, and there she stood with bare feet, shivering in the cold, +an old bent woman of eighty, and apologised. + +"I am sorry, monsieur," she said meekly. "But I cannot move as quickly +as I could when I was young. How can I serve monsieur?" + +Not a word of reproach about her broken window. You would think that the +hardest man must have felt some remorse. I merely broke in upon her +apologies with a rough demand for information. + +"The road upon your right leads to Chelles, monsieur," she answered. +"That upon your left to Raincy." + +I rode off without another word. It is not a pretty description which I +am giving to you, but it is a true one. That is my regret, it is a true +one. I forgot that old peasant-woman the moment I had passed the cabin. +I thought only of the long avenues of trees which stretched across that +flat country, and which could hide whole companies of _francs-tireurs_. +I strained my eyes forwards. I listened for the sound of voices. But the +first voice which I heard spoke in my own tongue. + +It was the voice of a sentry on the outposts of Raincy, and I could have +climbed down from my saddle and hugged him to my heart. Instead, I sat +impassively in my saddle and gave him the countersign. I was conducted +to the quarters of the commandant of artillery and I delivered my +message. + +"You have come quickly," he said. "What road did you take?" + +"That of Chesnay and Gagny." + +The commandant looked queerly at me. + +"Did you?" said he. "You are lucky. You will return by Montfermeil and +Chelles, Lieutenant von Altrock, and I will send an escort with you. +Apparently we are better informed at Raincy than you at +Noisy-le-Grand." + +"I knew there was danger, sir," I replied. + +[Illustration] + +A regiment of dragoons was quartered at Raincy, and from it two privates +and a corporal were given me for escort. In the company of these men I +started back by the longer road in the rear of our lines. And it was a +quarter to ten when I started. For I noticed the time of a clock in the +commandant's quarters. I should think that it must have taken +three-quarters of an hour to reach Montfermeil, for the snow was deep +here and the mist very thick. Beyond Montfermeil, however, we came to +higher ground; there were fewer drifts of snow, and the night began to +clear, so that we made better going. We were now, of course, behind our +lines, and the only risk we ran was that a few peasants armed with +rifles from a battlefield or a small band of _francs-tireurs_ might be +lurking on the chance of picking off a straggler. But that risk was not +very great now that there were four of us. I rode therefore with an +easier mind, and the first thing which entered my thoughts was--what do +you think? The old peasant-woman's cabin with the broken window? Not a +bit of it. No, it was M. Bonnet's black cat. Had M. Bonnet's cat five +kittens? Or was that intended to inform the people in Paris how many +companies of recruits had joined one of the French armies still in the +field--say, General Faidherbe's, at Bapaume, and so to keep up their +spirits and prolong the siege? I was still puzzling over this problem +when in a most solitary place I came suddenly upon a chateau with +lighted windows. This was the Chateau Villetaneuse. I reined in my horse +and stopped. My escort halted behind me. It was, after all, an +astonishing sight. There were many chateaux about Paris then, as there +are now, but not one that I had ever come across was inhabited by more +than a caretaker. The owners had long since fled. Breached walls, +trampled gardens, gaping roofs, and silence and desertion--that is what +we meant when we spoke of a chateau near Paris in those days. But here +was one with lighted windows on the first and second stories staring out +calmly on the snow as though never a Prussian soldier had crossed the +Rhine. A thick clump of trees sheltered it behind, and it faced the +eastern side of the long ridge of Mont Guichet, along the foot of which +I rode--the side farthest from Paris. From the spot where I and my +escort had halted an open park stretched level to the door. The house +had, no doubt, a very homelike look on that cold night. It should have +spoken to me, no doubt, of the well-ordered family life and the gentle +occupations of women. But I was thinking of M. Bonnet's black cat. Was +this solitary chateau the undiscovered last station on the underground +road through which the news passed into Paris? If not, why was it still +inhabited? Why did the lights blaze out upon the snow so late? + +[Illustration: She stood and swung the lantern slowly from side to side. + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by W. B. Wollen, R.I._] + +I commanded my escort to be silent. We rode across the park, and +half-way to the door we came upon a wire fence and a gate. There we +dismounted, and walked our horses. We tethered them to a tree about +twenty yards from the house. I ordered one of my dragoons to go round +the house, and watch any door which he might find at the back. I told +the other two to stay where they were, and I advanced alone to the +steps, but before I had reached them the front door was thrown open, and +a girl with a lantern in her hand came out. + +She held the lantern high above her head and peered forward, so that the +light fell full upon her hair, her face, and dress. She was a tall girl +and slight of figure, with big, dark eyes, and a face pretty and made +for laughter. It was very pale now, however, and the brows were drawn +together in a frown. She wore a white evening frock, which glistened in +the lantern light, and over her bare shoulders she had flung a heavy +black military cloak. So she stood and swung the lantern slowly from +side to side as she stared into the darkness, while the lights and +shadows chased each other swiftly across her white frock, her anxious +face, and the waves of her fair hair. + +"Whom do you expect at this hour, mademoiselle?" I asked. + +I was quite close to her, but she had not seen me, for I stood at the +bottom of the steps, and she was looking out over my head. Yet she did +not start or utter any cry. Only the lantern rattled in her hand. Then +she stood quite still for a moment or two, and afterwards lowered her +arm until the light shone upon me. + +[Illustration] + +"You are Prussian?" she said. + +"A lieutenant of foot," I answered. "You have nothing to fear." + +"I am not afraid," she replied quietly. + +"Whom do you expect?" + +"No one," she replied. "I thought that I heard the rattle of iron as +though a horse moved and a stirrup rang. It is lonely here since our +neighbours have fled. I came out to see." + +"The lantern then, was not a signal, mademoiselle?" I asked. + +She looked at me in perplexity, and certainly the little piece of +acting, I thought, was very well done. + +"A signal?" she repeated. "To whom?" + +"To some man hiding in the woods of Mont Guichet, a signal to him that +he may come and fetch the news for Paris which has lately--very +lately--been brought to the house." + +She bent forward and peered down at me, drawing the cloak closer about +her neck. + +"You are under some strange mistake, monsieur," she said. "No news for +Paris has been brought to this house by any one." + +"Indeed?" I answered. "And is that so?" Then I stretched out my hand and +said triumphantly: "You will tell me perhaps that the cloak upon your +shoulders is a woman's cloak?" + +And she laughed! It was humiliating; it is always humiliating to a young +man not to be taken seriously, isn't it? There was I thinking that I had +fairly cross-examined her into a trap, and she laughed indulgently. And +she explained indulgently, too. + +"The cloak I am wearing belongs to a wounded French officer who was +taken prisoner and released upon parole. He is now in our house." + +"Then I think I will make his acquaintance," I said, and over my +shoulder I called to the corporal. As he advanced to my side, a look of +alarm came into the girl's face. + +"You are not alone," she said, and suddenly her face became wistful and +her voice began to plead. "You have not come for him? He has done no +harm. He could not, even if he would. And he would not, for he has given +his parole. Oh, you are not going to take him away?" + +"That we shall see, mademoiselle." + +[Illustration] + +I left one dragoon at the door. I ordered the corporal to wait in the +hall, and I followed the girl up the stairs to the first floor. All her +pride had gone; she led the way with a submission of manner which seemed +to me only a fresh effort to quiet my suspicions. But they were not +quieted. I distrusted her; I believed that I had under my fingers the +proof of that rumour which flew about our camp. She stopped at a door, +and as she turned the handle she said: + +"This is my own room, monsieur. We all use it now, for it is warmer than +the others, and all our servants but one have fled." + +It was a pretty room, and cheery enough to one who came into it from the +darkness and the snow. A piano stood open in a corner with a rug thrown +upon it to protect the strings from the cold; books lay upon the tables, +heavy curtains were drawn close over the windows, there were cushioned +sofas and deep arm-chairs, and a good fire of logs blazed upon the +hearth. These details I took in at once. Then I looked at the occupants. +A young man lay stretched upon a sofa close to the fire with a wrap +covering his legs. The wrap was raised by a cradle to keep off its +weight. His face must have been, I think, unusually handsome when he had +his health; at the moment it was so worn and pale, and the eyes were so +sunk, that all its beauty had gone. The pallor was accentuated by a +small black moustache he wore and his black hair. He lay with his head +supported upon a pillow, and was playing a game of chess with an old +lady who sat at a little table by his side. I advanced to the fire and +warmed my hands at it. + +[Illustration] + +"You, sir, are the wounded officer on parole?" I said in French. The +officer bowed. + +"And you, madame?" I asked of the old lady. The sight of my uniform +seemed to have paralysed her with terror. "Come, come, madame," I +exclaimed impatiently; "it is a simple question." + +"Monsieur, you frighten her," said the young lady. "It is my aunt, the +Baroness Granville." + +"You tell me nothing of yourself," I said to her, and she looked at me +in surprise. + +"Since you have come with an escort to this house I imagined you must +know to whom it belonged. I am Sophie de Villetaneuse." + +"Exactly," I replied, as though I had known all along, and had merely +asked the question to see whether she would speak the truth. "Now, +mademoiselle, will you please explain to me how it is that while your +neighbours have fled you remain at your chateau?" + +"It is quite simple," she answered. "My mother is bed-ridden. She could +not be moved. She could not be left alone." + +"You will pardon me," said I, "if I test that statement." + +The wounded officer raised himself upon his elbow as though to protest, +but Mademoiselle de Villetaneuse put out a hand and checked him. She +showed me a face flushed with anger, but she spoke quite quietly. + +"I will myself take you to my mother's room." + +I laughed. I said: "That is just what I expected. You will take me to +your mother's room and leave your friends here to make any little +preparations in the way of burning awkward papers which they may think +desirable. Thank you, no! I am not so easily caught." + +Mademoiselle Sophie was becoming irritated. + +"There are no awkward papers!" she exclaimed. + +"That statement, too, I shall put to the test." + +I went to the door, and standing so that I could still keep an eye upon +the room, I called the corporal. + +"You will search the house thoroughly," I said, "and quickly. Bring me +word how many people you find in it. You, mademoiselle, will remain in +the room with us." + +[Illustration] + +She shrugged her shoulders as I closed the door and came back into the +room. + +"You were wounded, monsieur," I said to the Frenchman. "Where?" + +"In the sortie on Le Bourget." + +"And you came here the moment you were released on your parole?" + +The wounded officer turned with a smile to Mademoiselle Sophie. + +"Yes, for here live my best friends." + +He took her hand, and with a Frenchman's grace he raised it to his lips +and kissed it. And I was suddenly made acquainted with the relationship +in which these two, youth and maid, stood to one another. Mademoiselle +Sophie had cried out on the steps against the possibility that I might +have come to claim my prisoner. But though she spoke no word, she was +still more explicit now. With the officer that caress was plainly no +more than a pretty way of saying thanks; it had the look of a habit, it +was so neatly given, and he gave it without carelessness, it is true, +but without warmth. But she received it very differently. He did not +see, because his head was bent above her hand, but I did. + +I saw the look of pain in her face, the slight contraction of her +shoulders and arms, as if to meet a blow. The kiss hurt her--no, not the +kiss, but the finished grace with which it was given, the proof, in a +word, that it was a way of saying "Thanks"--and nothing more. Here was a +woman who loved and a man who did not love, and the woman knew. + +I resumed my questions: + +"Your doctor, monsieur, is in the house?" + +"At this hour? No." + +"Ah. That is a pity." + +The young man lifted his head from his pillow and looked me over from +head to foot with a stare of disdain. + +"I do not quite understand. You doubt my word, monsieur!" + +"Why not?" I asked sharply. + +[Illustration: A Spell for a Fairy + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Claude A. Shepperson, A.R.W.S._] + +It was quite possible that the cradle, this rug across his legs, the +pillow, were all pretences. This young officer