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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Golden Age - - -Author: Kenneth Grahame - - - -Release Date: October 10, 2016 [eBook #53250] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN AGE*** - - -E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file - which includes the lovely original illustrations in colour. - See 53250-h.htm or 53250-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53250/53250-h/53250-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53250/53250-h.zip) - - - - - -THE GOLDEN AGE - - -[Illustration: “ONCE MORE WERE DAMSELS RESCUED, DRAGONS -DISEMBOWELLED.....”] - - -THE GOLDEN AGE - -by - -KENNETH GRAHAME - -With Illustrations in Colour by R. J. E. Moony - - - - - - - -New York: John Lane Company -London: John Lane, the Bodley Head -Toronto: Bell & Cockburn: MCMXIV - -Copyright, 1899, -By John Lane - -Copyright, 1904, -By John Lane - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - PROLOGUE: THE OLYMPIANS 3 - A HOLIDAY 13 - A WHITE-WASHED UNCLE 29 - ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 39 - THE FINDING OF THE PRINCESS 53 - SAWDUST AND SIN 67 - ‘YOUNG ADAM CUPID’ 79 - THE BURGLARS 93 - A HARVESTING 107 - SNOWBOUND 121 - WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT 133 - THE ARGONAUTS 143 - THE ROMAN ROAD 161 - THE SECRET DRAWER 179 - ‘EXIT TYRANNUS’ 193 - THE BLUE ROOM 205 - A FALLING OUT 225 - ‘LUSISTI SATIS’ 239 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “Once more were damsels rescued, dragons - disembowelled....” _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - “... He was always ready to constitute himself a hostile - army or a band of marauding Indians” 6 - - “‘Where’s Harold?’ I asked presently. ‘Oh, he’s just - playin’ muffin-man as usual’” 16 - - “When at last the atmosphere was clear of his depressing - influence, we met despondently in the potato-cellar” 34 - - “Instead of active ‘pretence,’ with its shouts and its - perspiration, how much better—I held—to lie at ease - and pretend to one’s self, in green and golden fancies” 40 - - “... And then, my cheek on the cool marble, lulled by the - trickle of water, I slipped into dreamland out of real - and magic world alike” 64 - - “‘Now we’ll go on,’ began Charlotte once more” 70 - - “Edward led the race home at a speed which one of - Ballantyne’s heroes might have equalled but never - surpassed” 88 - - “This overland route had been revealed to us one day by the - domestic cat, when hard pressed in the course of an - otter-hunt” 104 - - “A straight flagged walk led up to the cool-looking old - house, and my host, lingering in his progress at this - rose-tree and that, forgot all about me at least twice” 112 - - “Meanwhile Charlotte and I crouched in the window-seat,...” 124 - - “‘She’s off with those vicarage girls again,’ said Edward” 136 - - “We put the Argo’s head upstream, since that led away from - the Larkin province” 148 - - “Then he stood up, and he was very straight and tall, and - the sunset was in his hair and beard as he stood there, - high over me” 174 - - “Westward the clouds were massing themselves in a low - violet bank; below them, to north and south, as far - round as the eye could reach, a narrow streak of gold - ran out ... I turned for a last effort” 186 - - “‘I’ve been chopping up wood,’ he explained, in a guilty - sort of way” 200 - - “We entered in noiseless file, the room being plunged in - darkness, except for a bright strip of moonlight on - the floor” 214 - - “Shops came first, of course,...” 230 - - “... Selina and Charlotte were busy stuffing Edward’s - rabbits with unwonted forage, bilious and green” 250 - - - - -PROLOGUE: THE OLYMPIANS - - -LOOKING back to those days of old, ere the gate shut to behind me, I -can see now that to children with a proper equipment of parents these -things would have worn a different aspect. But to those whose nearest -were aunts and uncles, a special attitude of mind may be allowed. They -treated us, indeed, with kindness enough as to the needs of the flesh, -but after that with indifference (an indifference, as I recognise, -the result of a certain stupidity), and therewith the commonplace -conviction that your child is merely animal. At a very early age I -remember realising in a quite impersonal and kindly way the existence -of that stupidity, and its tremendous influence in the world; while -there grew up in me, as in the parallel case of Caliban upon Setebos, a -vague sense of a ruling power, wilful, and freakish, and prone to the -practice of vagaries—‘just choosing so’: as, for instance, the giving -of authority over us to these hopeless and incapable creatures, when -it might far more reasonably have been given to ourselves over them. -These elders, our betters by a trick of chance, commanded no respect, -but only a certain blend of envy—of their good luck—and pity—for their -inability to make use of it. Indeed, it was one of the most hopeless -features in their character (when we troubled ourselves to waste a -thought on them: which wasn’t often) that, having absolute licence to -indulge in the pleasures of life, they could get no good of it. They -might dabble in the pond all day, hunt the chickens, climb trees in -the most uncompromising Sunday clothes; they were free to issue forth -and buy gunpowder in the full eye of the sun—free to fire cannons and -explode mines on the lawn: yet they never did any one of these things. -No irresistible Energy haled them to church o’ Sundays; yet they went -there regularly of their own accord, though they betrayed no greater -delight in the experience than ourselves. - -On the whole, the existence of these Olympians seemed to be entirely -void of interests, even as their movements were confined and slow, and -their habits stereotyped and senseless. To anything but appearances -they were blind. For them the orchard (a place elf-haunted, wonderful!) -simply produced so many apples and cherries: or it didn’t—when the -failures of Nature were not infrequently ascribed to us. They never -set foot within fir-wood or hazel-copse, nor dreamt of the marvels hid -therein. The mysterious sources, sources as of old Nile, that fed the -duck-pond had no magic for them. They were unaware of Indians, nor -recked they anything of bisons or of pirates (with pistols!), though -the whole place swarmed with such portents. They cared not to explore -for robbers’ caves, nor dig for hidden treasure. Perhaps, indeed, it -was one of their best qualities that they spent the greater part of -their time stuffily indoors. - -To be sure there was an exception in the curate, who would receive, -unblenching, the information that the meadow beyond the orchard was -a prairie studded with herds of buffalo, which it was our delight, -moccasined and tomahawked, to ride down with those whoops that announce -the scenting of blood. He neither laughed nor sneered, as the Olympians -would have done; but, possessed of a serious idiosyncrasy, he would -contribute such lots of valuable suggestion as to the pursuit of this -particular sort of big game that, as it seemed to us, his mature -age and eminent position could scarce have been attained without a -practical knowledge of the creature in its native lair. Then, too, -he was always ready to constitute himself a hostile army or a band -of marauding Indians on the shortest possible notice: in brief, a -distinctly able man, with talents, so far as we could judge, immensely -above the majority. I trust he is a bishop by this time. He had all the -necessary qualifications, as we knew. - -These strange folk had visitors sometimes—stiff and colourless -Olympians like themselves, equally without vital interests and -intelligent pursuits: emerging out of the clouds, and passing away -again to drag on an aimless existence somewhere beyond our ken. Then -brute force was pitilessly applied. We were captured, washed, and -forced into clean collars: silently submitting as was our wont, with -more contempt than anger. Anon, with unctuous hair and faces stiffened -in a conventional grin, we sat and listened to the usual platitudes. -How could reasonable people spend their precious time so? That was ever -our wonder as we bounded forth at last: to the old clay-pit to make -pots, or to hunt bears among the hazels. - -[Illustration: “... HE WAS ALWAYS READY TO CONSTITUTE HIMSELF A HOSTILE -ARMY OR A BAND OF MARAUDING INDIANS”] - -It was perennial matter for amazement how these Olympians would talk -over our heads—during meals, for instance—of this or the other social -or political inanity, under the delusion that these pale phantasms of -reality were among the importances of life. We _illuminati_, eating -silently, our heads full of plans and conspiracies, could have told -them what real life was. We had just left it outside, and were all on -fire to get back to it. Of course we didn’t waste the revelation on -them, the futility of imparting our ideas had long been demonstrated. -One in thought and purpose, linked by the necessity of combating one -hostile fate, a power antagonistic ever—a power we lived to evade—we -had no confidants save ourselves. This strange anæmic order of beings -was further removed from us, in fact, than the kindly beasts who shared -our natural existence in the sun. The estrangement was fortified by an -abiding sense of injustice, arising from the refusal of the Olympians -ever to defend, to retract, to admit themselves in the wrong, or to -accept similar concessions on our part. For instance, when I flung the -cat out of an upper window (though I did it from no ill-feeling, and -it didn’t hurt the cat), I was ready, after a moment’s reflection, to -own I was wrong, as a gentleman should. But was the matter allowed to -end there? I trow not. Again, when Harold was locked up in his room -all day, for assault and battery upon a neighbour’s pig—an action he -would have scorned: being indeed on the friendliest terms with the -porker in question—there was no handsome expression of regret on the -discovery of the real culprit. What Harold had felt was not so much -the imprisonment—indeed, he had very soon escaped by the window, -with assistance from his allies, and had only gone back in time for his -release—as the Olympian habit. A word would have set all right; but of -course that word was never spoken. - -Well! The Olympians are all past and gone. Somehow the sun does not -seem to shine so brightly as it used; the trackless meadows of old time -have shrunk and dwindled away to a few poor acres. A saddening doubt, -a dull suspicion, creeps over me. _Et in Arcadia ego_—I certainly did -once inhabit Arcady. Can it be that I also have become an Olympian? - -[Illustration] - - - - -A HOLIDAY - - -THE masterful wind was up and out, shouting and chasing, the lord of -the morning. Poplars swayed and tossed with a roaring swish; dead -leaves sprang aloft, and whirled into space; and all the clear-swept -heaven seemed to thrill with sound like a great harp. It was one -of the first awakenings of the year. The earth stretched herself, -smiling in her sleep; and everything leapt and pulsed to the stir of -the giant’s movement. With us it was a whole holiday; the occasion a -birthday—it matters not whose. Some one of us had had presents, and -pretty conventional speeches, and had glowed with that sense of heroism -which is no less sweet that nothing has been done to deserve it. But -the holiday was for all, the rapture of awakening Nature for all, the -various outdoor joys of puddles and sun and hedge-breaking for all. -Colt-like I ran through the meadows, frisking happy heels in the face -of Nature laughing responsive. Above, the sky was bluest of the blue; -wide pools left by the winter’s floods flashed the colour back, true -and brilliant; and the soft air thrilled with the germinating touch -that seems to kindle something in my own small person as well as in -the rash primrose already lurking in sheltered haunts. Out into the -brimming sun-bathed world I sped, free of lessons, free of discipline -and correction, for one day at least. My legs ran of themselves, and -though I heard my name called faint and shrill behind, there was no -stopping for me. It was only Harold, I concluded, and his legs, though -shorter than mine, were good for a longer spurt than this. Then I heard -it called again, but this time more faintly, with a pathetic break in -the middle; and I pulled up short, recognising Charlotte’s plaintive -note. - -She panted up anon, and dropped on the turf beside me. Neither had any -desire for talk; the glow and the glory of existing on this perfect -morning were satisfaction full and sufficient. - -‘Where’s Harold?’ I asked presently. - -‘Oh, he’s just playin’ muffin-man, as usual,’ said Charlotte with -petulance. ‘Fancy wanting to be a muffin-man on a whole holiday!’ - -It was a strange craze, certainly; but Harold, who invented his own -games and played them without assistance, always stuck staunchly to -a new fad, till he had worn it quite out. Just at present he was a -muffin-man, and day and night he went through passages and up and down -staircases, ringing a noiseless bell and offering phantom muffins to -invisible wayfarers. It sounds a poor sort of sport; and yet—to pass -along busy streets of your own building, for ever ringing an imaginary -bell and offering airy muffins of your own make to a bustling thronging -crowd of your own creation—there were points about the game, it cannot -be denied, though it seemed scarce in harmony with this radiant -wind-swept morning! - -‘And Edward, where is he?’ I questioned again. - -‘He’s coming along by the road,’ said Charlotte. ‘He’ll be crouching in -the ditch when we get there, and he’s going to be a grizzly bear and -spring out on us, only you mustn’t say I told you, ’cos it’s to be a -surprise.’ - -[Illustration: “‘WHERE’S HAROLD?’ I ASKED PRESENTLY. ‘OH, HE’S JUST -PLAYIN’ MUFFIN-MAN AS USUAL.’”] - -‘All right,’ I said magnanimously. ‘Come on and let’s be surprised.’ -But I could not help feeling that on this day of days even a grizzly -felt misplaced and common. - -Sure enough an undeniable bear sprang out on us as we dropped into the -road; then ensued shrieks, growlings, revolver-shots, and unrecorded -heroisms, till Edward condescended at last to roll over and die, -bulking large and grim, an unmitigated grizzly. It was an understood -thing, that whoever took upon himself to be a bear must eventually die, -sooner or later, even if he were the eldest born; else, life would have -been all strife and carnage, and the Age of Acorns have displaced our -hard-won civilisation. This little affair concluded with satisfaction -to all parties concerned, we rambled along the road, picking up the -defaulting Harold by the way, muffinless now and in his right and -social mind. - -‘What would you do?’ asked Charlotte presently—the book of the moment -always dominating her thoughts until it was sucked dry and cast -aside,—‘What would you do if you saw two lions in the road, one on each -side, and you didn’t know if they was loose or if they was chained up?’ - -‘Do?’ shouted Edward valiantly, ‘I should—I should—I should—’ His -boastful accents died away into a mumble: ‘Dunno what I should do.’ - -‘Shouldn’t do anything,’ I observed after consideration; and, really, -it would be difficult to arrive at a wiser conclusion. - -‘If it came to _doing_,’ remarked Harold reflectively, ‘the lions would -do all the doing there was to do, wouldn’t they?’ - -‘But if they was _good_ lions,’ rejoined Charlotte, ‘they would do as -they would be done by.’ - -‘Ah, but how are you to know a good lion from a bad one?’ said Edward. -‘The books don’t tell you at all, and the lions ain’t marked any -different.’ - -‘Why, there aren’t any good lions,’ said Harold hastily. - -‘O yes, there are, heaps and heaps,’ contradicted Edward. ‘Nearly all -the lions in the story-books are good lions. There was Androcles’ lion, -and St. Jerome’s lion, and—and—and the Lion and the Unicorn——’ - -‘He beat the Unicorn,’ observed Harold dubiously, ‘all round the town.’ - -‘That _proves_ he was a good lion,’ cried Edward triumphantly. ‘But the -question is, how are you to tell ’em when you see ’em?’ - -‘_I_ should ask Martha,’ said Harold of the simple creed. - -Edward snorted contemptuously, then turned to Charlotte. ‘Look here,’ -he said; ‘let’s play at lions, anyhow, and I’ll run on to that corner -and be a lion,—I’ll be two lions, one on each side of the road,—and -you’ll come along, and you won’t know whether I’m chained up or not, -and that’ll be the fun!’ - -‘No, thank you,’ said Charlotte firmly; ‘you’ll be chained up till I’m -quite close to you, and then you’ll be loose, and you’ll tear me in -pieces, and make my frock all dirty, and p’raps you’ll hurt me as well. -_I_ know your lions!’ - -‘No, I won’t, I swear I won’t,’ protested Edward. ‘I’ll be quite a new -lion this time—something you can’t even imagine.’ And he raced off to -his post. Charlotte hesitated—then she went timidly on, at each step -growing less Charlotte, the mummer of a minute, and more the anxious -Pilgrim of all time. The lion’s wrath waxed terrible at her approach; -his roaring filled the startled air. I waited until they were both -thoroughly absorbed, and then I slipped through the hedge out of the -trodden highway, into the vacant meadow spaces. It was not that I was -unsociable, nor that I knew Edward’s lions to the point of satiety; -but the passion and the call of the divine morning were high in my -blood. Earth to earth! That was the frank note, the joyous summons of -the day; and they could not but jar and seem artificial, these human -discussions and pretences, when boon nature, reticent no more, was -singing that full-throated song of hers that thrills and claims control -of every fibre. The air was wine, the moist earth-smell wine, the -lark’s song, the wafts from the cow-shed at top of the field, the pant -and smoke of a distant train—all were wine—or song, was it? or odour, -this unity they all blent into? I had no words then to describe it, -that earth-effluence of which I was so conscious; nor, indeed, have I -found words since. I ran sideways, shouting; I dug glad heels into the -squelching soil; I splashed diamond showers from puddles with a stick; -I hurled clods skywards at random, and presently I somehow found myself -singing. The words were mere nonsense—irresponsible babble; the tune -was an improvisation, a weary, unrhythmic thing of rise and fall: and -yet it seemed to me a genuine utterance, and just at that moment the -one thing fitting and right and perfect. Humanity would have rejected -it with scorn. Nature, everywhere singing in the same key, recognised -and accepted it without a flicker of dissent. - -All the time the hearty wind was calling to me companionably from where -he swung and bellowed in the tree-tops. ‘Take me for guide to-day,’ he -seemed to plead. ‘Other holidays you have tramped it in the track of -the stolid, unswerving sun; a belated truant, you have dragged a weary -foot homeward with only a pale, expressionless moon for company. To-day -why not I, the trickster, the hypocrite? I who whip round corners and -bluster, relapse and evade, then rally and pursue! I can lead you the -best and rarest dance of any; for I am the strong capricious one, -the lord of misrule, and I alone am irresponsible and unprincipled, -and obey no law.’ And for me, I was ready enough to fall in with the -fellow’s humour; was not this a whole holiday? So we sheered off -together, arm-in-arm, so to speak; and with fullest confidence I took -the jigging, thwartwise course my chainless pilot laid for me. - -A whimsical comrade I found him, ere he had done with me. Was it in -jest, or with some serious purpose of his own, that he brought me plump -upon a pair of lovers, silent, face to face o’er a discreet unwinking -stile? As a rule this sort of thing struck me as the most pitiful -tomfoolery. Two calves rubbing noses through a gate were natural and -right and within the order of things; but that human beings, with -salient interests and active pursuits beckoning them on from every -side, could thus—! Well, it was a thing to hurry past, shamed of face, -and think on no more. But this morning everything I met seemed to be -accounted for and set in tune by that same magical touch in the air; -and it was with a certain surprise that I found myself regarding these -fatuous ones with kindliness instead of contempt, as I rambled by, -unheeded of them. There was indeed some reconciling influence abroad, -which could bring the like antics into harmony with bud and growth and -the frolic air. - -A puff on the right cheek from my wilful companion sent me off at a -fresh angle, and presently I came in sight of the village church, -sitting solitary within its circle of elms. From forth the vestry -window projected two small legs, gyrating, hungry for foothold, with -larceny—not to say sacrilege—in their every wriggle: a godless sight -for a supporter of the Establishment. Though the rest was hidden, I -knew the legs well enough; they were usually attached to the body of -Bill Saunders, the peerless bad boy of the village. Bill’s coveted -booty, too, I could easily guess at that; it came from the Vicar’s -store of biscuits, kept (as I knew) in a cupboard along with his -official trappings. For a moment I hesitated; then I passed on my way. -I protest I was not on Bill’s side; but then, neither was I on the -Vicar’s, and there was something in this immoral morning which seemed -to say that perhaps, after all, Bill had as much right to the biscuits -as the Vicar, and would certainly enjoy them better; and anyhow it was -a disputable point, and no business of mine. Nature, who had accepted -me for ally, cared little who had the world’s biscuits, and assuredly -was not going to let any friend of hers waste his time in playing -policeman for Society. - -He was tugging at me anew, my insistent guide; and I felt sure, as -I rambled off in his wake, that he had more holiday matter to show -me. And so, indeed, he had; and all of it was to the same lawless -tune. Like a black pirate flag on the blue ocean of air, a hawk hung -ominous; then, plummet-wise, dropped to the hedgerow, whence there -rose, thin and shrill, a piteous voice of squealing. By the time I got -there a whisk of feathers on the turf—like scattered playbills—was all -that remained to tell of the tragedy just enacted. Yet Nature smiled -and sang on, pitiless, gay, impartial. To her, who took no sides, there -was every bit as much to be said for the hawk as for the chaffinch. -Both were her children, and she would show no preferences. - -Further on, a hedgehog lay dead athwart the path—nay, more than dead; -decadent, distinctly; a sorry sight for one that had known the fellow -in more bustling circumstances Nature might at least have paused to -shed one tear over this rough-jacketed little son of hers, for his -wasted aims, his cancelled ambitions, his whole career of usefulness -cut suddenly short. But not a bit of it! Jubilant as ever, her song -went bubbling on, and ‘Death-in-Life’—and again, ‘Life-in-Death,’ were -its alternate burdens. And looking round, and seeing the sheep-nibbled -heels of turnips that dotted the ground, their hearts eaten out of -them in frost-bound days now over and done, I seemed to discern, -faintly, a something of the stern meaning in her valorous chant. - -My invisible companion was singing also, and seemed at times to be -chuckling softly to himself,—doubtless at thought of the strange -new lessons he was teaching me; perhaps, too, at a special bit of -waggishness he had still in store. For when at last he grew weary of -such insignificant earth-bound company, he deserted me at a certain -spot I knew; then dropped, subsided, and slunk away into nothingness. -I raised my eyes, and before me, grim and lichened, stood the ancient -whipping-post of the village; its sides fretted with the initials of -a generation that scorned its mute lesson, but still clipped by the -stout rusty shackles that had tethered the wrists of such of that -generation’s ancestors as had dared to mock at order and law. Had I -been an infant Sterne, here was a grand chance for sentimental output! -As things were, I could only hurry homewards, my moral tail well -between my legs, with an uneasy feeling, as I glanced back over my -shoulder, that there was more in this chance than met the eye. - -And outside our gate I found Charlotte, alone and crying. Edward, it -seemed, had persuaded her to hide, in the full expectation of being -duly found and ecstatically pounced upon; then he had caught sight of -the butcher’s cart, and, forgetting his obligations, had rushed off for -a ride. Harold, it further appeared, greatly coveting tadpoles, and -top-heavy with the eagerness of possession, had fallen into the pond. -This, in itself, was nothing; but on attempting to sneak in by the -back-door, he had rendered up his duckweed-bedabbled person into the -hands of an aunt, and had been promptly sent off to bed; and this, on -a holiday, was very much. The moral of the whipping-post was working -itself out; and I was not in the least surprised when, on reaching -home, I was seized upon and accused of doing something I had never even -thought of. And my frame of mind was such, that I could only wish most -heartily that I had done it. - - - - -A WHITE-WASHED UNCLE - - -IN our small lives that day was eventful when another uncle was to -come down from town, and submit his character and qualifications -(albeit unconsciously) to our careful criticism. Earlier uncles had -been weighed in the balance, and—alas!—found grievously wanting. There -was Uncle Thomas—a failure from the first. Not that his disposition -was malevolent, nor were his habits such as to unfit him for decent -society; but his rooted conviction seemed to be that the reason -of a child’s existence was to serve as a butt for senseless adult -jokes—or what, from the accompanying guffaws of laughter, appeared -to be intended for jokes. Now, we were anxious that he should have -a perfectly fair trial; so in the tool-house, between breakfast and -lessons, we discussed and examined all his witticisms one by one, -calmly, critically, dispassionately. It was no good: we could not -discover any salt in them. And as only a genuine gift of humour could -have saved Uncle Thomas—for he pretended to naught besides—he was -reluctantly writ down a hopeless impostor. - -Uncle George—the youngest—was distinctly more promising. He accompanied -us cheerily round the establishment—suffered himself to be introduced -to each of the cows—held out the right hand of fellowship to the -pig—and even hinted that a pair of pink-eyed Himalayan rabbits might -arrive—unexpectedly—from town some day. We were just considering -whether in this fertile soil an apparently accidental remark on the -solid qualities of guinea-pigs or ferrets might haply blossom and -bring forth fruit, when our governess appeared on the scene. Uncle -George’s manner at once underwent a complete and contemptible change. -His interest in rational topics seemed, ‘like a fountain’s sickening -pulse,’ to flag and ebb away; and though Miss Smedley’s ostensible -purpose was to take Selina for her usual walk, I can vouch for it that -Selina spent her morning ratting, along with the keeper’s boy and me; -while if Miss Smedley walked with any one, it would appear to have been -with Uncle George. - -But, despicable as his conduct had been, he underwent no hasty -condemnation. The defection was discussed in all its bearings, but -it seemed sadly clear at last that this uncle must possess some -innate badness of character and fondness for low company. We who -from daily experience knew Miss Smedley like a book—were we not only -too well aware that she had neither accomplishments nor charms—no -characteristic, in fact, but an inbred viciousness of temper and -disposition? True, she knew the dates of the English kings by heart; -but how could that profit Uncle George, who, having passed into the -army, had ascended beyond the need of useful information? Our bows and -arrows, on the other hand, had been freely placed at his disposal; -and a soldier should not have hesitated in his choice a moment. No: -Uncle George had fallen from grace, and was unanimously damned. And -the non-arrival of the Himalayan rabbits was only another nail in his -coffin. Uncles, therefore, were just then a heavy and lifeless market, -and there was little inclination to deal. Still it was agreed that -Uncle William, who had just returned from India, should have as fair a -trial as the others; more especially as romantic possibilities might -well be embodied in one who had held the gorgeous East in fee. - -Selina had kicked my shins—like the girl she is!—during a scuffle in -the passage, and I was still rubbing them with one hand when I found -that the uncle-on-approbation was half-heartedly shaking the other. A -florid, elderly man, quite unmistakably nervous, he let drop one grimy -paw after another, and, turning very red, with an awkward simulation -of heartiness, ‘Well, h’are y’all?’ he said, ‘Glad to see me, eh?’ As -we could hardly, in justice, be expected to have formed an opinion on -him at that early stage, we could but look at each other in silence; -which scarce served to relieve the tension of the situation. Indeed, -the cloud never really lifted during his stay. In talking things over -later, some one put forward the suggestion that he must at some time or -other have committed a stupendous crime. But I could not bring myself -to believe that the man, though evidently unhappy, was really guilty -of anything; and I caught him once or twice looking at us with evident -kindliness, though, seeing himself observed, he blushed and turned away -his head. - -When at last the atmosphere was clear of his depressing influence, we -met despondently in the potato-cellar—all of us, that is, but Harold, -who had been told off to accompany his relative to the station; and the -feeling was unanimous, that, as an uncle, William could not be allowed -to pass. Selina roundly declared him a beast, pointing out that he -had not even got us a half-holiday; and, indeed, there seemed little -to do but to pass sentence. We were about to put it to the vote, when -Harold appeared on the scene; his red face, round eyes, and mysterious -demeanour, hinting at awful portents. Speechless he stood a space: -then, slowly drawing his hand from the pocket of his knickerbockers, -he displayed on a dirty palm one—two—three—four half-crowns! We could -but gaze—tranced, breathless, mute. Never had any of us seen, in the -aggregate, so much bullion before. Then Harold told his tale. - -[Illustration: “WHEN AT LAST THE ATMOSPHERE WAS CLEAR OF HIS DEPRESSING -INFLUENCE, WE MET DESPONDENTLY IN THE POTATO-CELLAR”] - -‘I took the old fellow to the station,’ he said, ‘and as we went -along I told him all about the stationmaster’s family, and how I had -seen the porter kissing our housemaid, and what a nice fellow he was, -with no airs or affectation about him, and anything I thought would -be of interest; but he didn’t seem to pay much attention, but walked -along puffing his cigar, and once I thought—I’m not certain, but I -_thought_—I heard him say, “Well, thank God, that’s over!” When we -got to the station he stopped suddenly, and said, “Hold on a minute!” -Then he shoved these into my hand in a frightened sort of way, and -said, “Look here, youngster! These are for you and the other kids. Buy -what you like—make little beasts of yourselves—only don’t tell the old -people, mind! Now cut away home!” So I cut.’ - -A solemn hush fell on the assembly, broken first by the small -Charlotte. ‘I didn’t know,’ she observed dreamily, ‘that there were -such good men anywhere in the world. I hope he’ll die to-night, for -then he’ll go straight to heaven!’ But the repentant Selina bewailed -herself with tears and sobs, refusing to be comforted; for that in her -haste she had called this white-souled relative a beast. - -‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said Edward, the master-mind, rising—as -he always did—to the situation: ‘We’ll christen the piebald pig after -him—the one that hasn’t got a name yet. And that’ll show we’re sorry -for our mistake!’ - -‘I—I christened that pig this morning,’ Harold guiltily confessed; ‘I -christened it after the curate. I’m very sorry—but he came and bowled -to me last night, after you others had all been sent to bed early—and -somehow I felt I _had_ to do it!’ - -‘Oh, but that doesn’t count,’ said Edward hastily; ‘because we weren’t -all there. We’ll take that christening off, and call it Uncle William. -And you can save up the curate for the next litter!’ - -And the motion being agreed to without a division, the House went into -Committee of Supply. - -[Illustration] - - - - -ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS - - -‘LET’S pretend,’ suggested Harold, ‘that we’re Cavaliers and -Roundheads; and _you_ be a Roundhead!’ - -‘O bother,’ I replied drowsily, ‘we pretended that yesterday; and it’s -not my turn to be a Roundhead, anyhow.’ The fact is, I was lazy, and -the call to arms fell on indifferent ears. We three younger ones were -stretched at length in the orchard. The sun was hot, the season merry -June, and never (I thought) had there been such wealth and riot of -buttercups throughout the lush grass. Green-and-gold was the dominant -key that day. Instead of active ‘pretence’ with its shouts and its -perspiration, how much better—I held—to lie at ease and pretend to -one’s self, in green and golden fancies, slipping the husk and passing, -a careless lounger, through a sleepy imaginary world all gold and -green! But the persistent Harold was not to be fobbed off. - -[Illustration: “INSTEAD OF ACTIVE ‘PRETENCE’ WITH ITS SHOUTS AND ITS -PERSPIRATION, HOW MUCH BETTER—I HELD—TO LIE AT EASE AND PRETEND TO -ONE’S SELF, IN GREEN AND GOLDEN FANCIES”] - -‘Well then,’ he began afresh, ‘let’s pretend we’re Knights of the Round -Table; and (with a rush) _I’ll_ be Lancelot!’ - -‘I won’t play unless I’m Lancelot,’ I said. I didn’t mean it really, -but the game of Knights always began with this particular contest. - -‘O _please_,’ implored Harold. ‘You know when Edward’s here I never get -a chance of being Lancelot. I haven’t been Lancelot for weeks!’ - -Then I yielded gracefully. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll be Tristram.’ - -‘O, but you can’t,’ cried Harold again. ‘Charlotte has always been -Tristram. She won’t play unless she’s allowed to be Tristram! Be -somebody else this time.’ - -Charlotte said nothing, but breathed hard, looking straight before her. -The peerless hunter and harper was her special hero of romance, and -rather than see the part in less appreciative hands, she would have -gone back in tears to the stuffy schoolroom. - -‘I don’t care,’ I said: ‘I’ll be anything. I’ll be Sir Kay. Come on!’ - -Then once more in this country’s story the mail-clad knights paced -through the greenwood shaw, questing adventure, redressing wrong; and -bandits, five to one, broke and fled discomfited to their caves. Once -more were damsels rescued, dragons disembowelled, and giants, in every -corner of the orchard, deprived of their already superfluous number of -heads; while Palomides the Saracen waited for us by the well, and Sir -Breuse Saunce Pité vanished in craven flight before the skilled spear -that was his terror and his bane. Once more the lists were dight in -Camelot, and all was gay with shimmer of silk and gold; the earth shook -with thunder of hooves, ash-staves flew in splinters, and the firmament -rang to the clash of sword on helm. The varying fortune of the day -swung doubtful—now on this side, now on that; till at last Lancelot, -grim and great, thrusting through the press, unhorsed Sir Tristram -(an easy task), and bestrode her, threatening doom; while the Cornish -knight, forgetting hard-won fame of old, cried piteously, ‘You’re -hurting me, I tell you! and you’re tearing my frock!’ Then it happed -that Sir Kay, hurtling to the rescue, stopped short in his stride, -catching sight suddenly, through apple-boughs, of a gleam of scarlet -afar off; while the confused tramp of many horses, mingled with talk -and laughter, was borne to the ears of his fellow-champions and himself. - -‘What is it?’ inquired Tristram, sitting up and shaking out her curls; -while Lancelot forsook the clanging lists and trotted nimbly to the -boundary-hedge. - -I stood spell-bound for a moment longer, and then, with a cry of -‘Soldiers!’ I was off to the hedge, Sir Tristram picking herself up and -scurrying after us. - -Down the road they came, two and two, at an easy walk; scarlet flamed -in the eye, bits jingled and saddles squeaked delightfully; while the -men, in a halo of dust, smoked their short clays like the heroes they -were. In a swirl of intoxicating glory the troop clinked and clattered -by, while we shouted and waved, jumping up and down, and the big jolly -horsemen acknowledged the salute with easy condescension. The moment -they were past we were through the hedge and after them. Soldiers were -not the common stuff of everyday life. There had been nothing like -this since the winter before last, when on a certain afternoon—bare -of leaf and monochromatic in its hue of sodden fallow and frost-nipt -copse—suddenly the hounds had burst through the fence with their mellow -cry, and all the paddock was for the minute reverberant of thudding -hoof and dotted with glancing red. But this was better, since it could -only mean that blows and bloodshed were in the air. - -‘Is there going to be a battle?’ panted Harold, hardly able to keep up -for excitement. - -‘Of course there is,’ I replied. ‘We’re just in time. Come on!’ - -Perhaps I ought to have known better; and yet——? The pigs and poultry, -with whom we chiefly consorted, could instruct us little concerning -the peace that lapped in these latter days our seagirt realm. In the -schoolroom we were just now dallying with the Wars of the Roses; -and did not legends of the country-side inform us how cavaliers had -once galloped up and down these very lanes from their quarters in the -village? Here, now, were soldiers unmistakable; and if their business -was not fighting, what was it? Sniffing the joy of battle, we followed -hard in their tracks. - -‘Won’t Edward be sorry,’ puffed Harold, ‘that he’s begun that beastly -Latin?’ - -It did, indeed, seem hard. Edward, the most martial spirit of us all, -was drearily conjugating _amo_ (of all verbs!) between four walls, -while Selina, who ever thrilled ecstatic to a red coat, was struggling -with the uncouth German tongue. ‘Age,’ I reflected, ‘carries its -penalties.’ - -It was a grievous disappointment to us that the troop passed through -the village unmolested. Every cottage, I pointed out to my companions, -ought to have been loopholed, and strongly held. But no opposition -was offered to the soldiers who, indeed, conducted themselves with a -recklessness and a want of precaution that seemed simply criminal. - -At the last cottage a transitory gleam of common sense flickered -across me, and, turning on Charlotte, I sternly ordered her back. The -small maiden, docile but exceedingly dolorous, dragged reluctant feet -homewards, heavy at heart that she was to behold no stout fellows slain -that day; but Harold and I held steadily on, expecting every instant to -see the environing hedges crackle and spit forth the leaden death. - -‘Will they be Indians?’ asked my brother (meaning the enemy) ‘or -Roundheads, or what?’ - -I reflected. Harold always required direct straightforward answers—not -faltering suppositions. - -‘They won’t be Indians,’ I replied at last; ‘nor yet Roundheads. There -haven’t been any Roundheads seen about here for a long time. They’ll be -Frenchmen.’ - -Harold’s face fell. ‘All right,’ he said: ‘Frenchmen’ll do; but I did -hope they’d be Indians.’ - -‘If they were going to be Indians,’ I explained, ‘I—I don’t think I’d -go on. Because when Indians take you prisoner they scalp you first, -and then burn you at the stake. But Frenchmen don’t do that sort of -thing.’ - -‘Are you quite sure?’ asked Harold doubtfully. - -‘Quite,’ I replied. ‘Frenchmen only shut you up in a thing called the -Bastille; and then you get a file sent in to you in a loaf of bread, -and saw the bars through, and slide down a rope, and they all fire at -you—but they don’t hit you—and you run down to the seashore as hard as -you can, and swim off to a British frigate, and there you are!’ - -Harold brightened up again. The programme was rather attractive. ‘If -they try to take us prisoner,’ he said, ‘we—we won’t run, will we?’ - -Meanwhile, the craven foe was a long time showing himself; and we were -reaching strange outland country, uncivilised, wherein lions might be -expected to prowl at nightfall. I had a stitch in my side, and both -Harold’s stockings had come down. Just as I was beginning to have -gloomy doubts of the proverbial courage of Frenchmen, the officer -called out something, the men closed up, and, breaking into a trot, the -troops—already far ahead—vanished out of our sight. With a sinking at -the heart, I began to suspect we had been fooled. - -‘Are they charging?’ cried Harold, very weary, but rallying gamely. - -‘I think not,’ I replied doubtfully. ‘When there’s going to be a -charge, the officer always makes a speech, and then they draw their -swords and the trumpets blow, and——but let’s try a short cut. We may -catch them up yet.’ - -So we struck across the fields and into another road, and pounded down -that, and then over more fields, panting, down-hearted, yet hoping for -the best. The sun went in, and a thin drizzle began to fall; we were -muddy, breathless, almost dead-beat; but we blundered on, till at last -we struck a road more brutally, more callously unfamiliar than any -road I ever looked upon. Not a hint nor a sign of friendly direction -or assistance on the dogged white face of it! There was no longer any -disguising it: we were hopelessly lost. The small rain continued -steadily, the evening began to come on. Really there are moments when -a fellow is justified in crying; and I would have cried too, if Harold -had not been there. That right-minded child regarded an elder brother -as a veritable god; and I could see that he felt himself as secure -as if a whole Brigade of Guards had hedged him round with protecting -bayonets. But I dreaded sore lest he should begin again with his -questions. - -As I gazed in dumb appeal on the face of unresponsive nature, the sound -of nearing wheels sent a pulse of hope through my being: increasing -to rapture as I recognised in the approaching vehicle the familiar -carriage of the old doctor. If ever a god emerged from a machine, it -was when this heaven-sent friend, recognising us, stopped and jumped -out with a cheery hail. Harold rushed up to him at once. ‘Have you been -there?’ he cried. ‘Was it a jolly fight? who beat? were there many -people killed?’ - -The doctor appeared puzzled. I briefly explained the situation. - -‘I see,’ said the doctor, looking grave and twisting his face this -way and that. ‘Well, the fact is, there isn’t going to be any battle -to-day. It’s been put off, on account of the change in the weather. -You will have due notice of the renewal of hostilities. And now you’d -better jump in and I’ll drive you home. You’ve been running a fine rig! -Why, you might have both been taken and shot as spies!’ - -This special danger had never even occurred to us. The thrill of it -accentuated the cosy homelike feeling of the cushions we nestled -into as we rolled homewards. The doctor beguiled the journey with -blood-curdling narratives of personal adventure in the tented field, he -having followed the profession of arms (so it seemed) in every quarter -of the globe. Time, the destroyer of all things beautiful, subsequently -revealed the baselessness of these legends; but what of that? There -are higher things than truth; and we were almost reconciled, by the -time we were put down at our gate, to the fact that the battle had been -postponed. - - - - -THE FINDING OF THE PRINCESS - - -IT was the day I was promoted to a toothbrush. The girls, irrespective -of age, had been thus distinguished some time before; why, we boys -could never rightly understand, except that it was part and parcel of -a system of studied favouritism on behalf of creatures both physically -inferior and (as was shown by a fondness for tale-bearing) of weaker -mental fibre to us boys. It was not that we yearned after these -strange instruments in themselves. Edward, indeed, applied his to the -scrubbing-out of his squirrel’s cage, and for personal use, when a -superior eye was grim on him, borrowed Harold’s or mine, indifferently. -But the nimbus of distinction that clung to them—that we coveted -exceedingly. What more, indeed, was there to ascend to, before the -remote, but still possible, razor and strop? - -Perhaps the exaltation had mounted to my head; or nature and the -perfect morning joined to hint at disaffection. Anyhow, having -breakfasted, and triumphantly repeated the collect I had broken down -in the last Sunday—’twas one without rhythm or alliteration: a most -objectionable collect—having achieved thus much, the small natural -man in me rebelled, and I vowed, as I straddled and spat about the -stable-yard in feeble imitation of the coachman, that lessons might go -to the Inventor of them. It was only geography that morning, any way: -and the practical thing was worth any quantity of bookish theoric. As -for me, I was going on my travels, and imports and exports, populations -and capitals, might very well wait while I explored the breathing -coloured world outside. - -True, a fellow-rebel was wanted; and Harold might, as a rule, have -been counted on with certainty. But just then Harold was very proud. -The week before he had ‘gone into tables,’ and had been endowed with -a new slate, having a miniature sponge attached wherewith we washed -the faces of Charlotte’s dolls, thereby producing an unhealthy -pallor which struck terror into the child’s heart, always timorous -regarding epidemic visitations. As to ‘tables,’ nobody knew exactly -what they were, least of all Harold; but it was a step over the heads -of the rest, and therefore a subject for self-adulation and—generally -speaking—airs; so that Harold, hugging his slate and his chains, was -out of the question now. In such a matter, girls were worse than -useless, as wanting the necessary tenacity of will and contempt for -self-constituted authority. So eventually I slipped through the hedge a -solitary protestant, and issued forth on the lane what time the rest of -the civilised world was sitting down to lessons. - -The scene was familiar enough; and yet, this morning, how different -it all seemed! The act, with its daring, tinted everything with new -strange hues; affecting the individual with a sort of bruised feeling -just below the pit of the stomach, that was intensified whenever his -thoughts flew back to the ink-stained smelly schoolroom. And could -this be really me? or was I only contemplating, from the schoolroom -aforesaid, some other jolly young mutineer, faring forth under the -genial sun? Anyhow, here was the friendly well, in its old place, -half-way up the lane. Hither the yoke-shouldering village-folk were -wont to come to fill their clinking buckets; when the drippings made -worms of wet in the thick dust of the road. They had flat wooden -crosses inside each pail, which floated on the top and (we were -instructed) served to prevent the water from slopping over. We used -to wonder by what magic this strange principle worked, and who first -invented the crosses, and whether he got a peerage for it. But indeed -the well was a centre of mystery, for a hornet’s nest was somewhere -hard by, and the very thought was fearsome. Wasps we knew well -and disdained, storming them in their fastnesses. But these great -Beasts, vestured in angry orange, three stings from which—so ’twas -averred—would kill a horse, these were of a different kidney, and -their dreadful drone suggested prudence and retreat. At this time -neither villagers nor hornets encroached on the stillness: lessons, -apparently, pervaded all nature. So, after dabbling awhile in the -well—what boy has ever passed a bit of water without messing in it?—I -scrambled through the hedge, shunning the hornet-haunted side, and -struck into the silence of the copse. - -If the lane had been deserted, this was loneliness become personal. -Here mystery lurked and peeped; here brambles caught and held you -with a purpose of their own; here saplings whipped your face with -human spite. The copse, too, proved vaster in extent, more direfully -drawn out, than one would ever have guessed from its frontage on the -lane: and I was really glad when at last the wood opened and sloped -down to a streamlet brawling forth into the sunlight. By this cheery -companion I wandered along, conscious of little but that Nature, in -providing store of water-rats, had thoughtfully furnished provender -of right-sized stones. Rapids, also, there were, telling of canoes -and portages—crinkling bays and inlets—caves for pirates and hidden -treasures—the wise Dame had forgotten nothing—till at last, after what -lapse of time I know not, my further course, though not the stream’s, -was barred by some six feet of stout wire netting, stretched from side -to side just where a thick hedge, arching till it touched, forbade all -further view. - -The excitement of the thing was becoming thrilling. A Black Flag must -surely be fluttering close by? Here was most plainly a malignant -contrivance of the Pirates, designed to baffle our gun-boats when we -dashed up-stream to shell them from their lair! A gun-boat, indeed, -might well have hesitated, so stout was the netting, so close the -hedge. But I spied where a rabbit was wont to pass, close down by the -water’s edge; where a rabbit could go a boy could follow, howbeit -stomach-wise and with one leg in the stream; so the passage was -achieved, and I stood inside, safe but breathless at the sight. - -Gone was the brambled waste, gone the flickering tangle of woodland. -Instead, terrace after terrace of shaven sward, stone-edged, -urn-cornered, stepped delicately down to where the stream, now tamed -and educated, passed from one to another marble basin, in which on -occasion gleams of red hinted at gold-fish poised among the spreading -water-lilies. The scene lay silent and slumbrous in the brooding -noon-day sun: the drowsing peacock squatted humped on the lawn, no fish -leaped in the pools, no bird declared himself from the trim secluding -hedges. Self-confessed it was here, then, at last, the Garden of Sleep! - -Two things, in those old days, I held in especial distrust: gamekeepers -and gardeners. Seeing, however, no baleful apparitions of either -quality, I pursued my way between rich flower-beds, in search of the -necessary Princess. Conditions declared her presence patently as -trumpets; without this centre such surroundings could not exist. A -pavilion, gold-topped, wreathed with lush jessamine, beckoned with -a special significance over close-set shrubs. There, if anywhere, -She should be enshrined. Instinct, and some knowledge of the habits -of princesses, triumphed; for (indeed) there She was! In no tranced -repose, however, but laughingly, struggling to disengage her hand from -the grasp of a grown-up man who occupied the marble bench with her. -(As to age, I suppose now that the two swung in respective scales that -pivoted on twenty. But children heed no minor distinctions. To them, -the inhabited world is composed of the two main divisions: children -and upgrown people; the latter in no way superior to the former—only -hopelessly different. These two, then, belonged to the grown-up -section.) I paused, thinking it strange they should prefer seclusion -when there were fish to be caught, and butterflies to hunt in the sun -outside; and as I cogitated thus, the grown-up man caught sight of me. - -‘Hallo, sprat!’ he said with some abruptness; ‘Where do you spring -from?’ - -‘I came up the stream,’ I explained politely and comprehensively, ‘and -I was only looking for the Princess.’ - -‘Then you are a water-baby,’ he replied. ‘And what do you think of the -Princess, now you’ve found her?’ - -‘I think she is lovely,’ I said (and doubtless I was right, having -never learned to flatter). ‘But she’s wide-awake, so I suppose somebody -has kissed her!’ - -This very natural deduction moved the grown-up man to laughter; but the -Princess, turning red and jumping up, declared that it was time for -lunch. - -‘Come along, then,’ said the grown-up man; ‘and you too, water-baby. -Come and have something solid. You must want it.’ - -I accompanied them without any feeling of false delicacy. The world, -as known to me, was spread with food each several mid-day, and the -particular table one sat at seemed a matter of no importance. The -palace was very sumptuous and beautiful, just what a palace ought -to be; and we were met by a stately lady, rather more grown-up than -the Princess—apparently her mother. My friend the Man was very kind, -and introduced me as the Captain, saying I had just run down from -Aldershot. I didn’t know where Aldershot was, but I had no manner of -doubt that he was perfectly right. As a rule, indeed, grown-up people -are fairly correct on matters of fact; it is in the higher gift of -imagination that they are so sadly to seek. - -The lunch was excellent and varied. Another gentleman in beautiful -clothes—a lord presumably—lifted me into a high carved chair, and stood -behind it, brooding over me like a Providence. I endeavoured to explain -who I was and where I had come from, and to impress the company with -my own toothbrush and Harold’s tables; but either they were stupid—or -is it a characteristic of Fairyland that every one laughs at the -most ordinary remarks? My friend the Man said good-naturedly, ‘All -right, Water-baby; you came up the stream, and that’s good enough for -us.’ The lord—a reserved sort of man, I thought—took no share in the -conversation. - -After lunch I walked on the terrace with the Princess and my friend the -Man, and was very proud. And I told him what I was going to be, and -he told me what he was going to be; and then I remarked, ‘I suppose -you two are going to get married?’ He only laughed, after the Fairy -fashion. ‘Because if you aren’t,’ I added, ‘you really ought to’: -meaning only that a man who discovered a Princess, living in the right -sort of Palace like this, and didn’t marry her there and then, was -false to all recognised tradition. - -They laughed again, and my friend suggested I should go down to the -pond and look at the gold-fish, while they went for a stroll. I was -sleepy, and assented; but before they left me, the grown-up man -put two half-crowns in my hand, for the purpose, he explained, of -treating the other water-babies. I was so touched by this crowning -mark of friendship that I nearly cried; and I thought much more of his -generosity than of the fact that the Princess, ere she moved away, -stooped down and kissed me. - -I watched them disappear down the path—how naturally arms seem to go -round waists in Fairyland!—and then, my cheek on the cool marble, -lulled by the trickle of water, I slipped into dreamland out of real -and magic world alike. When I woke, the sun had gone in, a chill wind -set all the leaves a-whispering, and the peacock on the lawn was -harshly calling up the rain. A wild unreasoning panic possessed me, -and I sped out of the garden like a guilty thing, wriggled through -the rabbit-run, and threaded my doubtful way homewards, hounded by -nameless terrors. The half-crowns happily remained solid and real to -the touch; but could I hope to bear such treasure safely through the -brigand-haunted wood? It was a dirty, weary little object that entered -its home, at nightfall, by the unassuming aid of the scullery-window: -and only to be sent tealess to bed seemed infinite mercy to him. -Officially tealess, that is; for, as was usual after such escapades, -a sympathetic housemaid, coming delicately by back-stairs, stayed him -with chunks of cold pudding and condolence, till his small skin was -tight as any drum. Then, nature asserting herself, I passed into the -comforting kingdom of sleep, where, a golden carp of fattest build, I -oared it in translucent waters with a new half-crown snug under right -fin and left; and thrust up a nose through water-lily leaves to be -kissed by a rose-flushed Princess. - -[Illustration: “... AND THEN, MY CHEEK ON THE COOL MARBLE, LULLED BY -THE TRICKLE OF WATER, I SLIPPED INTO DREAMLAND OUT OF REAL AND MAGIC -WORLD ALIKE”] - - - - -SAWDUST AND SIN - - -A BELT of rhododendrons grew close down to one side of our pond; and -along the edge of it many things flourished rankly. If you crept -through the undergrowth and crouched by the water’s rim, it was easy—if -your imagination were in healthy working order—to transport yourself -in a trice to the heart of a tropical forest. Overhead the monkeys -chattered, parrots flashed from bough to bough, strange large blossoms -shone all round you, and the push and rustle of great beasts moving -unseen thrilled you deliciously. And if you lay down with your nose -an inch or two from the water, it was not long ere the old sense of -proportion vanished clean away. The glittering insects that darted to -and fro on its surface became sea-monsters dire, the gnats that hung -above them swelled to albatrosses, and the pond itself stretched out -into a vast inland sea, whereon a navy might ride secure, and whence at -any moment the hairy scalp of a sea-serpent might be seen to emerge. - -It is impossible, however, to play at tropical forests properly, when -homely accents of the human voice intrude; and all my hopes of seeing -a tiger seized by a crocodile while drinking (_vide_ picture-books, -_passim_) vanished abruptly, and earth resumed her old dimensions, -when the sound of Charlotte’s prattle somewhere hard by broke in on my -primæval seclusion. Looking out from the bushes, I saw her trotting -towards an open space of lawn the other side the pond, chattering to -herself in her accustomed fashion, a doll tucked under either arm, -and her brow knit with care. Propping up her double burthen against a -friendly stump, she sat down in front of them, as full of worry and -anxiety as a Chancellor on a Budget night. - -Her victims, who stared resignedly in front of them, were recognisable -as Jerry and Rosa. Jerry hailed from far Japan: his hair was straight -and black, his one garment cotton of a simple blue; and his reputation -was distinctly bad. Jerome was his proper name, from his supposed -likeness to the holy man who hung in a print on the staircase; though -a shaven crown was the only thing in common ’twixt Western saint and -Eastern sinner. Rosa was typical British, from her flaxen poll to the -stout calves she displayed so liberally; and in character she was of -the blameless order of those who have not yet been found out. - -I suspected Jerry from the first. There was a latent devilry in his -slant eyes as he sat there moodily; and knowing what he was capable of, -I scented trouble in store for Charlotte. Rosa I was not so sure about; -she sat demurely and upright, and looked far away into the tree-tops in -a visionary, world-forgetting sort of way; yet the prim purse of her -mouth was somewhat overdone, and her eyes glittered unnaturally. - -‘Now, I’m going to begin where I left off,’ said Charlotte, regardless -of stops, and thumping the turf with her fist excitedly: ‘and you must -pay attention, ’cos this is a treat, to have a story told you before -you’re put to bed. Well, so the White Rabbit scuttled off down the -passage and Alice hoped he’d come back ’cos he had a waistcoat on and -her flamingo flew up a tree—but we haven’t got to that part yet, you -must wait a minute, and—where had I got to?’ - -[Illustration: “‘NOW WE’LL GO ON,’ BEGAN CHARLOTTE ONCE MORE”] - -Jerry only remained passive until Charlotte had got well under way, and -then began to heel over quietly in Rosa’s direction. His head fell on -her plump shoulder, causing her to start nervously. - -Charlotte seized and shook him with vigour. ‘O Jerry,’ she cried -piteously, ‘if you’re not going to be good, how ever shall I tell you -my story?’ - -Jerry’s face was injured innocence itself. ‘Blame if you like, Madam,’ -he seemed to say, ‘the eternal laws of gravitation, but not a helpless -puppet, who is also an orphan and a stranger in the land.’ - -‘Now we’ll go on,’ began Charlotte once more. ‘So she got into the -garden at last—I’ve left out a lot but you won’t care, I’ll tell you -some other time—and they were all playing croquet, and that’s where the -flamingo comes in, and the Queen shouted out, “Off with her head!”’ - -At this point Jerry collapsed forward, suddenly and completely, his -bald pate between his knees. Charlotte was not very angry this time. -The sudden development of tragedy in the story had evidently been too -much for the poor fellow. She straightened him out, wiped his nose, -and, after trying him in various positions, to which he refused to -adapt himself, she propped him against the shoulder of the (apparently) -unconscious Rosa. Then my eyes were opened, and the full measure of -Jerry’s infamy became apparent. This, then, was what he had been -playing up for! The rascal had designs, had he? I resolved to keep him -under close observation. - -‘If you’d been in the garden,’ went on Charlotte reproachfully, ‘and -flopped down like that when the Queen said “Off with his head!” she’d -have offed with your head; but Alice wasn’t that sort of girl at all. -She just said, “I’m not afraid of you, you’re nothing but a pack of -cards”—O dear! I’ve got to the end already, and I hadn’t begun hardly! -I never can make my stories last out! Never mind, I’ll tell you another -one.’ - -Jerry didn’t seem to care, now he had gained his end, whether the -stories lasted out or not. He was nestling against Rosa’s plump form -with a look of satisfaction that was simply idiotic; and one arm had -disappeared from view—was it round her waist? Rosa’s natural blush -seemed deeper than usual, her head inclined shyly—it must have been -round her waist. - -‘If it wasn’t so near your bedtime,’ continued Charlotte reflectively, -‘I’d tell you a nice story with a bogy in it. But you’d be frightened, -and you’d dream of bogies all night. So I’ll tell you one about a White -Bear, only you mustn’t scream when the bear says ‘Wow,’ like I used to, -’cos he’s a good bear really——’ - -Here Rosa fell flat on her back in the deadest of faints. Her limbs -were rigid, her eyes glassy. What had Jerry been doing? It must have -been something very bad, for her to take on like that. I scrutinised -him carefully, while Charlotte ran to comfort the damsel. He appeared -to be whistling a tune and regarding the scenery. If I only possessed -Jerry’s command of feature, I thought to myself, half regretfully, I -would never be found out in anything. - -‘It’s all your fault, Jerry,’ said Charlotte reproachfully, when the -lady had been restored to consciousness: ‘Rosa’s as good as gold except -when you make her wicked. I’d put you in the corner, only a stump -hasn’t got a corner—wonder why that is? Thought everything had corners. -Never mind, you’ll have to sit with your face to the wall—_so_. Now you -can sulk if you like!’ - -Jerry seemed to hesitate a moment between the bliss of indulgence in -sulks with a sense of injury, and the imperious summons of beauty -waiting to be wooed at his elbow; then, overmastered by his passion, he -fell sideways across Rosa’s lap. One arm stuck stiffly upwards, as in -passionate protestation; his amorous countenance was full of entreaty. -Rosa hesitated—wavered—yielded, crushing his slight frame under the -weight of her full-bodied surrender. - -Charlotte had stood a good deal, but it was possible to abuse even her -patience. Snatching Jerry from his lawless embraces, she reversed him -across her knee, and then—the outrage offered to the whole superior -sex in Jerry’s hapless person was too painful to witness; but though -I turned my head away the sound of brisk slaps continued to reach my -tingling ears. When I dared to look again, Jerry was sitting up as -before; his garment, somewhat crumpled, was restored to its original -position; but his pallid countenance was set hard. Knowing as I did, -only too well, what a volcano of passion and shame must be seething -under that impassive exterior, for the moment I felt sorry for him. - -Rosa’s face was still buried in her frock; it might have been shame, it -might have been grief for Jerry’s sufferings. But the callous Japanese -never even looked her way. His heart was exceeding bitter within him. -In merely following up his natural impulses he had run his head against -convention, and learned how hard a thing it was; and the sunshiny world -was all black to him. Even Charlotte softened somewhat at the sight of -his rigid misery. ‘If you’ll say you’re sorry, Jerome,’ she said, ‘I’ll -say I’m sorry, too.’ - -Jerry only dropped his shoulders against the stump and stared out in -the direction of his dear native Japan, where love was no sin, and -smacking had not been introduced. Why had he ever left it? He would -go back to-morrow! And yet there were obstacles: another grievance. -Nature, in endowing Jerry with every grace of form and feature, along -with a sensitive soul, had somehow forgotten the gift of locomotion. - -There was a crackling in the bushes behind me, with sharp short pants -as of a small steam-engine, and Rollo, the black retriever, just -released from his chain by some friendly hand, burst through the -underwood, seeking congenial company. I joyfully hailed him to stop and -be a panther, but he sped away round the pond, upset Charlotte with a -boisterous caress, and seizing Jerry by the middle, disappeared with -him down the drive. Charlotte panting, raved behind the swift-footed -avenger of crime; Rosa lay dishevelled, bereft of consciousness; Jerry -himself spread helpless arms to heaven, and I almost thought I heard a -cry for mercy, a tardy promise of amendment. But it was too late. The -Black Man had got Jerry at last; and though the tear of sensibility -might bedew an eye or two for his lost sake, no one who really knew him -could deny the justice of his fate. - -[Illustration] - - - - -‘YOUNG ADAM CUPID’ - - -NOBODY would have suspected Edward of being in love, had it not been -that after breakfast, with an overacted carelessness, ‘Anybody who -likes,’ he said, ‘can feed my rabbits,’ and he disappeared, with a -jauntiness that deceived nobody, in the direction of the orchard. Now -kingdoms might totter and reel, and convulsions play skittles with -the map of Europe; but the iron unwritten law prevailed, that each -boy severely fed his own rabbits. There was good ground, then, for -suspicion and alarm; and while the lettuce leaves were being drawn -through the wires, Harold and I conferred seriously on the situation. - -It may be thought that the affair was none of our business; and indeed -we cared little as individuals. We were only concerned as members of a -corporation, for each of whom the mental or physical ailment of one of -his fellows might have far-reaching effects. It was thought best that -Harold, as least open to suspicion of motive, should be despatched to -probe and peer. His instructions were, to proceed by a report on the -health of our rabbits in particular; to glide gently into a discussion -concerning rabbits in general, their customs, practices, and vices; -and to pass thence, by a natural transition, to the female sex, the -inherent flaws in its composition, and the reasons for regarding it -(speaking broadly) as dirt. He was especially to be very diplomatic, -and then to return and report progress. He departed on his mission -gaily; but his absence was short, and his return, discomfited and in -tears, seemed to betoken some want of parts for diplomacy. He had found -Edward, it appeared, pacing the orchard, with the sort of set smile -that mountebanks wear in their precarious antics, fixed painfully on -his face, as with pins. Harold had opened well, on the rabbit subject, -but, with a fatal confusion between the abstract and the concrete, had -then gone on to remark that Edward’s lop-eared doe, with her long -hindlegs and contemptuous twitch of the nose, always reminded him of -Sabina Larkin (a nine-year-old damsel, child of a neighbouring farmer): -at which point Edward, it would seem, had turned upon and savagely -maltreated him, twisting his arm and punching him in the short ribs. -So that Harold returned to the rabbit-hutches preceded by long-drawn -wails: anon wishing, with tears and sobs, that he were a man, to kick -his love-lorn brother; anon lamenting that ever he had been born. - -I was not big enough to stand up to Edward personally, so I had to -console the sufferer by allowing him to grease the wheels of the -donkey-cart—a luscious treat that had been specially reserved for me, -a week past, by the gardener’s boy, for putting in a good word on -his behalf with the new kitchen-maid. Harold was soon all smiles and -grease; and I was not, on the whole, dissatisfied with the significant -hint that had been gained as to the _fons et origo mali_. - -Fortunately, means were at hand for resolving any doubts on the -subject, since the morning was Sunday, and already the bells were -ringing for church. Lest the connexion may not be evident at first -sight, I should explain that the gloomy period of church-time, with its -enforced inaction and its lack of real interest—passed, too, within -sight of all that the village held of fairest—was just the one when a -young man’s fancies lightly turned to thoughts of love. The rest of -the week afforded no leisure for such trifling; but in church—well, -there was really nothing else to do! True, noughts-and-crosses might be -indulged in on flyleaves of prayer-books while the Litany dragged its -slow length along; but what balm or what solace could be found for the -Sermon? Naturally the eye, wandering here and there among the serried -ranks, made bold untrammelled choice among our fair fellow-supplicants. -It was in this way that, some months earlier, under the exceptional -strain of the Athanasian Creed, my roving fancy had settled upon the -baker’s wife as a fit object for a life-long devotion. Her riper charms -had conquered a heart which none of her be-muslined tittering juniors -had been able to subdue; and that she was already wedded had never -occurred to me as any bar to my affection. Edward’s general demeanour, -then, during morning service was safe to convict him; but there was -also a special test for the particular case. It happened that we sat in -a transept, and, the Larkins being behind us, Edward’s only chance of -feasting on Sabina’s charms was in the all-too fleeting interval when -we swung round eastwards. I was not mistaken. During the singing of the -Benedictus the impatient one made several false starts, and at last he -slewed fairly round before ‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and -ever shall be’ was half finished. The evidence was conclusive: a court -of law could have desired no better. - -The fact being patent, the next thing was to grapple with it; and my -mind was fully occupied during the sermon. There was really nothing -unfair or unbrotherly in my attitude. A philosophic affection such as -mine own, which clashed with nothing, was (I held) permissible; but the -volcanic passions in which Edward indulged about once a quarter were a -serious interference with business. To make matters worse, next week -there was a circus coming to the neighbourhood, to which we had all -been strictly forbidden to go; and without Edward no visit in contempt -of law and orders could be successfully brought off. I had sounded -him as to the circus on our way to church, and he had replied briefly -that the very thought of a clown made him sick. Morbidity could no -further go. But the sermon came to an end without any line of conduct -having suggested itself; and I walked home in some depression, feeling -sadly that Venus was in the ascendant and in direful opposition, while -Auriga—the circus star—drooped declinant, perilously near the horizon. - -By the irony of fate, Aunt Eliza, of all people, turned out to be the -_Dea ex machinâ_. The thing fell out in this wise. It was that lady’s -obnoxious practice to issue forth, of a Sunday afternoon, on a visit of -state to such farmers and cottagers as dwelt at hand; on which occasion -she was wont to hale a reluctant boy along with her, from the mixed -motives of propriety and his soul’s health. Much cudgelling of brains, -I suppose, had on that particular day made me torpid and unwary. -Anyhow, when a victim came to be sought for, I fell an easy prey, while -the others fled scatheless and whooping. Our first visit was to the -Larkins. Here ceremonial might be viewed in its finest flower, and we -conducted ourselves, like Queen Elizabeth when she trod the measure, -‘high and disposedly.’ In the low oak-panelled parlour cake and currant -wine were set forth, and, after courtesies and compliments exchanged, -Aunt Eliza, greatly condescending, talked the fashions with Mrs. -Larkin; while the farmer and I, perspiring with the unusual effort, -exchanged remarks on the mutability of the weather and the steady fall -in the price of corn. (Who would have thought, to hear us, that only -two short days ago we had confronted each other on either side of a -hedge? I triumphant, provocative, derisive? He flushed, wroth, cracking -his whip, and volleying forth profanity? So powerful is all-subduing -ceremony!) Sabina the while, demurely seated with a _Pilgrim’s -Progress_ on her knee, and apparently absorbed in a brightly-coloured -presentment of ‘Apollyon Straddling Right across the Way,’ eyed me at -times with shy interest; but repelled all Aunt Eliza’s advances with a -frigid politeness for which I could not sufficiently admire her. - -‘It’s surprising to me,’ I heard my aunt remark presently, ‘how -my eldest nephew, Edward, despises little girls. I heard him tell -Charlotte the other day that he wished he could exchange her for a -pair of Japanese guinea-pigs. It made the poor child cry. Boys are so -heartless!’ (I saw Sabina stiffen as she sat, and her tip-tilted nose -twitched scornfully.) ‘Now this boy here——’ (my soul descended into my -very boots. Could the woman have intercepted any of my amorous glances -at the baker’s wife?) ‘Now this boy,’ my aunt went on, ‘is more human -altogether. Only yesterday he took his sister to the baker’s shop, and -spent his only penny buying her sweets. I thought it showed such a nice -disposition. I wish Edward were more like him!’ - -I breathed again. It was unnecessary to explain my real motives -for that visit to the baker’s. Sabina’s face softened, and her -contemptuous nose descended from its altitude of scorn; she gave me one -shy glance of kindness, and then concentrated her attention upon Mercy -knocking at the Wicket Gate. I felt awfully mean as regarded Edward; -but what could I do? I was in Gaza, gagged and bound; the Philistines -hemmed me in. - -The same evening the storm burst, the bolt fell, and—to continue the -metaphor—the atmosphere grew serene and clear once more. The evening -service was shorter than usual, the vicar, as he ascended the pulpit -steps, having dropped two pages out of his sermon-case—unperceived by -any but ourselves, either at the moment or subsequently when the hiatus -was reached; so, as we joyfully shuffled out I whispered Edward that -by racing home at top speed we should make time to assume our bows and -arrows (laid aside for the day) and play at Indians and buffaloes with -Aunt Eliza’s fowls—already strolling roostwards, regardless of their -doom—before that sedately stepping lady could return. Edward hung at -the door, wavering; the suggestion had unhallowed charms. At that -moment Sabina issued primly forth, and, seeing Edward, put out her -tongue at him in the most exasperating manner conceivable; then passed -on her way, her shoulders rigid, her dainty head held high. A man can -stand very much in the cause of love: poverty, aunts, rivals, barriers -of every sort, all these only serve to fan the flame. But personal -ridicule is a shaft that reaches the very vitals. Edward led the race -home at a speed which one of Ballantyne’s heroes might have equalled -but never surpassed; and that evening the Indians dispersed Aunt -Eliza’s fowls over several square miles of country, so that the tale -of them remaineth incomplete unto this day. Edward himself, cheering -wildly, pursued the big Cochin-China cock till the bird sank gasping -under the drawing-room window, whereat its mistress stood petrified; -and after supper, in the shrubbery, smoked a half-consumed cigar he had -picked up in the road, and declared to an awe-stricken audience his -final, his immitigable resolve to go into the army. - -[Illustration: “EDWARD LED THE RACE HOME AT A SPEED WHICH ONE OF -BALLANTYNE’S HEROES MIGHT HAVE EQUALLED BUT NEVER SURPASSED”] - -The crisis was past, and Edward was saved!... And yet ... _sunt -lachrymæ rerum_ ... to me watching the cigar-stump alternately -pale and glow against the dark background of laurel, a vision of a -tip-tilted nose, of a small head poised scornfully, seemed to hover -on the gathering gloom—seemed to grow and fade and grow again, like -the grin of the Cheshire cat—pathetically, reproachfully even; and the -charms of the baker’s wife slipped from my memory like snow-wreaths in -thaw. After all, Sabina was nowise to blame: why should the child be -punished? To-morrow I would give them the slip, and stroll round by -her garden promiscuous-like, at a time when the farmer was safe in the -rick-yard. If nothing came of it, there was no harm done; and if on the -contrary...! - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BURGLARS - - -IT was much too fine a night to think of going to bed at once, and -so, although the witching hour of nine P.M. had struck, Edward and -I were still leaning out of the open window in our nightshirts, -watching the play of the cedar-branch shadows on the moonlit lawn, and -planning schemes of fresh devilry for the sunshiny morrow. From below, -strains of the jocund piano declared that the Olympians were enjoying -themselves in their listless impotent way; for the new curate had -been bidden to dinner that night, and was at the moment unclerically -proclaiming to all the world that he feared no foe. His discordant -vociferations doubtless started a train of thought in Edward’s mind, -for he presently remarked, _à propos_ of nothing whatever that had been -said before, ‘I believe the new curate’s rather gone on Aunt Maria.’ - -I scouted the notion; ‘Why, she’s quite old,’ I said. (She must have -seen some five-and-twenty summers.) - -‘Of course she is,’ replied Edward scornfully. ‘It’s not her, it’s her -money he’s after, you bet!’ - -‘Didn’t know she had any money,’ I observed timidly. - -‘Sure to have,’ said my brother with confidence. ‘Heaps and heaps.’ - -Silence ensued, both our minds being busy with the new situation thus -presented: mine, in wonderment at this flaw that so often declared -itself in enviable natures of fullest endowment,—in a grown-up man -and a good cricketer, for instance, even as this curate; Edward’s -(apparently) in the consideration of how such a state of things, -supposing it existed, could be best turned to his own advantage. - -‘Bobby Ferris told me,’ began Edward in due course, ‘that there was a -fellow spooning his sister once——’ - -‘What’s spooning?’ I asked meekly. - -‘O _I_ dunno,’ said Edward indifferently. ‘It’s—it’s—it’s just a thing -they do, you know. And he used to carry notes and messages and things -between ’em, and he got a shilling almost every time.’ - -‘What, from each of ’em?’ I innocently inquired. - -Edward looked at me with scornful pity. ‘Girls never have any money,’ -he briefly explained. ‘But she did his exercises, and got him out of -rows, and told stories for him when he needed it—and much better ones -than he could have made up for himself. Girls are useful in some ways. -So he was living in clover, when unfortunately they went and quarrelled -about something.’ - -‘Don’t see what that’s got to do with it,’ I said. - -‘Nor don’t I,’ rejoined Edward. ‘But any how the notes and things -stopped, and so did the shillings. Bobby was fairly cornered, for he -had bought two ferrets on tick, and promised to pay a shilling a week, -thinking the shillings were going on for ever, the silly young ass. So -when the week was up, and he was being dunned for the shilling, he -went off to the fellow and said: “Your broken-hearted Bella implores -you to meet her at sundown. By the hollow oak as of old, be it only for -a moment. Do not fail!” He got all that out of some rotten book, of -course. The fellow looked puzzled and said: - -‘“What hollow oak? I don’t know any hollow oak.” - -‘“Perhaps it was the Royal Oak?” said Bobby promptly, ’cos he saw he -had made a slip, through trusting too much to the rotten book; but this -didn’t seem to make the fellow any happier.’ - -‘Should think not,’ I said, ‘the Royal Oak’s an awful low sort of pub.’ - -‘I know,’ said Edward. ‘Well, at last the fellow said, “I think I know -what she means: the hollow tree in your father’s paddock. It happens to -be an elm, but she wouldn’t know the difference. All right: say I’ll be -there.” Bobby hung about a bit, for he hadn’t got his money. “She was -crying awfully,” he said. Then he got his shilling. - -‘And wasn’t the fellow riled,’ I inquired, ‘when he got to the place -and found nothing?’ - -‘He found Bobby,’ said Edward indignantly. ‘Young Ferris was a -gentleman, every inch of him. He brought the fellow another message -from Bella: “I dare not leave the house. My cruel parents immure me -closely. If you only knew what I suffer. Your broken-hearted Bella.” -Out of the same rotten book. This made the fellow a little suspicious, -’cos it was the old Ferrises who had been keen about the thing all -through. The fellow, you see, had tin.’ - -‘But what’s that got to——’ I began again. - -‘O _I_ dunno,’ said Edward impatiently. ‘I’m telling you just what -Bobby told me. He got suspicious, anyhow, but he couldn’t exactly call -Bella’s brother a liar, so Bobby escaped for the time. But when he -was in a hole next week, over a stiff French exercise, and tried the -same sort of game on his sister, she was too sharp for him, and he got -caught out. Somehow women seem more mistrustful than men. They’re so -beastly suspicious by nature, you know.’ - -‘_I_ know,’ said I. ‘But did the two—the fellow and the sister—make it -up afterwards?’ - -‘I don’t remember about that,’ replied Edward indifferently; ‘but Bobby -got packed off to school a whole year earlier than his people meant to -send him. Which was just what he wanted. So you see it all came right -in the end!’ - -I was trying to puzzle out the moral of this story—it was evidently -meant to contain one somewhere—when a flood of golden lamplight -mingled with the moon-rays on the lawn, and Aunt Maria and the new -curate strolled out on the grass below us, and took the direction of a -garden-seat which was backed by a dense laurel shrubbery reaching round -in a half-circle to the house. Edward meditated moodily. ‘If we only -knew what they were talking about,’ said he, ‘you’d soon see whether I -was right or not. Look here! Let’s send the kid down by the porch to -reconnoitre!’ - -‘Harold’s asleep,’ I said; ‘it seems rather a shame——’ - -‘O rot!’ said my brother; ‘he’s the youngest, and he’s got to do as -he’s told!’ - -So the luckless Harold was hauled out of bed and given his -sailing-orders. He was naturally rather vexed at being stood up -suddenly on the cold floor, and the job had no particular interest for -him; but he was both staunch and well disciplined. The means of exit -were simple enough. A porch of iron trellis came up to within easy -reach of the window, and was habitually used by all three of us, when -modestly anxious to avoid public notice. Harold climbed deftly down the -porch like a white rat, and his night-gown glimmered a moment on the -gravel walk ere he was lost to sight in the darkness of the shrubbery. -A brief interval of silence ensued; broken suddenly by a sound of -scuffle, and then a shrill long-drawn squeal, as of metallic surfaces -in friction. Our scout had fallen into the hands of the enemy! - -Indolence alone had made us devolve the task of investigation on -our younger brother. Now that danger had declared itself, there -was no hesitation. In a second we were down the side of the porch, -and crawling Cherokee-wise through the laurels to the back of the -garden-seat. Piteous was the sight that greeted us. Aunt Maria was on -the seat, in a white evening frock, looking—for an aunt—really quite -nice. On the lawn stood an incensed curate, grasping our small brother -by a large ear, which—judging from the row he was making—seemed on the -point of parting company with the head it completed and adorned. The -gruesome noise he was emitting did not really affect us otherwise than -æsthetically. To one who has tried both, the wail of genuine physical -anguish is easily distinguishable from the pumped-up _ad misericordiam_ -blubber. Harold’s could clearly be recognised as belonging to the -latter class. ‘Now you young—’ (whelp, _I_ think it was, but Edward -stoutly maintains it was devil), said the curate sternly; ‘tell us what -you mean by it!’ - -‘Well leggo of my ear then!’ shrilled Harold, ‘and I’ll tell you the -solemn truth!’ - -‘Very well,’ agreed the curate, releasing him, ‘now go ahead, and don’t -lie more than you can help.’ - -We abode the promised disclosure without the least misgiving; but even -we had hardly given Harold due credit for his fertility of resource -and powers of imagination. - -‘I had just finished saying my prayers,’ began that young gentleman -slowly, ‘when I happened to look out of the window, and on the lawn -I saw a sight which froze the marrow in my veins! A burglar was -approaching the house with snake-like tread! He had a scowl and a dark -lantern, and he was armed to the teeth!’ - -We listened with interest. The style, though unlike Harold’s native -notes, seemed strangely familiar. - -‘Go on,’ said the curate grimly. - -‘Pausing in his stealthy career,’ continued Harold, ‘he gave a low -whistle. Instantly the signal was responded to, and from the adjacent -shadows two more figures glided forth. The miscreants were both armed -to the teeth.’ - -‘Excellent,’ said the curate; ‘proceed.’ - -‘The robber chief,’ pursued Harold, warming to his work, ‘joined his -nefarious comrades, and conversed with them in silent tones. His -expression was truly ferocious, and I ought to have said that he was -armed to the t——’ - -‘There, never mind his teeth,’ interrupted the curate rudely; ‘there’s -too much jaw about you altogether. Hurry up and have done.’ - -‘I was in a frightful funk,’ continued the narrator, warily guarding -his ear with his hand, ‘but just then the drawing-room window opened, -and you and Aunt Maria came out—I mean emerged. The burglars vanished -silently into the laurels, with horrid implications!’ - -The curate looked slightly puzzled. The tale was well sustained, and -certainly circumstantial. After all, the boy might really have seen -something. How was the poor man to know—though the chaste and lofty -diction might have supplied a hint—that the whole yarn was a free -adaptation from the last Penny Dreadful lent us by the knife-and-boot -boy? - -‘Why did you not alarm the house?’ he asked. - -‘Cos I was afraid,’ said Harold sweetly, ‘that p’raps they mightn’t -believe me!’ - -‘But how did you get down here, you naughty little boy?’ put in Aunt -Maria. - -Harold was hard pressed—by his own flesh and blood, too! - -At that moment Edward touched me on the shoulder and glided off through -the laurels. When some ten yards away he gave a low whistle. I replied -with another. The effect was magical. Aunt Maria started up with a -shriek. Harold gave one startled glance around, and then fled like a -hare, made straight for the back-door, burst in upon the servants at -supper, and buried himself in the broad bosom of the cook, his special -ally. The curate faced the laurels—hesitatingly. But Aunt Maria flung -herself on him. ‘O Mr. Hodgitts!’ I heard her cry, ‘you are brave! for -my sake do not be rash!’ He was not rash. When I peeped out a second -later, the coast was entirely clear. - -By this time there were sounds of a household timidly emerging; and -Edward remarked to me that perhaps we had better be off. Retreat -was an easy matter. A stunted laurel gave a leg-up on to the garden -wall, which led in its turn to the roof of an out-house, up which, -at a dubious angle, we could crawl to the window of the box-room. -This overland route had been revealed to us one day by the domestic -cat, when hard pressed in the course of an otter-hunt, in which the -cat—somewhat unwillingly—was filling the title _rôle_; and it had -proved distinctly useful on occasions like the present. We were snug -in bed—minus some cuticle from knees and elbows—and Harold, sleepily -chewing something sticky, had been carried up in the arms of the -friendly cook, ere the clamour of the burglar-hunters had died away. - -[Illustration: “THIS OVERLAND ROUTE HAD BEEN REVEALED TO US ONE DAY BY -THE DOMESTIC CAT, WHEN HARD PRESSED IN THE COURSE OF AN OTTER-HUNT”] - -The curate’s undaunted demeanour, as reported by Aunt Maria, was -generally supposed to have terrified the burglars into flight, and -much kudos accrued to him thereby. Some days later, however, when he -had dropped in to afternoon tea, and was making a mild curatorial -joke about the moral courage required for taking the last piece of -bread-and-butter, I felt constrained to remark dreamily, and as it were -to the universe at large: ‘Mr. Hodgitts! you are brave! for my sake, do -not be rash!’ - -Fortunately for me, the vicar also was a caller on that day; and it was -always a comparatively easy matter to dodge my long-coated friend in -the open. - - - - -A HARVESTING - - -THE year was in its yellowing time, and the face of Nature a study -in old gold. ‘A field _or_, _semée_ with garbs of the same:’ it may -be false Heraldry—Nature’s generally is—but it correctly blazons the -display that Edward and I considered from the rickyard gate. Harold -was not on in this scene, being stretched upon the couch of pain: the -special disorder stomachic, as usual. The evening before, Edward, in -a fit of unwonted amiability, had deigned to carve me out a turnip -lantern, an art-and-craft he was peculiarly deft in; and Harold, as -the interior of the turnip flew out in scented fragments under the -hollowing knife, had eaten largely thereof: regarding all such jetsam -as his special perquisite. Now he was dreeing his weird, with such -assistance as the chemist could afford. But Edward and I, knowing that -this particular field was to be carried to-day, were revelling in the -privilege of riding in the empty waggons from the rickyard back to the -sheaves, whence we returned toilfully on foot, to career it again over -the billowy acres in these great galleys of a stubble sea. It was the -nearest approach to sailing that we inland urchins might compass: and -hence it ensued, that such stirring scenes as Sir Richard Grenville on -the _Revenge_, the smoke-wreathed Battle of the Nile, and the Death of -Nelson, had all been enacted in turn on these dusty quarter-decks, as -they swayed and bumped afield. - -Another waggon had shot its load, and was jolting out through the -rickyard gate, as we swung ourselves in, shouting, over its tail. -Edward was the first up, and, as I gained my feet, he clutched me in a -death-grapple. I was a privateersman, he proclaimed, and he the captain -of the British frigate _Terpsichore_, of—I forget the precise number -of guns. Edward always collared the best parts to himself; but I was -holding my own gallantly, when I suddenly discovered that the floor we -battled on was swarming with earwigs. Shrieking, I hurled free of him, -and rolled over the tail-board on to the stubble. Edward executed a -war-dance of triumph on the deck of the retreating galleon; but I cared -little for that. I knew _he_ knew that I wasn’t afraid of him, but that -I was—and terribly—of earwigs: ‘those mortal bugs o’ the field.’ So I -let him disappear, shouting lustily for all hands to repel boarders, -while I strolled inland, down the village. - -There was a touch of adventure in the expedition. This was not our -own village, but a foreign one, distant at least a mile. One felt -that sense of mingled distinction and insecurity which is familiar to -the traveller: distinction, in that folk turned the head to note you -curiously; insecurity, by reason of the ever-present possibility of -missiles on the part of the younger inhabitants, a class eternally -Conservative. Elated with isolation, I went even more nose-in-air than -usual: and ‘even so,’ I mused, ‘might Mungo Park have threaded the -trackless African forest and....’ Here I plumped against a soft, but -resisting body. - -Recalled to my senses by the shock, I fell back in the attitude every -boy under these circumstances instinctively adopts—both elbows well up -over your ears. I found myself facing a tall elderly man, clean-shaven, -clad in well-worn black—a clergyman evidently; and I noted at once -a far-away look in his eyes, as if they were used to another plane -of vision, and could not instantly focus things terrestrial, being -suddenly recalled thereto. His figure was bent in apologetic protest. -‘I ask a thousand pardons, sir,’ he said; ‘I am really so very -absent-minded. I trust you will forgive me.’ - -Now most boys would have suspected chaff under this courtly style of -address. I take infinite credit to myself for recognising at once the -natural attitude of a man to whom his fellows were gentlemen all, -neither Jew nor Gentile, clean nor unclean. Of course, I took the blame -on myself; adding, that I was very absent-minded too. Which was indeed -the case. - -‘I perceive,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that we have something in common. -I, an old man, dream dreams; you, a young one, see visions. Your lot -is the happier. And now—’ his hand had been resting all this time on -a wicket-gate—‘you are hot, it is easily seen;—the day is advanced, -_Virgo_ is the Zodiacal sign. Perhaps I may offer you some poor -refreshment, if your engagements will permit?’ - -My only engagement that afternoon was an arithmetic lesson, and I had -not intended to keep it in any case; so I passed in, while he held -the gate open politely, murmuring, ‘_Venit Hesperus, ite capellæ_: -come, little kid!’ and then apologising abjectly for a familiarity -which (he said) was less his than the Roman poet’s. A straight flagged -walk led up to the cool-looking old house, and my host, lingering in -his progress at this rose-tree and that, forgot all about me at least -twice, waking up and apologising humbly after each lapse. During -these intervals I put two and two together, and identified him as the -Rector: a bachelor, eccentric, learned exceedingly, round whom the -crust of legend was already beginning to form; to myself an object of -special awe, in that he was alleged to have written a real book. ‘Heaps -o’ books,’ Martha, my informant, said; but I knew the exact rate of -discount applicable to Martha’s statements. - -[Illustration: “A STRAIGHT FLAGGED WALK LED UP TO THE COOL-LOOKING OLD -HOUSE, AND MY HOST, LINGERING IN HIS PROGRESS AT THIS ROSE-TREE AND -THAT, FORGOT ALL ABOUT ME AT LEAST TWICE”] - -We passed eventually through a dark hall into a room which struck me -at once as the ideal I had dreamed but failed to find. None of your -feminine fripperies here! None of your chair-backs and tidies! This -man, it was seen, groaned under no aunts. Stout volumes in calf and -vellum lined three sides; books sprawled or hunched themselves on -chairs and tables; books diffused the pleasant odour of printers’ -ink and bindings; topping all, a faint aroma of tobacco cheered and -heartened exceedingly, as under foreign skies the flap and rustle over -the wayfarer’s head of the Union Jack—the old flag of emancipation! And -in one corner, book-piled like the rest of the furniture, stood a piano. - -This I hailed with a squeal of delight. ‘Want to strum?’ inquired -my friend, as if it was the most natural wish in the world—his -eyes were already straying towards another corner, where bits of -writing-table peeped out from under a sort of Alpine system of book and -foolscap. - -‘O but may I?’ I asked in doubt. ‘At home I’m not allowed to—only -beastly exercises!’ - -‘Well, you can strum here, at all events,’ he replied; and murmuring -absently, ‘_Age, dic Latinum, barbite, carmen_,’ he made his way, -mechanically guided as it seemed, to the irresistible writing-table. -In ten seconds he was out of sight and call. A great book open on his -knee, another propped up in front, a score or so disposed within easy -reach, he read and jotted with an absorption almost passionate. I might -have been in Bœotia, for any consciousness he had of me. So with a -light heart I turned to and strummed. - -Those who painfully and with bleeding feet have scaled the crags of -mastery over musical instruments have yet their loss in this: that the -wild joy of strumming has become a vanished sense. Their happiness -comes from the concord and the relative value of the notes they handle: -the pure, absolute quality and nature of each note in itself are only -appreciated by the strummer. For some notes have all the sea in them, -and some cathedral bells; others a woodland joyance and a smell of -greenery; in some fauns dance to the merry reed, and even the grave -centaurs peep out from their caves. Some bring moonlight, and some -the deep crimson of a rose’s heart; some are blue, some red, while -others will tell of an army with silken standards and march-music. And -throughout all the sequence of suggestion, up above the little white -men leap and peep, and strive against the imprisoning wires; and all -the big rosewood box hums as it were full of hiving bees. - -Spent with the rapture, I paused a moment and caught my friend’s -eye over the edge of a folio. ‘But as for these Germans,’ he began -abruptly, as if we had been in the middle of a discussion, ‘the -scholarship is there, I grant you; but the spark, the fine perception, -the happy intuition, where is it? They get it all from us!’ - -‘They get nothing whatever from _us_,’ I said decidedly: the word -German only suggesting Bands, to which Aunt Eliza was bitterly hostile. - -‘You think not?’ he rejoined doubtfully, getting up and walking about -the room. ‘Well, I applaud such fairness and temperance in so young a -critic. They are qualities—in youth—as rare as they are pleasing. But -just look at Schrumpffius, for instance—how he struggles and wrestles -with a simple γἁρ in this very passage here!’ - -I peeped fearfully through the open door, half-dreading to see some -sinuous and snark-like conflict in progress on the mat; but all was -still. I saw no trouble at all in the passage, and I said so. - -‘Precisely,’ he cried, delighted. ‘To you, who possess the natural -scholar’s faculty in so happy a degree, there is no difficulty at all. -But to this Schrumpffius——’ But here, luckily for me, in came the -housekeeper, a clean-looking woman of staid aspect. - -‘Your tea is in the garden,’ she said severely, as if she were -correcting a faulty emendation. ‘I’ve put some cakes and things for the -little gentleman; and you’d better drink it before it gets cold.’ - -He waved her off and continued his stride, brandishing an aorist over -my devoted head. The housekeeper waited unmoved till there fell a -moment’s break in his descant; and then, ‘You’d better drink it before -it gets cold,’ she observed again, impassively. The wretched man cast a -deprecating look at me. ‘Perhaps a little tea would be rather nice,’ he -observed feebly; and to my great relief he led the way into the garden. -I looked about for the little gentleman, but, failing to discover him, -I concluded he was absent-minded too, and attacked the ‘cakes and -things’ with no misgivings. - -After a most successful and most learned tea a something happened -which, small as I was, never quite shook itself out of my memory. To -us at parley in an arbour over the high road, there entered, slouching -into view, a dingy tramp, satellited by a frowsy woman and a pariah -dog; and, catching sight of us, he set up his professional whine; and I -looked at my friend with the heartiest compassion, for I knew well from -Martha—it was common talk—that at this time of day he was certainly -and surely penniless. Morn by morn he started forth with pockets -lined; and each returning evening found him with never a sou. All this -he proceeded to explain at length to the tramp, courteously and even -shamefacedly, as one who was in the wrong; and at last the gentleman -of the road, realising the hopelessness of his case, set to and cursed -him with gusto, vocabulary, and abandonment. He reviled his eyes, his -features, his limbs, his profession, his relatives and surroundings; -and then slouched off, still oozing malice and filth. We watched the -party to a turn in the road, where the woman, plainly weary, came to a -stop. Her lord, after some conventional expletives demanded of him by -his position, relieved her of her bundle, and caused her to hang on his -arm with a certain rough kindness of tone, and in action even a dim -approach to tenderness; and the dingy dog crept up for one lick at her -hand. - -‘See,’ said my friend, bearing somewhat on my shoulder, ‘how this -strange thing, this love of ours, lives and shines out in the -unlikeliest of places! You have been in the fields in early morning? -Barren acres, all! But only stoop—catch the light thwartwise—and all is -a silver network of gossamer! So the fairy filaments of this strange -thing underrun and link together the whole world. Yet it is not the old -imperious god of the fatal bow—ἑρως ανἱκατε μἁχαν—not that—nor even the -placid respectable στοργἡ—but something still unnamed, perhaps more -mysterious, more divine! Only one must stoop to see it, old fellow, one -must stoop!’ - -The dew was falling, the dusk closing, as I trotted briskly homewards -down the road. Lonely spaces everywhere, above and around. Only -Hesperus hung in the sky, solitary, pure, ineffably far-drawn -and remote; yet infinitely heartening, somehow, in his valorous -isolation. - - - - -SNOWBOUND - - -TWELFTH-NIGHT had come and gone, and life next morning seemed a trifle -flat and purposeless. But yester-eve, and the mummers were here! They -had come striding into the old kitchen, powdering the red brick floor -with snow from their barbaric bedizenments; and stamping, and crossing, -and declaiming, till all was whirl and riot and shout. Harold was -frankly afraid: unabashed, he buried himself in the cook’s ample bosom. -Edward feigned a manly superiority to illusion, and greeted these awful -apparitions familiarly, as Dick and Harry and Joe. As for me, I was -too big to run, too rapt to resist the magic and surprise. Whence came -these outlanders, breaking in on us with song and ordered masque and -a terrible clashing of wooden swords? And after these, what strange -visitants might we not look for any quiet night, when the chestnuts -popped in the ashes, and the old ghost stories drew the awe-stricken -circle close? Old Merlin, perhaps, ‘all furred in black sheep-skins, -and a russet gown, with a bow and arrows, and bearing wild geese in his -hand!’ Or stately Ogier the Dane, recalled from Faëry, asking his way -to the land that once had need of him! Or even, on some white night, -the Snow-Queen herself, with a chime of sleigh-bells and the patter -of reindeer’s feet, halting of a sudden at the door flung wide, while -aloft the Northern Lights went shaking attendant spears among the quiet -stars! - -This morning, house-bound by the relentless indefatigable snow, I -was feeling the reaction. Edward, on the contrary, being violently -stage-struck on this his first introduction to the real Drama, was -striding up and down the floor, proclaiming ‘Here be I, King Gearge -the Third,’ in a strong Berkshire accent. Harold, accustomed, as the -youngest, to lonely antics and to sports that asked no sympathy, was -absorbed in ‘clubmen’: a performance consisting in a measured progress -round the room arm-in-arm with an imaginary companion of reverend -years, with occasional halts at imaginary clubs, where—imaginary -steps being leisurely ascended—imaginary papers were glanced at, -imaginary scandal was discussed with elderly shakings of the head, -and—regrettable to say—imaginary glasses were lifted lipwards. Heaven -only knows how the germ of this dreary pastime first found way -into his small-boyish being. It was his own invention, and he was -proportionately proud of it. Meanwhile Charlotte and I, crouched in -the window-seat, watched, spell-stricken, the whirl and eddy and drive -of the innumerable snow-flakes, wrapping our cheery little world in an -uncanny uniform, ghastly in line and hue. - -Charlotte was sadly out of spirits. Having ‘countered’ Miss Smedley at -breakfast, during some argument or other, by an apt quotation from her -favourite classic (the _Fairy Book_), she had been gently but firmly -informed that no such things as fairies ever really existed. ‘Do you -mean to say it’s all lies?’ asked Charlotte bluntly. Miss Smedley -deprecated the use of any such unladylike words in any connexion at -all. ‘These stories had their origin, my dear,’ she explained, ‘in a -mistaken anthropomorphism in the interpretation of nature. But though -we are now too well informed to fall into similar errors, there are -still many beautiful lessons to be learned from these myths——’ - -[Illustration: “MEANWHILE CHARLOTTE AND I CROUCHED IN THE -WINDOW-SEAT....”] - -‘But how can you learn anything,’ persisted Charlotte, ‘from what -doesn’t exist?’ And she left the table defiant, howbeit depressed. - -‘Don’t you mind _her_,’ I said consolingly; ‘how can she know anything -about it? Why, she can’t even throw a stone properly!’ - -‘Edward says they’re all rot, too,’ replied Charlotte doubtfully. - -‘Edward says everything’s rot,’ I explained, ‘now he thinks he’s going -into the Army. If a thing’s in a book it _must_ be true, so that -settles it!’ - -Charlotte looked almost reassured. The room was quieter now, for -Edward had got the dragon down and was boring holes in him with a -purring sound; Harold was ascending the steps of the Athenæum with -a jaunty air—suggestive rather of the Junior Carlton. Outside, the -tall elm-tops were hardly to be seen through the feathery storm. ‘The -sky’s a-falling,’ quoted Charlotte softly; ‘I must go and tell the -king.’ The quotation suggested a fairy story, and I offered to read to -her, reaching out for the book. But the Wee Folk were under a cloud; -sceptical hints had embittered the chalice. So I was fain to fetch -_Arthur_—second favourite with Charlotte for his dames riding errant, -and an easy first with us boys for his spear-splintering crash of -tourney and hurtle against hopeless odds. Here again, however, I proved -unfortunate; what ill-luck made the book open at the sorrowful history -of Balin and Balan? ‘And he vanished anon,’ I read: ‘and so he heard -an horne blow, as it had been the death of a beast. “That blast,” said -Balin, “is blowen for me, for I am the prize, and yet am I not dead.”’ -Charlotte began to cry: she knew the rest too well. I shut the book in -despair. Harold emerged from behind the arm-chair. He was sucking his -thumb (a thing which members of the Reform are seldom seen to do), -and he stared wide-eyed at his tear-stained sister. Edward put off his -histrionics, and rushed up to her as the consoler—a new part for him. - -‘I know a jolly story,’ he began. ‘Aunt Eliza told it me. It was when -she was somewhere over in that beastly abroad’—(he had once spent a -black month of misery at Dinan)—‘and there was a fellow there who had -got two storks. And one stork died—it was the she-stork.’—(‘What did -it die of?’ put in Harold.)—‘And the other stork was quite sorry, and -moped, and went on, and got very miserable. So they looked about and -found a duck, and introduced it to the stork. The duck was a drake, -but the stork didn’t mind, and they loved each other and were as jolly -as could be. By and by another duck came along—a real she-duck this -time—and when the drake saw her he fell in love, and left the stork, -and went and proposed to the duck: for she was very beautiful. But the -poor stork who was left, he said nothing at all to anybody, but just -pined and pined and pined away, till one morning he was found quite -dead! But the ducks lived happily ever afterwards!’ - -This was Edward’s idea of a jolly story! Down again went the corners -of poor Charlotte’s mouth. Really Edward’s stupid inability to see the -real point in anything was _too_ annoying! It was always so. Years -before, it being necessary to prepare his youthful mind for a domestic -event that might lead to awkward questionings at a time when there -was little leisure to invent appropriate answers, it was delicately -inquired of him whether he would like to have a little brother, or -perhaps a little sister? He considered the matter carefully in all its -bearings, and finally declared for a Newfoundland pup. Any boy more -‘gleg at the uptak’ would have met his parents half-way, and eased -their burden. As it was, the matter had to be approached all over -again from a fresh standpoint. And now, while Charlotte turned away -sniffingly, with a hiccup that told of an overwrought soul, Edward, -unconscious (like Sir Isaac’s Diamond) of the mischief he had done, -wheeled round on Harold with a shout. - -‘I want a live dragon,’ he announced: ‘You’ve got to be my dragon!’ - -‘Leave me go, will you?’ squealed Harold, struggling stoutly. ‘I’m -playin’ at something else. How can I be a dragon and belong to all the -clubs?’ - -‘But wouldn’t you like to be a nice scaly dragon, all green,’ said -Edward, trying persuasion, ‘with a curly tail and red eyes, and -breathing real smoke and fire?’ - -Harold wavered an instant: Pall-Mall was still strong in him. The next -he was grovelling on the floor. No saurian ever swung a tail so scaly -and so curly as his. Clubland was a thousand years away. With horrific -pants he emitted smokiest smoke and fiercest fire. - -‘Now I want a Princess,’ cried Edward, clutching Charlotte -ecstatically; ‘and _you_ can be the Doctor, and heal me from the -dragon’s deadly wound.’ - -Of all professions I held the sacred art of healing in worst horror -and contempt. Cataclysmal memories of purge and draught crowded thick -on me, and with Charlotte—who courted no barren honours—I made a -break for the door. Edward did likewise, and the hostile forces -clashed together on the mat, and for a brief space things were mixed -and chaotic and Arthurian. The silvery sound of the luncheon-bell -restored an instant peace, even in the teeth of clenched antagonisms -like ours. The Holy Grail itself, ‘sliding athwart a sunbeam,’ never -so effectually stilled a riot of warring passions into sweet and quiet -accord. - -[Illustration] - - - - -WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT - - -EDWARD was standing ginger-beer like a gentleman, happening, as the one -that had last passed under the dentist’s hands, to be the capitalist of -the flying hour. As in all well-regulated families, the usual tariff -obtained in ours: half-a-crown a tooth; one shilling only if the -molar were a loose one. This one, unfortunately—in spite of Edward’s -interested affectation of agony—had been shakiness undisguised; but the -event was good enough to run to ginger-beer. As financier, however, -Edward had claimed exemption from any servile duties of procurement, -and had swaggered about the garden while I fetched from the village -post-office, and Harold stole a tumbler from the pantry. Our -preparations complete, we were sprawling on the lawn; the staidest and -most self-respecting of the rabbits had been let loose to grace the -feast, and was lopping demurely about the grass, selecting the juiciest -plantains; while Selina, as the eldest lady present, was toying, in her -affected feminine way, with the first full tumbler, daintily fishing -for bits of broken cork. - -‘Hurry up, can’t you?’ growled our host; ‘what are you girls always so -beastly particular for?’ - -‘Martha says,’ explained Harold (thirsty too, but still just), ‘that -if you swallow a bit of cork, it swells, and it swells, and it swells -inside you, till you——’ - -‘O bosh!’ said Edward, draining the glass with a fine pretence of -indifference to consequences, but all the same (as I noticed) dodging -the floating cork-fragments with skill and judgment. - -‘O, it’s all very well to say bosh,’ replied Harold nettled: ‘but every -one knows it’s true but you. Why, when Uncle Thomas was here last, and -they got up a bottle of wine for him, he took just one tiny sip out of -his glass, and then he said, “Poo, my goodness, that’s corked!” And -he wouldn’t touch it. And they had to get a fresh bottle up. The funny -part was, though, I looked in his glass afterwards, when it was brought -out into the passage, and there wasn’t any cork in it at all! So I -drank it all off, and it was very good!’ - -‘You’d better be careful, young man!’ said his elder brother, regarding -him severely: ‘D’you remember that night when the Mummers were here, -and they had mulled port, and you went round and emptied all the -glasses after they had gone away?’ - -‘Ow! I did feel funny that night,’ chuckled Harold. ‘Thought the house -was comin’ down, it jumped about so: and Martha had to carry me up to -bed, ’cos the stairs was goin’ all waggity!’ - -We gazed searchingly at our graceless junior; but it was clear that -he viewed the matter in the light of a phenomenon rather than of a -delinquency. - -A third bottle was by this time circling; and Selina, who had evidently -waited for it to reach her, took a most unfairly long pull, and then, -jumping up and shaking out her frock, announced that she was going -for a walk. Then she fled like a hare; for it was the custom of our -Family to meet with physical coercion any independence of action in -individuals. - -[Illustration: “‘SHE’S OFF WITH THOSE VICARAGE GIRLS AGAIN,’ SAID -EDWARD”] - -‘She’s off with those Vicarage girls again,’ said Edward, regarding -Selina’s long black legs twinkling down the path. ‘She goes out with -them every day now; and as soon as ever they start, all their heads go -together and they chatter, chatter, chatter the whole blessèd time! -I can’t make out what they find to talk about. They never stop; it’s -gabble, gabble, gabble right along, like a nest of young rooks!’ - -‘P’raps they talk about birds’-eggs,’ I suggested sleepily (the sun -was hot, the turf soft, the ginger-beer potent); ‘and about ships, and -buffaloes, and desert islands; and why rabbits have white tails; and -whether they’d sooner have a schooner or a cutter; and what they’ll be -when they’re men—at least, I mean there’s lots of things to talk about, -if you _want_ to talk.’ - -‘Yes; but they don’t talk about those sort of things at all,’ -persisted Edward. ‘How _can_ they? They don’t _know_ anything; they -can’t _do_ anything—except play the piano, and nobody would want -to talk about _that_; and they don’t care about anything—anything -sensible, I mean. So what _do_ they talk about?’ - -‘I asked Martha once,’ put in Harold; ‘and she said, “Never _you_ mind; -young ladies has lots of things to talk about that young gentlemen -can’t understand.”’ - -‘I don’t believe it,’ Edward growled. - -‘Well, that’s what she _said_, anyway,’ rejoined Harold indifferently. -The subject did not seem to him of first-class importance, and it was -hindering the circulation of the ginger-beer. - -We heard the click of the front-gate. Through a gap in the hedge we -could see the party setting off down the road. Selina was in the -middle; a Vicarage girl had her by either arm; their heads were -together, as Edward had described; and the clack of their tongues came -down the breeze like the busy pipe of starlings on a bright March -morning. - -‘What _do_ they talk about, Charlotte?’ I inquired, wishing to pacify -Edward. ‘You go out with them sometimes.’ - -‘I don’t know,’ said poor Charlotte dolefully. ‘They make me walk -behind, ’cos they say I’m too little, and mustn’t hear. And I _do_ want -to so,’ she added. - -‘When any lady comes to see Aunt Eliza,’ said Harold, ‘they both talk -at once all the time. And yet each of ’em seems to hear what the other -one’s saying. I can’t make out how they do it. Grown-up people are so -clever!’ - -‘The Curate’s the funniest man,’ I remarked. ‘He’s always saying things -that have no sense in them at all, and then laughing at them as if -they were jokes. Yesterday, when they asked him if he’d have some more -tea, he said, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,” -and then sniggered all over. I didn’t see anything funny in that. And -then somebody asked him about his button-hole, and he said, “’Tis but a -little faded flower,” and exploded again. I thought it very stupid.’ - -‘O _him_,’ said Edward contemptuously: ‘he can’t help it, you know; -it’s a sort of way he’s got. But it’s these girls I can’t make out. -If they’ve anything really sensible to talk about, how is it nobody -knows what it is? And if they haven’t—and we know they _can’t_ have, -naturally—why don’t they shut up their jaw? This old rabbit here—_he_ -doesn’t want to talk. He’s got something better to do.’ And Edward -aimed a ginger-beer cork at the unruffled beast, who never budged. - -‘O but rabbits _do_ talk,’ interposed Harold. ‘I’ve watched them often -in their hutch. They put their heads together and their noses go up -and down, just like Selina’s and the Vicarage girls’. Only of course I -can’t hear what they’re saying.’ - -‘Well, if they do,’ said Edward unwillingly, ‘I’ll bet they don’t talk -such rot as those girls do!’ Which was ungenerous, as well as unfair; -for it had not yet transpired—nor has it to this day—_what_ Selina and -her friends talked about. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE ARGONAUTS - - -THE advent of strangers, of whatever sort, into our circle had always -been a matter of grave dubiety and suspicion. Indeed, it was generally -a signal for retreat into caves and fastnesses of the earth, into -unthreaded copses or remote outlying cowsheds, whence we were only to -be extricated by wily nursemaids, rendered familiar by experience with -our secret runs and refuges. It was not surprising, therefore, that -the heroes of classic legend, when first we made their acquaintance, -failed to win our entire sympathy at once. ‘Confidence,’ says somebody, -‘is a plant of slow growth’; and these stately dark-haired demi-gods, -with names hard to master and strange accoutrements, had to win a -citadel already strongly garrisoned with a more familiar soldiery. -Their chill foreign goddesses had no such direct appeal for us as -the mocking malicious fairies and witches of the North. We missed the -pleasant alliance of the animal—the fox who spread the bushiest of -tails to convey us to the enchanted castle, the frog in the well, the -raven who croaked advice from the tree; and—to Harold especially—it -seemed entirely wrong that the hero should ever be other than the -youngest brother of three. This belief, indeed, in the special fortune -that ever awaited the youngest brother, as such,—the ‘Borough-English’ -of Faery,—had been of baleful effect on Harold, producing a certain -self-conceit and perkiness that called for physical correction. But -even in our admonishment we were on his side; and as we distrustfully -eyed these new arrivals, old Saturn himself seemed something of a -_parvenu_. - -Even strangers, however, if they be good fellows at heart, may develop -into sworn comrades; and these gay swordsmen, after all, were of the -right stuff. Perseus, with his cap of darkness and his wonderful -sandals, was not long in winging his way to our hearts. Apollo knocked -at Admetus’ gate in something of the right fairy fashion. Psyche -brought with her an orthodox palace of magic, as well as helpful birds -and friendly ants. Ulysses, with his captivating shifts and strategies, -broke down the final barrier, and henceforth the band was adopted and -admitted into our freemasonry. - -I had been engaged in chasing Farmer Larkin’s calves—his special -pride—round the field, just to show the man we hadn’t forgotten him, -and was returning through the kitchen-garden with a conscience at -peace with all men, when I happened upon Edward, grubbing for worms -in the dung-heap. Edward put his worms into his hat, and we strolled -along together, discussing high matters of state. As we reached the -tool-shed, strange noises arrested our steps; looking in, we perceived -Harold, alone, rapt, absorbed, immersed in the special game of the -moment. He was squatting in an old pig-trough that had been brought in -to be tinkered; and as he rhapsodised, anon he waved a shovel over his -head, anon dug it into the ground with the action of those who would -urge Canadian canoes. Edward strode in upon him. - -‘What rot are you playing at now?’ he demanded sternly. - -Harold flushed up, but stuck to his pig-trough like a man. ‘I’m Jason,’ -he replied defiantly; ‘and this is the Argo. The other fellows are -here too, only you can’t see them; and we’re just going through the -Hellespont, so don’t you come bothering.’ And once more he plied the -wine-dark sea. - -Edward kicked the pig-trough contemptuously. ‘Pretty sort of Argo -you’ve got!’ said he. - -Harold began to get annoyed. ‘I can’t help it,’ he retorted. ‘It’s the -best sort of Argo I can manage, and it’s all right if you only pretend -enough. But _you_ never could pretend one bit.’ - -Edward reflected. ‘Look here,’ he said presently. ‘Why shouldn’t we get -hold of Farmer Larkin’s boat, and go right away up the river in a real -Argo, and look for Medea, and the Golden Fleece, and everything? And -I’ll tell you what, I don’t mind your being Jason, as you thought of it -first.’ - -Harold tumbled out of the trough in the excess of his emotion. ‘But we -aren’t allowed to go on the water by ourselves,’ he cried. - -‘No,’ said Edward, with fine scorn: ‘we aren’t allowed; and Jason -wasn’t allowed either, I daresay. But he _went_!’ - -Harold’s protest had been merely conventional: he only wanted to be -convinced by sound argument. The next question was, How about the -girls? Selina was distinctly handy in a boat: the difficulty about her -was, that if she disapproved of the expedition—and, morally considered, -it was not exactly a Pilgrim’s Progress—she might go and tell; she -having just reached that disagreeable age when one begins to develop a -conscience. Charlotte, for her part, had a habit of day-dreams, and was -as likely as not to fall overboard in one of her rapt musings. To be -sure, she would dissolve in tears when she found herself left out; but -even that was better than a watery tomb. In fine, the public voice—and -rightly, perhaps—was against the admission of the skirted animal: -despite the precedent of Atalanta, who was one of the original crew. - -[Illustration: “WE PUT THE ARGO’S HEAD UPSTREAM, SINCE THAT LED AWAY -FROM THE LARKIN PROVINCE”] - -‘And now,’ said Edward, ‘who’s to ask Farmer Larkin? _I_ can’t; last -time I saw him he said when he caught me again he’d smack my head. -_You’ll_ have to.’ - -I hesitated, for good reasons. ‘You know those precious calves of his?’ -I began. - -Edward understood at once. ‘All right,’ he said; ‘then we won’t ask him -at all. It doesn’t much matter. He’d only be annoyed, and that would be -a pity. Now let’s set off.’ - -We made our way down to the stream, and captured the farmer’s boat -without let or hindrance, the enemy being engaged in the hay-fields. -This ‘river,’ so called, could never be discovered by us in any atlas; -indeed our Argo could hardly turn in it without risk of shipwreck. But -to us ’twas Orinoco, and the cities of the world dotted its shores. -We put the Argo’s head upstream, since that led away from the Larkin -province; Harold was faithfully permitted to be Jason, and we shared -the rest of the heroes among us. Then, quitting Thessaly, we threaded -the Hellespont with shouts, breathlessly dodged the Clashing Rocks, -and coasted under the lee of the Siren-haunted isles. Lemnos was -fringed with meadow-sweet, dog-roses dotted the Mysian shore, and the -cheery call of the haymaking folk sounded along the coast of Thrace. - -After some hour or two’s seafaring, the prow of the Argo embedded -itself in the mud of a landing-place, plashy with the tread of cows and -giving on to a lane that led towards the smoke of human habitations. -Edward jumped ashore, alert for exploration, and strode off without -waiting to see if we followed; but I lingered behind, having caught -sight of a moss-grown water-gate hard by, leading into a garden that, -from the brooding quiet lapping it round, appeared to portend magical -possibilities. - -Indeed the very air within seemed stiller, as we circumspectly passed -through the gate; and Harold hung back shamefaced, as if we were -crossing the threshold of some private chamber, and ghosts of old days -were hustling past us. Flowers there were, everywhere; but they drooped -and sprawled in an overgrowth hinting at indifference; the scent of -heliotrope possessed the place as if actually hung in solid festoons -from tall untrimmed hedge to hedge. No basket-chairs, shawls, or novels -dotted the lawn with colour; and on the garden-front of the house -behind, the blinds were mostly drawn. A grey old sun-dial dominated the -central sward, and we moved towards it instinctively, as the most human -thing in sight. An antick motto ran round it, and with eyes and fingers -we struggled at the decipherment. - -TIME: TRYETH: TROTHE: spelt out Harold at last. ‘I wonder what that -means?’ - -I could not enlighten him, nor meet his further questions as to the -inner mechanism of the thing, and where you wound it up. I had seen -these instruments before, of course; but had never fully understood -their manner of working. - -We were still puzzling our heads over the contrivance, when I became -aware that Medea herself was moving down the path from the house. -Dark-haired, supple, of a figure lightly poised and swayed, but pale -and listless—I knew her at once, and having come out to find her, -naturally felt no surprise at all. But Harold, who was trying to climb -on to the top of the sun-dial, having a cat-like fondness for the -summit of things, started and fell prone, barking his chin and filling -the pleasance with lamentation. - -Medea skimmed the ground swallow-like, and in a moment was on her knees -comforting him, wiping the dirt out of his chin with her own dainty -handkerchief, and vocal with soft murmur of consolation. - -‘You needn’t take on so about him,’ I observed politely. ‘He’ll cry for -just one minute, and then he’ll be all right.’ - -My estimate was justified. At the end of his regulation time Harold -stopped crying suddenly, like a clock that had struck its hour; and -with a serene and cheerful countenance wriggled out of Medea’s embrace, -and ran for a stone to throw at an intrusive blackbird. - -‘O you boys!’ cried Medea, throwing wide her arms with abandonment. -‘Where have you dropped from? How dirty you are! I’ve been shut up here -for a thousand years, and all that time I’ve never seen any one under -a hundred and fifty! Let’s play at something, at once!’ - -‘Rounders is a good game,’ I suggested. ‘Girls can play at rounders. -And we could serve up to the sun-dial here. But you want a bat and a -ball, and some more people.’ - -She struck her hands together tragically. ‘I haven’t a bat,’ she cried, -‘or a ball, or more people, or anything sensible whatever. Never mind; -let’s play at hide-and-seek in the kitchen-garden. And we’ll race -there, up to that walnut-tree; I haven’t run for a century!’ - -She was so easy a victor, nevertheless, that I began to doubt, as -I panted behind, whether she had not exaggerated her age by a year -or two. She flung herself into hide-and-seek with all the gusto and -abandonment of the true artist; and as she flitted away and reappeared, -flushed and laughing divinely, the pale witch-maiden seemed to fall -away from her, and she moved rather as that other girl I had read -about, snatched from fields of daffodil to reign in shadow below, yet -permitted now and again to revisit earth and light and the frank, -caressing air. - -Tired at last, we strolled back to the old sun-dial, and Harold, who -never relinquished a problem unsolved, began afresh, rubbing his finger -along the faint incisions. ‘_Time tryeth trothe._ Please, I want to -know what that means?’ - -Medea’s face drooped low over the sun-dial, till it was almost hidden -in her fingers. ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ she said presently in quite -a changed, low voice. ‘They shut me up here—they think I’ll forget—but -I never will—never, never! And he, too—but I don’t know—it is so long—I -don’t know!’ - -Her face was quite hidden now. There was silence again in the old -garden. I felt clumsily helpless and awkward. Beyond a vague idea of -kicking Harold, nothing remedial seemed to suggest itself. - -None of us had noticed the approach of another she-creature—one of the -angular and rigid class—how different from our dear comrade! The years -Medea had claimed might well have belonged to her; she wore mittens, -too—a trick I detested in woman. ‘Lucy!’ she said sharply, in a tone -with _aunt_ writ large over it; and Medea started up guiltily. - -‘You’ve been crying,’ said the newcomer, grimly regarding her through -spectacles. ‘And pray who are these exceedingly dirty little boys?’ - -‘Friends of mine, aunt,’ said Medea promptly, with forced cheerfulness. -‘I—I’ve known them a long time. I asked them to come.’ - -The aunt sniffed suspiciously. ‘You must come indoors, dear,’ she said, -‘and lie down. The sun will give you a headache. And you little boys -had better run away home to your tea. Remember, you should not come to -pay visits without your nursemaid.’ - -Harold had been tugging nervously at my jacket for some time, and I -only waited till Medea turned and kissed a white hand to us as she was -led away. Then I ran. We gained the boat in safety; and ‘What an old -dragon!’ said Harold. - -‘Wasn’t she a beast!’ I replied. ‘Fancy the sun giving any one a -headache! But Medea was a real brick. Couldn’t we carry her off?’ - -‘We could if Edward was here,’ said Harold confidently. - -The question was, What had become of that defaulting hero? We were not -left long in doubt. First, there came down the lane the shrill and -wrathful clamour of a female tongue; then Edward, running his best; -and then an excited woman hard on his heel. Edward tumbled into the -bottom of the boat, gasping ‘Shove her off!’ And shove her off we did, -mightily, while the dame abused us from the bank in the self-same -accents in which Alfred hurled defiance at the marauding Dane. - -‘That was just like a bit out of _Westward Ho!_’ I remarked -approvingly, as we sculled down the stream. ‘But what had you been -doing to her?’ - -‘Hadn’t been doing anything,’ panted Edward, still breathless. ‘I went -up into the village and explored, and it was a very nice one, and the -people were very polite. And there was a blacksmith’s forge there, and -they were shoeing horses, and the hoofs fizzled and smoked, and smelt -so jolly! I stayed there quite a long time Then I got thirsty, so I -asked that old woman for some water, and while she was getting it her -cat came out of the cottage, and looked at me in a nasty sort of way, -and said something I didn’t like. So I went up to it just to—to teach -it manners, and somehow or other, next minute it was up an apple-tree, -spitting, and I was running down the lane with that old thing after me.’ - -Edward was so full of his personal injuries that there was no -interesting him in Medea at all. Moreover, the evening was closing -in, and it was evident that this cutting-out expedition must be kept -for another day. As we neared home, it gradually occurred to us that -perhaps the greatest danger was yet to come; for the farmer must -have missed his boat ere now, and would probably be lying in wait -for us near the landing-place. There was no other spot admitting of -debarcation on the home side; if we got out on the other, and made -for the bridge, we should certainly be seen and cut off. Then it was -that I blessed my stars that our elder brother was with us that day. -He might be little good at pretending, but in grappling with the stern -facts of life he had no equal. Enjoining silence, he waited till we -were but a little way from the fated landing-place, and then brought -us in to the opposite bank. We scrambled out noiselessly and—the -gathering darkness favouring us—crouched behind a willow, while Edward -pushed off the empty boat with his foot. The old Argo, borne down by -the gentle current, slid and grazed along the rushy bank; and when she -came opposite the suspected ambush, a stream of imprecation told us -that our precaution had not been wasted. We wondered, as we listened, -where Farmer Larkin, who was bucolically bred and reared, had acquired -such range and wealth of vocabulary. Fully realising at last that his -boat was derelict, abandoned, at the mercy of wind and wave—as well as -out of his reach—he strode away to the bridge, about a quarter of a -mile further down; and as soon as we heard his boots clumping on the -planks we nipped out, recovered the craft, pulled across, and made -the faithful vessel fast to her proper moorings. Edward was anxious -to wait and exchange courtesies and compliments with the disappointed -farmer, when he should confront us on the opposite bank; but wiser -counsels prevailed. It was possible that the piracy was not yet laid -at our particular door: Ulysses, I reminded him, had reason to regret -a similar act of bravado, and—were he here—would certainly advise a -timely retreat. Edward held but a low opinion of me as a counsellor; -but he had a very solid respect for Ulysses. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE ROMAN ROAD - - -ALL the roads of our neighbourhood were cheerful and friendly, having -each of them pleasant qualities of their own; but this one seemed -different from the others in its masterful suggestion of a serious -purpose, speeding you along with a strange uplifting of the heart. -The others tempted chiefly with their treasures of hedge and ditch; -the rapt surprise of the first lords-and-ladies, the rustle of a -field-mouse, the splash of a frog; while cool noses of brother-beasts -were pushed at you through gate or gap. A loiterer you had need to be, -did you choose one of them; so many were the tiny hands thrust out to -detain you, from this side and that. But this one was of a sterner -sort, and even in its shedding off of bank and hedgerow as it marched -straight and full for the open downs, it seemed to declare its contempt -for adventitious trappings to catch the shallow-pated. When the sense -of injustice or disappointment was heavy on me, and things were very -black within, as on this particular day, the road of character was my -choice for that solitary ramble when I turned my back for an afternoon -on a world that had unaccountably declared itself against me. - -‘The Knights’ Road’ we children had named it, from a sort of feeling -that, if from any quarter at all, it would be down this track we -might some day see Lancelot and his peers come pacing on their great -war-horses; supposing that any of the stout band still survived, in -nooks and unexplored places. Grown-up people sometimes spoke of it -as the ‘Pilgrims’ Way’; but I didn’t know much about pilgrims—except -Walter in the Horselberg story. Him I sometimes saw, breaking with -haggard eyes out of yonder copse, and calling to the pilgrims as -they hurried along on their desperate march to the Holy City, where -peace and pardon were awaiting them. ‘All roads lead to Rome,’ I had -once heard somebody say; and I had taken the remark very seriously, -of course, and puzzled over it many days. There must have been some -mistake, I concluded at last; but of one road at least I intuitively -felt it to be true. And my belief was clinched by something that fell -from Miss Smedley during a history-lesson, about a strange road that -ran right down the middle of England till it reached the coast, and -then began again in France, just opposite, and so on undeviating, -through city and vineyard, right from the misty Highlands to the -Eternal City. Uncorroborated, any statement of Miss Smedley’s usually -fell on incredulous ears; but here, with the road itself in evidence, -she seemed, once in a way, to have strayed into truth. - -Rome! It was fascinating to think that it lay at the other end of this -white ribbon that rolled itself off from my feet over the distant -downs. I was not quite so uninstructed as to imagine I could reach it -that afternoon; but some day, I thought, if things went on being as -unpleasant as they were now—some day, when Aunt Eliza had gone on a -visit,—some day, we would see. - -I tried to imagine what it would be like when I got there. The Coliseum -I knew, of course, from a woodcut in the history-book: so to begin with -I plumped that down in the middle. The rest had to be patched up from -the little grey market-town where twice a year we went to have our hair -cut; hence, in the result, Vespasian’s amphitheatre was approached by -muddy little streets, wherein the Red Lion and the Blue Boar, with -Somebody’s Entire along their front, and ‘Commercial Room’ on their -windows; the doctor’s house, of substantial red-brick; and the façade -of the New Wesleyan chapel, which we thought very fine, were the chief -architectural ornaments: while the Roman populace pottered about in -smocks and corduroys, twisting the tails of Roman calves and inviting -each other to beer in musical Wessex. From Rome I drifted on to other -cities, faintly heard of—Damascus, Brighton (Aunt Eliza’s ideal), -Athens, and Glasgow, whose glories the gardener sang; but there was a -certain sameness in my conception of all of them: that Wesleyan chapel -would keep cropping up everywhere. It was easier to go a-building -among those dream-cities where no limitations were imposed, and one -was sole architect, with a free hand. Down a delectable street of -cloud-built palaces I was mentally pacing, when I happened upon the -Artist. - -He was seated at work by the roadside, at a point whence the cool -large spaces of the downs, juniper-studded, swept grandly westwards. -His attributes proclaimed him of the artist tribe: besides, he wore -knickerbockers like myself,—a garb confined, I was aware, to boys -and artists. I knew I was not to bother him with questions, nor look -over his shoulder and breathe in his ear—they didn’t like it, this -_genus irritabile_. But there was nothing about staring in my code of -instructions, the point having somehow been overlooked: so, squatting -down on the grass, I devoted myself to the passionate absorbing of -every detail. At the end of five minutes there was not a button on him -that I could not have passed an examination in; and the wearer himself -of that homespun suit was probably less familiar with its pattern and -texture than I was. Once he looked up, nodded, half held out his -tobacco pouch, mechanically as it were, then, returning it to his -pocket, resumed his work, and I my mental photography. - -After another five minutes or so had passed, he remarked, without -looking my way: ‘Fine afternoon we’re having: going far to-day?’ - -‘No, I’m not going any farther than this,’ I replied; ‘I _was_ thinking -of going on to Rome: but I’ve put it off.’ - -‘Pleasant place, Rome,’ he murmured: ‘you’ll like it.’ It was some -minutes later that he added: ‘But I wouldn’t go just now, if I were -you: too jolly hot.’ - -‘_You_ haven’t been to Rome, have you?’ I inquired. - -‘Rather,’ he replied briefly: ‘I live there.’ - -This was too much, and my jaw dropped as I struggled to grasp the fact -that I was sitting there talking to a fellow who lived in Rome. Speech -was out of the question: besides I had other things to do. Ten solid -minutes had I already spent in an examination of him as a mere stranger -and artist; and now the whole thing had to be done over again, from -the changed point of view. So I began afresh, at the crown of his soft -hat, and worked down to his solid British shoes, this time investing -everything with the new Roman halo; and at last I managed to get out: -‘But you don’t really live there, do you?’ never doubting the fact, but -wanting to hear it repeated. - -‘Well,’ he said, good-naturedly overlooking the slight rudeness of my -query, ‘I live there as much as I live anywhere. About half the year -sometimes. I’ve got a sort of a shanty there. You must come and see it -some day.’ - -‘But do you live anywhere else as well?’ I went on, feeling the -forbidden tide of questions surging up within me. - -‘O yes, all over the place,’ was his vague reply. ‘And I’ve got a -diggings somewhere off Piccadilly.’ - -‘Where’s that?’ I inquired. - -‘Where’s what?’ said he. ‘O, Piccadilly! It’s in London.’ - -‘Have you a large garden?’ I asked; ‘and how many pigs have you got?’ - -‘I’ve no garden at all,’ he replied sadly, and they don’t allow me to -keep pigs, though I’d like to, awfully. It’s very hard.’ - -‘But what do you do all day, then,’ I cried, ‘and where do you go and -play, without any garden, or pigs, or things?’ - -‘When I want to play,’ he said gravely, ‘I have to go and play in the -street; but it’s poor fun, I grant you. There’s a goat, though, not far -off, and sometimes I talk to him when I’m feeling lonely; but he’s very -proud.’ - -‘Goats _are_ proud,’ I admitted. ‘There’s one lives near here, and if -you say anything to him at all, he hits you in the wind with his head. -You know what it feels like when a fellow hits you in the wind?’ - -‘I do, well,’ he replied, in a tone of proper melancholy, and painted -on. - -‘And have you been to any other places,’ I began again presently, -‘besides Rome and Piccy-what’s-his-name?’ - -‘Heaps,’ he said. ‘I’m a sort of Ulysses—seen men and cities, you know. -In fact, about the only place I never got to was the Fortunate Island.’ - -I began to like this man. He answered your questions briefly and to the -point, and never tried to be funny. I felt I could be confidential with -him. - -‘Wouldn’t you like,’ I inquired, ‘to find a city without any people in -it at all?’ - -He looked puzzled. ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,’ said he. - -‘I mean,’ I went on eagerly, ‘a city where you walk in at the gates, -and the shops are all full of beautiful things, and the houses -furnished as grand as can be, and there isn’t anybody there whatever! -And you go into the shops, and take anything you want—chocolates and -magic-lanterns and injirubber balls—and there’s nothing to pay; and you -choose your own house and live there and do just as you like, and never -go to bed unless you want to!’ - -The artist laid down his brush. ‘That _would_ be a nice city,’ he -said. ‘Better than Rome. You can’t do that sort of thing in Rome—or in -Piccadilly either. But I fear it’s one of the places I’ve never been -to.’ - -‘And you’d ask your friends,’ I went on, warming to my subject; -‘only those you really like, of course; and they’d each have a house -to themselves—there’d be lots of houses,—and there wouldn’t be any -relations at all, unless they promised they’d be pleasant; and if they -weren’t they’d have to go.’ - -‘So you wouldn’t have any relations?’ said the artist. ‘Well, perhaps -you’re right. We have tastes in common, I see.’ - -‘I’d have Harold,’ I said reflectively, ‘and Charlotte. They’d like it -awfully. The others are getting too old. O, and Martha—I’d have Martha -to cook and wash up and do things. You’d like Martha. She’s ever so -much nicer than Aunt Eliza. She’s my idea of a real lady.’ - -‘Then I’m sure I should like her,’ he replied heartily, ‘and when I -come to—what do you call this city of yours? Nephelo—something, did you -say?’ - -‘I—I don’t know,’ I replied timidly. ‘I’m afraid it hasn’t got a -name—yet.’ - -The artist gazed out over the downs. ‘“The poet says, dear city of -Cecrops,”’ he said softly to himself, ‘“and wilt not thou say, dear -city of Zeus?” That’s from Marcus Aurelius,’ he went on, turning again -to his work. ‘You don’t know him, I suppose; you will some day.’ - -‘Who’s he?’ I inquired. - -‘O, just another fellow who lived in Rome,’ he replied, dabbing away. - -‘O dear!’ I cried disconsolately. ‘What a lot of people seem to live at -Rome, and I’ve never even been there! But I think I’d like _my_ city -best.’ - -‘And so would I,’ he replied with unction. ‘But Marcus Aurelius -wouldn’t, you know.’ - -‘Then we won’t invite him,’ I said; ‘will we?’ - -‘_I_ won’t if you won’t,’ said he. And that point being settled, we -were silent for a while. - -‘Do you know,’ he said presently, ‘I’ve met one or two fellows from -time to time, who have been to a city like yours—perhaps it was the -same one. They won’t talk much about it—only broken hints, now and -then; but they’ve been there sure enough. They don’t seem to care about -anything in particular—and everything’s the same to them, rough or -smooth; and sooner or later they slip off and disappear; and you never -see them again. Gone back, I suppose.’ - -‘Of course,’ said I. ‘Don’t see what they ever came away for; _I_ -wouldn’t. To be told you’ve broken things when you haven’t, and stopped -having tea with the servants in the kitchen, and not allowed to have a -dog to sleep with you. But _I’ve_ known people, too, who’ve gone there.’ - -The artist stared, but without incivility. - -‘Well, there’s Lancelot,’ I went on. ‘The book says he died, but it -never seemed to read right, somehow. He just went away, like Arthur. -And Crusoe, when he got tired of wearing clothes and being respectable. -And all the nice men in the stories who don’t marry the Princess, ’cos -only one man ever gets married in a book, you know. They’ll be there!’ - -‘And the men who never come off,’ he said, ‘who try like the rest, but -get knocked out, or somehow miss—or break down or get bowled over in -the melée—and get no Princess, nor even a second-class kingdom—some of -them’ll be there, I hope?’ - -‘Yes, if you like,’ I replied, not quite understanding him; ‘if they’re -friends of yours, we’ll ask ’em, of course.’ - -‘What a time we shall have!’ said the artist reflectively; ‘and how -shocked old Marcus Aurelius will be!’ - -The shadows had lengthened uncannily, a tide of golden haze was -flooding the grey-green surface of the downs, and the artist began -to put his traps together, preparatory to a move. I felt very low: -we would have to part, it seemed, just as we were getting on so well -together. Then he stood up, and he was very straight and tall, and the -sunset was in his hair and beard as he stood there, high over me. He -took my hand like an equal. ‘I’ve enjoyed our conversation very much,’ -he said. ‘That was an interesting subject you started, and we haven’t -half exhausted it. We shall meet again, I hope?’ - -‘Of course we shall,’ I replied, surprised that there should be any -doubt about it. - -[Illustration: “THEN HE STOOD UP, AND HE WAS VERY STRAIGHT AND TALL, -AND THE SUNSET WAS IN HIS HAIR AND BEARD AS HE STOOD THERE, HIGH OVER -ME”] - -‘In Rome perhaps?’ said he. - -‘Yes, in Rome,’ I answered; ‘or Piccy-the-other-place, or somewhere.’ - -‘Or else,’ said he, ‘in that other city—when we’ve found the way there. -And I’ll look out for you, and you’ll sing out as soon as you see me. -And we’ll go down the street arm-in-arm, and into all the shops, and -then I’ll choose my house, and you’ll choose your house, and we’ll live -there like princes and good fellows.’ - -‘O, but you’ll stay in my house, won’t you?’ I cried; ‘I wouldn’t ask -everybody; but I’ll ask _you_.’ - -He affected to consider a moment; then ‘Right!’ he said: ‘I believe you -mean it, and I _will_ come and stay with you. I won’t go to anybody -else, if they ask me ever so much. And I’ll stay quite a long time, -too, and I won’t be any trouble.’ - -Upon this compact we parted, and I went down-heartedly from the man who -understood me, back to the house where I never could do anything right. -How was it that everything seemed natural and sensible to him, which -these uncles, vicars, and other grown-up men took for the merest -tomfoolery? Well, he would explain this, and many another thing, when -we met again. The Knights’ Road! How it always brought consolation! Was -he possibly one of those vanished knights I had been looking for so -long? Perhaps he would be in armour next time—why not? He would look -well in armour, I thought. And I would take care to get there first, -and see the sunlight flash and play on his helmet and shield, as he -rode up the High Street of the Golden City. - -Meantime, there only remained the finding it. An easy matter. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE SECRET DRAWER - - -IT must surely have served as a boudoir for the ladies of old time, -this little used, rarely entered chamber where the neglected old bureau -stood. There was something very feminine in the faint hues of its faded -brocades, in the rose and blue of such bits of china as yet remained, -and in the delicate old-world fragrance of pot-pourri from the great -bowl,—blue and white, with funny holes in its cover,—that stood on -the bureau’s flat top. Modern aunts disdained this out-of-the-way, -backwater, upstairs room, preferring to do their accounts and grapple -with their correspondence in some central position more in the whirl -of things, whence one eye could be kept on the carriage-drive, while -the other was alert for malingering servants and marauding children. -Those aunts of a former generation—I sometimes felt—would have suited -our habits better. But even by us children, to whom few places were -private or reserved, the room was visited but rarely. To be sure, -there was nothing particular in it that we coveted or required. Only a -few spindle-legged, gilt-backed chairs,—an old harp on which, so the -legend ran, Aunt Eliza herself used once to play, in years remote, -unchronicled; a corner-cupboard with a few pieces of china; and the old -bureau. But one other thing the room possessed, peculiar to itself; a -certain sense of privacy—a power of making the intruder feel that he -_was_ intruding—perhaps even a faculty of hinting that some one might -have been sitting on those chairs, writing at the bureau, or fingering -the china, just a second before one entered. No such violent word as -‘haunted’ could possibly apply to this pleasant old-fashioned chamber, -which indeed we all rather liked; but there was no doubt it was -reserved and stand-offish, keeping itself to itself. - -Uncle Thomas was the first to draw my attention to the possibilities -of the old bureau. He was pottering about the house one afternoon, -having ordered me to keep at his heels for company—he was a man who -hated to be left one minute alone,—when his eye fell on it. ‘H’m! -Sheraton!’ he remarked. (He had a smattering of most things, this -uncle, especially the vocabularies.) Then he let down the flap, and -examined the empty pigeon-holes and dusty panelling. ‘Fine bit of -inlay,’ he went on: ‘good work, all of it. I know the sort. There’s a -secret drawer in there somewhere.’ Then as I breathlessly drew near, he -suddenly exclaimed: ‘By Jove, I do want to smoke!’ And, wheeling round, -he abruptly fled for the garden, leaving me with the cup dashed from my -lips. What a strange thing, I mused, was this smoking, that takes a man -suddenly, be he in the court, the camp, or the grove, grips him like -an Afreet, and whirls him off to do its imperious behests! Would it be -even so with myself, I wondered, in those unknown grown-up years to -come? - -But I had no time to waste in vain speculations. My whole being was -still vibrating to those magic syllables ‘secret drawer’; and that -particular chord had been touched that never fails to thrill responsive -to such words as _cave_, _trap-door_, _sliding-panel_, _bullion_, -_ingots_, or _Spanish dollars_. For, besides its own special bliss, -who ever heard of a secret drawer with nothing in it? And O I did want -money so badly! I mentally ran over the list of demands which were -pressing me the most imperiously. - -First, there was the pipe I wanted to give George Jannaway. George, -who was Martha’s young man, was a shepherd, and a great ally of mine; -and the last fair he was at, when he bought his sweetheart fairings, -as a right-minded shepherd should, he had purchased a lovely snake -expressly for me; one of the wooden sort, with joints, waggling -deliciously in the hand; with yellow spots on a green ground, sticky -and strong-smelling, as a fresh-painted snake ought to be; and with a -red-flannel tongue pasted cunningly into its jaws. I loved it much, and -took it to bed with me every night, till what time its spinal cord was -loosed and it fell apart, and went the way of all mortal joys. _I_ -thought it very nice of George to think of me at the fair, and that’s -why I wanted to give him a pipe. When the young year was chill and -lambing-time was on, George inhabited a little wooden house on wheels, -far out on the wintry downs, and saw no faces but such as were sheepish -and woolly and mute; and when he and Martha were married, she was going -to carry his dinner out to him every day, two miles; and after it, -perhaps he would smoke my pipe. It seemed an idyllic sort of existence, -for both the parties concerned; but a pipe of quality, a pipe fitted -to be part of a life such as this, could not be procured (so Martha -informed me) for a smaller sum than eighteenpence. And meantime——! - -Then there was the fourpence I owed Edward; not that he was bothering -me for it, but I knew he was in need of it himself, to pay back Selina, -who wanted it to make up a sum of two shillings, to buy Harold an -ironclad for his approaching birthday,—H.M.S. _Majestic_, now lying -uselessly careened in the toyshop window, just when her country had -such sore need of her. - -And then there was that boy in the village who had caught a young -squirrel, and I had never yet possessed one, and he wanted a shilling -for it, but I knew that for ninepence in cash—but what was the good of -these sorry threadbare reflections? I had wants enough to exhaust any -possible find of bullion, even if it amounted to half a sovereign. My -only hope now lay in the magic drawer, and here I was, standing and -letting the precious minutes slip by! Whether ‘findings’ of this sort -could, morally speaking, be considered ‘keepings,’ was a point that did -not occur to me. - -The room was very still as I approached the bureau; possessed, it -seemed to be, by a sort of hush of expectation. The faint odour of -orris-root that floated forth as I let down the flap, seemed to -identify itself with the yellows and browns of the old wood, till hue -and scent were of one quality and interchangeable. Even so, ere this, -the pot-pourri had mixed itself with the tints of the old brocade, -and brocade and pot-pourri had long been one. With expectant fingers -I explored the empty pigeon-holes and sounded the depths of the -softly-sliding drawers. No books that I knew of gave any general recipe -for a quest like this; but the glory, should I succeed unaided, would -be all the greater. - -To him who is destined to arrive, the fates never fail to afford, on -the way, their small encouragements. In less than two minutes, I had -come across a rusty button-hook. This was truly magnificent. In the -nursery there existed, indeed, a general button-hook, common to either -sex; but none of us possessed a private and special button-hook, to -lend or to refuse as suited the high humour of the moment. I pocketed -the treasure carefully, and proceeded. At the back of another drawer, -three old foreign stamps told me I was surely on the highroad to -fortune. - -Following on these bracing incentives, came a dull blank period of -unrewarded search. In vain I removed all the drawers and felt over -every inch of the smooth surfaces, from front to back. Never a knob, -spring or projection met the thrilling finger-tips; unyielding the -old bureau stood, stoutly guarding its secret, if secret it really -had. I began to grow weary and disheartened. This was not the first -time that Uncle Thomas had proved shallow, uninformed, a guide into -blind alleys where the echoes mocked you. Was it any good persisting -longer? Was anything any good whatever? In my mind I began to review -past disappointments, and life seemed one long record of failure and -of non-arrival. Disillusioned and depressed, I left my work and went -to the window. The light was ebbing from the room, and seemed outside -to be collecting itself on the horizon for its concentrated effort of -sunset. Far down the garden, Uncle Thomas was holding Edward in the air -reversed, and smacking him. Edward, gurgling hysterically, was striking -blind fists in the direction where he judged his uncle’s stomach should -rightly be; the contents of his pockets—a motley show—were strewing -the lawn. Somehow, though I had been put through a similar performance -myself an hour or two ago, it all seemed very far away and cut off from -me. - -[Illustration: “WESTWARD THE CLOUDS WERE MASSING THEMSELVES IN A LOW -VIOLET BANK; BELOW THEM, TO NORTH AND SOUTH, AS FAR ROUND AS THE EYE -COULD REACH, A NARROW STREAK OF GOLD RAN OUT ..... I TURNED FOR A LAST -EFFORT”] - -Westwards the clouds were massing themselves in a low violet bank; -below them, to north and south, as far round as eye could reach, a -narrow streak of gold ran out and stretched away, straight along the -horizon. Somewhere very far off, a horn was blowing, clear and thin; -it sounded like the golden streak grown audible, while the gold seemed -the visible sound. It pricked my ebbing courage, this blended strain of -music and colour. I turned for a last effort; and Fortune thereupon, -as if half-ashamed of the unworthy game she had been playing with me, -relented, opening her clenched fist. Hardly had I put my hand once more -to the obdurate wood, when with a sort of small sigh, almost a sob—as -it were—of relief, the secret drawer sprang open. - -I drew it out and carried it to the window, to examine it in the -failing light. Too hopeless had I gradually grown, in my dispiriting -search, to expect very much; and yet at a glance I saw that my basket -of glass lay in shivers at my feet. No ingots nor dollars were here, -to crown me the little Monte Cristo of a week. Outside, the distant -horn had ceased its gnat-song, the gold was paling to primrose, and -everything was lonely and still. Within, my confident little castles -were tumbling down like so many card-houses, leaving me stripped -of estate, both real and personal, and dominated by the depressing -reaction. - -And yet,—as I looked again at the small collection that lay within -that drawer of disillusions, some warmth crept back to my heart as -I recognised that a kindred spirit to my own had been at the making -of it. Two tarnished gilt buttons—naval, apparently—a portrait of a -monarch unknown to me, cut from some antique print and deftly coloured -by hand in just my own bold style of brush-work—some foreign copper -coins, thicker and clumsier of make than those I hoarded myself—and -a list of birds’-eggs, with names of the places where they had been -found. Also, a ferret’s muzzle, and a twist of tarry string, still -faintly aromatic! It was a real boy’s hoard, then, that I had happened -upon. He too had found out the secret drawer, this happy-starred young -person; and here he had stowed away his treasures, one by one, and had -cherished them secretly awhile, and then—what? Well, one would never -know now the reason why these priceless possessions still lay here -unreclaimed; but across the void stretch of years I seemed to touch -hands a moment with my little comrade of seasons—how many seasons?—long -since dead. - -I restored the drawer, with its contents, to the trusty bureau, and -heard the spring click with a certain satisfaction. Some other boy, -perhaps, would some day release that spring again. I trusted he -would be equally appreciative. As I opened the door to go, I could -hear, from the nursery at the end of the passage, shouts and yells, -telling that the hunt was up. Bears, apparently, or bandits, were on -the evening bill of fare, judging by the character of the noises. In -another minute I would be in the thick of it, in all the warmth and -light and laughter. And yet—what a long way off it all seemed, both in -space and time, to me yet lingering on the threshold of that old-world -chamber! - - - - -‘EXIT TYRANNUS’ - - -THE eventful day had arrived at last, the day which, when first -named, had seemed—like all golden dates that promise anything -definite—so immeasurably remote. When it was first announced, a -fortnight before, that Miss Smedley was really going, the resultant -ecstasies had occupied a full week, during which we blindly revelled -in the contemplation and discussion of her past tyrannies, crimes, -malignities; in recalling to each other this or that insult, dishonour, -or physical assault, sullenly endured at a time when deliverance was -not even a small star on the horizon: and in mapping out the shining -days to come, with special new troubles of their own, no doubt—since -this is but a work-a-day world!—but at least free from one familiar -scourge. The time that remained had been taken up by the planning -of practical expressions of the popular sentiment. Under Edward’s -masterly direction, arrangements had been made for a flag to be run up -over the hen-house at the very moment when the fly, with Miss Smedley’s -boxes on top and the grim oppressor herself inside, began to move off -down the drive. Three brass cannons, set on the brow of the sunk-fence, -were to proclaim our deathless sentiments in the ears of the retreating -foe; the dogs were to wear ribbons; and later—but this depended on our -powers of evasiveness and dissimulation—there might be a small bonfire, -with a cracker or two if the public funds could bear the unwonted -strain. - -I was awakened by Harold digging me in the ribs, and ‘She’s going -to-day!’ was the morning hymn that scattered the clouds of sleep. -Strange to say, it was with no corresponding jubilation of spirits that -I slowly realised the momentous fact. Indeed, as I dressed, a dull -disagreeable feeling that I could not define grew up in me—something -like a physical bruise. Harold was evidently feeling it too, for after -repeating ‘She’s going to-day!’ in a tone more befitting the Litany, he -looked hard in my face for direction as to how the situation was to be -taken. But I crossly bade him look sharp and say his prayers and not -bother me. What could this gloom portend, that on a day of days like -the present seemed to hang my heavens with black? - -Down at last and out in the sun, we found Edward before us, swinging on -a gate and chanting a farm-yard ditty in which all the beasts appear in -due order, jargoning in their several tongues, and every verse begins -with the couplet: - - ‘Now, my lads, come with me, - Out in the morning early!’ - -The fateful exodus of the day had evidently slipped his memory -entirely. I touched him on the shoulder. ‘She’s going to-day!’ I said. -Edward’s carol subsided like a water-tap turned off. ‘So she is!’ he -replied, and got down at once off the gate. And we returned to the -house without another word. - -At breakfast Miss Smedley behaved in a most mean and uncalled-for -manner. The right divine of governesses to govern wrong includes no -right to cry. In thus usurping the prerogative of their victims they -ignore the rules of the ring, and hit below the belt. Charlotte was -crying, of course; but that counted for nothing. Charlotte even cried -when the pigs’ noses were ringed in due season; thereby evoking the -cheery contempt of the operators, who asserted they liked it, and -doubtless knew. But when the cloud-compeller, her bolts laid aside, -resorted to tears, mutinous humanity had a right to feel aggrieved, and -think itself placed in a false and difficult position. What would the -Romans have done, supposing Hannibal had cried? History has not even -considered the possibility. Rules and precedents should be strictly -observed on both sides. When they are violated, the other party is -justified in feeling injured. - -There were no lessons that morning, naturally—another grievance! The -fitness of things required that we should have struggled to the last -in a confused medley of moods and tenses, and parted for ever, flushed -with hatred, over the dismembered corpse of the multiplication-table. -But this thing was not to be; and I was free to stroll by myself -through the garden, and combat, as best I might, this growing feeling -of depression. It was a wrong system altogether, I thought, this going -of people one had got used to. Things ought always to continue as they -had been. Change there must be, of course; pigs, for instance, came and -went with disturbing frequency— - - ‘Fired their ringing shot and passed, - Hotly charged and sank at last’— - -but Nature had ordered it so, and in requital had provided for rapid -successors. Did you come to love a pig, and he was taken from you, -grief was quickly assuaged in the delight of selection from the new -litter. But now, when it was no question of a peerless pig, but only -of a governess, Nature seemed helpless, and the future held no litter -of oblivion. Things might be better, or they might be worse, but they -would never be the same; and the innate conservatism of youth asks -neither poverty nor riches, but only immunity from change. - -Edward slouched up alongside of me presently, with a hangdog look on -him, as if he had been caught stealing jam. ‘What a lark it’ll be when -she’s really gone!’ he observed, with a swagger obviously assumed. - -‘Grand fun!’ I replied dolorously; and conversation flagged. - -We reached the hen-house, and contemplated the banner of freedom lying -ready to flaunt the breezes at the supreme moment. - -‘Shall you run it up,’ I asked, ‘when the fly starts, or—or wait a -little till it’s out of sight?’ - -Edward gazed round him dubiously. ‘We’re going to have some rain, I -think,’ he said; ‘and—and it’s a new flag. It would be a pity to spoil -it. P’raps I won’t run it up at all.’ - -Harold came round the corner like a bison pursued by Indians. ‘I’ve -polished up the cannons,’ he cried, ‘and they look grand! Mayn’t I load -’em now?’ - -‘You leave ’em alone,’ said Edward severely, ‘or you’ll be blowing -yourself up’ (consideration for others was not usually Edward’s strong -point). ‘Don’t touch the gunpowder till you’re told, or you’ll get your -head smacked.’ - -Harold fell behind, limp, squashed, obedient. ‘She wants me to write to -her,’ he began presently. ‘Says she doesn’t mind the spelling, if I’ll -only write. Fancy her saying that!’ - -‘O, shut up, will you?’ said Edward savagely; and once more we were -silent, with only our thoughts for sorry company. - -‘Let’s go off to the copse,’ I suggested timidly, feeling that -something had to be done to relieve the tension, ‘and cut more new bows -and arrows.’ - -‘She gave me a knife my last birthday,’ said Edward moodily, never -budging. ‘It wasn’t much of a knife—but I wish I hadn’t lost it!’ - -‘When my legs used to ache,’ I said, ‘she sat up half the night, -rubbing stuff on them. I forgot all about that till this morning.’ - -‘There’s the fly!’ cried Harold suddenly. ‘I can hear it scrunching on -the gravel.’ - -Then for the first time we turned and stared each other in the face. - - * * * * * - -The fly and its contents had finally disappeared through the gate, the -rumble of its wheels had died away. Yet no flag floated defiantly in -the sun, no cannons proclaimed the passing of a dynasty. From out the -frosted cake of our existence Fate had cut an irreplaceable segment: -turn which way we would, the void was present. We sneaked off in -different directions, mutually undesirous of company; and it seemed -borne in upon me that I ought to go and dig my garden right over, from -end to end. It didn’t actually want digging; on the other hand no -amount of digging could affect it, for good or for evil; so I worked -steadily, strenuously, under the hot sun, stifling thought in action. -At the end of an hour or so, I was joined by Edward. - -[Illustration: “‘I’VE BEEN CHOPPING UP WOOD,’ HE EXPLAINED, IN A GUILTY -SORT OF WAY”] - -‘I’ve been chopping up wood,’ he explained, in a guilty sort of way, -though nobody had called on him to account for his doings. - -‘What for?’ I inquired stupidly. ‘There’s piles and piles of it chopped -up already.’ - -‘I know,’ said Edward, ‘but there’s no harm in having a bit over. You -never can tell what may happen. But what have you been doing all -this digging for?’ - -‘You said it was going to rain,’ I explained hastily. ‘So I thought I’d -get the digging done before it came. Good gardeners always tell you -that’s the right thing to do.’ - -‘It did look like rain at one time,’ Edward admitted; ‘but it’s passed -off now. Very queer weather we’re having. I suppose that’s why I’ve -felt so funny all day.’ - -‘Yes, I suppose it’s the weather,’ I replied. ‘_I’ve_ been feeling -funny too.’ - -The weather had nothing to do with it, as we well knew. But we would -both have died rather than admit the real reason. - -[Illustration] - - - - -THE BLUE ROOM - - -THAT nature has her moments of sympathy with man has been noted -often enough,—and generally as a new discovery. To us, who had never -known any other condition of things, it seemed entirely right and -fitting that the wind sang and sobbed in the poplar tops, and, in -the lulls of it, sudden spirts of rain spattered the already dusty -roads, on that blusterous March day when Edward and I awaited, on the -station platform, the arrival of the new tutor. Needless to say, this -arrangement had been planned by an aunt, from some fond idea that our -shy, innocent young natures would unfold themselves during the walk -from the station, and that, on the revelation of each other’s more -solid qualities that must inevitably ensue, an enduring friendship, -springing from mutual respect, might be firmly based. A pretty -dream,—nothing more. For Edward, who foresaw that the brunt of tutorial -oppression would have to be borne by him, was sulky, monosyllabic, -and determined to be as negatively disagreeable as good manners would -permit. It was therefore evident that I would have to be spokesman -and purveyor of hollow civilities, and I was none the more amiable -on that account; all courtesies, welcomes, explanations, and other -court-chamberlain kind of business, being my special aversion. There -was much of the tempestuous March weather in the hearts of both of us, -as we sullenly glowered along the carriage-windows of the slackening -train. - -One is apt, however, to misjudge the special difficulties of -a situation; and the reception proved, after all, an easy and -informal matter. In a trainful so uniformly bucolic, a tutor was -readily recognisable; and his portmanteau had been consigned to the -luggage-cart, and his person conveyed into the lane, before I had -discharged one of my carefully considered sentences. I breathed more -easily, and looking up at our new friend as we stepped out together, -remembered that we had been counting on something altogether more -arid, scholastic, and severe. A boyish eager face and a petulant -_pince-nez_—untidy hair—a head of constant quick turns like a robin’s, -and a voice that kept breaking into alto—these were all very strange -and new, but not in the least terrible. - -He proceeded jerkily through the village, with glances on this side and -that; and ‘Charming,’ he broke out presently; ‘quite too charming and -delightful!’ - -I had not counted on this sort of thing, and glanced for help to -Edward, who, hands in pockets, looked grimly down his nose. He had -taken his line, and meant to stick to it. - -Meantime our friend had made an imaginary spy-glass out of his fist, -and was squinting through it at something I could not perceive. ‘What -an exquisite bit!’ he burst out. ‘Fifteenth century—no—yes it is!’ - -I began to feel puzzled, not to say alarmed. It reminded me of the -butcher in the _Arabian Nights_, whose common joints, displayed on the -shop-front, took to a startled public the appearance of dismembered -humanity. This man seemed to see the strangest things in our dull, -familiar surroundings. - -‘Ah!’ he broke out again, as we jogged on between hedgerows: ‘and -that field now—backed by the downs—with the rain-cloud brooding over -it,—that’s all David Cox—every bit of it!’ - -‘That field belongs to Farmer Larkin,’ I explained politely; for of -course he could not be expected to know. ‘I’ll take you over to Farmer -Cox’s to-morrow, if he’s a friend of yours; but there‘s nothing to see -there.’ - -Edward, who was hanging sullenly behind, made a face at me, as if to -say, ‘What sort of lunatic have we got here?’ - -‘It has the true pastoral character, this country of yours,’ went on -our enthusiast: ‘with just that added touch in cottage and farmstead, -relics of a bygone art, which makes our English landscape so divine, so -unique!’ - -Really this grasshopper was becoming a burden! These familiar fields -and farms, of which we knew every blade and stick, had done nothing -that I knew of to be bespattered with adjectives in this way. I had -never thought of them as divine, unique, or anything else. They -were—well, they were just themselves, and there was an end of it. -Despairingly I jogged Edward in the ribs, as a sign to start rational -conversation, but he only grinned and continued obdurate. - -‘You can see the house now,’ I remarked presently; ‘and that’s Selina, -chasing the donkey in the paddock. Or is it the donkey chasing Selina? -I can’t quite make out; but it’s _them_, anyhow.’ - -Needless to say, he exploded with a full charge of adjectives. -‘Exquisite!’ he rapped out; ‘so mellow and harmonious! and so entirely -in keeping!’ (I could see from Edward’s face that he was thinking who -ought to be in keeping.) ‘Such possibilities of romance, now, in those -old gables!’ - -‘If you mean the garrets,’ I said, ‘there’s a lot of old furniture -in them; and one is generally full of apples; and the bats get in -sometimes, under the eaves, and flop about till we go up with -hair-brushes and things and drive ’em out; but there’s nothing else in -them that I know of.’ - -‘O, but there must be more than bats,’ he cried. ‘Don’t tell me there -are no ghosts. I shall be deeply disappointed if there aren’t any -ghosts.’ - -I did not think it worth while to reply, feeling really unequal to this -sort of conversation. Besides, we were nearing the house, when my task -would be ended. Aunt Eliza met us at the door, and in the cross-fire of -adjectives that ensued—both of them talking at once, as grown-up folk -have a habit of doing—we two slipped round to the back of the house, -and speedily put several broad acres between us and civilisation, for -fear of being ordered in to tea in the drawing-room. By the time we -returned, our new importation had gone up to dress for dinner, so till -the morrow at least we were free of him. - -Meanwhile the March wind, after dropping a while at sundown, had been -steadily increasing in volume; and although I fell asleep at my -usual hour, about midnight I was wakened by the stress and the cry of -it. In the bright moonlight, wind-swung branches tossed and swayed -eerily across the blinds; there was rumbling in chimneys, whistling in -keyholes, and everywhere a clamour and a call. Sleep was out of the -question, and, sitting up in bed, I looked round. Edward sat up too. -‘I was wondering when you were going to wake,’ he said. ‘It’s no good -trying to sleep through this. I vote we get up and do something.’ - -‘I’m game,’ I replied. ‘Let’s play at being in a ship at sea’ (the -plaint of the old house under the buffeting wind suggested this, -naturally); ‘and we can be wrecked on an island, or left on a raft, -whichever you choose; but I like an island best myself, because there’s -more things on it.’ - -Edward on reflection negatived the idea. ‘It would make too much -noise,’ he pointed out. ‘There’s no fun playing at ships, unless you -can make a jolly good row.’ - -The door creaked, and a small figure in white slipped cautiously in. -‘Thought I heard you talking,’ said Charlotte. ‘We don’t like it; -we’re afraid—Selina too! She’ll be here in a minute. She’s putting on -her new dressing-gown she’s so proud of.’ - -His arms round his knees, Edward cogitated deeply until Selina -appeared, barefooted, and looking slim and tall in the new -dressing-gown. Then, ‘Look here,’ he exclaimed; ‘now we’re all -together, I vote we go and explore!’ - -‘You’re always wanting to explore,’ I said. ‘What on earth is there to -explore for in this house?’ - -‘Biscuits!’ said the inspired Edward. - -‘Hooray! Come on!’ chimed in Harold, sitting up suddenly. He had been -awake all the time, but had been shamming asleep, lest he should be -fagged to do anything. - -It was indeed a fact, as Edward had remembered, that our thoughtless -elders occasionally left the biscuits out, a prize for the -night-walking adventurer with nerves of steel. - -Edward tumbled out of bed, and pulled a baggy old pair of -knickerbockers over his bare shanks. Then he girt himself with a -belt, into which he thrust, on the one side a large wooden pistol, -on the other an old single-stick; and finally he donned a big -slouch-hat—once an uncle’s—that we used for playing Guy Fawkes and -Charles-the-Second-up-a-tree in. Whatever the audience, Edward, if -possible, always dressed for his parts with care and conscientiousness; -while Harold and I, true Elizabethans, cared little about the mounting -of the piece, so long as the real dramatic heart of it beat sound. - -Our commander now enjoined on us a silence deep as the grave, reminding -us that Aunt Eliza usually slept with an open door, past which we had -to file. - -‘But we’ll take the short cut through the Blue Room,’ said the wary -Selina. - -‘Of course,’ said Edward approvingly. ‘I forgot about that. Now then! -You lead the way!’ - -The Blue Room had in prehistoric times been added to by taking in a -superfluous passage, and so not only had the advantage of two doors, -but also enabled us to get to the head of the stairs without passing -the chamber wherein our dragon-aunt lay couched. It was rarely -occupied, except when a casual uncle came down for the night. We -entered in noiseless file, the room being plunged in darkness, except -for a bright strip of moonlight on the floor, across which we must -pass for our exit. On this our leading lady chose to pause, seizing -the opportunity to study the hang of her new dressing-gown. Greatly -satisfied thereat, she proceeded, after the feminine fashion, to -peacock and to pose, pacing a minuet down the moonlit patch with an -imaginary partner. This was too much for Edward’s histrionic instincts, -and after a moment’s pause he drew his single-stick, and, with -flourishes meet for the occasion, strode on to the stage. A struggle -ensued on approved lines, at the end of which Selina was stabbed slowly -and with unction, and her corpse borne from the chamber by the ruthless -cavalier. The rest of us rushed after in a clump, with capers and -gesticulations of delight; the special charm of the performance lying -in the necessity for its being carried out with the dumbest of dumb -shows. - -[Illustration: “WE ENTERED IN NOISELESS FILE, THE ROOM BEING PLUNGED IN -DARKNESS, EXCEPT FOR A BRIGHT STRIP OF MOONLIGHT ON THE FLOOR”] - -Once out on the dark landing, the noise of the storm without told -us that we had exaggerated the necessity for silence; so, grasping -the tails of each other’s nightgowns, even as Alpine climbers rope -themselves together in perilous places, we fared stoutly down the -staircase-moraine, and across the grim glacier of the hall, to where a -faint glimmer from the half-open door of the drawing-room beckoned to -us like friendly hostel-lights. Entering, we found that our thriftless -seniors had left the sound red heart of a fire, easily coaxed into a -cheerful blaze; and biscuits—a plateful—smiled at us in an encouraging -sort of way, together with the halves of a lemon, already squeezed, -but still suckable. The biscuits were righteously shared, the lemon -segments passed from mouth to mouth; and as we squatted round the fire, -its genial warmth consoling our unclad limbs, we realised that so many -nocturnal perils had not been braved in vain. - -‘It’s a funny thing,’ said Edward, as we chatted, ‘how I hate this room -in the daytime. It always means having your face washed, and your hair -brushed, and talking silly company talk. But to-night it’s really quite -jolly. Looks different, somehow.’ - -‘I never can make out,’ I said, ‘what people come here to tea for. -They can have their own tea at home if they like—they’re not poor -people—with jam and things, and drink out of their saucer, and suck -their fingers and enjoy themselves; but they come here from a long way -off, and sit up straight with their feet off the bars of their chairs, -and have one cup, and talk the same sort of stuff every time.’ - -Selina sniffed disdainfully. ‘You don’t know anything about it,’ she -said. ‘In society you have to call on each other. It’s the proper thing -to do.’ - -‘Pooh! _you’re_ not in society,’ said Edward politely; ‘and, what’s -more, you never will be.’ - -‘Yes, I shall, some day,’ retorted Selina; ‘but I shan’t ask you to -come and see me, so there!’ - -‘Wouldn’t come if you did,’ growled Edward. - -‘Well you won’t get the chance,’ rejoined our sister, claiming -her right of the last word. There was no heat about these little -amenities, which made up—as understood by us—the art of polite -conversation. - -‘I don’t like society people,’ put in Harold from the sofa, where he -was sprawling at full length—a sight the daylight hours would have -blushed to witness. ‘There were some of ’em here this afternoon, when -you two had gone off to the station. O, and I found a dead mouse on -the lawn, and I wanted to skin it, but I wasn’t sure I knew how, by -myself; and they came out into the garden, and patted my head—I wish -people wouldn’t do that—and one of ’em asked me to pick her a flower. -Don’t know why she couldn’t pick it herself; but I said, “All right, -I will if you’ll hold my mouse.” But she screamed, and threw it away; -and Augustus (the cat) got it, and ran away with it. I believe it was -really his mouse all the time, ’cos he’d been looking about as if he -had lost something, so I wasn’t angry with _him_. But what did _she_ -want to throw away my mouse for?’ - -‘You have to be careful with mice,’ reflected Edward; ‘they’re such -slippery things. Do you remember we were playing with a dead mouse once -on the piano, and the mouse was Robinson Crusoe, and the piano was the -island, and somehow Crusoe slipped down inside the island, into its -works, and we couldn’t get him out, though we tried rakes and all sorts -of things, till the tuner came. And that wasn’t till a week after, and -then——’ - -Here Charlotte, who had been nodding solemnly, fell over into the -fender; and we realised that the wind had dropped at last, and the -house was lapped in a great stillness. Our vacant beds seemed to be -calling to us imperiously; and we were all glad when Edward gave the -signal for retreat. At the top of the staircase Harold unexpectedly -turned mutinous, insisting on his right to slide down the banisters in -a free country. Circumstances did not allow of argument; I suggested -frog’s-marching instead, and accordingly frog’s-marched he was, the -procession passing solemnly across the moon-lit Blue Room, with Harold -horizontal and limply submissive. Snug in bed at last, I was just -slipping off into slumber when I heard Edward explode, with chuckle -and snort. - -‘By Jove!’ he said; ‘I forgot all about it. The new tutor’s sleeping in -the Blue Room!’ - -‘Lucky he didn’t wake up and catch us,’ I grunted drowsily; and, -without another thought on the matter, we both sank into well-earned -repose. - -Next morning, coming down to breakfast braced to grapple with fresh -adversity, we were surprised to find our garrulous friend of the -previous day—he was late in making his appearance—strangely silent and -(apparently) pre-occupied. Having polished off our porridge, we ran out -to feed the rabbits, explaining to them that a beast of a tutor would -prevent their enjoying so much of our society as formerly. - -On returning to the house at the fated hour appointed for study, we -were thunderstruck to see the station-cart disappearing down the -drive, freighted with our new acquaintance. Aunt Eliza was brutally -uncommunicative; but she was overheard to remark casually that she -thought the man must be a lunatic. In this theory we were only too -ready to concur, dismissing thereafter the whole matter from our minds. - -Some weeks later it happened that Uncle Thomas, while paying us a -flying visit, produced from his pocket a copy of the latest weekly, -_Psyche: a Journal of the Unseen_; and proceeded laboriously to rid -himself of much incomprehensible humour, apparently at our expense. We -bore it patiently, with the forced grin demanded by convention, anxious -to get at the source of inspiration, which it presently appeared lay -in a paragraph circumstantially describing our modest and humdrum -habitation. ‘Case III.,’ it began. ‘The following particulars were -communicated by a young member of the Society, of undoubted probity and -earnestness, and are a chronicle of actual and recent experience.’ A -fairly accurate description of the house followed, with details that -were unmistakable; but to this there succeeded a flood of meaningless -drivel about apparitions, nightly visitants, and the like, writ in a -manner betokening a disordered mind, coupled with a feeble imagination. -The fellow was not even original. All the old material was there—the -storm at night, the haunted chamber, the white lady, the murder -re-enacted, and so on—already worn threadbare in many a Christmas -Number. No one was able to make head or tail of the stuff, or of its -connexion with our quiet mansion; and yet Edward, who had always -suspected the fellow, persisted in maintaining that our tutor of a -brief span was, somehow or other, at the bottom of it. - -[Illustration] - - - - -A FALLING OUT - - -HAROLD told me the main facts of this episode some time later,—in bits -and with reluctance. It was not a recollection he cared to talk about. -The crude blank misery of a moment is apt to leave a dull bruise which -is slow to depart, if it ever do so entirely; and Harold confesses to -a twinge or two, still, at times, like the veteran who brings home a -bullet inside him from martial plains over sea. - -He knew he was a brute the moment he had done it. Selina had not -meant to worry, only to comfort and assist. But his soul was one raw -sore within him, when he found himself shut up in the schoolroom -after hours, merely for insisting that 7 times 7 amounted to 47. The -injustice of it seemed so flagrant. Why not 47 as much as 49! One -number was no prettier than the other to look at, and it was evidently -only a matter of arbitrary taste and preference, and, anyhow, it -had always been 47 to him, and would be to the end of time. So when -Selina came in out of the sun, leaving the Trappers of the Far West -behind her, and putting off the glory of being an Apache squaw in -order to hear him his tables and win his release, Harold turned on her -venomously, rejected her kindly overtures, and even drove his elbow -into her sympathetic ribs, in his determination to be left alone in the -glory of sulks. The fit passed directly, his eyes were opened, and his -soul sat in the dust as he sorrowfully began to cast about for some -atonement heroic enough to salve the wrong. - -Of course poor Selina looked for no sacrifice nor heroics whatever; she -didn’t even want him to say he was sorry. If he would only make it up, -she would have done the apologising part herself. But that was not a -boy’s way. Something solid, Harold felt, was due from him; and until -that was achieved, making-up must not be thought of, in order that the -final effect might not be spoilt. Accordingly, when his release came, -and Selina hung about trying to catch his eye, Harold, possessed by -the demon of a distorted motive, avoided her steadily—though he was -bleeding inwardly at every minute of delay—and came to me instead. -Needless to say, I warmly approved his plan. It was so much more -high-toned than just going and making-up tamely, which any one could -do; and a girl who had been jobbed in the ribs by a hostile elbow could -not be expected for a moment to overlook it, without the liniment of an -offering to soothe her injured feelings. - -‘I know what she wants most,’ said Harold. ‘She wants that set of -tea-things in the toy-shop window, with the red and blue flowers on -’em; she’s wanted it for months, ’cos her dolls are getting big enough -to have real afternoon tea; and she wants it so badly that she won’t -walk that side of the street when we go into the town. But it costs -five shillings!’ - -Then we set to work seriously, and devoted the afternoon to a -realisation of assets and the composition of a Budget that might have -been dated without shame from Whitehall. The result worked out as -follows:— - - _s._ _d._ - - By one uncle, unspent through having been lost - for nearly a week—turned up at last in the - straw of the dog-kennel 2 6 - - By advance from me on security of next uncle, - and failing that, to be called in at Christmas 1 0 - - By shaken out of missionary-box with the help - of a knife-blade. (They were our own pennies - and a forced levy) 0 4 - - By bet due from Edward, for walking across the - field where Farmer Larkin’s bull was, and - Edward bet him twopence he wouldn’t—called - in with difficulty 0 2 - - By advance from Martha, on no security at all, - only you mustn’t tell your aunt 1 0 - ------ - Total 5 0 - -and at last we breathed again. - -The rest promised to be easy. Selina had a tea-party at five on the -morrow, with the chipped old wooden tea-things that had served her -successive dolls from babyhood. Harold would slip off directly after -dinner, going alone, so as not to arouse suspicion, as we were not -allowed to go into the town by ourselves. It was nearly two miles to -our small metropolis, but there would be plenty of time for him to go -and return, even laden with the olive-branch neatly packed in shavings. -Besides, he might meet the butcher, who was his friend and would give -him a lift. Then, finally, at five, the rapture of the new tea-service, -descended from the skies; and, retribution made, making-up at last, -without loss of dignity. With the event before us, we thought it a -small thing that twenty-four hours more of alienation and pretended -sulks must be kept up on Harold’s part; but Selina, who naturally -knew nothing of the treat in store for her, moped for the rest of the -evening, and took a very heavy heart to bed. - -Next day when the hour for action arrived, Harold evaded Olympian -attention with an easy modesty born of long practice, and made off for -the front gate. Selina, who had been keeping her eye upon him, thought -he was going down to the pond to catch frogs, a joy they had planned -to share together, and made after him. But Harold, though he heard her -footsteps, continued sternly on his high mission, without even looking -back; and Selina was left to wander disconsolately among flower-beds -that had lost—for her—all scent and colour. I saw it all, and, although -cold reason approved our line of action, instinct told me we were -brutes. - -[Illustration: “SHOPS CAME FIRST, OF COURSE.....”] - -Harold reached the town—so he recounted afterwards—in record time, -having run most of the way for fear the tea-things, which had -reposed six months in the window, should be snapped up by some other -conscience-stricken lacerator of a sister’s feelings; and it seemed -hardly credible to find them still there, and their owner willing to -part with them for the price marked on the ticket. He paid his money -down at once, that there should be no drawing back from the bargain; -and then, as the things had to be taken out of the window and packed, -and the afternoon was yet young, he thought he might treat himself to -a taste of urban joys and the _vie de Bohême_. Shops came first, of -course, and he flattened his nose successively against the window with -the indiarubber balls in it, and the clock-work locomotive; and against -the barber’s window, with wigs on blocks, reminding him of uncles, -and shaving-cream that looked so good to eat; and the grocer’s -window, displaying more currants than the whole British population -could possibly consume without a special effort; and the window of the -bank, wherein gold was thought so little of that it was dealt about in -shovels. Next there was the market-place, with all its clamorous joys; -and when a runaway calf came down the street like a cannon-ball, Harold -felt that he had not lived in vain. The whole place was so brimful of -excitement that he had quite forgotten the why and the wherefore of -his being there, when a sight of the church clock recalled him to his -better self, and sent him flying out of the town, as he realised he -had only just time enough left to get back in. If he were after his -appointed hour, he would not only miss his high triumph, but probably -would be detected as a transgressor of bounds—a crime before which a -private opinion on multiplication sank to nothingness. So he jogged -along on his homeward way, thinking of many things, and probably -talking to himself a good deal, as his habit was. He had covered -nearly half the distance, when suddenly—a deadly sinking in the pit -of his stomach—a paralysis of every limb—around him a world extinct -of light and music—a black sun and a reeling sky—he had forgotten the -tea-things! - -It was useless, it was hopeless, all was over and nothing could now -be done. Nevertheless he turned and ran back wildly, blindly, choking -with the big sobs that evoked neither pity nor comfort from a merciless -mocking world around; a stitch in his side, dust in his eyes, and black -despair clutching at his heart. So he stumbled on, with leaden legs -and bursting sides, till—as if Fate had not yet dealt him her last -worst buffet of all—on turning a corner in the road he almost ran under -the wheels of a dog-cart, in which, as it pulled up, was apparent the -portly form of Farmer Larkin, the arch-enemy, at whose ducks he had -been shying stones that very morning! - -Had Harold been in his right and unclouded senses, he would have -vanished through the hedge some seconds earlier, rather than pain -the farmer by any unpleasant reminiscences which his appearance -might recall; but, as things were, he could only stand and blubber -hopelessly, caring, indeed, little now what further misery might befall -him. The farmer, for his part, surveyed the desolate figure with some -astonishment, calling out in no unfriendly accents, ‘Why, Master -Harold! whatever be the matter? Baint runnin’ away, be ee?’ - -Then Harold, with the unnatural courage born of desperation, flung -himself on the step, and, climbing into the cart, fell in the straw -at the bottom of it, sobbing out that he wanted to go back, go back! -The situation had a vagueness; but the farmer, a man of action rather -than of words, swung his horse round smartly, and they were in the -town again by the time Harold had recovered himself sufficiently to -furnish details. As they drove up to the shop, the woman was waiting at -the door with the parcel; and hardly a minute seemed to have elapsed -since the black crisis, ere they were bowling along swiftly home, the -precious parcel hugged in a close embrace. - -And now the farmer came out in quite a new and unexpected light. -Never a word did he say of broken fences and hurdles, of trampled -crops and harried flocks and herds. One would have thought the man -had never possessed a head of live stock in his life. Instead, he was -deeply interested in the whole dolorous quest of the tea-things, and -sympathised with Harold on the disputed point in mathematics as if he -had been himself at the same stage of education. As they neared home, -Harold found himself, to his surprise, sitting up and chatting to his -new friend like man to man; and before he was set down at a convenient -gap in the garden hedge, he had promised that when Selina gave her -first public tea-party, little Miss Larkin should be invited to come -and bring her whole sawdust family along with her; and the farmer -appeared as pleased and proud as if he had won a gold medal at the -Agricultural Show, and really, when I heard the story, it began to dawn -upon me that those Olympians must have certain good points, far down in -them, and that I should have to leave off abusing them some day. - -At the hour of five, Selina, having spent the afternoon searching for -Harold in all his accustomed haunts, sat down disconsolately to tea -with her dolls, who ungenerously refused to wait beyond the appointed -hour. The wooden tea-things seemed more chipped than usual; and the -dolls themselves had more of wax and sawdust, and less of human colour -and intelligence about them, than she ever remembered before. It was -then that Harold burst in, very dusty, his stockings at his heels, and -the channels ploughed by tears still showing on his grimy cheeks; and -Selina was at last permitted to know that he had been thinking of her -ever since his ill-judged exhibition of temper, and that his sulks had -not been the genuine article, nor had he gone frogging by himself. It -was a very happy hostess who dispensed hospitality that evening to a -glassy-eyed stiff-kneed circle; and many a dollish _gaucherie_, that -would have been severely checked on ordinary occasions, was as much -overlooked as if it had been a birthday. - -But Harold and I, in what I was afterwards given to understand was our -stupid masculine way, thought all her happiness sprang from possession -of the long-coveted tea-service. - -[Illustration] - - - - -‘LUSISTI SATIS’ - - -AMONG the many fatuous ideas that possessed the Olympian noddle, this -one was pre-eminent; that, being Olympians, they could talk quite -freely in our presence on subjects of the closest import to us, so long -as names, dates, and other landmarks were ignored. We were supposed to -be denied the faculty for putting two and two together, and like the -monkeys, who very sensibly refrain from speech lest they should be set -to earn their livings, we were careful to conceal our capabilities for -a simple syllogism. Thus we were rarely taken by surprise, and so were -considered by our disappointed elders to be apathetic and to lack the -divine capacity for wonder. - -Now the daily output of the letter-bag, with the mysterious discussions -that ensued thereon, had speedily informed us that Uncle Thomas was -intrusted with a mission—a mission, too, affecting ourselves. Uncle -Thomas’s missions were many and various. A self-important man, one -liking the business while protesting that he sank under the burden, he -was the missionary, so to speak, of our remote habitation. The matching -a ribbon, the running down to the stores, the interviewing a cook—these -and similar duties lent constant colour and variety to his vacant -life in London, and helped to keep down his figure. When the matter, -however, had in our presence to be referred to with nods and pronouns, -with significant hiatuses and interpolations in the French tongue, -then the red flag was flown, the storm-cone hoisted, and by a studious -pretence of inattention we were not long in plucking out the heart of -the mystery. - -To clinch our conclusion, we descended suddenly and together on Martha; -proceeding, however, not by simple inquiry as to facts—that would never -have done; but by informing her that the air was full of school and -that we knew all about it, and then challenging denial. Martha was a -trusty soul, but a bad witness for the defence, and we soon had it all -out of her. The word had gone forth, the school had been selected; the -necessary sheets were hemming even now, and Edward was the designated -and appointed victim. - -It had always been before us as an inevitable bourne, this -strange unknown thing called school; and yet—perhaps I should say -consequently—we had never seriously set ourselves to consider what it -really meant. But now that the grim spectre loomed imminent, stretching -lean hands for one of our flock, it behoved us to face the situation, -to take soundings in this uncharted sea and find out whither we were -drifting. Unfortunately the data in our possession were absolutely -insufficient, and we knew not whither to turn for exact information. -Uncle Thomas could have told us all about it, of course; he had been -there himself, once, in the dim and misty past. But an unfortunate -conviction, that nature had intended him for a humorist, tainted all -his evidence, besides making it wearisome to hear. Again, of such -among our contemporaries as we had approached, the trumpets gave -forth an uncertain sound. According to some it meant larks, revels, -emancipation, and a foretaste of the bliss of manhood. According to -others—the majority, alas!—it was a private and peculiar Hades, that -could give the original institution points and a beating. When Edward -was observed to be swaggering round with a jaunty air and his chest -stuck out, I knew that he was contemplating his future from the one -point of view. When, on the contrary, he was subdued and unaggressive, -and sought the society of his sisters, I recognised that the other -aspect was in the ascendant. ‘You can always run away, you know,’ I -used to remark consolingly on these latter occasions; and Edward would -brighten up wonderfully at the suggestion, while Charlotte melted into -tears before her vision of a brother with blistered feet and an empty -belly, passing nights of frost ’neath the lee of windy haystacks. - -It was to Edward, of course, that the situation was chiefly productive -of anxiety; and yet the ensuing change in my own circumstances and -position furnished me also with food for grave reflexion. Hitherto I -had acted mostly to orders. Even when I had devised and counselled any -particular devilry, it had been carried out on Edward’s approbation, -and—as eldest—at his special risk. Henceforward I began to be anxious -of the bugbear Responsibility, and to realise what a soul-throttling -thing it is. True, my new position would have its compensations. Edward -had been masterful exceedingly, imperious, perhaps a little narrow; -impassioned for hard facts, and with scant sympathy for make-believe. I -should now be free and untrammelled; in the conception and the carrying -out of a scheme, I could accept and reject to better artistic purpose. - -It would, moreover, be needless to be a Radical any more. Radical I -never was, really, by nature or by sympathy. The part had been thrust -on me one day, when Edward proposed to foist the House of Lords on our -small republic. The principles of the thing he set forth learnedly and -well, and it all sounded promising enough, till he went on to explain -that, for the present at least, he proposed to be the House of Lords -himself. We others were to be the Commons. There would be promotions, -of course, he added, dependent on service and on fitness, and open -to both sexes; and to me in especial he held out hopes of speedy -advancement. But in its initial stages the thing wouldn’t work properly -unless he were first and only Lord. Then I put my foot down promptly, -and said it was all rot, and I didn’t see the good of any House of -Lords at all. ‘Then you must be a low Radical!’ said Edward, with fine -contempt. The inference seemed hardly necessary, but what could I do? I -accepted the situation, and said firmly, Yes, I was a low Radical. In -this monstrous character I had been obliged to masquerade ever since; -but now I could throw it off, and look the world in the face again. - -And yet, did this and other gains really outbalance my losses? -Henceforth I should, it was true, be leader and chief; but I should -also be the buffer between the Olympians and my little clan. To Edward -this had been nothing; he had withstood the impact of Olympus without -flinching, like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved. But was I equal to the -task? And was there not rather a danger that for the sake of peace and -quietness I might be tempted to compromise, compound, and make terms? -sinking thus, by successive lapses, into the Blameless Prig? I don’t -mean, of course, that I thought out my thoughts to the exact point here -set down. In those fortunate days of old one was free from the hard -necessity of transmuting the vague idea into the mechanical inadequate -medium of words. But the feeling was there, that I might not possess -the qualities of character for so delicate a position. - -The unnatural halo round Edward got more pronounced, his own demeanour -more responsible and dignified, with the arrival of his new clothes. -When his trunk and play-box were sent in, the approaching cleavage -between our brother, who now belonged to the future, and ourselves, -still claimed by the past, was accentuated indeed. His name was -painted on each of them, in large letters, and after their arrival -their owner used to disappear mysteriously, and be found eventually -wandering round his luggage, murmuring to himself, ‘Edward ——,’ in a -rapt remote sort of way. It was a weakness, of course, and pointed to a -soft spot in his character; but those who can remember the sensation of -first seeing their names in print will not think hardly of him. - -As the short days sped by and the grim event cast its shadow longer and -longer across our threshold, an unnatural politeness, a civility scarce -canny, began to pervade the air. In those latter hours Edward himself -was frequently heard to say ‘Please,’ and also ‘Would you mind fetchin’ -that ball?’ while Harold and I would sometimes actually find ourselves -trying to anticipate his wishes. As for the girls, they simply -grovelled. The Olympians, too, in their uncouth way, by gift of carnal -delicacies and such-like indulgence, seemed anxious to demonstrate that -they had hitherto misjudged this one of us. Altogether the situation -grew strained and false, and I think a general relief was felt when -the end came. - -We all trooped down to the station, of course; it is only in later -years that the farce of ‘seeing people off’ is seen in its true -colours. Edward was the life and soul of the party; and if his gaiety -struck one at times as being a trifle overdone, it was not a moment to -be critical. As we tramped along, I promised him I would ask Farmer -Larkin not to kill any more pigs till he came back for the holidays, -and he said he would send me a proper catapult,—the real lethal -article, not a kid’s plaything. Then suddenly, when we were about -half-way down, one of the girls fell a-snivelling. - -The happy few who dare to laugh at the woes of sea-sickness will -perhaps remember how, on occasion, the sudden collapse of a -fellow-voyager before their very eyes has caused them hastily to revise -their self-confidence and resolve to walk more humbly for the future. -Even so it was with Edward, who turned his head aside, feigning an -interest in the landscape. It was but for a moment; then he recollected -the hat he was wearing—a hard bowler, the first of that sort he had -ever owned. He took it off, examined it, and felt it over. Something -about it seemed to give him strength, and he was a man once more. - -At the station, Edward’s first care was to dispose his boxes on the -platform so that every one might see the labels and the lettering -thereon. One did not go to school for the first time every day! Then -he read both sides of his ticket carefully; shifted it to every one -of his pockets in turn; and finally fell to chinking of his money, to -keep his courage up. We were all dry of conversation by this time, and -could only stand round and stare in silence at the victim decked for -the altar. And, as I looked at Edward, in new clothes of a manly cut, -with a hard hat upon his head, a railway ticket in one pocket and money -of his own in the other—money to spend as he liked and no questions -asked!—I began to feel dimly how great was the gulf already yawning -betwixt us. Fortunately I was not old enough to realise, further, that -here on this little platform the old order lay at its last gasp, and -that Edward might come back to us, but it would not be the Edward of -yore, nor could things ever be the same again. - -When the train steamed up at last, we all boarded it impetuously -with the view of selecting the one peerless carriage to which Edward -might be intrusted with the greatest comfort and honour; and as each -one found the ideal compartment at the same moment, and vociferously -maintained its merits, he stood some chance for a time of being left -behind. A porter settled the matter by heaving him through the nearest -door; and as the train moved off, Edward’s head was thrust out of the -window, wearing on it an unmistakable first-quality grin that he had -been saving up somewhere for the supreme moment. Very small and white -his face looked, on the long side of the retreating train. But the -grin was visible, undeniable, stoutly maintained; till a curve swept -him from our sight, and he was borne away in the dying rumble, out of -our placid backwater, out into the busy world of rubs and knocks and -competition, out into the New Life. - -[Illustration: “....SELINA AND CHARLOTTE WERE BUSY STUFFING EDWARD’S -RABBITS WITH UNWONTED FORAGE, BILIOUS AND GREEN”] - -When a crab has lost a leg, his gait is still more awkward than -his wont, till Time and healing Nature make him _totus teres atque -rotundus_ once more. We straggled back from the station disjointedly; -Harold, who was very silent, sticking close to me, his last slender -prop, while the girls in front, their heads together, were already -reckoning up the weeks to the holidays. Home at last, Harold suggested -one or two occupations of a spicy and contraband flavour, but though -we did our manful best there was no knocking any interest out of them. -Then I suggested others, with the same want of success. Finally we -found ourselves sitting silent on an upturned wheelbarrow, our chins on -our fists, staring haggardly into the raw new conditions of our changed -life, the ruins of a past behind our backs. - -And all the while Selina and Charlotte were busy stuffing Edward’s -rabbits with unwonted forage, bilious and green; polishing up the -cage of his mice till the occupants raved and swore like householders -in spring-time; and collecting materials for new bows and arrows, -whips, boats, guns, and four-in-hand harness, against the return of -Ulysses. Little did they dream that the hero, once back from Troy and -all its onsets, would scornfully condemn their clumsy but laborious -armoury as rot and humbug and only fit for kids! This, with many -another like awakening, was mercifully hidden from them. Could the -veil have been lifted, and the girls permitted to see Edward as he -would appear a short three months hence, ragged of attire and lawless -of tongue, a scorner of tradition and an adept in strange new physical -tortures, one who would in the same half-hour dismember a doll and -shatter a hallowed belief,—in fine, a sort of swaggering Captain, fresh -from the Spanish Main,—could they have had the least hint of this, -well, then perhaps——. But which of us is of mental fibre to stand the -test of a glimpse into futurity? Let us only hope that, even with -certain disillusionment ahead, the girls would have acted precisely as -they did. - -And perhaps we have reason to be very grateful that, both as children -and long afterwards, we are never allowed to guess how the absorbing -pursuit of the moment will appear not only to others but to ourselves, -a very short time hence. So we pass, with a gusto and a heartiness that -to an onlooker would seem almost pathetic, from one droll devotion to -another misshapen passion; and who shall dare to play Rhadamanthus, to -appraise the record, and to decide how much of it is solid achievement, -and how much the merest child’s play? - -[Illustration] - - - - -_BOOKS BY KENNETH GRAHAME_ - - -THE GOLDEN AGE - -16mo. $1.00 net. Twenty-third Edition. - - -THE GOLDEN AGE - -An Illustrated Edition, set in old-faced type, with 18 full-page -Photogravures, Title-page, Tail-pieces, and Cover-design by Maxfield -Parrish. Sq. 8vo. $2.50 net. - - _New York Times Saturday Review._—‘The new illustrated - edition of “The Golden Age” is published now because - the ordinary half-tone process applied to Maxfield - Parrish’s charming drawings, when the book was first - illustrated, did not do justice to the artist’s work. - The original drawings, which had been sold to many - purchasers, were hunted up, and they have here been - reproduced by photogravure. No artist ever caught the - spirit of an author more surely than Maxfield Parrish - has caught that of the staid Secretary of the Old Lady - of Threadneedle Street, who in his leisure hours writes - these exquisite memories of childhood.’ - - _Chicago Evening Post._—‘One of the most exquisite - pieces of illustration that has been done in America - for some time. A more felicitous expression of the - spirit of Mr. Grahame’s classic could not be conceived. - In this case it is difficult to say, if indeed it were - not invidious to say, which were the more charming, the - more lasting in subtle beauty,—the work of brush or - pen. Together they have made a gem for any library.’ - - _New York Evening Post._—‘The publisher, at no little - expense and labor, has sought out the original - pictures. The result is delightful.’ - - _Brooklyn Daily Eagle._—‘Decidedly it was a good - thought, this new edition.’ - - _Boston Evening Transcript._—‘In point of - attractiveness and beauty this new edition stands by - itself.’ - - -DREAM DAYS - -16mo. $1.00 net. Fourth Edition. - - -DREAM DAYS - -An Illustrated Edition, set in old-faced type, with 10 full-page -Photogravures, Title-page, Tail-pieces, and Cover-design by Maxfield -Parrish. Sq. 8vo. $2.50 net. - - _Dial._—‘One of the most delightful holiday books of - a season or two ago was the edition of Mr. Kenneth - Grahame’s “The Golden Age,” with illustrations by Mr. - Maxfield Parrish. Even more delightful is the companion - volume now issued containing the same author’s - “Dream Days.” It is hardly necessary to speak of Mr. - Grahame’s text. His two books hold a place apart in - the literature of childhood, and we can well envy the - reader who has yet to make their acquaintance.’ - - DR. GUY CARLETON LEE, _Baltimore Sun_.—‘Very few more - delightful books than “Dream Days” have ever seen the - light. If we were forced to make out a list of the - works of literature published during the last two - decades, that are, in our judgment, likely to be alive - two decades hence, in the very brief list we should - certainly include “Dream Days.”’ - - _Churchman._—‘To put yourself in a child’s place, to - think a boy’s thoughts about the happenings of everyday - life, is a rare quality in any writer. Still more rare - is it, perhaps, to dream the child’s dreams in literary - form, to preserve the evanescent glow of juvenile - fancy. In that art, as it seems to us, Kenneth Grahame - has no present rival.’ - - _Boston Evening Transcript._—‘Hardly since Robert Louis - Stevenson’s “A Child’s Garden of Verses” have we had - such imaginative presentation of the juvenile point of - view.’ - - _Brooklyn Eagle._—‘Mr. Grahame is one of those wizards - whose magic has created pictures of childlife exquisite - in humour, quaint in fancy, subtle in charm. In Mr. - Maxfield Parrish the author has an ideal illustrator.’ - - _New York Tribune._—‘Mr. Parrish is one of the most - original and effective draughtsmen that we have, and in - this series of illustrations he is at his best. A more - exquisitely decorated Christmas book than this it has - not been our fortune to see.’ - - -PAGAN PAPERS - -16mo. $1.00 net. Second Edition. - - _Academy._—‘Rarely does one meet with an author whose - wit is so apt, whose touches of sentiment are so - genuine. His paper on tobacco is good reading, though - one remembers Calverley and the Arcadian mixture; the - eulogy on the loafer is second only to Mr. Stevenson’s - praise of “The Idler.” There is too a distinct flavour - of poetry in much of Mr. Grahame’s works. One could - have wished “White Poppies” had been written in verse, - were not the prose of it so delicate and adequate.’ - - _Daily Chronicle._—‘Mr. Kenneth Grahame’s - accomplishment is astounding.... His style is a - delight, so high is its vitality, or cool its colours, - so nimble and various its rhythms. He has read and - assimilated Browne Burton. He has a pretty poetic - fancy and is apt at a quaint analogy. Many forms of - beauty—existent and non-existent—he loves with a deep - and discriminating love.’ - - -THE HEADSWOMAN - -16mo. 50 cents net. New Edition. - - _Bookman._—‘Mr. Grahame’s cleverness does not forsake - him when he attempts satire. “The Headswoman” is a - pretty bit of foolery.’ - - _Literary World._—‘A delightful little tale with a - tinge of satire in it. For gracefulness of style and - charm in the telling of a story it is in the front - rank, and that is saying a great deal.’ - - _Dundee Advertiser._—‘Humour is not dead amongst us, - for Kenneth Grahame’s witty little romance of “The - Headswoman” brims over with it.’ - - MR. W. L. COURTNEY in _Daily Telegraph_.—‘Well we are - more than a trifle dull, _nous autres_; and we should - be grateful to Mr. Kenneth Grahame for throwing in a - story or two of his own, as often as he can. Happy Mr. - Grahame, who can weave romances as well.’ - - _Scotsman._—‘Mr. Grahame has written a most charming - book, which cannot fail to delight all who were once - children.’ - - JOHN LANE COMPANY, _The Bodley Head_, NEW YORK - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. - -Repeated chapter titles were deleted to avoid redundancy. - -Page 97, “supicious” changed to “suspicious” (beastly suspicious by) - -Page 101, “stealthly” changed to “stealthy” (his stealthy career) - -Page 102, “frighful” changed to “frightful” (a frightful funk) - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN AGE*** - - -******* This file should be named 53250-0.txt or 53250-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/2/5/53250 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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J. E. Moony</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: The Golden Age</p> -<p>Author: Kenneth Grahame</p> -<p>Release Date: October 10, 2016 [eBook #53250]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN AGE***</p> -<p> </p> -<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<h1 class="faux">THE GOLDEN AGE</h1> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 591px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="591" height="800" alt="This cover was edited to make the cover text easier to read. The original may be seen at the end of the text" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> -<div class="maintitle">THE GOLDEN AGE</div> -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 495px;"> -<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="495" height="696" alt="boy on path pulling curtain aside; dragon at his feet and castle and knight in distance" /> -<div class="caption">“ONCE MORE WERE DAMSELS RESCUED,<br /> -DRAGONS DISEMBOWELLED. . . . .”</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<h4>There are several editions of this ebook in the Project Gutenberg collection. Various characteristics of each ebook are listed to aid in selecting the preferred file.<br />Click on any of the filenumbers below to quickly view each ebook. -</h4> - - -<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> - -<tr><td> - <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53250/53250-h/53250-h.htm"> -53250</a> </b> </td><td>(Fine color illustrations) -</td></tr> - -<tr><td> - <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32501/32501-h/32501-h.htm"> -32501</a></b></td><td>(Fine sepia illustrations) -</td></tr> - - -<tr><td> - <b><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/291/291-h/291-h.htm"> -291</a></b> </td><td>(No illustrations) -</td></tr> - -</table> - -<div class="maintitle">THE<br /> -GOLDEN AGE</div> - -<div class="center"><br /><br /> -BY<br /> -<span class="author">KENNETH GRAHAME</span><br /> -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN<br /> -<span class="u"> COLOUR BY R. J. E. MOONY </span><br /><br /></div> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 113px;"> -<img src="images/illus005.jpg" width="113" height="68" alt="emblem" /> -</div> -<div class="center"> -<br /><br /><br /> -———————————————————<br /> -NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY<br /> -LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD<br /> -TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN: MCMXIV<br /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<p class="copyright"> -Copyright, 1899,<br /> -By JOHN LANE<br /> -<br /> -Copyright, 1904,<br /> -By JOHN LANE<br /> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<td align="left"> </td> -<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">PROLOGUE: THE OLYMPIANS</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">3</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">A HOLIDAY</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">13</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">A WHITE-WASHED UNCLE</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">29</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">39</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE FINDING OF THE PRINCESS</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">53</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">SAWDUST AND SIN</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">67</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">‘YOUNG ADAM CUPID’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">79</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE BURGLARS</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_90">93</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">A HARVESTING</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">107</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">SNOWBOUND</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">121</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">133</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE ARGONAUTS</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">143</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE ROMAN ROAD</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_159">161</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE SECRET DRAWER</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_176">179</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">‘EXIT TYRANNUS’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_190">193</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">THE BLUE ROOM</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_202">205</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">A FALLING OUT</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_222">225</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">‘LUSISTI SATIS’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_237">239</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> -<tr> -<td align="left">“Once more were damsels rescued, dragons disembowelled. . . .”</td> -<td align="left"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left"> </td> -<td align="right"><small>FACING PAGE</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“. . . He was always ready to constitute himself a hostile army or a band of marauding Indians”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">6</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“‘Where’s Harold?’ I asked presently. ‘Oh, he’s just playin’ muffin-man as usual’”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“When at last the atmosphere was clear of his depressing influence, we met despondently in the potato-cellar”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Instead of active ‘pretence,’ with its shouts and its perspiration, how much better—I held—to lie at ease and pretend to one’s self, in green and golden fancies”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“. . . And then, my cheek on the cool marble, lulled by the trickle of water, I slipped into dreamland out of real and magic world alike”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“‘Now we’ll go on,’ began Charlotte once more”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Edward led the race home at a speed which one of Ballantyne’s heroes might have equalled but never surpassed”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“This overland route had been revealed to us one day by the domestic cat, when hard pressed in the course of an otter-hunt”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“A straight flagged walk led up to the cool-looking old house, and my host, lingering in his progress at this rose-tree and that, forgot all about me at least twice”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Meanwhile Charlotte and I crouched in the window-seat, . . .”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“‘She’s off with those vicarage girls again,’ said Edward”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“We put the Argo’s head upstream, since that led away from the Larkin province”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Then he stood up, and he was very straight and tall, and the sunset was in his hair and beard as he stood there, high over me”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Westward the clouds were massing themselves in a low violet bank; below them, to north and south, as far round as the eye could reach, a narrow streak of gold ran out ... I turned for a last effort”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“‘I’ve been chopping up wood,’ he explained, in a guilty sort of way”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“We entered in noiseless file, the room being plunged in darkness, except for a bright strip of moonlight on the floor”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“Shops came first, of course, . . .”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left">“. . . Selina and Charlotte were busy stuffing Edward’s rabbits with unwonted forage, bilious and green”</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a><br /><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a><br /><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> -<h2>PROLOGUE: THE OLYMPIANS</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">LOOKING back to those days of old, ere -the gate shut to behind me, I can see -now that to children with a proper equipment -of parents these things would have worn a different -aspect. But to those whose nearest were -aunts and uncles, a special attitude of mind may -be allowed. They treated us, indeed, with kindness -enough as to the needs of the flesh, but -after that with indifference (an indifference, as -I recognise, the result of a certain stupidity), -and therewith the commonplace conviction that -your child is merely animal. At a very early -age I remember realising in a quite impersonal -and kindly way the existence of that stupidity, -and its tremendous influence in the world; while -there grew up in me, as in the parallel case of -Caliban upon Setebos, a vague sense of a ruling -power, wilful, and freakish, and prone to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -practice of vagaries—‘just choosing so’: as, -for instance, the giving of authority over us to -these hopeless and incapable creatures, when -it might far more reasonably have been given -to ourselves over them. These elders, our betters -by a trick of chance, commanded no respect, -but only a certain blend of envy—of their good -luck—and pity—for their inability to make -use of it. Indeed, it was one of the most -hopeless features in their character (when we -troubled ourselves to waste a thought on them: -which wasn’t often) that, having absolute licence -to indulge in the pleasures of life, they could -get no good of it. They might dabble in the -pond all day, hunt the chickens, climb trees in -the most uncompromising Sunday clothes; they -were free to issue forth and buy gunpowder in -the full eye of the sun—free to fire cannons and -explode mines on the lawn: yet they never did -any one of these things. No irresistible Energy -haled them to church o’ Sundays; yet they -went there regularly of their own accord, though -they betrayed no greater delight in the experience -than ourselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the whole, the existence of these Olympians -seemed to be entirely void of interests, -even as their movements were confined and -slow, and their habits stereotyped and senseless. -To anything but appearances they were blind. -For them the orchard (a place elf-haunted, -wonderful!) simply produced so many apples -and cherries: or it didn’t—when the failures of -Nature were not infrequently ascribed to us. -They never set foot within fir-wood or hazel-copse, -nor dreamt of the marvels hid therein. -The mysterious sources, sources as of old Nile, -that fed the duck-pond had no magic for them. -They were unaware of Indians, nor recked they -anything of bisons or of pirates (with pistols!), -though the whole place swarmed with such -portents. They cared not to explore for robbers’ -caves, nor dig for hidden treasure. Perhaps, -indeed, it was one of their best qualities -that they spent the greater part of their time -stuffily indoors.</p> - -<p>To be sure there was an exception in the -curate, who would receive, unblenching, the information -that the meadow beyond the orchard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -was a prairie studded with herds of buffalo, which -it was our delight, moccasined and tomahawked, -to ride down with those whoops that announce -the scenting of blood. He neither laughed nor -sneered, as the Olympians would have done; -but, possessed of a serious idiosyncrasy, he -would contribute such lots of valuable suggestion -as to the pursuit of this particular sort of -big game that, as it seemed to us, his mature -age and eminent position could scarce have been -attained without a practical knowledge of the -creature in its native lair. Then, too, he was -always ready to constitute himself a hostile army -or a band of marauding Indians on the shortest -possible notice: in brief, a distinctly able man, -with talents, so far as we could judge, immensely -above the majority. I trust he is a bishop by -this time. He had all the necessary qualifications, -as we knew.</p> - -<p>These strange folk had visitors sometimes—stiff -and colourless Olympians like themselves, -equally without vital interests and intelligent -pursuits: emerging out of the clouds, and -passing away again to drag on an aimless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -existence somewhere beyond our ken. Then -brute force was pitilessly applied. We were -captured, washed, and forced into clean collars: -silently submitting as was our wont, with more -contempt than anger. Anon, with unctuous hair -and faces stiffened in a conventional grin, we -sat and listened to the usual platitudes. How -could reasonable people spend their precious -time so? That was ever our wonder as we -bounded forth at last: to the old clay-pit to -make pots, or to hunt bears among the hazels.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/illus019.jpg" width="500" height="707" alt="choldren hiding ih forest" /> -<div class="caption">“. . . HE WAS ALWAYS READY TO CONSTITUTE HIMSELF<br /> -A HOSTILE ARMY OR A BAND OF MARAUDING INDIANS”</div> -</div> - -<p>It was perennial matter for amazement how -these Olympians would talk over our heads—during -meals, for instance—of this or the other -social or political inanity, under the delusion -that these pale phantasms of reality were -among the importances of life. We <i>illuminati</i>, -eating silently, our heads full of plans and conspiracies, -could have told them what real life -was. We had just left it outside, and were all -on fire to get back to it. Of course we didn’t -waste the revelation on them, the futility of -imparting our ideas had long been demonstrated. -One in thought and purpose, linked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -by the necessity of combating one hostile fate, -a power antagonistic ever—a power we lived to -evade—we had no confidants save ourselves. -This strange anæmic order of beings was further -removed from us, in fact, than the kindly beasts -who shared our natural existence in the sun. -The estrangement was fortified by an abiding -sense of injustice, arising from the refusal of the -Olympians ever to defend, to retract, to admit -themselves in the wrong, or to accept similar -concessions on our part. For instance, when I -flung the cat out of an upper window (though I -did it from no ill-feeling, and it didn’t hurt the -cat), I was ready, after a moment’s reflection, -to own I was wrong, as a gentleman should. -But was the matter allowed to end there? I -trow not. Again, when Harold was locked up -in his room all day, for assault and battery -upon a neighbour’s pig—an action he would -have scorned: being indeed on the friendliest -terms with the porker in question—there was -no handsome expression of regret on the discovery -of the real culprit. What Harold had -felt was not so much the imprisonment—indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -he had very soon escaped by the window, with -assistance from his allies, and had only gone -back in time for his release—as the Olympian -habit. A word would have set all right; but of -course that word was never spoken.</p> - -<p>Well! The Olympians are all past and gone. -Somehow the sun does not seem to shine so -brightly as it used; the trackless meadows of -old time have shrunk and dwindled away to a -few poor acres. A saddening doubt, a dull -suspicion, creeps over me. <i>Et in Arcadia ego</i>—I -certainly did once inhabit Arcady. Can it -be that I also have become an Olympian?</p> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;"> -<img src="images/illus021.jpg" width="305" height="103" alt="three bandits" /> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a><br /><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a><br /><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a><br /><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>A HOLIDAY</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE masterful wind was up and out, shouting -and chasing, the lord of the morning. -Poplars swayed and tossed with a roaring -swish; dead leaves sprang aloft, and whirled -into space; and all the clear-swept heaven -seemed to thrill with sound like a great harp. -It was one of the first awakenings of the year. -The earth stretched herself, smiling in her -sleep; and everything leapt and pulsed to the -stir of the giant’s movement. With us it was -a whole holiday; the occasion a birthday—it -matters not whose. Some one of us had had -presents, and pretty conventional speeches, and -had glowed with that sense of heroism which -is no less sweet that nothing has been done to -deserve it. But the holiday was for all, the -rapture of awakening Nature for all, the various -outdoor joys of puddles and sun and hedge-breaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -for all. Colt-like I ran through the -meadows, frisking happy heels in the face of -Nature laughing responsive. Above, the sky -was bluest of the blue; wide pools left by the -winter’s floods flashed the colour back, true and -brilliant; and the soft air thrilled with the germinating -touch that seems to kindle something -in my own small person as well as in the rash -primrose already lurking in sheltered haunts. -Out into the brimming sun-bathed world I sped, -free of lessons, free of discipline and correction, -for one day at least. My legs ran of themselves, -and though I heard my name called faint and -shrill behind, there was no stopping for me. It -was only Harold, I concluded, and his legs, -though shorter than mine, were good for a -longer spurt than this. Then I heard it called -again, but this time more faintly, with a pathetic -break in the middle; and I pulled up short, -recognising Charlotte’s plaintive note.</p> - -<p>She panted up anon, and dropped on the turf -beside me. Neither had any desire for talk; -the glow and the glory of existing on this perfect -morning were satisfaction full and sufficient.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Where’s Harold?’ I asked presently.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, he’s just playin’ muffin-man, as usual,’ -said Charlotte with petulance. ‘Fancy wanting -to be a muffin-man on a whole holiday!’</p> - -<p>It was a strange craze, certainly; but Harold, -who invented his own games and played them -without assistance, always stuck staunchly to a -new fad, till he had worn it quite out. Just at -present he was a muffin-man, and day and night -he went through passages and up and down -staircases, ringing a noiseless bell and offering -phantom muffins to invisible wayfarers. It -sounds a poor sort of sport; and yet—to pass -along busy streets of your own building, for -ever ringing an imaginary bell and offering -airy muffins of your own make to a bustling -thronging crowd of your own creation—there -were points about the game, it cannot be denied, -though it seemed scarce in harmony with this -radiant wind-swept morning!</p> - -<p>‘And Edward, where is he?’ I questioned -again.</p> - -<p>‘He’s coming along by the road,’ said Charlotte. -‘He’ll be crouching in the ditch when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -we get there, and he’s going to be a grizzly -bear and spring out on us, only you mustn’t -say I told you, ’cos it’s to be a surprise.’</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 499px;"> -<img src="images/illus029.jpg" width="499" height="701" alt="boy outside garden walking with board on his head" /> -<div class="caption">“‘WHERE’S HAROLD?’ I ASKED PRESENTLY. ‘OH,<br /> -HE’S JUST PLAYIN’ MUFFIN-MAN AS USUAL.’”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘All right,’ I said magnanimously. ‘Come -on and let’s be surprised.’ But I could not -help feeling that on this day of days even a -grizzly felt misplaced and common.</p> - -<p>Sure enough an undeniable bear sprang out -on us as we dropped into the road; then -ensued shrieks, growlings, revolver-shots, and -unrecorded heroisms, till Edward condescended -at last to roll over and die, bulking large and -grim, an unmitigated grizzly. It was an understood -thing, that whoever took upon himself to -be a bear must eventually die, sooner or later, -even if he were the eldest born; else, life would -have been all strife and carnage, and the Age of -Acorns have displaced our hard-won civilisation. -This little affair concluded with satisfaction to all -parties concerned, we rambled along the road, -picking up the defaulting Harold by the way, -muffinless now and in his right and social mind.</p> - -<p>‘What would you do?’ asked Charlotte -presently—the book of the moment always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -dominating her thoughts until it was sucked -dry and cast aside,—‘What would you do if -you saw two lions in the road, one on each -side, and you didn’t know if they was loose -or if they was chained up?’</p> - -<p>‘Do?’ shouted Edward valiantly, ‘I should—I -should—I should—’ His boastful accents -died away into a mumble: ‘Dunno what I -should do.’</p> - -<p>‘Shouldn’t do anything,’ I observed after -consideration; and, really, it would be difficult -to arrive at a wiser conclusion.</p> - -<p>‘If it came to <i>doing</i>,’ remarked Harold reflectively, -‘the lions would do all the doing there -was to do, wouldn’t they?’</p> - -<p>‘But if they was <i>good</i> lions,’ rejoined Charlotte, -‘they would do as they would be done by.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah, but how are you to know a good lion -from a bad one?’ said Edward. ‘The books -don’t tell you at all, and the lions ain’t marked -any different.’</p> - -<p>‘Why, there aren’t any good lions,’ said -Harold hastily.</p> - -<p>‘O yes, there are, heaps and heaps,’ contradicted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -Edward. ‘Nearly all the lions in -the story-books are good lions. There was -Androcles’ lion, and St. Jerome’s lion, and—and—and -the Lion and the Unicorn——’</p> - -<p>‘He beat the Unicorn,’ observed Harold -dubiously, ‘all round the town.’</p> - -<p>‘That <i>proves</i> he was a good lion,’ cried -Edward triumphantly. ‘But the question is, -how are you to tell ’em when you see ’em?’</p> - -<p>‘<i>I</i> should ask Martha,’ said Harold of the -simple creed.</p> - -<p>Edward snorted contemptuously, then turned -to Charlotte. ‘Look here,’ he said; ‘let’s play -at lions, anyhow, and I’ll run on to that corner -and be a lion,—I’ll be two lions, one on each -side of the road,—and you’ll come along, and -you won’t know whether I’m chained up or not, -and that’ll be the fun!’</p> - -<p>‘No, thank you,’ said Charlotte firmly; -‘you’ll be chained up till I’m quite close to -you, and then you’ll be loose, and you’ll tear -me in pieces, and make my frock all dirty, and -p’raps you’ll hurt me as well. <i>I</i> know your -lions!’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘No, I won’t, I swear I won’t,’ protested -Edward. ‘I’ll be quite a new lion this time—something -you can’t even imagine.’ And he -raced off to his post. Charlotte hesitated—then -she went timidly on, at each step growing -less Charlotte, the mummer of a minute, -and more the anxious Pilgrim of all time. The -lion’s wrath waxed terrible at her approach; -his roaring filled the startled air. I waited -until they were both thoroughly absorbed, and -then I slipped through the hedge out of the -trodden highway, into the vacant meadow -spaces. It was not that I was unsociable, nor -that I knew Edward’s lions to the point of -satiety; but the passion and the call of the -divine morning were high in my blood. Earth -to earth! That was the frank note, the joyous -summons of the day; and they could not but jar -and seem artificial, these human discussions and -pretences, when boon nature, reticent no more, -was singing that full-throated song of hers that -thrills and claims control of every fibre. The -air was wine, the moist earth-smell wine, the -lark’s song, the wafts from the cow-shed at top<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -of the field, the pant and smoke of a distant train—all -were wine—or song, was it? or odour, -this unity they all blent into? I had no words -then to describe it, that earth-effluence of which -I was so conscious; nor, indeed, have I found -words since. I ran sideways, shouting; I dug -glad heels into the squelching soil; I splashed -diamond showers from puddles with a stick; I -hurled clods skywards at random, and presently -I somehow found myself singing. The words -were mere nonsense—irresponsible babble; the -tune was an improvisation, a weary, unrhythmic -thing of rise and fall: and yet it seemed to me -a genuine utterance, and just at that moment -the one thing fitting and right and perfect. -Humanity would have rejected it with scorn. -Nature, everywhere singing in the same key, -recognised and accepted it without a flicker of -dissent.</p> - -<p>All the time the hearty wind was calling to -me companionably from where he swung and -bellowed in the tree-tops. ‘Take me for guide -to-day,’ he seemed to plead. ‘Other holidays -you have tramped it in the track of the stolid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -unswerving sun; a belated truant, you have -dragged a weary foot homeward with only a -pale, expressionless moon for company. To-day -why not I, the trickster, the hypocrite? I -who whip round corners and bluster, relapse -and evade, then rally and pursue! I can lead -you the best and rarest dance of any; for I -am the strong capricious one, the lord of misrule, -and I alone am irresponsible and unprincipled, -and obey no law.’ And for me, I was -ready enough to fall in with the fellow’s humour; -was not this a whole holiday? So we -sheered off together, arm-in-arm, so to speak; -and with fullest confidence I took the jigging, -thwartwise course my chainless pilot laid for -me.</p> - -<p>A whimsical comrade I found him, ere he had -done with me. Was it in jest, or with some -serious purpose of his own, that he brought me -plump upon a pair of lovers, silent, face to face -o’er a discreet unwinking stile? As a rule this -sort of thing struck me as the most pitiful tomfoolery. -Two calves rubbing noses through a -gate were natural and right and within the order<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -of things; but that human beings, with salient -interests and active pursuits beckoning them on -from every side, could thus—! Well, it was a -thing to hurry past, shamed of face, and think -on no more. But this morning everything I met -seemed to be accounted for and set in tune by -that same magical touch in the air; and it was -with a certain surprise that I found myself regarding -these fatuous ones with kindliness instead -of contempt, as I rambled by, unheeded of -them. There was indeed some reconciling influence -abroad, which could bring the like antics -into harmony with bud and growth and the frolic -air.</p> - -<p>A puff on the right cheek from my wilful companion -sent me off at a fresh angle, and presently -I came in sight of the village church, -sitting solitary within its circle of elms. From -forth the vestry window projected two small -legs, gyrating, hungry for foothold, with larceny—not -to say sacrilege—in their every wriggle: -a godless sight for a supporter of the Establishment. -Though the rest was hidden, I knew the -legs well enough; they were usually attached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -to the body of Bill Saunders, the peerless bad -boy of the village. Bill’s coveted booty, too, -I could easily guess at that; it came from the -Vicar’s store of biscuits, kept (as I knew) in -a cupboard along with his official trappings. -For a moment I hesitated; then I passed on -my way. I protest I was not on Bill’s side; -but then, neither was I on the Vicar’s, and -there was something in this immoral morning -which seemed to say that perhaps, after all, -Bill had as much right to the biscuits as the -Vicar, and would certainly enjoy them better; -and anyhow it was a disputable point, and no -business of mine. Nature, who had accepted -me for ally, cared little who had the world’s -biscuits, and assuredly was not going to let -any friend of hers waste his time in playing -policeman for Society.</p> - -<p>He was tugging at me anew, my insistent -guide; and I felt sure, as I rambled off in his -wake, that he had more holiday matter to show -me. And so, indeed, he had; and all of it -was to the same lawless tune. Like a black -pirate flag on the blue ocean of air, a hawk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -hung ominous; then, plummet-wise, dropped to -the hedgerow, whence there rose, thin and shrill, -a piteous voice of squealing. By the time I got -there a whisk of feathers on the turf—like -scattered playbills—was all that remained to -tell of the tragedy just enacted. Yet Nature -smiled and sang on, pitiless, gay, impartial. To -her, who took no sides, there was every bit as -much to be said for the hawk as for the chaffinch. -Both were her children, and she would -show no preferences.</p> - -<p>Further on, a hedgehog lay dead athwart -the path—nay, more than dead; decadent, distinctly; -a sorry sight for one that had known -the fellow in more bustling circumstances -Nature might at least have paused to shed one -tear over this rough-jacketed little son of hers, -for his wasted aims, his cancelled ambitions, -his whole career of usefulness cut suddenly -short. But not a bit of it! Jubilant as ever, -her song went bubbling on, and ‘Death-in-Life’—and -again, ‘Life-in-Death,’ were its -alternate burdens. And looking round, and -seeing the sheep-nibbled heels of turnips that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -dotted the ground, their hearts eaten out of -them in frost-bound days now over and done, I -seemed to discern, faintly, a something of the -stern meaning in her valorous chant.</p> - -<p>My invisible companion was singing also, and -seemed at times to be chuckling softly to himself,—doubtless -at thought of the strange new -lessons he was teaching me; perhaps, too, at a -special bit of waggishness he had still in store. -For when at last he grew weary of such insignificant -earth-bound company, he deserted me at -a certain spot I knew; then dropped, subsided, -and slunk away into nothingness. I raised my -eyes, and before me, grim and lichened, stood -the ancient whipping-post of the village; its -sides fretted with the initials of a generation -that scorned its mute lesson, but still clipped -by the stout rusty shackles that had tethered -the wrists of such of that generation’s ancestors -as had dared to mock at order and law. Had I -been an infant Sterne, here was a grand chance -for sentimental output! As things were, I could -only hurry homewards, my moral tail well between -my legs, with an uneasy feeling, as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -glanced back over my shoulder, that there was -more in this chance than met the eye.</p> - -<p>And outside our gate I found Charlotte, -alone and crying. Edward, it seemed, had -persuaded her to hide, in the full expectation -of being duly found and ecstatically pounced -upon; then he had caught sight of the butcher’s -cart, and, forgetting his obligations, had rushed -off for a ride. Harold, it further appeared, -greatly coveting tadpoles, and top-heavy with -the eagerness of possession, had fallen into the -pond. This, in itself, was nothing; but on -attempting to sneak in by the back-door, he -had rendered up his duckweed-bedabbled person -into the hands of an aunt, and had been promptly -sent off to bed; and this, on a holiday, was very -much. The moral of the whipping-post was -working itself out; and I was not in the least -surprised when, on reaching home, I was seized -upon and accused of doing something I had -never even thought of. And my frame of mind -was such, that I could only wish most heartily -that I had done it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a><br /><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a><br /><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<h2>A WHITE-WASHED UNCLE</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IN our small lives that day was eventful when -another uncle was to come down from town, -and submit his character and qualifications (albeit -unconsciously) to our careful criticism. -Earlier uncles had been weighed in the balance, -and—alas!—found grievously wanting. -There was Uncle Thomas—a failure from the -first. Not that his disposition was malevolent, -nor were his habits such as to unfit him for -decent society; but his rooted conviction seemed -to be that the reason of a child’s existence was -to serve as a butt for senseless adult jokes—or -what, from the accompanying guffaws of laughter, -appeared to be intended for jokes. Now, -we were anxious that he should have a perfectly -fair trial; so in the tool-house, between breakfast -and lessons, we discussed and examined all -his witticisms one by one, calmly, critically,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -dispassionately. It was no good: we could not -discover any salt in them. And as only a genuine -gift of humour could have saved Uncle -Thomas—for he pretended to naught besides—he -was reluctantly writ down a hopeless -impostor.</p> - -<p>Uncle George—the youngest—was distinctly -more promising. He accompanied us cheerily -round the establishment—suffered himself to be -introduced to each of the cows—held out the -right hand of fellowship to the pig—and even -hinted that a pair of pink-eyed Himalayan -rabbits might arrive—unexpectedly—from -town some day. We were just considering -whether in this fertile soil an apparently accidental -remark on the solid qualities of guinea-pigs -or ferrets might haply blossom and bring -forth fruit, when our governess appeared on -the scene. Uncle George’s manner at once -underwent a complete and contemptible change. -His interest in rational topics seemed, ‘like a -fountain’s sickening pulse,’ to flag and ebb -away; and though Miss Smedley’s ostensible -purpose was to take Selina for her usual walk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -I can vouch for it that Selina spent her morning -ratting, along with the keeper’s boy and me; -while if Miss Smedley walked with any one, -it would appear to have been with Uncle -George.</p> - -<p>But, despicable as his conduct had been, he -underwent no hasty condemnation. The defection -was discussed in all its bearings, but it -seemed sadly clear at last that this uncle must -possess some innate badness of character and -fondness for low company. We who from daily -experience knew Miss Smedley like a book—were -we not only too well aware that she had -neither accomplishments nor charms—no characteristic, -in fact, but an inbred viciousness of -temper and disposition? True, she knew the -dates of the English kings by heart; but how -could that profit Uncle George, who, having -passed into the army, had ascended beyond the -need of useful information? Our bows and -arrows, on the other hand, had been freely -placed at his disposal; and a soldier should not -have hesitated in his choice a moment. No: -Uncle George had fallen from grace, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -unanimously damned. And the non-arrival of -the Himalayan rabbits was only another nail -in his coffin. Uncles, therefore, were just then -a heavy and lifeless market, and there was little -inclination to deal. Still it was agreed that -Uncle William, who had just returned from -India, should have as fair a trial as the others; -more especially as romantic possibilities might -well be embodied in one who had held the -gorgeous East in fee.</p> - -<p>Selina had kicked my shins—like the girl -she is!—during a scuffle in the passage, and I -was still rubbing them with one hand when I -found that the uncle-on-approbation was half-heartedly -shaking the other. A florid, elderly -man, quite unmistakably nervous, he let drop -one grimy paw after another, and, turning very -red, with an awkward simulation of heartiness, -‘Well, h’are y’all?’ he said, ‘Glad to see me, -eh?’ As we could hardly, in justice, be expected -to have formed an opinion on him at that -early stage, we could but look at each other in -silence; which scarce served to relieve the tension -of the situation. Indeed, the cloud never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -really lifted during his stay. In talking things -over later, some one put forward the suggestion -that he must at some time or other have committed -a stupendous crime. But I could not -bring myself to believe that the man, though -evidently unhappy, was really guilty of anything; -and I caught him once or twice looking -at us with evident kindliness, though, seeing -himself observed, he blushed and turned away -his head.</p> - -<p>When at last the atmosphere was clear of -his depressing influence, we met despondently -in the potato-cellar—all of us, that is, but -Harold, who had been told off to accompany -his relative to the station; and the feeling was -unanimous, that, as an uncle, William could not -be allowed to pass. Selina roundly declared -him a beast, pointing out that he had not even -got us a half-holiday; and, indeed, there seemed -little to do but to pass sentence. We were -about to put it to the vote, when Harold -appeared on the scene; his red face, round eyes, -and mysterious demeanour, hinting at awful -portents. Speechless he stood a space: then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -slowly drawing his hand from the pocket of his -knickerbockers, he displayed on a dirty palm -one—two—three—four half-crowns! We -could but gaze—tranced, breathless, mute. -Never had any of us seen, in the aggregate, so -much bullion before. Then Harold told his tale.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 499px;"> -<img src="images/illus049.jpg" width="499" height="698" alt="children outside brick wall with arched doorway" /> -<div class="caption">“WHEN AT LAST THE ATMOSPHERE WAS CLEAR OF HIS DEPRESSING<br /> -INFLUENCE, WE MET DESPONDENTLY IN THE POTATO-CELLAR”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘I took the old fellow to the station,’ he said, -‘and as we went along I told him all about the -stationmaster’s family, and how I had seen the -porter kissing our housemaid, and what a nice -fellow he was, with no airs or affectation about -him, and anything I thought would be of -interest; but he didn’t seem to pay much -attention, but walked along puffing his cigar, -and once I thought—I’m not certain, but I -<i>thought</i>—I heard him say, “Well, thank God, -that’s over!” When we got to the station he -stopped suddenly, and said, “Hold on a minute!” -Then he shoved these into my hand in -a frightened sort of way, and said, “Look here, -youngster! These are for you and the other -kids. Buy what you like—make little beasts -of yourselves—only don’t tell the old people, -mind! Now cut away home!” So I cut.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p>A solemn hush fell on the assembly, broken -first by the small Charlotte. ‘I didn’t know,’ -she observed dreamily, ‘that there were such -good men anywhere in the world. I hope he’ll -die to-night, for then he’ll go straight to heaven!’ -But the repentant Selina bewailed herself with -tears and sobs, refusing to be comforted; for -that in her haste she had called this white-souled -relative a beast.</p> - -<p>‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ said Edward, -the master-mind, rising—as he always did—to -the situation: ‘We’ll christen the piebald pig -after him—the one that hasn’t got a name -yet. And that’ll show we’re sorry for our -mistake!’