might very well have +brought in a cipher message to the Chateau Villetaneuse. Mademoiselle +Sophie might very well have waved her lantern at the door to summon a +fresh messenger. + +"No; why should I not doubt your word?" I repeated. + +He turned his face to the old lady. "It is your move, Baronne," he said, +and she placed the piece she held upon a square of the board. +Mademoiselle Sophie took her stand by the table between the players, and +the game went on just as though there were no intruder in the room. It +was uncomfortable for me. I shifted my feet. I tried to appear at my +ease; finally I sat down in a chair. They took no notice of me whatever. +I was very glad when at last the corporal opened the door. He had +searched the house--he had found no one but Madame de Villetaneuse and +an old servant who was watching by her bed. + +"Very well," said I, and the corporal returned to the hall. + +Mademoiselle Sophie moved away from the chess-table. She came and stood +opposite to me, and though her face was still, her eyes were hard with +anger. + +"And now perhaps you will tell me to what I owe your visit?" she said. + +"Certainly," I returned. I fixed my eyes on her, and I said slowly, "I +have come to ask for more news of M. Bonnet's black cat." + +Mademoiselle Sophie stared as if she was not sure whether I was mad or +drunk, but was very sure I was one or the other. The young Frenchman +started upon his couch, with the veins swelling upon his forehead and a +flushed face. + +"This is an insult," he cried savagely, and no less savagely I answered +him. + +"Hold your tongue!" I cried. "You forget too often that though you are +on parole you are still a prisoner." + +He fell back upon the sofa with a groan of pain, and the girl hurried to +his side. + +[Illustration] + +Meanwhile I had been looking about the room for a box or a case where +the cipher messages might be hid. I saw nothing of the kind. Of course +they might be hidden between the pages of a book. I went from table to +table, taking them by the boards and shaking the leaves. Not a scrap of +paper tumbled out. There was another door in the room besides that which +led on to the landing. + +"Mademoiselle, what room is that?" I asked. + +"My bedroom," she answered simply, and with a gesture full of dignity +she threw open the door. + +I carried the mud and snow and the grime of a camp without a scruple of +remorse into that neat and pretty chamber. Mademoiselle Sophie followed +me as I searched wardrobe and drawer and box. At last I came to one +drawer in her dressing-table which was locked. I looked suddenly at the +young lady. She was watching me out of the corners of her eyes with a +peculiar intentness. + +"Open that drawer, mademoiselle," I said. + +"It contains only some private things." + +"Open that drawer or I burst it open." + +"No," she cried, as I jerked the handle. "I will open it." + +[Illustration] + +She fetched the key out of another drawer which was unlocked, and fitted +it into the lock of the dressing-table. And all the while I saw that she +was watching me. She meant to play me some trick, I was certain. So I +watched, too, and I did well to watch. She turned the key, opened the +drawer, and then snatched out something with extraordinary rapidity and +ran as hard as she could to the door--not the door through which we had +entered, but a second door which gave on to the passage. She ran very +fast and she ran very lightly, and she did not stumble over a chair as I +did in pursuit of her. But she had to unlatch the door and pull it open. +I caught her up and closed my arms about her. It was a little carved +ebony box which she held, the very thing for which I searched. + +"I thought so," I cried, with a laugh. "Drop the box, mademoiselle. Drop +it on the floor!" + +The noise of our struggle had been heard in the next room. The Baroness +rushed through the doorway. + +"What has happened?" she cried. "Mon Dieu! you are killing her!" + +"Drop that box, mademoiselle!" + +And as I spoke she threw it away. She threw it through the doorway; she +tried to throw it over the banisters of the stairs, but my arms were +about hers, and it fell in the passage just beyond the door. I darted +from her and picked it up. When I returned with it she was taking a gold +chain from her neck. At the end of the chain hung a little gold key. +This she held out to me. + +"Open it here," she said in a low, eager voice. + +The sudden change only increased my suspicions, or rather my conviction, +that I had now the proof which I needed. + +"Why, if you are so eager to show me the contents, did you try to throw +it away?" I asked. + +"I tried to throw it down into the hall," she answered. + +"My corporal would have picked it up." + +"Oh, what would that matter?" she exclaimed impatiently. "You would have +opened it in the hall. That was what I wanted. Open it here! At all +events open it here!" + +The very urgency of her pleading made me determined to refuse the plea. + +"No, you have some other ruse, mademoiselle," said I. "Perhaps you wish +to gain time for your friend in the next room. No, we will return there +and open it comfortably by the fire." + +I kept a tight hold upon the box. I shook it. To my delight I felt that +there were papers within it. I carried it back to the fireside and sat +down on a chair. Mademoiselle Sophie followed me close, and as I fixed +the little gold key into the lock she laid her hand very gently upon my +arm. + +"I beg you not to unlock that box," she said; "if you do you will bring +upon me a great humiliation and upon yourself much remorse. There is +nothing there which concerns you. There are just my little secrets. A +girl may have secrets, monsieur, which are sacred to her." + +She was standing quite close to me, and her back was towards the French +officer and her aunt. They could not see her face, and they could hardly +have heard more than a word here and there of what she said. I answered +her only by turning the key in the lock. She took her hand from my arm +and laid it on the lid to hinder me from opening it. + +"I wore the key on a chain about my neck, monsieur," she whispered. +"Does that teach you nothing? Even though you are young, does it teach +you nothing? I said that if you unlocked that box you would cause me +great humiliation, thinking that would be enough to stop you. But I see +I must tell you more. Read the letters, monsieur, question me about +them, and you will make my life a very lonely one. I think so. I think +you will destroy my chance of happiness. You would not wish that, +monsieur. It is true that we are enemies, but some day this war will +end, and you would not wish to prolong its sufferings beyond the end. +Yet you will be doing that, monsieur, if you open that box." + +[Illustration] + +It seems now almost impossible to me that I could have doubted her +sincerity: she spoke with so much simplicity, and so desperate an appeal +looked out from her dark eyes. Ever since that Christmas night I can see +her quite clearly at will, standing as she then stood--all the sincerity +of her which I would not acknowledge, all the appeal which I would not +hear; and I see her many times when for my peace I would rather not. +She was pleading for her pride, and to do that the better she laid her +pride aside; yet she never lost her dignity. She was pleading for her +chance of happiness, foreseeing that it was likely to be destroyed, +without any reason or any profit to a living being, by a stranger who +would the next moment pass out of her life. Yet there was no outcry, and +there were no tears. Had it been a trick--I ask the ladies--would there +not have been tears? + +But I thought it a trick and a cheap one. She was trying to make me +believe that there were love-letters in the box--compromising +love-letters. Now, I _knew_ that there were no love-letters in the box. +I had seen the Frenchman's pretty way of saying thanks. I had noticed +how the caress hurt her just through what it lacked. He was the friend, +you see, and nothing more; she was the lover and the only lover of the +pair. + +[Illustration] + +I opened the box accordingly. Mademoiselle Sophie turned away abruptly, +and sitting down in a chair shaded her eyes with her hand. I emptied the +letters out on to a table, turning the box upside down, and thus the +first which I took up and read was the one which lay at the very bottom. +As I read it it seemed that every suspicion I had formed was +established. She had hinted at love-letters, she had spoken of secrets +sacred to a girl; and the letter was not even addressed to her. It was +addressed to Madame de Villetaneuse; it was a letter which, if it meant +no more than what was implied upon the surface, would have long since +found destruction in the waste-paper basket. For it purported to be +merely the acceptance of an invitation to dinner at the town house of +Madame de Villetaneuse in the Faubourg St. Germain. It was signed only +by a Christian name, "Armand," and the few sentences which composed the +letter explained that M. Armand was a distant kinsman of Madame de +Villetaneuse who had just come to Paris to pursue his studies, and who, +up till now, had no acquaintance with the family. + +I looked at Mademoiselle Sophie sternly. "So all this pother was about a +mere invitation to dinner! Once let it be known that M. Armand will dine +with Madame de Villetaneuse in the Faubourg St. Germain, and you are +humiliated, you lose your chance of happiness, and I, too, shall find +myself in good time suffering the pangs of remorse," and I read the +letter slowly aloud to her, word by word. + +She returned no answer. She sat with her hand shading her face, and she +rocked her head backwards and forwards continually and rather quickly, +like a child with a racking headache. Of course, to my mind all that was +part of the game. The letter was dated two years back, but the month was +December, and, of course, to antedate would be the first precaution. + +[Illustration] + +"Come, mademoiselle," I said, changing my tone, "I invite you very +seriously to make a clean breast of it. I wish to take no harsh measures +with you if I can avoid them. Tell me frankly what news this letter, +plainly translated, gives to General Trochu in Paris." + +"None," she answered. + +"Very well," said I, and I took up the next letter. Ah, M. Armand writes +again a week later. It was evidently a good dinner, and M. Armand is +properly grateful. + +The gratitude, indeed, was rather excessive, rather provincial. It was +just the effusion which a young man who had not yet learned +self-possession might have written on his first introduction to the +highest social life of Paris. Certainly the correspondence was very +artfully designed. But what did it hide? I puzzled over the question; I +took the words and the dates, and it seemed to me that I began to see +light. So much stress was laid upon the dinner, that the word must +signify some event of importance. The first letter spoke of a dinner in +the future. I imagined that it had not been possible to pass this +warning into Paris. The second letter mentioned with gratitude that the +dinner had been successful. Well, suppose "dinner" stood for +"engagement"! The letter would refer to the sortie from Paris which +pushed back our lines and captured Ville Evrart and Maison Blanche. That +seemed likely. Madame de Villetaneuse gave the dinner; General Trochu +made the sortie. Then "Madame de Villetaneuse" stood for "General +Trochu." Who would be Armand? Why, the French people outside Paris--the +provincials! I had the explanation of that provincial expression of +gratitude. Ah, no doubt it all seems far-fetched now that we sit quietly +about this table. But put yourself in the thick of the war and take +twenty years off your lives! Suppose yourselves young and green, eager +for advancement, and just off your balance from want of sleep, want of +food, want of rest, want of everything. There are very few things which +would seem far-fetched. It seemed to me that I was deciphering these +letters with absolute accuracy. I saw myself promoted to captain, +seconded to the staff. + +I went on with the letters, hoping to find an explanation there. The +third letter was addressed to Mademoiselle de Villetaneuse, who had +evidently written to M. Armand on behalf of her mother, inviting him to +her box at the opera. M. Armand regretted that he had not been fortunate +enough to call at a time when mademoiselle was at home, and would look +forward to the pleasure of seeing her at the Opera. + +"Mademoiselle," I cried, "what does the Opera stand for?" + +Mademoiselle Sophie laughed disdainfully. + +"For music, monsieur, for art, for refinement, for many things you do +not understand." + +[Illustration] + +I sprang up in excitement. What did it matter what she said? M. Armand +stood for the Army of the Loire. It was that army which had been +expected at Ville Evrart. Here was a pledge that it would come to the +help of Paris at the next sortie. That was valuable news--it could not +but bring recognition to the man who brought evidence of it into the +Prussian lines. I hurriedly read through the other letters, quoting a +passage here and there, trying to startle Mademoiselle de Villetaneuse +into a confession. But she never changed her attitude, she did not +answer a word. + +Her conduct was the more aggravating, for I began to get lost among +these letters. They were all in the same handwriting; they were all +signed "Armand," and they seemed to give a picture of the life of a +young man in Paris during the two years which preceded the war. They +recorded dinner-parties, visits to the theatres, examinations passed, +prizes won and lost, receptions, rides in the Bois, and Sunday +excursions into the country. All these phrases, these appointments, +these meetings, might have particular meanings. But if so, how +stupendous a cipher! Besides, how was it that none of these messages had +been passed into Paris? Very reluctantly I began to doubt my own +conjecture. I read some more letters, and then I suddenly turned back to +the earlier ones. I compared them with the later notes. I began to be +afraid the correspondence, after all, was genuine, for the tone of the +letters changed and changed so gradually, and yet so clearly, that the +greatest literary art could hardly have deliberately composed them. I +seemed to witness the actual progress of M. Armand, a hobbledehoy from +the provinces, losing his awkwardness, acquiring ease and polish in his +contact with the refinement of Paris. The last letters had the postmark +of Paris, the first that of Auvergne. + +They were genuine, then. And they were not love-letters. I looked at +Mademoiselle Sophie with an increased perplexity. Why did she now sit +rocking her head like a child in pain? Why had she so struggled to +hinder me from opening them? They recorded a beginning of +acquaintanceship and the growth of that into friendship between a young +man and a young girl--nothing more. The friendship might eventually end +in marriage, no doubt, if left to itself, but there was not a word of +that in the letters. I was still wondering, when the French officer +raised himself from his sofa and dragged himself across the room to +Mademoiselle Sophie's chair. His left trouser leg had been slit down the +side from the knee to the foot and laced lightly so as to make room for +a bandage. He supported himself from chair to chair with evident pain, +and I could not doubt that his wound was as genuine as the letters. + +[Illustration] + +He bent down and gently took her hand away from her face. + +"Sophie," he said, "I did not dare to think that you kept this place for +me in your thoughts. A little more courage and I should long since have +said to you what I say now. I beg your permission to ask Madame de +Villetaneuse to-morrow for your hand in marriage." + +My house of cards tumbled down in a second. The French officer was M. +Armand. With the habit women have of treasuring tokens of the things +which have happened, Mademoiselle Sophie had kept all these trifling +notes and messages, and had even gathered to them the letters written to +her mother, so that the story might be complete. But without M. Armand's +knowledge; he was not to know; her pride must guard her secret from him. +For she was the lover and he only the friend, and she knew it. Even in +the little speech which he had just made, there was just too much +formality, just too little sincerity of voice. I understood why she had +tried to throw the ebony box down into the hall so that I might open it +there--I understood that I had caused her great humiliation. But that +was not all there was for me to understand. + +In answer to Armand she raised her eyes quietly, and shook her head. + +"You wish to spare me shame," she said, "and I thank you very much. But +it is because of these letters that you spoke. I must think that. I must +always think it." + +"No!" he exclaimed. + +"But yes," she replied firmly. "If monsieur had not unlocked that box--I +don't know--but some day perhaps--oh, not yet, no, not yet--but some day +perhaps you might have come of your own accord and said what you have +just said. And I should have been very happy. But now you never must. +For you see I shall always think that the letters are prompting you." + +And M. Armand bowed. + +I had taken from her her chance of happiness. The friendship between +them might have ended in marriage if left to itself. But I had not left +it to itself. + +"Mademoiselle," I said, "I am very sorry." + +She turned her dark eyes on me. + +"Monsieur, I warned you. It is too late to be sorry." And as I stood +shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other, in great remorse as she +had foretold, she added, gently, "Will you not go, monsieur?" + +I went out of the room, called together my escort, mounted and rode off. +It was past midnight now, and the night was clear. But I thought neither +of the little beds under the slope of the roof nor of any danger on the +road. There might have been a _franc-tireur_ behind every tree. I would +never have noticed it until one of them had brought me down. Remorse was +heavy upon me. I had behaved without consideration, without chivalry, +without any manners at all. I had not been able to distinguish truth +when it stared me in the face, or to recognise honesty when it looked +out from a young girl's dark eyes. I had behaved, in a word, like the +brute six months of war had made of me. I wondered with a vague hope +whether after all time might not set matters right between M. Armand and +Mademoiselle Sophie. And I wonder now whether it has. But even if I knew +that it had, I should always remember that Christmas night of 1870 with +acute regret. The only incident, indeed, which I can mention with the +slightest satisfaction is this: On the way back to Noisy-le-Grand I came +to a point where the road from Chelles crossed the road from +Montfermeil. I halted at a little cabin which stood upon a grass-plot +within the angle of the roads, and tying up all the money I had on me in +a pocket-handkerchief I dropped the handkerchief through a broken +window-pane. + + * * * * * + +The Colonel let the end of his cigar fall upon his plate, and pushed +back his chair from the table. "But I see we shall be late for the +opera," he said, as he glanced at the clock. + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +A SPELL FOR A FAIRY + +BY ALFRED NOYES + +_Painting and Drawings by_ CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON, A. R. W. S. + + + GATHER, first, in your left hand + (This must be at fall of day) + Forty grains of yellow sand + Where you think a mermaid lay. + I have heard a wizard hint + It is best to gather it sweet + Out of the warm and fluttered dint + Where you see her heart has beat. + + _Out of the dint in that sweet sand + Gather forty grains, I say; + Yet--if it fail you--understand + I can show you a better way._ + + Out of that sand you melt your glass + While the veils of night are drawn, + Whispering, till the shadows pass, + _Nixie--pixie--leprechaun_-- + + Then you blow your magic vial, + Shape it like a crescent moon, + Set it up and make your trial, + Singing, "_Fairies, ah, come soon!_" + + _Round the cloudy crescent go, + On the hill-top, in the dawn, + Singing softly, on tip-toe, + "Elaby Gathon! Elaby Gathon! + Nixie--pixie--leprechaun._" + + Bring the blood of a white hen, + Killed about the break of day, + While the cock in the echoing glen + Thrusts his gold neck every way, + Over the brambles, peering, calling, + Under the ferns, with a sudden fear, + Far and wide, while the dews are falling, + Clamouring, calling, everywhere. + +[Illustration] + + _Round the crimson vial go + On the hill-top, in the dawn, + Singing softly, on tip-toe, + "Nixie--pixie--leprechaun!" + And, if once will not suffice, + Do it thrice. + If this fail, at break of day, + I can show you a better way._ + + Bring the buds of the hazel-copse + Where two lovers kissed at noon: + Bring the crushed red wild thyme tops + Where they walked beneath the moon; + + Bring the four-leaved clover also, + One of the white, and one of the red, + Mixed with the flakes of the may that fall so + Lightly over the sky-lark's bed. + + _Round the fragrant vial go, + On the hill-top, in the dawn, + Singing softly, on tip-toe, + "Nixie--pixie--leprechaun!" + If this fail, at break of day, + I can show you a better way._ + + Bring an old and wizened child + --_Ah, tread softly and speak low_-- + Tattered, tearless, wonder-wild. + From that under-world below; + Bring a withered child of seven + Reeking from the City slime, + Out of hell into your heaven, + Set her knee-deep in the thyme. + +[Illustration] + + _Bring her from the smoky City, + Set her on a fairy-throne. + Clothe her, feed her, of your pity. + Leave her for an hour alone._ + + You shall need no spells or charms + On that hill-top, in that dawn. + When she lifts her wasted arms + You shall see a veil withdrawn. + There shall be no veil between them, + Though her head be old and wise. + You shall know that she has seen them, + By the glory in her eyes. + + _Round her irons, on the hill, + Earth shall toss a fairy fire. + Watch and listen and be still, + Lest you baulk your own desire._ + + When she sees four azure wings + Light upon her claw-like hand; + When she lifts her head and sings, + You shall hear and understand. + You shall hear a bugle calling, + Wildly over the dew-dashed down, + And a sound as of the falling + Ramparts of a conquered town. + + _You shall hear a sound like thunder, + And a veil shall be withdrawn, + When her eyes grow wide with wonder, + On that hill-top, in that dawn._ + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH + +_A TALE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL_ + +BY BARONESS ORCZY + +_Painting by_ A. C. MICHAEL _and_ _Drawings by_ H. M. BROCK, R.I. + +_Copyright, 1914, by the Baroness Orczy in the U.S.A._ + + +WE were such a happy family before this terrible revolution broke out: +we lived rather simply but very comfortably in our dear old home just on +the borders of the forest of Compiegne. Jean and Andre were the twins; +just fifteen years old they were when King Louis was deposed from the +throne of France, which God had given him, and sent to prison like a +common criminal, with our beautiful Queen Marie Antoinette and the Royal +children and Madame Elizabeth, who was so beloved by the poor! + +Ah! that seems very, very long ago now. No doubt you know better than I +do all that happened in our beautiful land of France and in lovely Paris +about that time: goods and property confiscated, innocent men, women, +and children condemned to death for acts of treason which they had never +committed. + +It was in August last year that they came to "Mon Repos" and arrested +papa, maman, and us four young ones and dragged us to Paris, where we +were imprisoned in a narrow and horrible, dank vault in the Abbaye, +where all day and night through the humid stone walls we heard cries and +sobs and moans from poor people who no doubt were suffering the same +sorrows and the same indignities as we were. + +I had just passed my nineteenth birthday and Marguerite was only +thirteen. Maman was a perfect angel during that terrible time: she kept +up our courage and our faith in God in a way that no one else could have +done. Every night and morning we knelt round her knee, and papa sat +close beside her, and we prayed to God for deliverance from our own +afflictions, and for the poor people who were crying and moaning all the +day. + +But of what went on outside our prison walls we had not an idea, though +sometimes poor papa would brave the warder's brutalities and ask him +questions of what was happening in Paris every day. + +"They are hanging all the aristos to the street-lamps of the city," the +man would reply, with a cruel laugh, "and it will be your turn next." + +We had been in prison for about a fortnight, then one day--oh! shall I +ever forget it?--we heard in the distance a noise like the rumbling of +thunder; nearer and nearer it came, and soon the sound became less +confused. Cries and shrieks could be heard above that rumbling din, but +so weird and menacing did those cries seem, that instinctively--though +none of us knew what they meant--we all felt a nameless terror grip our +hearts. + +Oh! I am not going to attempt the awful task of describing to you all +the horrors of that never-to-be-forgotten day. People who to-day cannot +speak without a shudder of the September massacres have not the remotest +conception of what really happened on that truly awful second day of +that month. + +We are all at peace and happy now, but whenever my thoughts fly back to +that morning, whenever the ears of memory recall those hideous yells of +fury and of hate, coupled with the equally horrible cries for pity which +pierced through the walls behind which the six of us were crouching, +trembling, and praying, whenever I think of it all my heart still beats +violently with that same nameless dread which held it in its deathly +grip then. + +Hundreds of men, women, and children were massacred in the prisons of +Paris on that day--it was a St. Bartholomew even more hideous than the +last. + +Maman was trying in vain to keep our thoughts fixed upon God--papa sat +on the stone bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in +his hands, but maman was kneeling on the floor with her dear arms +encircling us all, and her trembling lips moving in continuous prayer. + +[Illustration] + +We felt that we were facing death--and what a death!