</p> - -<p>‘I—I christened that pig this morning,’ -Harold guiltily confessed; ‘I christened it after -the curate. I’m very sorry—but he came and -bowled to me last night, after you others had -all been sent to bed early—and somehow I felt -I <i>had</i> to do it!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, but that doesn’t count,’ said Edward -hastily; ‘because we weren’t all there. We’ll -take that christening off, and call it Uncle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -William. And you can save up the curate for -the next litter!’</p> - -<p>And the motion being agreed to without a -division, the House went into Committee of -Supply.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 312px;"> -<img src="images/illus052.jpg" width="312" height="122" alt="pig" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a><br /><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a><br /><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">‘LET’S pretend,’ suggested Harold, ‘that -we’re Cavaliers and Roundheads; and -<i>you</i> be a Roundhead!’</p> - -<p>‘O bother,’ I replied drowsily, ‘we pretended -that yesterday; and it’s not my turn to be a -Roundhead, anyhow.’ The fact is, I was lazy, -and the call to arms fell on indifferent ears. -We three younger ones were stretched at -length in the orchard. The sun was hot, the -season merry June, and never (I thought) had -there been such wealth and riot of buttercups -throughout the lush grass. Green-and-gold was -the dominant key that day. Instead of active -‘pretence’ with its shouts and its perspiration, -how much better—I held—to lie at ease and -pretend to one’s self, in green and golden -fancies, slipping the husk and passing, a careless -lounger, through a sleepy imaginary world all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -gold and green! But the persistent Harold -was not to be fobbed off.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 498px;"> -<img src="images/illus057.jpg" width="498" height="699" alt="childrfen in woods by stream" /> -<div class="caption">“INSTEAD OF ACTIVE ‘PRETENCE’ WITH ITS SHOUTS AND ITS<br /> -PERSPIRATION, HOW MUCH BETTER—I HELD—TO LIE AT EASE<br /> -AND PRETEND TO ONE’S SELF, IN GREEN AND GOLDEN FANCIES”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘Well then,’ he began afresh, ‘let’s pretend -we’re Knights of the Round Table; and (with -a rush) <i>I’ll</i> be Lancelot!’</p> - -<p>‘I won’t play unless I’m Lancelot,’ I said. -I didn’t mean it really, but the game of Knights -always began with this particular contest.</p> - -<p>‘O <i>please</i>,’ implored Harold. ‘You know -when Edward’s here I never get a chance of -being Lancelot. I haven’t been Lancelot for -weeks!’</p> - -<p>Then I yielded gracefully. ‘All right,’ I -said. ‘I’ll be Tristram.’</p> - -<p>‘O, but you can’t,’ cried Harold again. -‘Charlotte has always been Tristram. She -won’t play unless she’s allowed to be Tristram! -Be somebody else this time.’</p> - -<p>Charlotte said nothing, but breathed hard, -looking straight before her. The peerless -hunter and harper was her special hero of -romance, and rather than see the part in less -appreciative hands, she would have gone back -in tears to the stuffy schoolroom.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I don’t care,’ I said: ‘I’ll be anything. I’ll -be Sir Kay. Come on!’</p> - -<p>Then once more in this country’s story the -mail-clad knights paced through the greenwood -shaw, questing adventure, redressing wrong; -and bandits, five to one, broke and fled discomfited -to their caves. Once more were -damsels rescued, dragons disembowelled, and -giants, in every corner of the orchard, deprived -of their already superfluous number of heads; -while Palomides the Saracen waited for us by -the well, and Sir Breuse Saunce Pité vanished -in craven flight before the skilled spear that -was his terror and his bane. Once more the -lists were dight in Camelot, and all was gay -with shimmer of silk and gold; the earth shook -with thunder of hooves, ash-staves flew in -splinters, and the firmament rang to the clash -of sword on helm. The varying fortune of the -day swung doubtful—now on this side, now -on that; till at last Lancelot, grim and great, -thrusting through the press, unhorsed Sir Tristram -(an easy task), and bestrode her, threatening -doom; while the Cornish knight, forgetting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -hard-won fame of old, cried piteously, ‘You’re -hurting me, I tell you! and you’re tearing my -frock!’ Then it happed that Sir Kay, hurtling -to the rescue, stopped short in his stride, catching -sight suddenly, through apple-boughs, of a -gleam of scarlet afar off; while the confused -tramp of many horses, mingled with talk and -laughter, was borne to the ears of his fellow-champions -and himself.</p> - -<p>‘What is it?’ inquired Tristram, sitting up -and shaking out her curls; while Lancelot forsook -the clanging lists and trotted nimbly to -the boundary-hedge.</p> - -<p>I stood spell-bound for a moment longer, and -then, with a cry of ‘Soldiers!’ I was off to the -hedge, Sir Tristram picking herself up and -scurrying after us.</p> - -<p>Down the road they came, two and two, at an -easy walk; scarlet flamed in the eye, bits jingled -and saddles squeaked delightfully; while the -men, in a halo of dust, smoked their short -clays like the heroes they were. In a swirl of -intoxicating glory the troop clinked and clattered -by, while we shouted and waved, jumping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -up and down, and the big jolly horsemen -acknowledged the salute with easy condescension. -The moment they were past we were -through the hedge and after them. Soldiers -were not the common stuff of everyday life. -There had been nothing like this since the -winter before last, when on a certain afternoon—bare -of leaf and monochromatic in its hue -of sodden fallow and frost-nipt copse—suddenly -the hounds had burst through the fence with -their mellow cry, and all the paddock was for -the minute reverberant of thudding hoof and -dotted with glancing red. But this was better, -since it could only mean that blows and bloodshed -were in the air.</p> - -<p>‘Is there going to be a battle?’ panted Harold, -hardly able to keep up for excitement.</p> - -<p>‘Of course there is,’ I replied. ‘We’re just -in time. Come on!’</p> - -<p>Perhaps I ought to have known better; and -yet——? The pigs and poultry, with whom we -chiefly consorted, could instruct us little concerning -the peace that lapped in these latter -days our seagirt realm. In the schoolroom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -we were just now dallying with the Wars of the -Roses; and did not legends of the country-side -inform us how cavaliers had once galloped up -and down these very lanes from their quarters -in the village? Here, now, were soldiers unmistakable; -and if their business was not fighting, -what was it? Sniffing the joy of battle, we -followed hard in their tracks.</p> - -<p>‘Won’t Edward be sorry,’ puffed Harold, -‘that he’s begun that beastly Latin?’</p> - -<p>It did, indeed, seem hard. Edward, the most -martial spirit of us all, was drearily conjugating -<i>amo</i> (of all verbs!) between four walls, while -Selina, who ever thrilled ecstatic to a red coat, -was struggling with the uncouth German tongue. -‘Age,’ I reflected, ‘carries its penalties.’</p> - -<p>It was a grievous disappointment to us that -the troop passed through the village unmolested. -Every cottage, I pointed out to my companions, -ought to have been loopholed, and strongly held. -But no opposition was offered to the soldiers -who, indeed, conducted themselves with a recklessness -and a want of precaution that seemed -simply criminal.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the last cottage a transitory gleam of -common sense flickered across me, and, turning -on Charlotte, I sternly ordered her back. The -small maiden, docile but exceedingly dolorous, -dragged reluctant feet homewards, heavy at -heart that she was to behold no stout fellows -slain that day; but Harold and I held steadily -on, expecting every instant to see the environing -hedges crackle and spit forth the leaden death.</p> - -<p>‘Will they be Indians?’ asked my brother -(meaning the enemy) ‘or Roundheads, or -what?’</p> - -<p>I reflected. Harold always required direct -straightforward answers—not faltering suppositions.</p> - -<p>‘They won’t be Indians,’ I replied at last; -‘nor yet Roundheads. There haven’t been -any Roundheads seen about here for a long -time. They’ll be Frenchmen.’</p> - -<p>Harold’s face fell. ‘All right,’ he said: -‘Frenchmen’ll do; but I did hope they’d -be Indians.’</p> - -<p>‘If they were going to be Indians,’ I explained, -‘I—I don’t think I’d go on. Because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -when Indians take you prisoner they scalp -you first, and then burn you at the stake. But -Frenchmen don’t do that sort of thing.’</p> - -<p>‘Are you quite sure?’ asked Harold doubtfully.</p> - -<p>‘Quite,’ I replied. ‘Frenchmen only shut -you up in a thing called the Bastille; and then -you get a file sent in to you in a loaf of bread, -and saw the bars through, and slide down a -rope, and they all fire at you—but they don’t -hit you—and you run down to the seashore as -hard as you can, and swim off to a British -frigate, and there you are!’</p> - -<p>Harold brightened up again. The programme -was rather attractive. ‘If they try to take us -prisoner,’ he said, ‘we—we won’t run, will -we?’</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the craven foe was a long time -showing himself; and we were reaching strange -outland country, uncivilised, wherein lions might -be expected to prowl at nightfall. I had a -stitch in my side, and both Harold’s stockings -had come down. Just as I was beginning to -have gloomy doubts of the proverbial courage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -of Frenchmen, the officer called out something, -the men closed up, and, breaking into a trot, -the troops—already far ahead—vanished out -of our sight. With a sinking at the heart, I -began to suspect we had been fooled.</p> - -<p>‘Are they charging?’ cried Harold, very -weary, but rallying gamely.</p> - -<p>‘I think not,’ I replied doubtfully. ‘When -there’s going to be a charge, the officer always -makes a speech, and then they draw their swords -and the trumpets blow, and——but let’s try a -short cut. We may catch them up yet.’</p> - -<p>So we struck across the fields and into -another road, and pounded down that, and -then over more fields, panting, down-hearted, -yet hoping for the best. The sun went in, and -a thin drizzle began to fall; we were muddy, -breathless, almost dead-beat; but we blundered -on, till at last we struck a road more brutally, -more callously unfamiliar than any road I ever -looked upon. Not a hint nor a sign of friendly -direction or assistance on the dogged white face -of it! There was no longer any disguising it: -we were hopelessly lost. The small rain continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -steadily, the evening began to come -on. Really there are moments when a fellow -is justified in crying; and I would have cried -too, if Harold had not been there. That right-minded -child regarded an elder brother as a -veritable god; and I could see that he felt -himself as secure as if a whole Brigade of -Guards had hedged him round with protecting -bayonets. But I dreaded sore lest he should -begin again with his questions.</p> - -<p>As I gazed in dumb appeal on the face -of unresponsive nature, the sound of nearing -wheels sent a pulse of hope through my being: -increasing to rapture as I recognised in the -approaching vehicle the familiar carriage of the -old doctor. If ever a god emerged from a -machine, it was when this heaven-sent friend, -recognising us, stopped and jumped out with a -cheery hail. Harold rushed up to him at once. -‘Have you been there?’ he cried. ‘Was it a -jolly fight? who beat? were there many people -killed?’</p> - -<p>The doctor appeared puzzled. I briefly explained -the situation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I see,’ said the doctor, looking grave and -twisting his face this way and that. ‘Well, -the fact is, there isn’t going to be any battle -to-day. It’s been put off, on account of the -change in the weather. You will have due -notice of the renewal of hostilities. And now -you’d better jump in and I’ll drive you home. -You’ve been running a fine rig! Why, you -might have both been taken and shot as spies!’</p> - -<p>This special danger had never even occurred -to us. The thrill of it accentuated the cosy -homelike feeling of the cushions we nestled into -as we rolled homewards. The doctor beguiled -the journey with blood-curdling narratives of -personal adventure in the tented field, he having -followed the profession of arms (so it seemed) -in every quarter of the globe. Time, the destroyer -of all things beautiful, subsequently -revealed the baselessness of these legends; but -what of that? There are higher things than -truth; and we were almost reconciled, by the -time we were put down at our gate, to the fact -that the battle had been postponed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a><br /><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a><br /><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a><br /><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE FINDING OF THE PRINCESS</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was the day I was promoted to a toothbrush. -The girls, irrespective of age, had -been thus distinguished some time before; why, -we boys could never rightly understand, except -that it was part and parcel of a system of -studied favouritism on behalf of creatures both -physically inferior and (as was shown by a -fondness for tale-bearing) of weaker mental -fibre to us boys. It was not that we yearned -after these strange instruments in themselves. -Edward, indeed, applied his to the scrubbing-out -of his squirrel’s cage, and for personal use, -when a superior eye was grim on him, borrowed -Harold’s or mine, indifferently. But the nimbus -of distinction that clung to them—that we -coveted exceedingly. What more, indeed, was -there to ascend to, before the remote, but still -possible, razor and strop?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps the exaltation had mounted to my -head; or nature and the perfect morning joined -to hint at disaffection. Anyhow, having breakfasted, -and triumphantly repeated the collect -I had broken down in the last Sunday—’twas -one without rhythm or alliteration: a most -objectionable collect—having achieved thus -much, the small natural man in me rebelled, -and I vowed, as I straddled and spat about the -stable-yard in feeble imitation of the coachman, -that lessons might go to the Inventor of them. -It was only geography that morning, any way: -and the practical thing was worth any quantity -of bookish theoric. As for me, I was going on -my travels, and imports and exports, populations -and capitals, might very well wait while I explored -the breathing coloured world outside.</p> - -<p>True, a fellow-rebel was wanted; and Harold -might, as a rule, have been counted on with -certainty. But just then Harold was very -proud. The week before he had ‘gone into -tables,’ and had been endowed with a new slate, -having a miniature sponge attached wherewith -we washed the faces of Charlotte’s dolls, thereby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -producing an unhealthy pallor which struck -terror into the child’s heart, always timorous -regarding epidemic visitations. As to ‘tables,’ -nobody knew exactly what they were, least of -all Harold; but it was a step over the heads -of the rest, and therefore a subject for self-adulation -and—generally speaking—airs; so -that Harold, hugging his slate and his chains, -was out of the question now. In such a matter, -girls were worse than useless, as wanting the -necessary tenacity of will and contempt for self-constituted -authority. So eventually I slipped -through the hedge a solitary protestant, and -issued forth on the lane what time the rest of the -civilised world was sitting down to lessons.</p> - -<p>The scene was familiar enough; and yet, this -morning, how different it all seemed! The act, -with its daring, tinted everything with new -strange hues; affecting the individual with a -sort of bruised feeling just below the pit of the -stomach, that was intensified whenever his -thoughts flew back to the ink-stained smelly -schoolroom. And could this be really me? or -was I only contemplating, from the schoolroom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -aforesaid, some other jolly young mutineer, -faring forth under the genial sun? Anyhow, -here was the friendly well, in its old place, half-way -up the lane. Hither the yoke-shouldering -village-folk were wont to come to fill their -clinking buckets; when the drippings made -worms of wet in the thick dust of the road. -They had flat wooden crosses inside each pail, -which floated on the top and (we were instructed) -served to prevent the water from -slopping over. We used to wonder by what -magic this strange principle worked, and who -first invented the crosses, and whether he got -a peerage for it. But indeed the well was a -centre of mystery, for a hornet’s nest was -somewhere hard by, and the very thought was -fearsome. Wasps we knew well and disdained, -storming them in their fastnesses. But these -great Beasts, vestured in angry orange, three -stings from which—so ’twas averred—would -kill a horse, these were of a different kidney, -and their dreadful drone suggested prudence -and retreat. At this time neither villagers nor -hornets encroached on the stillness: lessons,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -apparently, pervaded all nature. So, after -dabbling awhile in the well—what boy has -ever passed a bit of water without messing in -it?—I scrambled through the hedge, shunning -the hornet-haunted side, and struck into the -silence of the copse.</p> - -<p>If the lane had been deserted, this was loneliness -become personal. Here mystery lurked -and peeped; here brambles caught and held -you with a purpose of their own; here saplings -whipped your face with human spite. The -copse, too, proved vaster in extent, more direfully -drawn out, than one would ever have -guessed from its frontage on the lane: and I -was really glad when at last the wood opened -and sloped down to a streamlet brawling forth -into the sunlight. By this cheery companion -I wandered along, conscious of little but that -Nature, in providing store of water-rats, had -thoughtfully furnished provender of right-sized -stones. Rapids, also, there were, telling of -canoes and portages—crinkling bays and inlets—caves -for pirates and hidden treasures—the -wise Dame had forgotten nothing—till at last,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -after what lapse of time I know not, my further -course, though not the stream’s, was barred by -some six feet of stout wire netting, stretched -from side to side just where a thick hedge, -arching till it touched, forbade all further -view.</p> - -<p>The excitement of the thing was becoming -thrilling. A Black Flag must surely be fluttering -close by? Here was most plainly a malignant -contrivance of the Pirates, designed to -baffle our gun-boats when we dashed up-stream -to shell them from their lair! A gun-boat, -indeed, might well have hesitated, so stout was -the netting, so close the hedge. But I spied -where a rabbit was wont to pass, close down -by the water’s edge; where a rabbit could go -a boy could follow, howbeit stomach-wise and -with one leg in the stream; so the passage was -achieved, and I stood inside, safe but breathless -at the sight.</p> - -<p>Gone was the brambled waste, gone the -flickering tangle of woodland. Instead, terrace -after terrace of shaven sward, stone-edged, urn-cornered, -stepped delicately down to where the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -stream, now tamed and educated, passed from -one to another marble basin, in which on occasion -gleams of red hinted at gold-fish poised -among the spreading water-lilies. The scene -lay silent and slumbrous in the brooding noon-day -sun: the drowsing peacock squatted humped -on the lawn, no fish leaped in the pools, no bird -declared himself from the trim secluding hedges. -Self-confessed it was here, then, at last, the -Garden of Sleep!</p> - -<p>Two things, in those old days, I held in -especial distrust: gamekeepers and gardeners. -Seeing, however, no baleful apparitions of -either quality, I pursued my way between rich -flower-beds, in search of the necessary Princess. -Conditions declared her presence patently as -trumpets; without this centre such surroundings -could not exist. A pavilion, gold-topped, -wreathed with lush jessamine, beckoned with -a special significance over close-set shrubs. -There, if anywhere, She should be enshrined. -Instinct, and some knowledge of the habits of -princesses, triumphed; for (indeed) there She -was! In no tranced repose, however, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -laughingly, struggling to disengage her hand -from the grasp of a grown-up man who occupied -the marble bench with her. (As to age, -I suppose now that the two swung in respective -scales that pivoted on twenty. But children -heed no minor distinctions. To them, the -inhabited world is composed of the two main -divisions: children and upgrown people; the -latter in no way superior to the former—only -hopelessly different. These two, then, belonged -to the grown-up section.) I paused, thinking it -strange they should prefer seclusion when there -were fish to be caught, and butterflies to hunt -in the sun outside; and as I cogitated thus, -the grown-up man caught sight of me.</p> - -<p>‘Hallo, sprat!’ he said with some abruptness; -‘Where do you spring from?’</p> - -<p>‘I came up the stream,’ I explained politely -and comprehensively, ‘and I was only looking -for the Princess.’</p> - -<p>‘Then you are a water-baby,’ he replied. -‘And what do you think of the Princess, now -you’ve found her?’</p> - -<p>‘I think she is lovely,’ I said (and doubtless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -I was right, having never learned to flatter). -‘But she’s wide-awake, so I suppose somebody -has kissed her!’</p> - -<p>This very natural deduction moved the -grown-up man to laughter; but the Princess, -turning red and jumping up, declared that it -was time for lunch.</p> - -<p>‘Come along, then,’ said the grown-up man; -‘and you too, water-baby. Come and have -something solid. You must want it.’</p> - -<p>I accompanied them without any feeling of -false delicacy. The world, as known to me, -was spread with food each several mid-day, -and the particular table one sat at seemed a -matter of no importance. The palace was very -sumptuous and beautiful, just what a palace -ought to be; and we were met by a stately lady, -rather more grown-up than the Princess—apparently -her mother. My friend the Man was -very kind, and introduced me as the Captain, -saying I had just run down from Aldershot. I -didn’t know where Aldershot was, but I had no -manner of doubt that he was perfectly right. -As a rule, indeed, grown-up people are fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -correct on matters of fact; it is in the higher -gift of imagination that they are so sadly to -seek.</p> - -<p>The lunch was excellent and varied. Another -gentleman in beautiful clothes—a lord -presumably—lifted me into a high carved -chair, and stood behind it, brooding over me -like a Providence. I endeavoured to explain -who I was and where I had come from, and -to impress the company with my own toothbrush -and Harold’s tables; but either they -were stupid—or is it a characteristic of Fairyland -that every one laughs at the most ordinary -remarks? My friend the Man said good-naturedly, -‘All right, Water-baby; you came up -the stream, and that’s good enough for us.’ -The lord—a reserved sort of man, I thought—took -no share in the conversation.</p> - -<p>After lunch I walked on the terrace with -the Princess and my friend the Man, and was -very proud. And I told him what I was going -to be, and he told me what he was going to be; -and then I remarked, ‘I suppose you two are -going to get married?’ He only laughed, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -the Fairy fashion. ‘Because if you aren’t,’ I -added, ‘you really ought to’: meaning only -that a man who discovered a Princess, living -in the right sort of Palace like this, and didn’t -marry her there and then, was false to all -recognised tradition.</p> - -<p>They laughed again, and my friend suggested -I should go down to the pond and look at the -gold-fish, while they went for a stroll. I was -sleepy, and assented; but before they left me, -the grown-up man put two half-crowns in my -hand, for the purpose, he explained, of treating -the other water-babies. I was so touched by -this crowning mark of friendship that I nearly -cried; and I thought much more of his generosity -than of the fact that the Princess, ere she -moved away, stooped down and kissed me.</p> - -<p>I watched them disappear down the path—how -naturally arms seem to go round waists in -Fairyland!—and then, my cheek on the cool -marble, lulled by the trickle of water, I slipped -into dreamland out of real and magic world -alike. When I woke, the sun had gone in, a -chill wind set all the leaves a-whispering, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -the peacock on the lawn was harshly calling up -the rain. A wild unreasoning panic possessed -me, and I sped out of the garden like a guilty -thing, wriggled through the rabbit-run, and -threaded my doubtful way homewards, hounded -by nameless terrors. The half-crowns happily -remained solid and real to the touch; but could -I hope to bear such treasure safely through the -brigand-haunted wood? It was a dirty, weary -little object that entered its home, at nightfall, -by the unassuming aid of the scullery-window: -and only to be sent tealess to bed seemed infinite -mercy to him. Officially tealess, that is; -for, as was usual after such escapades, a sympathetic -housemaid, coming delicately by back-stairs, -stayed him with chunks of cold pudding -and condolence, till his small skin was tight as -any drum. Then, nature asserting herself, I -passed into the comforting kingdom of sleep, -where, a golden carp of fattest build, I oared -it in translucent waters with a new half-crown -snug under right fin and left; and thrust up a -nose through water-lily leaves to be kissed by -a rose-flushed Princess.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 499px;"> -<img src="images/illus083.jpg" width="499" height="679" alt="boy lying asleep next to fountain" /> -<div class="caption">“. . . AND THEN, MY CHEEK ON THE COOL MARBLE,<br /> -LULLED BY THE TRICKLE OF WATER, I SLIPPED INTO<br /> -DREAMLAND OUT OF REAL AND MAGIC WORLD ALIKE”</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a><br /><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a><br /><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>SAWDUST AND SIN</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">A BELT of rhododendrons grew close down -to one side of our pond; and along the -edge of it many things flourished rankly. If you -crept through the undergrowth and crouched by -the water’s rim, it was easy—if your imagination -were in healthy working order—to transport -yourself in a trice to the heart of a tropical -forest. Overhead the monkeys chattered, parrots -flashed from bough to bough, strange large -blossoms shone all round you, and the push and -rustle of great beasts moving unseen thrilled -you deliciously. And if you lay down with -your nose an inch or two from the water, it -was not long ere the old sense of proportion -vanished clean away. The glittering insects -that darted to and fro on its surface became -sea-monsters dire, the gnats that hung above -them swelled to albatrosses, and the pond itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -stretched out into a vast inland sea, whereon a -navy might ride secure, and whence at any -moment the hairy scalp of a sea-serpent might -be seen to emerge.</p> - -<p>It is impossible, however, to play at tropical -forests properly, when homely accents of the -human voice intrude; and all my hopes of -seeing a tiger seized by a crocodile while -drinking (<i>vide</i> picture-books, <i>passim</i>) vanished -abruptly, and earth resumed her old dimensions, -when the sound of Charlotte’s prattle somewhere -hard by broke in on my primæval seclusion. -Looking out from the bushes, I saw her trotting -towards an open space of lawn the other side -the pond, chattering to herself in her accustomed -fashion, a doll tucked under either arm, and her -brow knit with care. Propping up her double -burthen against a friendly stump, she sat down -in front of them, as full of worry and anxiety as -a Chancellor on a Budget night.</p> - -<p>Her victims, who stared resignedly in front -of them, were recognisable as Jerry and Rosa. -Jerry hailed from far Japan: his hair was -straight and black, his one garment cotton of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -a simple blue; and his reputation was distinctly -bad. Jerome was his proper name, from his -supposed likeness to the holy man who hung in -a print on the staircase; though a shaven crown -was the only thing in common ’twixt Western -saint and Eastern sinner. Rosa was typical -British, from her flaxen poll to the stout calves -she displayed so liberally; and in character she -was of the blameless order of those who have -not yet been found out.</p> - -<p>I suspected Jerry from the first. There was -a latent devilry in his slant eyes as he sat there -moodily; and knowing what he was capable of, -I scented trouble in store for Charlotte. Rosa -I was not so sure about; she sat demurely and -upright, and looked far away into the tree-tops -in a visionary, world-forgetting sort of way; yet -the prim purse of her mouth was somewhat -overdone, and her eyes glittered unnaturally.</p> - -<p>‘Now, I’m going to begin where I left off,’ -said Charlotte, regardless of stops, and thumping -the turf with her fist excitedly: ‘and you -must pay attention, ’cos this is a treat, to have a -story told you before you’re put to bed. Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -so the White Rabbit scuttled off down the -passage and Alice hoped he’d come back ’cos -he had a waistcoat on and her flamingo flew up -a tree—but we haven’t got to that part yet, you -must wait a minute, and—where had I got to?’</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/illus091.jpg" width="500" height="707" alt="girl crouched down by water" /> -<div class="caption">“‘NOW WE’LL GO ON,’ BEGAN CHARLOTTE ONCE MORE”</div> -</div> - -<p>Jerry only remained passive until Charlotte -had got well under way, and then began to -heel over quietly in Rosa’s direction. His -head fell on her plump shoulder, causing her -to start nervously.</p> - -<p>Charlotte seized and shook him with vigour. -‘O Jerry,’ she cried piteously, ‘if you’re not -going to be good, how ever shall I tell you my -story?’</p> - -<p>Jerry’s face was injured innocence itself. -‘Blame if you like, Madam,’ he seemed to -say, ‘the eternal laws of gravitation, but not a -helpless puppet, who is also an orphan and a -stranger in the land.’</p> - -<p>‘Now we’ll go on,’ began Charlotte once -more. ‘So she got into the garden at last—I’ve -left out a lot but you won’t care, I’ll tell -you some other time—and they were all playing -croquet, and that’s where the flamingo comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -in, and the Queen shouted out, “Off with her -head!”’</p> - -<p>At this point Jerry collapsed forward, suddenly -and completely, his bald pate between -his knees. Charlotte was not very angry this -time. The sudden development of tragedy in -the story had evidently been too much for the -poor fellow. She straightened him out, wiped -his nose, and, after trying him in various positions, -to which he refused to adapt himself, -she propped him against the shoulder of the -(apparently) unconscious Rosa. Then my eyes -were opened, and the full measure of Jerry’s -infamy became apparent. This, then, was what -he had been playing up for! The rascal had -designs, had he? I resolved to keep him under -close observation.</p> - -<p>‘If you’d been in the garden,’ went on -Charlotte reproachfully, ‘and flopped down -like that when the Queen said “Off with his -head!” she’d have offed with your head; but -Alice wasn’t that sort of girl at all. She just -said, “I’m not afraid of you, you’re nothing -but a pack of cards”—O dear! I’ve got to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -the end already, and I hadn’t begun hardly! I -never can make my stories last out! Never -mind, I’ll tell you another one.’</p> - -<p>Jerry didn’t seem to care, now he had gained -his end, whether the stories lasted out or not. -He was nestling against Rosa’s plump form -with a look of satisfaction that was simply -idiotic; and one arm had disappeared from -view—was it round her waist? Rosa’s natural -blush seemed deeper than usual, her head inclined -shyly—it must have been round her -waist.</p> - -<p>‘If it wasn’t so near your bedtime,’ continued -Charlotte reflectively, ‘I’d tell you a nice story -with a bogy in it. But you’d be frightened, -and you’d dream of bogies all night. So I’ll -tell you one about a White Bear, only you -mustn’t scream when the bear says ‘Wow,’ like -I used to, ’cos he’s a good bear really——’</p> - -<p>Here Rosa fell flat on her back in the deadest -of faints. Her limbs were rigid, her eyes glassy. -What had Jerry been doing? It must have -been something very bad, for her to take on -like that. I scrutinised him carefully, while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -Charlotte ran to comfort the damsel. He appeared -to be whistling a tune and regarding the -scenery. If I only possessed Jerry’s command -of feature, I thought to myself, half regretfully, -I would never be found out in anything.</p> - -<p>‘It’s all your fault, Jerry,’ said Charlotte -reproachfully, when the lady had been restored -to consciousness: ‘Rosa’s as good as gold -except when you make her wicked. I’d put -you in the corner, only a stump hasn’t got a -corner—wonder why that is? Thought everything -had corners. Never mind, you’ll have to -sit with your face to the wall—<i>so</i>. Now you -can sulk if you like!’</p> - -<p>Jerry seemed to hesitate a moment between -the bliss of indulgence in sulks with a sense of -injury, and the imperious summons of beauty -waiting to be wooed at his elbow; then, overmastered -by his passion, he fell sideways across -Rosa’s lap. One arm stuck stiffly upwards, as -in passionate protestation; his amorous countenance -was full of entreaty. Rosa hesitated—wavered—yielded, -crushing his slight frame -under the weight of her full-bodied surrender.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>Charlotte had stood a good deal, but it was -possible to abuse even her patience. Snatching -Jerry from his lawless embraces, she reversed -him across her knee, and then—the outrage -offered to the whole superior sex in Jerry’s -hapless person was too painful to witness; but -though I turned my head away the sound of -brisk slaps continued to reach my tingling ears. -When I dared to look again, Jerry was sitting -up as before; his garment, somewhat crumpled, -was restored to its original position; but his -pallid countenance was set hard. Knowing as -I did, only too well, what a volcano of passion -and shame must be seething under that impassive -exterior, for the moment I felt sorry for him.</p> - -<p>Rosa’s face was still buried in her frock; it -might have been shame, it might have been -grief for Jerry’s sufferings. But the callous -Japanese never even looked her way. His -heart was exceeding bitter within him. In -merely following up his natural impulses he had -run his head against convention, and learned -how hard a thing it was; and the sunshiny -world was all black to him. Even Charlotte<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -softened somewhat at the sight of his rigid -misery. ‘If you’ll say you’re sorry, Jerome,’ -she said, ‘I’ll say I’m sorry, too.’</p> - -<p>Jerry only dropped his shoulders against the -stump and stared out in the direction of his dear -native Japan, where love was no sin, and smacking -had not been introduced. Why had he ever -left it? He would go back to-morrow! And -yet there were obstacles: another grievance. -Nature, in endowing Jerry with every grace of -form and feature, along with a sensitive soul, -had somehow forgotten the gift of locomotion.</p> - -<p>There was a crackling in the bushes behind -me, with sharp short pants as of a small steam-engine, -and Rollo, the black retriever, just -released from his chain by some friendly hand, -burst through the underwood, seeking congenial -company. I joyfully hailed him to stop and be -a panther, but he sped away round the pond, -upset Charlotte with a boisterous caress, and -seizing Jerry by the middle, disappeared with -him down the drive. Charlotte panting, raved -behind the swift-footed avenger of crime; Rosa -lay dishevelled, bereft of consciousness; Jerry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -himself spread helpless arms to heaven, and I -almost thought I heard a cry for mercy, a tardy -promise of amendment. But it was too late. -The Black Man had got Jerry at last; and -though the tear of sensibility might bedew an -eye or two for his lost sake, no one who really -knew him could deny the justice of his fate.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 311px;"> -<img src="images/illus098.jpg" width="311" height="126" alt="two dolls" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a><br /><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a><br /><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>‘YOUNG ADAM CUPID’</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">NOBODY would have suspected Edward -of being in love, had it not been that -after breakfast, with an overacted carelessness, -‘Anybody who likes,’ he said, ‘can feed my -rabbits,’ and he disappeared, with a jauntiness -that deceived nobody, in the direction of the -orchard. Now kingdoms might totter and reel, -and convulsions play skittles with the map of -Europe; but the iron unwritten law prevailed, -that each boy severely fed his own rabbits. -There was good ground, then, for suspicion and -alarm; and while the lettuce leaves were being -drawn through the wires, Harold and I conferred -seriously on the situation.</p> - -<p>It may be thought that the affair was none -of our business; and indeed we cared little -as individuals. We were only concerned as -members of a corporation, for each of whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -the mental or physical ailment of one of his -fellows might have far-reaching effects. It was -thought best that Harold, as least open to suspicion -of motive, should be despatched to probe -and peer. His instructions were, to proceed by -a report on the health of our rabbits in particular; -to glide gently into a discussion concerning -rabbits in general, their customs, practices, and -vices; and to pass thence, by a natural transition, -to the female sex, the inherent flaws in its -composition, and the reasons for regarding it -(speaking broadly) as dirt. He was especially -to be very diplomatic, and then to return and -report progress. He departed on his mission -gaily; but his absence was short, and his return, -discomfited and in tears, seemed to betoken -some want of parts for diplomacy. He had -found Edward, it appeared, pacing the orchard, -with the sort of set smile that mountebanks -wear in their precarious antics, fixed painfully -on his face, as with pins. Harold had opened -well, on the rabbit subject, but, with a fatal -confusion between the abstract and the concrete, -had then gone on to remark that Edward’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -lop-eared doe, with her long hindlegs and contemptuous -twitch of the nose, always reminded -him of Sabina Larkin (a nine-year-old damsel, -child of a neighbouring farmer): at which point -Edward, it would seem, had turned upon and -savagely maltreated him, twisting his arm and -punching him in the short ribs. So that Harold -returned to the rabbit-hutches preceded by long-drawn -wails: anon wishing, with tears and sobs, -that he were a man, to kick his love-lorn -brother; anon lamenting that ever he had been -born.</p> - -<p>I was not big enough to stand up to Edward -personally, so I had to console the sufferer by -allowing him to grease the wheels of the donkey-cart—a -luscious treat that had been specially -reserved for me, a week past, by the gardener’s -boy, for putting in a good word on his behalf -with the new kitchen-maid. Harold was soon -all smiles and grease; and I was not, on the -whole, dissatisfied with the significant hint that -had been gained as to the <i>fons et origo mali</i>.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, means were at hand for resolving -any doubts on the subject, since the morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -was Sunday, and already the bells were ringing -for church. Lest the connexion may not be -evident at first sight, I should explain that -the gloomy period of church-time, with its -enforced inaction and its lack of real interest—passed, -too, within sight of all that the village -held of fairest—was just the one when a young -man’s fancies lightly turned to thoughts of love. -The rest of the week afforded no leisure for -such trifling; but in church—well, there was -really nothing else to do! True, noughts-and-crosses -might be indulged in on flyleaves of -prayer-books while the Litany dragged its slow -length along; but what balm or what solace -could be found for the Sermon? Naturally the -eye, wandering here and there among the serried -ranks, made bold untrammelled choice among -our fair fellow-supplicants. It was in this way -that, some months earlier, under the exceptional -strain of the Athanasian Creed, my roving fancy -had settled upon the baker’s wife as a fit object -for a life-long devotion. Her riper charms had -conquered a heart which none of her be-muslined -tittering juniors had been able to subdue; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -that she was already wedded had never occurred -to me as any bar to my affection. Edward’s -general demeanour, then, during morning service -was safe to convict him; but there was also a -special test for the particular case. It happened -that we sat in a transept, and, the Larkins being -behind us, Edward’s only chance of feasting on -Sabina’s charms was in the all-too fleeting interval -when we swung round eastwards. I was not -mistaken. During the singing of the Benedictus -the impatient one made several false starts, and -at last he slewed fairly round before ‘As it was -in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be’ was -half finished. The evidence was conclusive: a -court of law could have desired no better.