--O, my God! + +Suddenly the small grated window--high up in the dank wall--became +obscured. I was the first to look up, but the cry of terror which rose +from my heart was choked ere it reached my throat. + +Jean and Andre looked up too, and they shrieked, and so did Marguerite, +and papa jumped up and ran to us and stood suddenly between us and the +window like a tiger defending its young. + +[Illustration] + +But we were all of us quite silent now. The children did not even cry, +they stared wide-eyed--paralysed with fear. + +Only maman continued to pray, and we could hear papa's rapid and +stertorous breathing as he watched what was going on in that window +above. + +Heavy blows were falling against the masonry round the grating, and we +could hear the nerve-racking sound of a file working on the iron bars, +and farther away below the window those awful yells of human beings +transformed by hate and fury into savage beasts. + +How long this horrible suspense lasted I cannot now tell you: the next +thing I remember clearly is a number of men in horrible ragged clothing +pouring into our vault-like prison from the window above; the next +moment they rushed at us simultaneously--or so it seemed to me, for I +was just then recommending my soul to God, so certain was I that in that +same second I would cease to live. + +It was all like a dream, for instead of the horrible shriek of satisfied +hate which we were all expecting to hear, a whispering voice, commanding +and low, struck our ear and dragged us, as it were, from out the abyss +of despair into the sudden light of hope. + +"If you will trust us," the voice whispered, "and not be afraid, you +will be safely out of Paris within an hour." + +Papa was the first to realise what was happening: he had never lost his +presence of mind, even during the darkest moment of this terrible time, +and he said quite calmly and steadily now: + +"What must we do?" + +"Persuade the little ones not to be afraid, not to cry, to be as still +and silent as may be," continued the voice, which I felt must be that of +one of God's own angels, so exquisitely kind did it sound to my ear. + +"They will be quiet and still without persuasion," said papa; "eh, +children?" + +And Jean, Andre, and Marguerite murmured: "Yes!" whilst maman and I +drew them closer to us and said everything we could think of to make +them still more brave. + +And the whispering, commanding voice went on after awhile: + +"Now, will you allow yourselves to be muffled and bound? and after that +will you swear that whatever happens, whatever you may see or hear, you +will neither move nor speak. Not only your own lives, but those of many +brave men will depend upon your fulfilment of this oath." + +Papa made no reply, save to raise his hand and eyes up to where God +surely was watching over us all. Maman said in her gentle, even voice: + +"For myself and my children, I swear to do all that you tell us." + +[Illustration] + +A great feeling of confidence had entered into her heart, just as it had +done into mine. We looked at one another and knew that we were both +thinking of the same thing: we were thinking of the brave Englishman and +his gallant little band of heroes about whom we had heard many wonderful +tales of how they had rescued a number of innocent people who were +unjustly threatened with the guillotine; and we all knew that the tall +figure disguised in horrible rags, who spoke to us with such a gentle +yet commanding voice, was the man whom rumour credited with supernatural +powers, and who was known by the mysterious name of the Scarlet +Pimpernel. + +Hardly had we sworn to do his bidding than his friends most +unceremoniously threw great pieces of sacking over our heads and then +proceeded to tie ropes round our bodies. At least I know that that is +what one of them was doing to me, and from one or two whispered words of +command which reached my ear I concluded that papa and maman and the +children were being dealt with in the same summary way. + +I felt hot and stifled under that rough bit of sacking, but I would not +have moved or even sighed for worlds. Strangely enough, as soon as my +eyes and ears were shut off from the sounds and sights immediately round +me, I once more became conscious of the horrible and awful din which was +going on not only on the other side of our prison walls, but inside the +whole of the Abbaye building and in the street beyond. + +Once more I heard those terrible howls of rage and of satisfied hatred +uttered by the assassins who were being paid by the Government of our +beautiful country to butcher helpless prisoners in their hundreds. + +[Illustration: The Scarlet Pimpernel to the Rescue + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by A. C. Michael_] + +Suddenly I felt myself hoisted up off my feet and slung up on to a pair +of shoulders that must have been very powerful indeed, for I am no light +weight, and once more I heard the voice, the very sound of which was +delight, quite close to my ear this time, giving a brief and +comprehensive command: + +"All ready--remember your part--en avant!" + +Then it added in English; "Here, Tony, you start kicking against the +door whilst we begin to shout!" + +I loved those few words of English, and hoped that maman had heard them +too, for it would confirm her--as it did me--in the happy knowledge that +God and a brave man had taken our rescue in hand. + +But from that moment we might all have been in the very antechamber of +hell. I could hear the violent kicks against the heavy door of our +prison, and our brave rescuers seemed suddenly to be transformed into a +cageful of wild beasts. Their shouts and yells were as horrible as any +that came to us from the outside, and I must say that the gentle, firm +voice which I had learnt to love was as execrable as any I could hear. + +Apparently the door would not yield, as the blows against it became more +and more violent, and presently, from somewhere above my head--the +window presumably--there came a rough call and a raucous laugh: + +"Why! what in the name of ---- is happening here?" + +And the voice near me answered back equally roughly: + +"A quarry of six--but we are caught in this trap--get the door open for +us, citizen--we want to be rid of this booty and go in search for more." + +A horrible laugh was the reply from above, and the next instant I heard +a terrific crash; the door had at last been burst open either from +within or without, I could not tell which, and suddenly all the din, the +cries, the groans, the hideous laughter and bibulous songs which had +sounded muffled up to now burst upon us with all their hideousness. + +[Illustration] + +That was, I think, the most awful moment of that truly fearful hour. I +could not have moved then, even had I wished or been able to do so, but +I knew that between us all and a horrible, yelling, murdering mob there +was now nothing--except the hand of God and the heroism of a band of +English gentlemen. + +Together they gave a cry--as loud, as terrifying as any that were +uttered by the butchering crowd in the building, and with a wild rush +they seemed to plunge with us right into the thick of the awful melee. + +At least that is what it all felt like to me, and afterwards I heard +from our gallant rescuer himself that that is exactly what he and his +friends did. There were eight of them altogether, and we four young ones +had each been hoisted on a pair of devoted shoulders, whilst maman and +papa were each carried by two men. + +I was lying across the finest pair of shoulders in the world, and close +to me was beating the bravest heart on God's earth. + +Thus burdened, these eight noble English gentlemen charged right through +an army of butchering, howling brutes, they themselves howling with the +fiercest of them. + +All around me I heard weird and terrifying cries: + +"What ho, citizens! what have you there?" + +"Six aristos!" shouted my hero boldly as he rushed on, forcing his way +through the crowd. + +"What are you doing with them?" yelled a raucous voice. + +"Food for the starving fish in the river," was the ready response. +"Stand aside, citizen," he added, with a round curse. "I have my orders +from citizen Danton himself about these six aristos. You hinder me at +your peril." + +He was challenged over and over again in the same way, and so were his +friends who were carrying papa and maman and the children, but they were +always ready for a reply. With eyes that could not see one could imagine +them as hideous, as vengeful, as cruel as the rest of the crowd. + +I think that soon I must have fainted from sheer excitement and terror, +for I remember nothing more till I felt myself deposited on a hard +floor, propped against the wall, and the stifling piece of sacking taken +off my head and face. + +I looked around me dazed and bewildered; gradually the horrors of the +past hour came back to me, and I had to close my eyes again, for I felt +sick and giddy with the sheer memory of it all. + +But presently I felt stronger and looked around me again. Jean and Andre +were squatting in a corner close by, gazing wide-eyed at the group of +men in filthy, ragged clothing who sat round a deal table in the centre +of a small, ill-furnished room. + +Maman was lying on a horse-hair sofa at the other end of the room, with +Marguerite beside her, and papa sat in a low chair by her side holding +her hand. + +The voice I loved was speaking in its quaint, somewhat drawly cadence: + +"You are quite safe now, my dear Monsieur Lemercier," it said. "After +Madame and the young people have had a rest some of my friends will find +you suitable disguises, and they will escort you out of Paris, as they +have some really genuine passports in their possession, which we obtain +from time to time through the agency of a personage highly placed in +this murdering Government, and with the help of English banknotes. Those +passports are not always unchallenged, I must confess," added my hero, +with a quaint laugh, "but to-night every one is busy murdering in one +part of Paris, so the other parts are comparatively safe." + +Then he turned to one of his friends and spoke to him in English: + +"You had better see this through, Tony," he said, "with Hastings and +Mackenzie. Three of you will be enough: I shall have need of the +others." + +No one seemed to question his orders. He had spoken and the others made +ready to obey. Just then papa spoke up: + +"How are we going to thank you, sir?" he asked, speaking broken English, +but with his habitual dignity of manner. + +"By leaving your welfare in our hands, Monsieur," replied our gallant +rescuer quietly. + +Papa tried to speak again, but the Englishman put up his hand to stop +any further talk. + +"There is no time now, Monsieur," he said, with gentle courtesy. "I must +leave you, as I have much work yet to do." + +"Where are you going, Blakeney?" asked one of the others. + +"Back to the Abbaye prison," he said; "there are other women and +children to be rescued there!" + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +WHAT CAN A LITTLE CHAP DO? + +BY JOHN OXENHAM + +_Painting by_ EUGENE HASTAIN _and Drawings by GORDON BROWNE, R.I._ + + + _WHAT can a little chap do + For his country and for you? + What_ CAN _a little chap do?_ + + He can fight like a Knight + For the Truth and the Right-- + _That's one good thing he can do._ + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration: + + "He can march in the queue + Of the Good and the Great, + Who battled with fate + And won through." + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Eugene Hastain_] + +[Illustration] + + He can shun all that's mean, + He can keep himself clean, + Both without and within-- + _That's another good thing he can do_. + + His soul he can brace + Against everything base, + And the trace will be seen + All his life in his face-- + _That's a very fine thing he can do_. + + He can look to the Light, + He can keep his thought white, + He can fight the great fight, + He can do with his might + What is good in God's sight-- + _Those are excellent things he can do_. + + [Illustration] + + Though his years be but few, + He can march in the queue + Of the Good and the Great, + Who battled with fate + And won through-- + _That's a wonderful thing he can do_. + + And--in each little thing + He can follow The King. + Yes--in each smallest thing + He can follow The King-- + He can follow The Christ, The King. + +[Illustration + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +ALTOGETHER DIFFERENT + +BY W. PETT RIDGE + +_Painting by_ M. E. GRAY _and Drawings by_ LEWIS BAUMER + + +I KNEW a child who---- + +Some friends of mine have a daughter, and she---- + +Not very many years ago, I remember hearing---- + +Once upon a time--that is the proper way to begin this story--once upon +a time there was a little girl, of about the usual age, who lived near +to St. John's Wood Road Station, handy to Lord's cricket ground, and not +far from the Zoological Gardens. You would think that any one who, in +the summer, could look out of her window and see Mr. P. F. Warner +batting, and in the winter was able to go any afternoon she liked, to +watch the lions and tigers take high tea at four, ought to have been as +happy as the days were long; cheerful even when the days were short. Yet +she was not entirely satisfied; it may be said that her one failing was +a spirit of discontent. When grown-ups are discontented, it is called +ambition; but that is another matter. + +On a certain Tuesday evening in November it happened that she felt quite +pleased with the world until about seven o'clock. Seven in the evening +was the hour that frequently made her peevish. + +Nurse left her alone for a minute to see if everything was ready +upstairs, and in that minute the little girl jumped on a chair and moved +back the long hand. She was reading her picture-book with great interest +when nurse returned. + +[Illustration] + +"Bless my soul!" cried nurse. "Quite thought it wanted ten to seven, and +here it is only ten past six. I shall find myself in Colney Hatch before +I'm much older." + +The little girl wanted to assure Nanna there was no good reason to +assume that mental decay had set in, but she did not do this at once, +and afterwards it seemed too late. So nurse was allowed to chat on, and +tell her very best story about the time when she was a child, and a good +one at that, and when the clock, having been compelled to go over the +ground twice, again gave the time as ten to seven, nurse said, + +"Now my dearie!" + +Upstairs, the little girl devoted a few minutes to instructing her dolly +in the art of going off nicely to bye-byes. + +She was left alone, with just a mere star of gas-light for company +shining above the dressing-table, and at the moment when she was about +to go to sleep conscience woke up. Conscience became wide-awake. +Conscience insisted upon talking, and the little girl had to listen. She +was aware it is useless to cry when one is by oneself with nobody +looking on; not only useless but wasteful, because you may want those +tears on more important and more public occasions. So the little girl +did not weep, but, oh! she felt troubled. She did feel troubled. + +"A silly, stupid world!" she cried aloud. "It ought--it ought to be +changed. I'd very much love it to be altogether different." + +A knock at her door, and she answered, "Please come in, Nanna!" Not +nurse. Certainly the tall lady with diamonds sparkling in her hair, and +a white chiffon kind of costume, and a long silver stick in the right +hand, was as unlike nurse as any one could be. The little girl said, +"Oh, I beg pardon!" in her politest manner. + +"It is for me to beg yours," answered the tall lady with severity. "I am +exceedingly sorry to disturb you." + +"Pray don't mention it." + +"I wish to mention it," insisted the lady. "I claim the right to mention +it. I decline to allow any one to dictate to me what I shall or what I +shall not mention. I am a good fairy." + +The little girl opened her mouth with surprise. + +"A good fairy, and I am here to do you a favour. When a good fairy +wishes to do a favour, it is only necessary for a wish to be expressed, +and----" + +[Illustration: "Bless my soul!" cried nurse] + +"Thank you," said the child nervously, "but really I would so much +rather you did not take the trouble." + +"The trouble," replied the good fairy, striking the floor with her +silver stick in an impatient way, "is no concern of yours. You mustn't +haggle." + +"I don't know what that means," declared the other earnestly, "and if I +did, I wouldn't do it, ma'am, I wouldn't really. Good evening, and, of +course, thank you ever so much for calling." + +"Dress!" ordered the good fairy. + +On the instant something happened which the little girl had often +thought about; more than once she had talked it over with nurse. She +found herself, in the space of less time than it takes to click your +finger and thumb, fully and completely costumed, boots laced up, hair +taken out of curlers and properly brushed, hat set at the correct angle, +parasol in hand, gloves buttoned, and everything ready for a walk out of +doors. She gave a cry of delight and astonishment. + +"I am about to give you the great treat of your life," said the fairy, +"something that no one has ever yet experienced, something that will +give you a subject to talk about for the rest of your days. Nobody will +believe you, but that must be endured. You are about to see the world as +nobody else has seen it. And if you ask me why you have been selected +for this high and special honour----" + +"Please, I don't!" + +"My answer is," taking no notice of the interruption, "that you are +receiving the award for your wonderful discovery." + +"But I have discovered nothing." + +"Nothing!" echoed the lady, with amazement. "You call it nothing to have +found out the secret that has puzzled clever people for thousands and +thousands of years? How often folk have said, 'If only I could live some +part of my life over again!' and they never have been able to do it. +You, child, were the first." + +The staircase had always gone straight down until it neared the next +landing, where it took a slight curve; now it was all curves and had +nothing about it that could be called straight. It went up, it went +down, it went to the left, it went to the right, so that wherever you +put your foot expecting to find a step, you did not find it, and +wherever you put your foot expecting to find nothing, you hurt your +toes. + +"This is very strange, ma'am!" + +"That," replied the other, "should be its great attraction. Don't lag. +We shall get to the end of the staircase in less than ten minutes." + +Going out of the street doorway proved one of the most difficult tasks. +The fairy did not seem to mind, but the child found it extremely odd +that when you pulled at the door it opened outwards, and that when you +pushed at it it came in. The iron gate which led to the pavement had +another form of behaviour. Determined not to be bothered here, she gave +a touch with her boot, and instantly the iron gate offered her boot a +pinch; she placed her hand upon it and the gate gripped it, much in the +way that Uncle Henry did when he said "How do you do?" She put her back +against it, and the iron gate gave her a clutch around the waist, and +said, in rasping tones, as it waltzed to the pavement, + +"Do you reverse?" + +It was then that she perceived the fairy had left her. + +[Illustration] + +A pavement is expected to behave in a calm and demure manner; even when +it takes you up-hill it does this in the gentlest way. But this +pavement, so soon as the little girl set foot upon it, at once changed +to something like a switchback, and a switchback, mark you, she enjoyed +when seated on a trolley at Shepherd's Bush Exhibitions; it was less +agreeable to try to walk up and down the uneven parts here. Other people +did not seem to experience her difficulties, and this she failed to +understand until she observed that they went along on their hands and +toes, pretending to have four legs; she tried the same method and found +it made her back ache; discovered, too, that she could not see so much +as when walking in the old way. Thus it was that she had reached the end +of the road, where a steep ascent occurred that was like the side of a +mountain, ere she noticed something strange and peculiar about the +houses. + +"How very foolish of them to build in that way!" she cried. "They must +be out of their senses." + +[Illustration] + +It was the more eccentric in that her own house so far as she had +observed had not changed; thinking it over, though, she could not be +quite sure. Here at any rate was every house upside down with the front +door right away at the top, Virginia creepers growing downwards; at one +house the painters were seeing to the front and their ladders came from +the roof (which was the basement) nearly to the basement (which was the +roof). A neat lawn hung out over the top of each house; it made her feel +giddy to think of the risks of playing croquet there; she could not see +how one would be able to make even the first hoop. + +Other things claimed her attention. + +There were carts with horses pushing them--she had often heard her +father reprove her eldest brother for doing this in argument--the horses +stood upright and wore silk hats in a rakish sort of way, sometimes +lifting these on meeting another horse and taking cigars out of mouths. +She spoke to a constable, who wore a helmet on each hand, and put an +urgent inquiry. + +"Miaow!" said the policeman. + +"You didn't quite understand," remarked the little girl patiently. "I +asked you if you would kindly tell me the way to get home to Wellington +Road." + +"Ba, ba!" + +"Do please listen to me," she begged, "and tell me what I want to know. +I think I've lost my way, and I'm so afraid that I'm going to cry." + +"Moo--oo!" said the constable. + +[Illustration: Instructing her dolly in the art of going off nicely to +by-byes. + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by M. E. Gray_] + +"Please, please," she cried, "please don't be silly. Why do you keep +making noises like that instead of giving me a proper answer?" + +"Missy," he explained, "I'm a comic policeman. I'm not here to tell folk +the way or to lock them up, or anything of that kind; I'm here to make +people laugh." + +"You are not amusing me!" + +"Not when I make a noise like a dog?" he asked, with surprise. "Why, +that nearly always sends people into a good temper. You wait till I give +you my imitation of a railway engine. Hark!" + +He set his teeth together and began to say "Isha--isha--isha," but the +little girl turned away. She felt so indignant that she determined to +tell her father about it at the very first opportunity, and see whether +something could not be done. More than once her father had helped to +straighten out tangled matters by simply writing a letter to the +newspapers, and signing himself "An Indignant Ratepayer." + +[Illustration] + +And at the very moment along came her father. He, too, walked on all +fours as other people did, and the little girl thought it caused him to +look particularly undignified, but she did not trouble about this, for, +stout as he was, she was really glad to see him. + +"How do you do," he said respectfully. "Can you give me a penny to buy +some sweeties?" + +"Daddie, dear!" she cried with distress. "Don't you begin to be funny, +please." + +"I'm not," he said. + +"But you are my parent, you know." + +"Yes," he sighed, "I'm aware of that. But under the new rules--you must +have heard all about them--under the new rules parents have to be +obedient to their children, and do everything their children tell them +to do." + +"Not a bad idea," decided the little girl, after giving it +consideration. "I think if you don't mind I will get you to come along +now to Finchley Road and buy for me the mechanical rocking-horse that +has been talked about for some time." + +"Under the old arrangement," he replied readily, "I should have been +only too pleased, but the new rules say that children must buy presents +for their father and mother." + +"How can we," getting rather cross, "how in the world can we when we +have no money?" + +"I think," he said, "that it is expected you should go to work and earn +some." + +"Never heard such nonsense in the whole course of my life," she +declared, using a grown-up remark. "It's perfect rubbish. Do you mean to +say that I shall have to go to concerts and sing as mamma does?" + +"That's the idea, I believe." + +"But I can't sing. I can't sing nearly well enough to earn money." + +"Well," said her father, after considering the matter, "what about going +out as charwoman? You'd get two shillings a day and your lunch." + +She stood there for a few minutes, not daring to speak, and overcome +with cares and responsibilities. Some one touched her on the shoulder, +and she looked up. + +"Good fairy!" she cried. + +"Do you like the altogether different you asked for?" + +"No," she answered, "I don't like it at all. I wish now I hadn't put +back the hands of the clock." + +"You mean to say that that was how you did it? You dare to tell me it +was nothing cleverer than that? Now, just to punish you," said the +fairy, speaking with stern decision, "I shall send you away to the old +sort of world, and you'll simply have to make the best of it." + + * * * * * + +The bedroom door opened, and nurse came in. The little girl, snuggling +down into her warm, comfortable bed, kept her eyes shut. + +"Bless her!" said nurse to herself. "Sleeping as sound as a top. That's +what comes of having nothing on your mind to worry you!" + +[Illustration + + + + + +THE ESCAPE + +_A GIRL'S STORY FROM GALLANT BELGIUM_ + +BY ANNIE S. SWAN + +_Drawings by_ HAROLD EARNSHAW + + +Not a sound broke the exquisite hush of the early morning. + +[Illustration] + +The old courtyard, with its tiled pavement, its cool fountain, and its +cooing doves, the dog asleep in the sunshine, made a picture of perfect +peace. + +The house, once the Chateau of a great family that had fallen on evil +days, was grey and old, and beautiful still, though now merely _une +pension de demoiselles_. + +It was August, when, as a rule, all the merry throng had scattered from +the Chateau to their respective homes, leaving it to its former dignity +and quiet. Mademoiselle usually went to England, perhaps seeking fresh +pupils, or to enjoy the sea breezes on the Normandy coast. + +La Royat, in the village of Coutane, was inland from the sea, about +fifteen miles from Brussels. It was a sweet spot, beloved of the +understanding traveller, and many came to look at the fine old church, +whose spire and windows were among the treasures known to lovers of the +beautiful all over the world. Mademoiselle Ledru had nothing to complain +of in her lot, with which she had been hitherto content. Success had +flowed in upon her earnest efforts, though looking at her anxious face +that summer morning one would have thought her oppressed by care. She +was an elderly woman now, with the remains of beauty still on her face. +The place where she stood that morning, before her household was astir, +was certainly unusual, being the square tower of the Chateau, from whose +low ramparts she was sweeping the horizon with a powerful glass. It was +all very peaceful and beautiful, a wide rolling plateau, with fields +white to harvest, not a hint of approaching desolation on its smiling +face. + +It was very early, hardly an hour past daybreak, but already some of the +thrifty peasants were busy in the fields. Far away on the red horizon +there was a slight haze, regarding which Mademoiselle seemed more than a +little curious. Again and again she focused her glass, until confident +that the haze was not altogether stationary, but moved and broke and +thickened again. Then with a sickening apprehension at her heart, she +turned and fled down the stairs and went to open the big door of the +Chateau. Jules, the fat and sleepy porter, was undoing the bolts as she +got down. + +[Illustration] + +"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Some one is at the gate, an early visitor." He +chuckled as he undid the last bolt, and threw wide the door. When he +would have hobbled across the courtyard to open the gate his mistress +was before him. When she undid the bolts the Cure, bareheaded, stood +before her. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle, it is bad news," he said in a firm voice, though his +face was tense with apprehension. "They come, the barbarians. I have +information, now it behoves us to consult what we will do." + +Mademoiselle whitened to the lips, and drew him in and shut the door. +She signed to Jules to depart, but the Cure intervened. + +"Let him stay. It will save a twice-told tale. I have certain news that +they are not more than a couple of hours' march away, and for sure they +will come this way to Brussels. What shall we do?" + +"I will remain at my post," answered Julie Ledru firmly. "I have no fear +for myself, but my charges, Father--Rosalie and Biddy, with whom their +English parents have trusted me. My spirit fails! What must we do with +them?" + +"It will not be safe to leave them here, Mademoiselle, nor even for you +to stay. We will take you to the crypt of the church, where, with a +little food and drink, you will be safe until they have passed through. +We have no treasure here in Coutane, and are simple folk. Perhaps we +shall be beneath their notice." + +Julie Ledru clasped her hands in an ecstasy of apprehension. They had +been without newspapers for four days, but chance travellers from the +East had brought strange and appalling tales of the invaders' desolating +march. They told of ruined villages and burning homes, and helpless +people mercilessly shot down in places as simple and as unimportant as +Coutane. Julie Ledru looked round her little domain with a kind of sad +pride. It did not contain many treasures, it is true, but it was her +home, enshrined by many sweet memories. It contained her all. + +"Now, Father?" she asked feverishly. "Do you think we should come now?" + +"Without a moment's delay," he answered. "Go and get your charges roused +and bring all with you; a little food also in a basket, lest you have to +stop there several days." + +[Illustration: Fleur-de-Lis + + _Painted for + Princess Mary's Gift Book + by Carlton A. Smith, R.I._] + +"You will be with us, Father?" said Julie anxiously. + +He shook his head. + +"My place is in the open street with such of my people as feel strong +and brave in their innocence and faith. But you have English charges. If +it was known, Mademoiselle, believe me, nothing would save them or you. +Their fury against the English is so great." + +"Shall we take Jules? Besides him, there is only our faithful Babette." + +Before the Cure could reply Jules intervened, scratching his old grey +head. + +"I hide not from them, Mademoiselle; I will stay and guard the Chateau +and keep them out, if I can, barbarians that they are, making war on +women and children." + +"They will shoot you, Jules, if you are so foolish," his mistress +reminded him. His answer was a shrug of the shoulders. + +"A man dies but once--that is to say, a good man, who has faith in God +and does his duty." + +So saying, Jules went back to take up his waiting duty. + +The Cure departed the way he had come, and Julie Ledru, with a feeling +of strange calm upon her, hurried indoors to make her few simple +preparations. Babette, the elderly servant, one of the best of the old +Brabant type, was cool and ready for any emergency, and in an incredibly +short time they had packed some food and a few necessaries in two +considerable baskets. Then Mademoiselle Ledru essayed the task she +dreaded--that of awaking her two young charges, and preparing them for +the ordeal through which they had to pass. + +They were still asleep, in two beds side by side, in one of the +pleasantest rooms of the Chateau. Rosalie Bentham, fair and rosy, like +an English flower, her golden hair lying on her pillow like an aureole, +and Biddy Connaught, the dark-eyed Irish girl, whose long black lashes +swept her cheek, while her dimpled chin was in her open palm, as she +smiled over some passing imagery of her dream. Something caught Julie +Ledru's throat as she regarded these two pictures of innocence and +beauty, and reflected on the greatness of her charge. Both were only +children, entrusted to her care in the holidays, because their parents, +both in the exercise of duty, could not take them home. But with a +strong effort she controlled herself and awakened them gently. It was a +process of some length, because the sleep of youth is sound and deep, +but at last they were sitting up, drinking in her news. + +"We have to run away and hide in the crypt until the Germans have +marched through the village. Do you hear, Biddy?" called Rosalie, as +she sprang from her bed and began to get into her clothes. "But how +ripping! What lots we shall all have to write about and to tell them +when we get home!" + +Julie Ledru faintly, tremulously, smiled, and with her own hands she +assisted them to make a hasty toilet. Some coffee was ready for them +downstairs, for Babette was a methodical person, not easily upset. Thus +fortified, they left the Chateau presently, leaving Babette and Jules in +charge. Babette made the same excuse--some one must stay to guard the +place, and surely when they found nobody but two simple old servants +they would pass on. + +Julie had no time to argue; perhaps even she did not fully realise the +peril to which these two faithful souls thus willingly exposed +themselves. She looked back on their serene faces as she passed through +the gate, and it was the last time she was to look on them in life. She +never saw them again, nor found them. They disappeared in the ruins of +La Royat as many had disappeared in other ruins, leaving no trace +behind. At the church, which was but a few paces off, they found the +Cure busy arranging shelter. It was a very tiny village, and the number +of those willing to accept the shelter he offered and, indeed, advised +was comparatively few. For though a simple they were a brave people, nor +could they conceive of a wickedness and barbarity that would seek to +destroy innocent souls who had naught to do with war. So they went about +their ordinary avocations as usual, a trifle more apprehensively +perhaps, but none the less bravely, and the morning wore on. + +The Cure took his charges, about twenty souls in all, down the narrow +stairs to the crypt, where he had already provided light and such small +comforts as he could spare from his own store. + +"Isn't it ripping, Biddy?" asked Rosalie, but perhaps her young voice +had lost a little of its gallant ring. But Biddy, who had the +imaginative temperament of her race, shivered a little, and burst into +tears. It was strange and ominous to come in out of the warm, hopeful +sunshine to this place of tombs, an adventure with which the child could +very well have dispensed. The church was very old, and many who had been +born in Coutane had never seen the crypt. Its very existence was unknown +to a large number, and the entrance to it was so cunningly arranged, and +so difficult of access, that it was of all hiding-places in the village +the most secure. + +[Illustration] + +Then there was always the belief, founded on all precedent of war, that +the sacred things would be respected, and sanctuary in God's house left +undesecrated. The hours seemed long down there and the stillness +profound. Not a sound from the upper air penetrated to that strange +hiding-place. Though sure of their sanctuary, it seemed natural to lower +their voices, to move softly, and even to watch apprehensively. Even the +two girls, usually so high-spirited, found themselves naturally becoming +quiet. It was only the very little children, of whom there were five, +who, unconscious of danger, crowed and laughed and babbled in their +usual glee. These little ones provided incessant interest and occupation +for the two girls, and Julie Ledru smiled as she watched their pretty +efforts to amuse and keep them quiet. She had brought her watch, and it +pointed to nine o'clock at the moment when they heard a dull thud +several times repeated, which caused them all to start and look at one +another in quick alarm. + +"It is the guns," said old Monsieur Rollin, whose legs were twisted with +rheumatism, so that they had half-carried him down the steps of the +crypt. "They have come, and are starting their fiendish work." + +[Illustration] + +No one could gainsay him, and for the next half-hour they had to listen +to a repetition of the same sound gradually getting nearer and nearer. +Presently their terror was increased by the deafening roar of artillery +much nearer and the sound of falling masonry, indicating that the church +itself, cradle and sanctuary of the life of Coutane for centuries, had +not been respected. The two English girls, now thoroughly frightened, +clung together fearfully, and the whole little company, some of them on +their knees, did not exchange a word. After a time the firing ceased, +and they were left to absolute stillness. But none of them moved, or +offered to go up to discover what had actually happened in the village. + +[Illustration] + +After what seemed an interminable interval--in reality it was not more +than a couple of hours from the moment the din ceased overhead--the door +of the crypt was cautiously opened, and the Cure looked in. He was all +dishevelled, his face blackened with smoke, and his whole appearance +that of a man who had seen some terrible and haunting vision. + +"Ah, there you are, my children," he cried as they crowded round him; "I +think you may come up presently, but be prepared to have your hearts +broken. A regiment of the enemy has passed through, and left nothing +behind. Mademoiselle, the Chateau is in flames, and the beautiful spire +of the church has been blown to pieces, and at the Mairie the +devastation is complete. But, above all, we mourn the death of so many +helpless people--I myself escaped by a miracle." + +"Have they gone?" asked Mademoiselle, with a shivering breath. + +"They have, and I think that they are pursued, and that this was the +hurried work of destruction prompted by hatred and revenge. Will you +come up now and see for yourselves, or remain here in safety through the +night? Alas! you will find no other refuge, Mademoiselle, for your home +is in ruins." + +Such fear was upon them that with one accord they determined to remain +in the crypt until the dawn of another day. + +Even the natural gaiety and high spirits of youth were not proof against +the terror which all felt might swoop down upon them again at any +moment. + +They had arranged themselves as comfortably as possible to pass the +night, when they were suddenly disturbed by the grating of a door and +the swinging of a lantern. All scrambled to their feet, some of them +shrieking and hiding their eyes, certain that there had been a fresh +arrival of the invaders, and that instant death would meet them. + +But once more the Cure smiled upon them reassuringly. + +"Courage, my children! Our trouble is for the moment at an end. Our own +brave soldiers have arrived. It is as I said--they are in pursuit, but +part of them will camp here to-night. Alas! we have little or no food to +offer them, for the barbarians stripped the village of everything." + +Then Julie Ledru, hurriedly throwing on her cloak, said she would ascend +with the Cure and give what stores she could from the Chateau. + +"But it is no more, my daughter. You have forgotten how I told you +yesterday that they have burned it to the ground." + +"But my stores are hidden in the grotto in the garden, and there is a +secret passage to it. I think, Father, they had not time, or did not +take it, to explore, and we shall find things there. I have been putting +them away since the war began." + +So in the pearly dawn, a strange sight was to be seen in the trampled, +desecrated garden of the Chateau behind its smoking ruins. + +Led by Julie Ledru, the Commandant of the troops that had halted in the +village found stores sufficient to help assuage the hunger of his men. +He was profuse in his thanks. + +"What can I do for you in exchange, Mademoiselle?" he asked, as he stood +at the salute. Instantly Mademoiselle pointed to her charges, who, still +shivering a little with fear, yet profoundly, poignantly interested in +the extraordinary scene of desolation, in what but a few hours ago was +one of the fairest spots in Belgium. + +"These are my English children. Get them to their parents, Monsieur le +Capitaine, and I shall be amply repaid." + +The officer shook his head. + +"Easier said than done, Madame; but leave it, and I will see what can be +done. How is it you have been so indiscreet as to remain here? You ought +to have removed yourself, and them, while there was still time." + +Mademoiselle shook her head. + +"We imagined we were of no account, and we have had no news for several +days. We were assured that the tide of battle had flowed in a different +direction." + +"It is everywhere, Mademoiselle--an evil flood, rolling over the whole +of our country. But, look you, I will see what can be done." + +He was as good as his word, and that evening after dark, in an armoured +motor-car, Julie Ledru and her charges were driven for hours and miles +by tortuous ways which kept them out of danger, until they reached +Ghent, where it was still possible to get a train for Ostend. + +Two days later, she landed in England with Rose and Biddy, herself +utterly ruined, her home gone, one of the most pitiful of the refugees. + +But she was welcomed warmly and gratefully by Biddy's father, and in a +few days' time was safe in a warm, comfortable home on the Irish coast, +where Rose, too, was made welcome, until her own relatives in India +could be communicated with. + +It was an experience the two girls would never forget, one which will +remain with them through life as a very poignant personal experience of +the Great War. + +[Illustration + + + + + +_Fleur de Lis_ + +[Illustration] + +_by Kate Douglas Wiggin_ + + _Painting by_ Carlton A. Smith, _R.A._ + + _Drawings by_ Edmund J. Sullivan, _A.R.W.S._ + +_Copyright in the U.S.A. by the Century Company._ + + +FLEUR-DE-LIS had been christened Marie Hortense Amelie Dupont: Marie for +her mother, Hortense and Amelie in honour of the two Vicomtesses de +Rastignac, sole survivors of the proud old Royalist family in whose +service Marie's mother and grandmother had lived, and into whose service +Marie herself had been born. But when _la petite_ Marie Hortense Amelie +was a mere blossom of babyhood she forsook the name that the priest had +given her as he touched her downy head with the holy water, and chose +instead to be called Fleur-de-lis--a name, in sooth, much better suited +to a noble daughter of the Rastignacs than to a child of Marie Dupont, +maker of tissue-paper flowers, and Pierre Dupont, street musician. + +Fleur-de-lis had first opened her eyes in a very humble chamber, but it +was large enough to hold a deal of sweet content, which grew all the +sweeter when she came to share it. There were only two rooms for father, +mother, and child, and these were in a dreary tenement house, for Pierre +Dupont, a stranger in a strange land, was having a desperate struggle +with poverty. On being discharged from the hospital, where he had passed +through the dangerous illness that left him a maimed and broken man, he +had to begin the world all over again, and begin it single-handed, in +very truth. There were few things to which he could turn his one hand; +one of them was the crank of a street-piano, and in a modest example of +that modern instrument of torture he accordingly invested the last of +his savings. He was much too good for it, but by regarding it distinctly +as a hated object which should be discarded the moment something better +appeared, he mastered his aversion, and, by wheeling it through the +streets from morning till night, he managed to live, for there were +always people who wanted to hear it, and others who did not, so that +between the two classes he scraped together enough for his frugal +needs. + +Marie was young and pretty and loyal, and when affairs were most +desperate she offered to take the baby Fleur-de-lis and accompany her +husband, gathering the pennies in a tambourine, while he ground +so-called music from the piano with the left arm, that grew so weary in +the monotonous service. But there was not a trace of the mountebank in +Pierre Dupont, nor a drop of beggar's blood in his veins. He was poor +and crippled, but he had still the self-respecting pride of the peasant +whose people had served noble families, and who know what true nobility +is. He could injure the dead-and-gone Rastignacs, if he must, by +trundling about a second-hand street-piano, but he could at least spare +them the insult of adding a monkey or a woman to the procession. So +Maman Marie, loving him more than ever for his chivalrous regard of her, +took up an almost forgotten pastime of her girlhood, and fell to making +artificial flowers, which she sold to an old woman who stood on the +street corners and offered them to the passers-by. + +The two rooms in the tenement house were as neat as care and thrift +could make them. The windows opened only into the court, it is true, but +Pierre and Marie did not need to look out of doors to get a pleasant +view, for they could look at each other, and at the baby; besides, the +glass was spotlessly clean and hung with equally spotless curtains. The +floors were uncarpeted, but there was never a speck of dust on them. The +little kitchen where Marie worked had a not unappetising fragrance from +the _pot-au-feu_ that simmered on the stove; it had also a gleam of +sunshine in it for a few hours each day. Sometimes when Pierre left his +incubus for half an hour and ran home for a mouthful of bread and soup, +he looked at Maman Marie sitting by her table in the sunshine, her +scissors gleaming among the paper-flower petals, and at Fleur-de-lis, +sitting at her feet playing with the rainbow-coloured scraps, and then +he fell on his knees beside them, and, putting his arm about them both, +forgot that it was the only one he had, forgot that he was poor and +crippled, and that the future was all uncertain, remembering only that +he had home and wife and child, and that life, with all its hardships, +was inexpressibly dear to him. For it happens, sometimes, that a poet's +soul is lodged in a very humble tenement, and a love that would do +honour to a knight blossoms and flourishes in the midst of mean and +pitiful surroundings. + +[Illustration] + +Fleur-de-lis's cradle had curtains made of a bit of tricolour, and from +the centre of the canopy there hung a medal of the Virgin swinging on a +narrow ribbon of blue. The cradle itself was a wooden box, and Marie, +with a maternal ingenuity that surmounted the lack of ordinary +materials, had lined the inside of the hood with tissue-paper flowers; +white and blue fleurs-de-lis to match those on the faded satin coverlet, +a fragment of ancient grandeur where the Rastignac coat-of-arms was +intertwined with the Bourbon lilies of France. And when the baby's +vagrant gaze wandered to the flowery heaven above her head, and her pink +fingers reached to touch it and to stroke the soft counterpane, Maman +Marie would tell her the name of the posies; and so after a time, when +she discovered that people and things possessed names, Marie Hortense +Amelie, Mademoiselle Bebe, elected to call herself Fleur-de-lis. It was +the first word she lisped, and she attached it to herself with the +utmost complacency. It was appropriate enough, for she looked as if she +might have been originally intended for a flower, and then somehow a +soul had strayed into the flower, and it had fluttered down to earth as +a child--a curious blossom to come from lowly stock, a kind of tender +and beautiful miracle wrought out of common clay by the fashioning and +refining power of love. At times, when Marie sat at her work and looked +at Fleur-de-lis cooing and smiling under her tri-coloured curtains, she +forgot the strange land outside the windows, and the Babel of strange +tongues in the crowded tenement, and as her deft, brown fingers shaped +the tissue flowers, she saw in fancy the poppies and the wheat and the +lilies of her native Breton fields. She saw the sun shining on the old +chateau, her mother hanging a chaplet on the baron's tomb in the little +oratory, the aged baroness walking sadly in the pleasance. All, all were +gone. The chateau was dismantled. The proud old family, rooted for +centuries to the soil of Brittany, had gradually lost its land and its +riches, till now there was only one frail old dame, poor and childless, +to maintain the ancient title. All these memories, half sad, half sweet, +flitted in and out of Marie's mind as she snipped and trimmed and +twisted and shaped, her head on one side to view the result, like a +little brown pheasant regarding a berry; and if Fleur-de-lis slept, she +hummed a Breton lullaby as she twined her paper nosegays. What wonder, +then, that there was a French air about them that attracted purchasers? + +[Illustration] + +So "hope clad in April green" made life worth living for father and +mother; and, as for Fleur-de-lis, she was a child; and she had love, and +that was enough, and it is sad when we grow so old that it does not +suffice for us. But these days, so full of care and anxiety, of +weariness and self-denial tinged with happiness, came to an end; for +when Fleur-de-lis was two years old, Maman Marie, young and strong, +passionately in love with life, desperately needed by husband and +child, had to leave them, to journey on alone to another far country, +having just grown wonted to this. + +Then the light went out of the two little rooms that had been home; +indeed, it seemed to go out of the world altogether. Hard times and yet +harder ones descended upon poor Pierre Dupont. Marie's earnings no +longer helped to swell the slender income, and there were no willing +woman's hands to cut and plan and save, to contrive and embellish. Added +to this, the piano suddenly grew uncertain, and subject to grave musical +lapses, attacks of aphasia in the middle of some tunes, and of asthma in +the middle of others; so that the hoot of the stony-hearted bystander +and the ruffianly small boy became familiar to Pierre's ears; for he +could not afford to buy new cylinders to fit into the old instrument, +and to keep it up to the demands of the street, which is always +delighted if you "cannot sing the old songs," and wishes the latest +melody to the exclusion of everything else. + +[Illustration] + +Fleur-de-lis had been left in the care of a woman for many weeks after +Marie's death, but the sight of her tear-stained face at night, the +tender frenzy with which she lifted her arms to her father when he came +in, the sob of joy with which she buried her head in his coat, the sigh +of content with which she stroked his cheek between every mouthful of +bread and milk as she sat on his knee eating her meagre supper--all this +was too much for his loving heart. He had a small sum of money that he +had been hoarding to attach "Annie Rooney" and "Comrades" to his +unfashionable instrument, that he might appease the public by the +gratification of its darling wishes, and withdraw the Boulanger march +from its sated ears. This money he took and went to a carpenter's shop +in the neighbourhood. After many explanations in his broken English, and +many diagrams rudely drawn on paper, the carpenter succeeded in building +a primitive sort of baby-carriage on one end of the street-piano. It had +two wheels of its own, and moved somewhat in harmony with the ancient +instrument, which had its difficulties of locomotion nowadays, as well +as its musical weaknesses. It had a drawer in which Fleur-de-lis's +playthings were kept--a battered doll, and boxes of her favourite scraps +of bright tissue-paper, the top of an old cotton umbrella, and a square +of rubber cloth like that which covered the piano when it rained. Here +Fleur-de-lis sat for many hours each day, happy and content. Pierre +would often take her out, and let her toddle by his side until she was +tired, when she would ascend her throne again. She wore a faded corduroy +jacket and an old woollen cap, but the flower-face that smiled above +the one, and the shower of chestnut hair that fell from beneath the +other, made you forget the poverty of her raiment. She was always clean +and sweet and comfortable, for Pierre, with the gentleness and patience +of a woman, washed and even mended, in a rough sort of a way, that the +child might not wholly miss a mother's care. + +[Illustration] + +Matters were going on in this way, rather from bad to worse, when one +November day father and child turned off a side-street, and trundled +into one of the fashionable avenues of the city. Pierre did not often +wheel his piano in front of brown-stone houses; it was too old and +wheezy to commend itself to localities accustomed to Seidl's orchestra +and the Hungarian band; but he scarcely knew to-day whither his aimless +feet were carrying him. For two weeks he had gone out in the early +morning and evening, leaving Fleur-de-lis asleep, and had spent an hour +or two in a vain quest for employment. But his speech was broken, and he +had only one arm--small wonder that he failed when hundreds of men with +two arms and nimbler tongues were seeking the same thing and failing. +People generally told him that he ought to have stayed at home in his +own country, where he belonged; but that, as he had not done that, his +next best plan was to get back there at the earliest possible moment. If +they had had time to hear his justification for cumbering the earth of +this free country, he might have told them that he left France a strong +young man, with a strong young wife, and nearly fifteen hundred francs +for the inevitable rainy day; but that the rainy day had turned out to +be a continual downpour. He was wondering in a dull, vague sort of way, +as they rattled along over the cobblestones, why there was not bread for +the mouths that needed it. He wondered why, through no fault of his own, +he should have been maimed and crippled, why the loss of wife should +have followed the loss of limb, why there was not enough work in the +world for the people who were willing to do it, why the children in the +luxurious carriages that swept past him should be swathed in furs while +Fleur-de-lis's hands were blue in her ragged mittens. + +The universe was a mystery to Pierre Dupont. Search it as he might, he +could find no key to its curious distribution of miseries and +injustices. It seemed to him that, if some people would be content to +take a little less, there might be a little more for him; but he was by +no means certain of the soundness of this comfortable theory. A little +less gold plate on that harness, for instance, a yard less of lace on +the gown of that lady just stepping into her brougham, a single diamond +from her marquise ring--no, that superficial and snarling philosophy +did not help Pierre; there was neither envy nor rage in his heart as +yet; only a dull despair, a groping in the dark for a reason. Many of +these fortunate people, he supposed, deserved their fortunes, and had +earned them. They were cleverer than he, and had friends and +opportunities not vouchsafed, perhaps, to him. But why, since he was not +clever, and since he had neither friends nor opportunities, should he +have been deprived first of his principal means of self-support, and +then of his consolation, his courage, his other and braver self? + +[Illustration] + +And now it was the anniversary of Marie's death. That made the day even +harder to bear; for in some subtle way the remembrance of certain hours +or moments in a dear dead past is always more bitter when we say to +ourselves with a sigh, "It was just a year ago." Nature was in no +buoyant mood. A cold, drizzling rain, which ought to have been snow, +fell from time to time. The chill dampness made people draw their wraps +closer, and look drearily at the sky. Even the children appeared less +joyous than usual. Men turned up the bottoms of their trousers and the +collars of their coats, and hurried past one another with a gruff nod +that would have been a smile on a sunny day. The bare branches of the +trees shivered in the wind, and a few snowbirds huddled themselves +together cheerlessly here and there, as if even they wished themselves +farther south. + +Pierre took out the rubber-cloth to cover his piano, and as he did so he +saw two children at the second story of a fine house near by. He +expected to be ordered away by a butler in livery at the moment he +disclosed the limitations of his musical instrument, but one could never +tell, the butler might be wooing the parlour-maid, so he drew up in +front of the drive-way. Fleur-de-lis had just walked several blocks, +and, on being lifted into her carriage, hoisted the dilapidated cotton +umbrella and wrapped her doll in an extra bit of calico. Pierre turned +the crank; the piano began on "Love's Young Dream." It seemed to him +that, with every revolution of the handle, he twisted the chords of his +aching heart, and that presently it would break, as the battered old +cylinders threatened to do, and for the same reason; because, alas! too +many tunes had been played upon them. When ill-fortune descends too +thick and fast upon the human spirit, unless it can draw fresh +accessions of strength from within, from without, from above, it sinks +inevitably into despair. Man may be conscious that he is made in the +image of God, fitted to endure, to conquer, all things, but for the time +he is common human clay, he faints and dies, or falls into a cowardly +lethargy that is worse than death. Such a moment had come to Pierre +Dupont. In his first crushing blow he had had a wife to stand shoulder +to shoulder with him. He had now his passionate devotion to his child; +but in cold and weariness, in hunger and friendlessness, ill-fortune and +despair, would love be able to keep itself pure, noble, self-denying, +hopeful? There were ways of forgetting, of dulling one's self, of +blotting out memory for hours together. + +His wants were comparatively simple; but, since he could not realise +them, why not give up the struggle? He did not wish for a carriage or a +palace; he wished to give up his vagrant life for some labour by which +he could maintain himself and give his child a start towards honest +womanhood. That was not extravagant, surely, and if God were indeed in +His heaven, and all were indeed right with the world, it seemed to +Pierre that it was none too much to ask. + +He finished "Love's Young Dream," and began the "Boulanger March." A +young girl of eighteen or nineteen, with an open book in her hand, +joined the children at the window. She had a beautiful, rather serious +face, and it brightened into amusement, and then into earnestness, as +she caught sight of the quaint vehicle, of the child under the faded +umbrella, and of the empty sleeve of the musician. Pierre ground on +mechanically; it was "I dreamt that I dwelt in Marble Halls" now, and he +hoped that a dime would be flung from the window before he came to +"Within a Mile of Edinboro' Town," for that was the weakest part of his +repertoire. The group still stayed at the window, and the crisis could +not be delayed. The piano jerked through several bars, stopped and +repeated, wheezed and returned to the "Boulanger March," then bounded +again to "Edinboro' Town," and, after several ineffectual attempts to +finish it, made an asthmatic dash into "No One to Love." Pierre looked +anxiously under the _porte-cochere_ for the resentful butler; but the +children shrieked with renewed delight, and the young girl, going away +from the window, presently appeared, running down the drive-way, and +slipping on her jacket as she came. She approached the edge of the +side-walk, for there was no group about the piano, and, after a brief +interview with Pierre, she left a piece of silver with him, and went +upstairs to her mother. + +Janet Gordon was a great anxiety to her family. She was possessed of the +most extraordinary ideas, and no one could tell whence they came, unless +she became infected by them in some mysterious fashion, as one is by +microbes; at all events, she had never inherited them in the legitimate +way. At present, it is true, she had not been introduced to society, but +unless a great change of heart should make itself apparent in a few +months, she threatened to be no ornament to her set, and no source of +pride to an ambitious mother. + +[Illustration] + +"Please look out of the window, mama," she said, bringing a breath of +raw air into her mother's flower-scented sitting-room. + +Mrs. Gordon rose languidly, her tea-gown trailing behind her. "What is +it? Anything more than an organ-grinder who has been rasping my nerves +for five minutes? Oh, I see what you mean; what an extraordinary +combination--a child in one end of the machine! Tell Heloise to give the +man a dime, dear." + +"I have given him a quarter myself, and have had a little talk with him; +he is quite different from the ordinary organ-grinder, mama." + +"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Gordon good-naturedly; "all your geese are +swans, dear; a dime was quite enough for him." + +"But he has only one arm, you see, mama." + +"Of course, they never have; that is one of the tricks of the trade. +They bind one arm down to the side, and then slip the coat over it. If +you notice the man to-morrow he will have the left sleeve hanging empty, +and be playing with the right arm--it is more effective." + +"I'm sure there is no deception in this case, mama." + +"Well, have it your own way, child; but pray don't take off his coat to +investigate, or you'll be catching some dreadful disease. It does seem +strange that poor people should always be so odiously dirty, when water +costs nothing." + +"This man is as clean as possible, and so is the baby. Her name is +Fleur-de-lis; is it not quaint?" + +"Just what I should expect; the dirtier and commoner they are, the more +regal and fanciful are the names they give their children. I suppose +your Fleur-de-lis is redolent of garlic, like the Pansies and Violets of +her class." + +"No, she is not. She is as sweet as a rose; but her face is almost blue +with cold." + +"Of course; what can the man expect if he trundles her about in this +weather? But I suppose he does it to enlist public sympathy. I wonder +why foreigners choose this particularly obnoxious way of getting a +living; and, if they must do it, why they go about with a decrepit old +instrument like that." + +[Illustration] + +"Yes, his piano is very old, but he cannot afford to rent a better one +just at present. He said, in his broken English, 'I had not the "Marche +Boulanger," neither "Comrades," ma'mselle; it was then I had what you +call bad luck, and now, _mon Dieu!_ it is that I have not +"Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay."' And, as for the child, he does not allow her to +take the money. I was dropping the quarter into her hand, when he +touched his cap, and said, '_Pardon_, give it to me, ma'mselle, _s'il +vous plait_. You see, if ze monees keep putting in her hand she will +grow up one leetle beggair; she does not make ze muzeek, she does not +push ze piano--_bien_, she s'all not take zee monees." + +"Extraordinary!" murmured Mrs. Gordon satirically, as she fitted the +cushions to her back more luxuriously; "you must repeat that speech to +your father. I actually believe that a new order of philosophic +mendicant is springing up to match the new charity. The new charity does +not wish to pauperise poverty, and the new poverty does not wish to be +pauperised; it is really very amusing." + +"He is forced to take the child with him, because she has no mother," +explained Janet. + +"Of course she has no mother; they make it a point to have no mother, +or, if they have, they say they never knew who she was nor where she +is." + +"They know where this mother is," said Janet gravely, "for she died a +year ago to-day." + +[Illustration] + +"Really, Janet, you exasperate me beyond measure, talking with these low +people, and allowing them to fill your mind with their falsehoods. What +is it you wish to do? You have given the man a quarter already; that +will quench his thirst for the present--Heloise, don't take Fifine out +without her blanket; she has been shivering on the rug before the fire. +Go back to your books, Janet. There will always be poor organ-grinders, +and most of them will have lost some of their arms or legs, and all of +them will have motherless, or worse than motherless, children. It's the +way of the world, and if you had the wealth of the Indies you could +never set things right--and, Heloise, come back a moment; tell Madame +Labiche that all three gowns must be sent home to-morrow; and that I +shall give her no more orders if she copies any detail of my costumes +for her other customers; and don't forget the American Beauties, two +dozen, the longest stems, and give that piano-child at the gate ten +cents more as you pass--I know it is not right, Janet, but you are so +insistent. The societies tell you never to bestow alms without first +looking into the case and finding whether it is really deserving; but I +am too weakly benevolent, and too lazy, besides, ever to +restrain--Janet, are you mad? Close that window at once!" And Mrs. +Gordon almost shrieked as she held down her frizzes with both hands to +shield them from the raw wind that rushed in from outside. She would not +have spoken so peremptorily had it not been for the effect of the damp +air on her coiffure. When her front hair was crimped and protected from +the assaults of the atmosphere she was an amiable woman and could +discuss any subject with calmness; but, deprive her of twenty little +gold-wire hair-pins daintily darned into her auburn frizzes, and the +invisible hair-net that Heloise pinned on with such nicety, and she +would not have listened to any argument in the world, even if it +concerned the salvation of her own soul. + +"I was only going to speak a word to the man, mama," said Janet +apologetically. + +"I believe you've been reading Tolstoi," returned her mother, going to a +mirror to repair damages. "Heavens! what a fright you've made me! I wish +those Russians would keep their universal brotherhood ideas, and their +cholera germs, at home." + +"Dear mama, I scarcely know who Tolstoi is, except that he wrote a novel +about Anna somebody that you will not let me read. I do not know what +Tolstoi thinks about the wrong in the world, or how he means to right +it. I am not as sentimental as you and papa seem to fancy. I am not +certain that I ought to wrap that cold little child in my new seal +jacket, and run bare-headed by the side of the organ collecting pennies +for the poor one-armed man. I know that if I should go down into the +slums I should find a thousand others, and that if I worked from year's +end to year's end, and spent papa's entire fortune, I could not make +them all comfortable. But don't you believe, mama, when, once in a +while, need, poverty, and sorrow seem to come directly in contact with +plenty and riches and happiness, that it means something, and that we +ought to stop and think out something special?" + +"Oh, I'm sure I don't know, child; you confuse me so with your +persistence, and I can't think of anything while he sticks fast in the +middle of 'Edinboro' Town.' Give him half a dollar, if you +like--anything to get rid of him, though he succeeds wonderfully in +amusing the children." + +"I don't want to give him any more money, mama," said Janet, with a +sigh. "I only feel as if I must not lose sight of the child--there they +are going!" + +Pierre covered his piano, pinned the rubber-cloth more tightly round +Fleur-de-lis's throat, and was preparing to move off in the direction of +home, when Janet darted into the nursery, and, flinging open the window +in front of the children, called impetuously in her clear young voice; +"Bon soir, Fleur-de-lis! Bon soir, monsieur! Revenez bientot, je vous +prie!" + +[Illustration] + +Pierre's face lighted with surprise and pleasure, and, as he took off +his cap he stammered excitedly, "Dis bon soir, bebe! Je vous remercis +mille-fois, ma'mselle; je reviendrai!" + +He wheeled his piano to the shed where he kept it under cover at night, +and carried Fleur-de-lis home on his arm. After he had undressed her and +laid her in her crib, he took a crucifix from a drawer where, in a +moment of bitterness, he had hidden it the day before, and, kissing it, +restored it to its accustomed place above the head of his bed. + +And the anniversary of Marie's death did not go out in utter blackness +after all; nor was it entirely because of the two pieces of silver that +had unexpectedly swelled the day's receipts. He had felt the magic of a +friendly voice; the beautiful little lady had spoken to him in his +native tongue; she had drawn a fragment of his story from him, and thus +relieved the weight at his heart; she had smiled on the child, and +kissed her; she had asked him to come again. And as he fell asleep he +whispered, "Merci, mille-fois, ma'mselle; je reviendrai." + +[Illustration] + + _Published by Hodder & Stoughton, St. Paul's House, + Warwick Square, London, B.C., and printed in Great + Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and + Aylesbury. Ten Colour Plates engraved and printed by + Henry Stone & Son, Ld., Banbury and London, and four by + the Bushey Colour Press._ + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +Page 56, "abear" changed to "bear" (I can't bear) + +Page 125, "their" changed to "there" (there is only our) + +Page 125, "Barbette" changed to "Babette" (Babette, the elderly) + +Page 138, "air" changed to "hair" (her front hair was) + +FOOTNOTES: + +FOOTNOTES: + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Princess Mary's Gift Book, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCESS MARY'S GIFT BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 39592.txt or 39592.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/9/39592/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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