</p> - -<p>The fact being patent, the next thing was -to grapple with it; and my mind was fully -occupied during the sermon. There was really -nothing unfair or unbrotherly in my attitude. -A philosophic affection such as mine own, which -clashed with nothing, was (I held) permissible; -but the volcanic passions in which Edward -indulged about once a quarter were a serious -interference with business. To make matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -worse, next week there was a circus coming to -the neighbourhood, to which we had all been -strictly forbidden to go; and without Edward -no visit in contempt of law and orders could be -successfully brought off. I had sounded him -as to the circus on our way to church, and he -had replied briefly that the very thought of a -clown made him sick. Morbidity could no -further go. But the sermon came to an end -without any line of conduct having suggested -itself; and I walked home in some depression, -feeling sadly that Venus was in the ascendant -and in direful opposition, while Auriga—the -circus star—drooped declinant, perilously near -the horizon.</p> - -<p>By the irony of fate, Aunt Eliza, of all -people, turned out to be the <i>Dea ex machinâ</i>. -The thing fell out in this wise. It was that -lady’s obnoxious practice to issue forth, of a -Sunday afternoon, on a visit of state to such -farmers and cottagers as dwelt at hand; on -which occasion she was wont to hale a reluctant -boy along with her, from the mixed motives of -propriety and his soul’s health. Much cudgelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -of brains, I suppose, had on that particular -day made me torpid and unwary. Anyhow, -when a victim came to be sought for, I fell an -easy prey, while the others fled scatheless and -whooping. Our first visit was to the Larkins. -Here ceremonial might be viewed in its finest -flower, and we conducted ourselves, like Queen -Elizabeth when she trod the measure, ‘high and -disposedly.’ In the low oak-panelled parlour -cake and currant wine were set forth, and, after -courtesies and compliments exchanged, Aunt -Eliza, greatly condescending, talked the fashions -with Mrs. Larkin; while the farmer and I, -perspiring with the unusual effort, exchanged -remarks on the mutability of the weather and -the steady fall in the price of corn. (Who -would have thought, to hear us, that only two -short days ago we had confronted each other on -either side of a hedge? I triumphant, provocative, -derisive? He flushed, wroth, cracking his -whip, and volleying forth profanity? So powerful -is all-subduing ceremony!) Sabina the -while, demurely seated with a <i>Pilgrim’s -Progress</i> on her knee, and apparently absorbed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -in a brightly-coloured presentment of ‘Apollyon -Straddling Right across the Way,’ eyed me at -times with shy interest; but repelled all Aunt -Eliza’s advances with a frigid politeness for -which I could not sufficiently admire her.</p> - -<p>‘It’s surprising to me,’ I heard my aunt -remark presently, ‘how my eldest nephew, -Edward, despises little girls. I heard him tell -Charlotte the other day that he wished he could -exchange her for a pair of Japanese guinea-pigs. -It made the poor child cry. Boys are so -heartless!’ (I saw Sabina stiffen as she sat, -and her tip-tilted nose twitched scornfully.) -‘Now this boy here——’ (my soul descended -into my very boots. Could the woman have -intercepted any of my amorous glances at the -baker’s wife?) ‘Now this boy,’ my aunt went -on, ‘is more human altogether. Only yesterday -he took his sister to the baker’s shop, and spent -his only penny buying her sweets. I thought -it showed such a nice disposition. I wish -Edward were more like him!’</p> - -<p>I breathed again. It was unnecessary to -explain my real motives for that visit to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -baker’s. Sabina’s face softened, and her contemptuous -nose descended from its altitude of -scorn; she gave me one shy glance of kindness, -and then concentrated her attention upon Mercy -knocking at the Wicket Gate. I felt awfully -mean as regarded Edward; but what could I -do? I was in Gaza, gagged and bound; the -Philistines hemmed me in.</p> - -<p>The same evening the storm burst, the bolt -fell, and—to continue the metaphor—the -atmosphere grew serene and clear once more. -The evening service was shorter than usual, the -vicar, as he ascended the pulpit steps, having -dropped two pages out of his sermon-case—unperceived -by any but ourselves, either at the -moment or subsequently when the hiatus was -reached; so, as we joyfully shuffled out I -whispered Edward that by racing home at top -speed we should make time to assume our -bows and arrows (laid aside for the day) and -play at Indians and buffaloes with Aunt Eliza’s -fowls—already strolling roostwards, regardless -of their doom—before that sedately stepping -lady could return. Edward hung at the door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -wavering; the suggestion had unhallowed -charms. At that moment Sabina issued primly -forth, and, seeing Edward, put out her tongue -at him in the most exasperating manner conceivable; -then passed on her way, her shoulders -rigid, her dainty head held high. A man can -stand very much in the cause of love: poverty, -aunts, rivals, barriers of every sort, all these -only serve to fan the flame. But personal -ridicule is a shaft that reaches the very vitals. -Edward led the race home at a speed which -one of Ballantyne’s heroes might have equalled -but never surpassed; and that evening the -Indians dispersed Aunt Eliza’s fowls over -several square miles of country, so that the -tale of them remaineth incomplete unto this -day. Edward himself, cheering wildly, pursued -the big Cochin-China cock till the bird sank -gasping under the drawing-room window, -whereat its mistress stood petrified; and after -supper, in the shrubbery, smoked a half-consumed -cigar he had picked up in the road, and -declared to an awe-stricken audience his final, -his immitigable resolve to go into the army.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 499px;"> -<img src="images/illus111.jpg" width="499" height="705" alt="boy running on path, chicken and rooster in front" /> -<div class="caption">“EDWARD LED THE RACE HOME AT A SPEED WHICH ONE OF BALLANTYNE’S<br /> -HEROES MIGHT HAVE EQUALLED BUT NEVER SURPASSED”</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>The crisis was past, and Edward was saved! . . . -And yet . . . <i>sunt lachrymæ rerum</i> . . . to -me watching the cigar-stump alternately pale -and glow against the dark background of laurel, -a vision of a tip-tilted nose, of a small head poised -scornfully, seemed to hover on the gathering -gloom—seemed to grow and fade and grow -again, like the grin of the Cheshire cat—pathetically, -reproachfully even; and the charms of -the baker’s wife slipped from my memory like -snow-wreaths in thaw. After all, Sabina was -nowise to blame: why should the child be -punished? To-morrow I would give them the -slip, and stroll round by her garden promiscuous-like, -at a time when the farmer was safe in -the rick-yard. If nothing came of it, there was -no harm done; and if on the contrary. . . !</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"> -<img src="images/illus113.jpg" width="314" height="114" alt="rooster" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a><br /><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a><br /><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a><br /><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE BURGLARS</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was much too fine a night to think of going -to bed at once, and so, although the witching -hour of nine <small>P.M.</small> had struck, Edward and I -were still leaning out of the open window in -our nightshirts, watching the play of the cedar-branch -shadows on the moonlit lawn, and -planning schemes of fresh devilry for the sunshiny -morrow. From below, strains of the -jocund piano declared that the Olympians were -enjoying themselves in their listless impotent -way; for the new curate had been bidden to -dinner that night, and was at the moment -unclerically proclaiming to all the world that -he feared no foe. His discordant vociferations -doubtless started a train of thought in Edward’s -mind, for he presently remarked, <i>à propos</i> of -nothing whatever that had been said before, ‘I -believe the new curate’s rather gone on Aunt -Maria.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>I scouted the notion; ‘Why, she’s quite old,’ -I said. (She must have seen some five-and-twenty -summers.)</p> - -<p>‘Of course she is,’ replied Edward scornfully. -‘It’s not her, it’s her money he’s after, you -bet!’</p> - -<p>‘Didn’t know she had any money,’ I observed -timidly.</p> - -<p>‘Sure to have,’ said my brother with confidence. -‘Heaps and heaps.’</p> - -<p>Silence ensued, both our minds being busy -with the new situation thus presented: mine, -in wonderment at this flaw that so often -declared itself in enviable natures of fullest -endowment,—in a grown-up man and a good -cricketer, for instance, even as this curate; -Edward’s (apparently) in the consideration of -how such a state of things, supposing it existed, -could be best turned to his own advantage.</p> - -<p>‘Bobby Ferris told me,’ began Edward in -due course, ‘that there was a fellow spooning -his sister once——’</p> - -<p>‘What’s spooning?’ I asked meekly.</p> - -<p>‘O <i>I</i> dunno,’ said Edward indifferently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -‘It’s—it’s—it’s just a thing they do, you -know. And he used to carry notes and messages -and things between ’em, and he got a -shilling almost every time.’</p> - -<p>‘What, from each of ’em?’ I innocently -inquired.</p> - -<p>Edward looked at me with scornful pity. -‘Girls never have any money,’ he briefly explained. -‘But she did his exercises, and got -him out of rows, and told stories for him when -he needed it—and much better ones than he -could have made up for himself. Girls are -useful in some ways. So he was living in -clover, when unfortunately they went and -quarrelled about something.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t see what that’s got to do with it,’ I -said.</p> - -<p>‘Nor don’t I,’ rejoined Edward. ‘But any -how the notes and things stopped, and so did -the shillings. Bobby was fairly cornered, for -he had bought two ferrets on tick, and promised -to pay a shilling a week, thinking the shillings -were going on for ever, the silly young ass. -So when the week was up, and he was being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -dunned for the shilling, he went off to the -fellow and said: “Your broken-hearted Bella -implores you to meet her at sundown. By the -hollow oak as of old, be it only for a moment. -Do not fail!” He got all that out of some -rotten book, of course. The fellow looked -puzzled and said:</p> - -<p>‘“What hollow oak? I don’t know any -hollow oak.”</p> - -<p>‘“Perhaps it was the Royal Oak?” said -Bobby promptly, ’cos he saw he had made a -slip, through trusting too much to the rotten -book; but this didn’t seem to make the fellow -any happier.’</p> - -<p>‘Should think not,’ I said, ‘the Royal Oak’s -an awful low sort of pub.’</p> - -<p>‘I know,’ said Edward. ‘Well, at last the -fellow said, “I think I know what she means: -the hollow tree in your father’s paddock. It -happens to be an elm, but she wouldn’t know -the difference. All right: say I’ll be there.” -Bobby hung about a bit, for he hadn’t got his -money. “She was crying awfully,” he said. -Then he got his shilling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘And wasn’t the fellow riled,’ I inquired, -‘when he got to the place and found nothing?’</p> - -<p>‘He found Bobby,’ said Edward indignantly. -‘Young Ferris was a gentleman, every inch of -him. He brought the fellow another message -from Bella: “I dare not leave the house. My -cruel parents immure me closely. If you only -knew what I suffer. Your broken-hearted -Bella.” Out of the same rotten book. This -made the fellow a little suspicious, ’cos it was -the old Ferrises who had been keen about the -thing all through. The fellow, you see, had -tin.’</p> - -<p>‘But what’s that got to——’ I began again.</p> - -<p>‘O <i>I</i> dunno,’ said Edward impatiently. ‘I’m -telling you just what Bobby told me. He got -suspicious, anyhow, but he couldn’t exactly call -Bella’s brother a liar, so Bobby escaped for the -time. But when he was in a hole next week, -over a stiff French exercise, and tried the same -sort of game on his sister, she was too sharp for -him, and he got caught out. Somehow women -seem more mistrustful than men. They’re so -beastly suspicious by nature, you know.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘<i>I</i> know,’ said I. ‘But did the two—the -fellow and the sister—make it up afterwards?’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t remember about that,’ replied Edward -indifferently; ‘but Bobby got packed off to -school a whole year earlier than his people meant -to send him. Which was just what he wanted. -So you see it all came right in the end!’</p> - -<p>I was trying to puzzle out the moral of this -story—it was evidently meant to contain one -somewhere—when a flood of golden lamplight -mingled with the moon-rays on the lawn, and -Aunt Maria and the new curate strolled out on -the grass below us, and took the direction of a -garden-seat which was backed by a dense laurel -shrubbery reaching round in a half-circle to the -house. Edward meditated moodily. ‘If we -only knew what they were talking about,’ said -he, ‘you’d soon see whether I was right or not. -Look here! Let’s send the kid down by the -porch to reconnoitre!’</p> - -<p>‘Harold’s asleep,’ I said; ‘it seems rather a -shame——’</p> - -<p>‘O rot!’ said my brother; ‘he’s the youngest, -and he’s got to do as he’s told!’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>So the luckless Harold was hauled out of -bed and given his sailing-orders. He was -naturally rather vexed at being stood up -suddenly on the cold floor, and the job had no -particular interest for him; but he was both -staunch and well disciplined. The means of -exit were simple enough. A porch of iron -trellis came up to within easy reach of the -window, and was habitually used by all three -of us, when modestly anxious to avoid public -notice. Harold climbed deftly down the porch -like a white rat, and his night-gown glimmered -a moment on the gravel walk ere he was lost to -sight in the darkness of the shrubbery. A brief -interval of silence ensued; broken suddenly by -a sound of scuffle, and then a shrill long-drawn -squeal, as of metallic surfaces in friction. Our -scout had fallen into the hands of the enemy!</p> - -<p>Indolence alone had made us devolve the -task of investigation on our younger brother. -Now that danger had declared itself, there was -no hesitation. In a second we were down the -side of the porch, and crawling Cherokee-wise -through the laurels to the back of the garden-seat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -Piteous was the sight that greeted us. -Aunt Maria was on the seat, in a white evening -frock, looking—for an aunt—really quite nice. -On the lawn stood an incensed curate, grasping -our small brother by a large ear, which—judging -from the row he was making—seemed on -the point of parting company with the head it -completed and adorned. The gruesome noise he -was emitting did not really affect us otherwise -than æsthetically. To one who has tried both, -the wail of genuine physical anguish is easily -distinguishable from the pumped-up <i>ad misericordiam</i> -blubber. Harold’s could clearly be -recognised as belonging to the latter class. -‘Now you young—’ (whelp, <i>I</i> think it was, but -Edward stoutly maintains it was devil), said the -curate sternly; ‘tell us what you mean by it!’</p> - -<p>‘Well leggo of my ear then!’ shrilled Harold, -‘and I’ll tell you the solemn truth!’</p> - -<p>‘Very well,’ agreed the curate, releasing him, -‘now go ahead, and don’t lie more than you can -help.’</p> - -<p>We abode the promised disclosure without -the least misgiving; but even we had hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -given Harold due credit for his fertility of -resource and powers of imagination.</p> - -<p>‘I had just finished saying my prayers,’ began -that young gentleman slowly, ‘when I happened -to look out of the window, and on the lawn I -saw a sight which froze the marrow in my veins! -A burglar was approaching the house with snake-like -tread! He had a scowl and a dark lantern, -and he was armed to the teeth!’</p> - -<p>We listened with interest. The style, though -unlike Harold’s native notes, seemed strangely -familiar.</p> - -<p>‘Go on,’ said the curate grimly.</p> - -<p>‘Pausing in his stealthy career,’ continued -Harold, ‘he gave a low whistle. Instantly the -signal was responded to, and from the adjacent -shadows two more figures glided forth. The -miscreants were both armed to the teeth.’</p> - -<p>‘Excellent,’ said the curate; ‘proceed.’</p> - -<p>‘The robber chief,’ pursued Harold, warming -to his work, ‘joined his nefarious comrades, and -conversed with them in silent tones. His expression -was truly ferocious, and I ought to -have said that he was armed to the t——’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘There, never mind his teeth,’ interrupted the -curate rudely; ‘there’s too much jaw about -you altogether. Hurry up and have done.’</p> - -<p>‘I was in a frightful funk,’ continued the -narrator, warily guarding his ear with his hand, -‘but just then the drawing-room window opened, -and you and Aunt Maria came out—I mean -emerged. The burglars vanished silently into -the laurels, with horrid implications!’</p> - -<p>The curate looked slightly puzzled. The -tale was well sustained, and certainly circumstantial. -After all, the boy might really have -seen something. How was the poor man to -know—though the chaste and lofty diction -might have supplied a hint—that the whole -yarn was a free adaptation from the last Penny -Dreadful lent us by the knife-and-boot boy?</p> - -<p>‘Why did you not alarm the house?’ he asked.</p> - -<p>‘Cos I was afraid,’ said Harold sweetly, -‘that p’raps they mightn’t believe me!’</p> - -<p>‘But how did you get down here, you -naughty little boy?’ put in Aunt Maria.</p> - -<p>Harold was hard pressed—by his own flesh -and blood, too!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> - -<p>At that moment Edward touched me on the -shoulder and glided off through the laurels. -When some ten yards away he gave a low -whistle. I replied with another. The effect -was magical. Aunt Maria started up with a -shriek. Harold gave one startled glance around, -and then fled like a hare, made straight for the -back-door, burst in upon the servants at supper, -and buried himself in the broad bosom of the -cook, his special ally. The curate faced the -laurels—hesitatingly. But Aunt Maria flung -herself on him. ‘O Mr. Hodgitts!’ I heard -her cry, ‘you are brave! for my sake do not be -rash!’ He was not rash. When I peeped out -a second later, the coast was entirely clear.</p> - -<p>By this time there were sounds of a household -timidly emerging; and Edward remarked -to me that perhaps we had better be off. Retreat -was an easy matter. A stunted laurel -gave a leg-up on to the garden wall, which led -in its turn to the roof of an out-house, up which, -at a dubious angle, we could crawl to the window -of the box-room. This overland route had -been revealed to us one day by the domestic cat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -when hard pressed in the course of an otter-hunt, -in which the cat—somewhat unwillingly—was -filling the title <i>rôle;</i> and it had proved distinctly -useful on occasions like the present. We were -snug in bed—minus some cuticle from knees -and elbows—and Harold, sleepily chewing -something sticky, had been carried up in the -arms of the friendly cook, ere the clamour of -the burglar-hunters had died away.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;"> -<img src="images/illus129.jpg" width="497" height="703" alt="child on roof" /> -<div class="caption">“THIS OVERLAND ROUTE HAD BEEN REVEALED TO<br /> -US ONE DAY BY THE DOMESTIC CAT, WHEN HARD<br /> -PRESSED IN THE COURSE OF AN OTTER-HUNT”</div> -</div> - -<p>The curate’s undaunted demeanour, as reported -by Aunt Maria, was generally supposed -to have terrified the burglars into flight, and -much kudos accrued to him thereby. Some -days later, however, when he had dropped in to -afternoon tea, and was making a mild curatorial -joke about the moral courage required for taking -the last piece of bread-and-butter, I felt -constrained to remark dreamily, and as it were -to the universe at large: ‘Mr. Hodgitts! you -are brave! for my sake, do not be rash!’</p> - -<p>Fortunately for me, the vicar also was a caller -on that day; and it was always a comparatively -easy matter to dodge my long-coated friend in -the open.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a><br /><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a><br /><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>A HARVESTING</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE year was in its yellowing time, and the -face of Nature a study in old gold. ‘A -field <i>or</i>, <i>semée</i> with garbs of the same:’ it may -be false Heraldry—Nature’s generally is—but -it correctly blazons the display that Edward and -I considered from the rickyard gate. Harold -was not on in this scene, being stretched -upon the couch of pain: the special disorder -stomachic, as usual. The evening before, -Edward, in a fit of unwonted amiability, had -deigned to carve me out a turnip lantern, an -art-and-craft he was peculiarly deft in; and -Harold, as the interior of the turnip flew out in -scented fragments under the hollowing knife, -had eaten largely thereof: regarding all such -jetsam as his special perquisite. Now he was -dreeing his weird, with such assistance as the -chemist could afford. But Edward and I,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -knowing that this particular field was to be -carried to-day, were revelling in the privilege -of riding in the empty waggons from the rickyard -back to the sheaves, whence we returned -toilfully on foot, to career it again over the -billowy acres in these great galleys of a stubble -sea. It was the nearest approach to sailing -that we inland urchins might compass: and -hence it ensued, that such stirring scenes as -Sir Richard Grenville on the <i>Revenge</i>, the -smoke-wreathed Battle of the Nile, and the -Death of Nelson, had all been enacted in turn -on these dusty quarter-decks, as they swayed -and bumped afield.</p> - -<p>Another waggon had shot its load, and was -jolting out through the rickyard gate, as we -swung ourselves in, shouting, over its tail. -Edward was the first up, and, as I gained -my feet, he clutched me in a death-grapple. -I was a privateersman, he proclaimed, and he -the captain of the British frigate <i>Terpsichore</i>, -of—I forget the precise number of guns. -Edward always collared the best parts to himself; -but I was holding my own gallantly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -when I suddenly discovered that the floor -we battled on was swarming with earwigs. -Shrieking, I hurled free of him, and rolled -over the tail-board on to the stubble. Edward -executed a war-dance of triumph on the deck -of the retreating galleon; but I cared little -for that. I knew <i>he</i> knew that I wasn’t afraid -of him, but that I was—and terribly—of earwigs: -‘those mortal bugs o’ the field.’ So I -let him disappear, shouting lustily for all hands -to repel boarders, while I strolled inland, down -the village.</p> - -<p>There was a touch of adventure in the expedition. -This was not our own village, but a -foreign one, distant at least a mile. One felt -that sense of mingled distinction and insecurity -which is familiar to the traveller: distinction, -in that folk turned the head to note you -curiously; insecurity, by reason of the ever-present -possibility of missiles on the part -of the younger inhabitants, a class eternally -Conservative. Elated with isolation, I went -even more nose-in-air than usual: and ‘even -so,’ I mused, ‘might Mungo Park have threaded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -the trackless African forest and....’ Here -I plumped against a soft, but resisting body.</p> - -<p>Recalled to my senses by the shock, I fell -back in the attitude every boy under these -circumstances instinctively adopts—both elbows -well up over your ears. I found myself facing -a tall elderly man, clean-shaven, clad in well-worn -black—a clergyman evidently; and I -noted at once a far-away look in his eyes, as -if they were used to another plane of vision, -and could not instantly focus things terrestrial, -being suddenly recalled thereto. His figure was -bent in apologetic protest. ‘I ask a thousand -pardons, sir,’ he said; ‘I am really so very -absent-minded. I trust you will forgive me.’</p> - -<p>Now most boys would have suspected chaff -under this courtly style of address. I take -infinite credit to myself for recognising at once -the natural attitude of a man to whom his -fellows were gentlemen all, neither Jew nor -Gentile, clean nor unclean. Of course, I took -the blame on myself; adding, that I was very -absent-minded too. Which was indeed the -case.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I perceive,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that we have -something in common. I, an old man, dream -dreams; you, a young one, see visions. Your -lot is the happier. And now—’ his hand had -been resting all this time on a wicket-gate—‘you -are hot, it is easily seen;—the day is -advanced, <i>Virgo</i> is the Zodiacal sign. Perhaps -I may offer you some poor refreshment, if your -engagements will permit?’</p> - -<p>My only engagement that afternoon was an -arithmetic lesson, and I had not intended to -keep it in any case; so I passed in, while he -held the gate open politely, murmuring, ‘<i>Venit -Hesperus, ite capellæ:</i> come, little kid!’ and -then apologising abjectly for a familiarity which -(he said) was less his than the Roman poet’s. -A straight flagged walk led up to the cool-looking -old house, and my host, lingering in -his progress at this rose-tree and that, forgot -all about me at least twice, waking up and -apologising humbly after each lapse. During -these intervals I put two and two together, -and identified him as the Rector: a bachelor, -eccentric, learned exceedingly, round whom the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -crust of legend was already beginning to form; -to myself an object of special awe, in that -he was alleged to have written a real book. -‘Heaps o’ books,’ Martha, my informant, said; -but I knew the exact rate of discount applicable -to Martha’s statements.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 499px;"> -<img src="images/illus139.jpg" width="499" height="707" alt="boy looking at front of house, rose trees in yard" /> -<div class="caption">“A STRAIGHT FLAGGED WALK LED UP TO THE COOL-LOOKING<br /> -OLD HOUSE, AND MY HOST, LINGERING IN HIS PROGRESS AT THIS<br /> -ROSE-TREE AND THAT, FORGOT ALL ABOUT ME AT LEAST TWICE”</div> -</div> - -<p>We passed eventually through a dark hall -into a room which struck me at once as the -ideal I had dreamed but failed to find. None -of your feminine fripperies here! None of -your chair-backs and tidies! This man, it was -seen, groaned under no aunts. Stout volumes -in calf and vellum lined three sides; books -sprawled or hunched themselves on chairs and -tables; books diffused the pleasant odour of -printers’ ink and bindings; topping all, a faint -aroma of tobacco cheered and heartened exceedingly, -as under foreign skies the flap and -rustle over the wayfarer’s head of the Union -Jack—the old flag of emancipation! And in -one corner, book-piled like the rest of the furniture, -stood a piano.</p> - -<p>This I hailed with a squeal of delight. -‘Want to strum?’ inquired my friend, as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -it was the most natural wish in the world—his -eyes were already straying towards another -corner, where bits of writing-table peeped out -from under a sort of Alpine system of book and -foolscap.</p> - -<p>‘O but may I?’ I asked in doubt. ‘At -home I’m not allowed to—only beastly exercises!’</p> - -<p>‘Well, you can strum here, at all events,’ -he replied; and murmuring absently, ‘<i>Age, dic -Latinum, barbite, carmen</i>,’ he made his way, -mechanically guided as it seemed, to the irresistible -writing-table. In ten seconds he was -out of sight and call. A great book open on -his knee, another propped up in front, a score -or so disposed within easy reach, he read and -jotted with an absorption almost passionate. I -might have been in Bœotia, for any consciousness -he had of me. So with a light heart I -turned to and strummed.</p> - -<p>Those who painfully and with bleeding feet -have scaled the crags of mastery over musical -instruments have yet their loss in this: that -the wild joy of strumming has become a vanished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -sense. Their happiness comes from the -concord and the relative value of the notes -they handle: the pure, absolute quality and -nature of each note in itself are only appreciated -by the strummer. For some notes have -all the sea in them, and some cathedral bells; -others a woodland joyance and a smell of -greenery; in some fauns dance to the merry -reed, and even the grave centaurs peep out -from their caves. Some bring moonlight, and -some the deep crimson of a rose’s heart; some -are blue, some red, while others will tell of an -army with silken standards and march-music. -And throughout all the sequence of suggestion, -up above the little white men leap and peep, -and strive against the imprisoning wires; and -all the big rosewood box hums as it were full -of hiving bees.</p> - -<p>Spent with the rapture, I paused a moment -and caught my friend’s eye over the edge of -a folio. ‘But as for these Germans,’ he began -abruptly, as if we had been in the middle of a -discussion, ‘the scholarship is there, I grant -you; but the spark, the fine perception, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -happy intuition, where is it? They get it all -from us!’</p> - -<p>‘They get nothing whatever from <i>us</i>,’ I said -decidedly: the word German only suggesting -Bands, to which Aunt Eliza was bitterly hostile.</p> - -<p>‘You think not?’ he rejoined doubtfully, getting -up and walking about the room. ‘Well, -I applaud such fairness and temperance in so -young a critic. They are qualities—in youth—as -rare as they are pleasing. But just look -at Schrumpffius, for instance—how he struggles -and wrestles with a simple γἁρ in this very -passage here!’</p> - -<p>I peeped fearfully through the open door, -half-dreading to see some sinuous and snark-like -conflict in progress on the mat; but all -was still. I saw no trouble at all in the passage, -and I said so.</p> - -<p>‘Precisely,’ he cried, delighted. ‘To you, -who possess the natural scholar’s faculty in so -happy a degree, there is no difficulty at all. -But to this Schrumpffius——’ But here, luckily -for me, in came the housekeeper, a clean-looking -woman of staid aspect.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Your tea is in the garden,’ she said severely, -as if she were correcting a faulty emendation. -‘I’ve put some cakes and things for the little -gentleman; and you’d better drink it before it -gets cold.’</p> - -<p>He waved her off and continued his stride, -brandishing an aorist over my devoted head. -The housekeeper waited unmoved till there -fell a moment’s break in his descant; and -then, ‘You’d better drink it before it gets -cold,’ she observed again, impassively. The -wretched man cast a deprecating look at me. -‘Perhaps a little tea would be rather nice,’ he -observed feebly; and to my great relief he led -the way into the garden. I looked about for the -little gentleman, but, failing to discover him, I -concluded he was absent-minded too, and -attacked the ‘cakes and things’ with no -misgivings.</p> - -<p>After a most successful and most learned -tea a something happened which, small as I -was, never quite shook itself out of my memory. -To us at parley in an arbour over the high -road, there entered, slouching into view, a dingy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -tramp, satellited by a frowsy woman and a -pariah dog; and, catching sight of us, he set -up his professional whine; and I looked at -my friend with the heartiest compassion, for -I knew well from Martha—it was common talk—that -at this time of day he was certainly and -surely penniless. Morn by morn he started -forth with pockets lined; and each returning -evening found him with never a sou. All this -he proceeded to explain at length to the tramp, -courteously and even shamefacedly, as one who -was in the wrong; and at last the gentleman -of the road, realising the hopelessness of his -case, set to and cursed him with gusto, vocabulary, -and abandonment. He reviled his eyes, -his features, his limbs, his profession, his relatives -and surroundings; and then slouched off, -still oozing malice and filth. We watched the -party to a turn in the road, where the woman, -plainly weary, came to a stop. Her lord, after -some conventional expletives demanded of him -by his position, relieved her of her bundle, and -caused her to hang on his arm with a certain -rough kindness of tone, and in action even a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -dim approach to tenderness; and the dingy -dog crept up for one lick at her hand.</p> - -<p>‘See,’ said my friend, bearing somewhat on -my shoulder, ‘how this strange thing, this love -of ours, lives and shines out in the unlikeliest -of places! You have been in the fields in early -morning? Barren acres, all! But only stoop—catch -the light thwartwise—and all is a silver -network of gossamer! So the fairy filaments of -this strange thing underrun and link together -the whole world. Yet it is not the old imperious -god of the fatal bow—ἑρως ανἱκατε μἁχαν—not -that—nor even the placid respectable στοργἡ—but -something still unnamed, perhaps more -mysterious, more divine! Only one must stoop -to see it, old fellow, one must stoop!’</p> - -<p>The dew was falling, the dusk closing, as I -trotted briskly homewards down the road. -Lonely spaces everywhere, above and around. -Only Hesperus hung in the sky, solitary, pure, -ineffably far-drawn and remote; yet infinitely -heartening, somehow, in his valorous isolation.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a><br /><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a><br /><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>SNOWBOUND</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">TWELFTH-NIGHT had come and gone, -and life next morning seemed a trifle flat -and purposeless. But yester-eve, and the mummers -were here! They had come striding into -the old kitchen, powdering the red brick floor -with snow from their barbaric bedizenments; and -stamping, and crossing, and declaiming, till all -was whirl and riot and shout. Harold was -frankly afraid: unabashed, he buried himself -in the cook’s ample bosom. Edward feigned a -manly superiority to illusion, and greeted these -awful apparitions familiarly, as Dick and Harry -and Joe. As for me, I was too big to run, too -rapt to resist the magic and surprise. Whence -came these outlanders, breaking in on us with -song and ordered masque and a terrible clashing -of wooden swords? And after these, what -strange visitants might we not look for any quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -night, when the chestnuts popped in the ashes, -and the old ghost stories drew the awe-stricken -circle close? Old Merlin, perhaps, ‘all furred -in black sheep-skins, and a russet gown, with -a bow and arrows, and bearing wild geese in -his hand!’ Or stately Ogier the Dane, recalled -from Faëry, asking his way to the land that -once had need of him! Or even, on some -white night, the Snow-Queen herself, with a -chime of sleigh-bells and the patter of reindeer’s -feet, halting of a sudden at the door flung -wide, while aloft the Northern Lights went -shaking attendant spears among the quiet -stars!</p> - -<p>This morning, house-bound by the relentless -indefatigable snow, I was feeling the reaction. -Edward, on the contrary, being violently stage-struck -on this his first introduction to the real -Drama, was striding up and down the floor, -proclaiming ‘Here be I, King Gearge the -Third,’ in a strong Berkshire accent. Harold, -accustomed, as the youngest, to lonely antics -and to sports that asked no sympathy, was -absorbed in ‘clubmen’: a performance consisting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -in a measured progress round the room arm-in-arm -with an imaginary companion of reverend -years, with occasional halts at imaginary clubs, -where—imaginary steps being leisurely ascended—imaginary -papers were glanced at, -imaginary scandal was discussed with elderly -shakings of the head, and—regrettable to say—imaginary -glasses were lifted lipwards. Heaven -only knows how the germ of this dreary pastime -first found way into his small-boyish being. It -was his own invention, and he was proportionately -proud of it. Meanwhile Charlotte and I, -crouched in the window-seat, watched, spell-stricken, -the whirl and eddy and drive of the -innumerable snow-flakes, wrapping our cheery -little world in an uncanny uniform, ghastly in -line and hue.</p> - -<p>Charlotte was sadly out of spirits. Having -‘countered’ Miss Smedley at breakfast, during -some argument or other, by an apt quotation -from her favourite classic (the <i>Fairy Book</i>), she -had been gently but firmly informed that no -such things as fairies ever really existed. ‘Do -you mean to say it’s all lies?’ asked Charlotte<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -bluntly. Miss Smedley deprecated the use of -any such unladylike words in any connexion -at all. ‘These stories had their origin, my -dear,’ she explained, ‘in a mistaken anthropomorphism -in the interpretation of nature. But -though we are now too well informed to fall -into similar errors, there are still many beautiful -lessons to be learned from these myths——’</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 497px;"> -<img src="images/illus153.jpg" width="497" height="697" alt="two children in window seat, two children on carpet, ceiling trim is border of hunters and animals" /> -<div class="caption">“MEANWHILE CHARLOTTE AND I<br /> -CROUCHED IN THE WINDOW-SEAT. . . .”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘But how can you learn anything,’ persisted -Charlotte, ‘from what doesn’t exist?’ And she -left the table defiant, howbeit depressed.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t you mind <i>her</i>,’ I said consolingly; -‘how can she know anything about it? Why, -she can’t even throw a stone properly!’</p> - -<p>‘Edward says they’re all rot, too,’ replied -Charlotte doubtfully.</p> - -<p>‘Edward says everything’s rot,’ I explained, -‘now he thinks he’s going into the Army. If -a thing’s in a book it <i>must</i> be true, so that -settles it!’</p> - -<p>Charlotte looked almost reassured. The room -was quieter now, for Edward had got the dragon -down and was boring holes in him with a purring -sound; Harold was ascending the steps of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -Athenæum with a jaunty air—suggestive rather -of the Junior Carlton. Outside, the tall elm-tops -were hardly to be seen through the feathery -storm. ‘The sky’s a-falling,’ quoted Charlotte -softly; ‘I must go and tell the king.’ The quotation -suggested a fairy story, and I offered to -read to her, reaching out for the book. But the -Wee Folk were under a cloud; sceptical hints -had embittered the chalice. So I was fain to -fetch <i>Arthur</i>—second favourite with Charlotte -for his dames riding errant, and an easy first -with us boys for his spear-splintering crash of -tourney and hurtle against hopeless odds. Here -again, however, I proved unfortunate; what ill-luck -made the book open at the sorrowful history -of Balin and Balan? ‘And he vanished anon,’ -I read: ‘and so he heard an horne blow, as it -had been the death of a beast. “That blast,” -said Balin, “is blowen for me, for I am the -prize, and yet am I not dead.”’ Charlotte -began to cry: she knew the rest too well. I -shut the book in despair. Harold emerged from -behind the arm-chair. He was sucking his -thumb (a thing which members of the Reform<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -are seldom seen to do), and he stared wide-eyed -at his tear-stained sister. Edward put off his -histrionics, and rushed up to her as the consoler—a -new part for him.</p> - -<p>‘I know a jolly story,’ he began. ‘Aunt -Eliza told it me. It was when she was somewhere -over in that beastly abroad’—(he had -once spent a black month of misery at Dinan)—‘and -there was a fellow there who had got -two storks. And one stork died—it was the -she-stork.’—(‘What did it die of?’ put in -Harold.)—‘And the other stork was quite -sorry, and moped, and went on, and got very -miserable. So they looked about and found a -duck, and introduced it to the stork. The -duck was a drake, but the stork didn’t mind, -and they loved each other and were as jolly as -could be. By and by another duck came along—a -real she-duck this time—and when the -drake saw her he fell in love, and left the stork, -and went and proposed to the duck: for she -was very beautiful. But the poor stork who -was left, he said nothing at all to anybody, but -just pined and pined and pined away, till one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -morning he was found quite dead! But the -ducks lived happily ever afterwards!’</p> - -<p>This was Edward’s idea of a jolly story! -Down again went the corners of poor Charlotte’s -mouth. Really Edward’s stupid inability to -see the real point in anything was <i>too</i> annoying! -It was always so. Years before, it being -necessary to prepare his youthful mind for a -domestic event that might lead to awkward -questionings at a time when there was little -leisure to invent appropriate answers, it was -delicately inquired of him whether he would -like to have a little brother, or perhaps a little -sister? He considered the matter carefully in -all its bearings, and finally declared for a Newfoundland -pup. Any boy more ‘gleg at the -uptak’ would have met his parents half-way, -and eased their burden. As it was, the matter -had to be approached all over again from a -fresh standpoint. And now, while Charlotte -turned away sniffingly, with a hiccup that told -of an overwrought soul, Edward, unconscious -(like Sir Isaac’s Diamond) of the mischief he had -done, wheeled round on Harold with a shout.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I want a live dragon,’ he announced: ‘You’ve -got to be my dragon!’</p> - -<p>‘Leave me go, will you?’ squealed Harold, -struggling stoutly. ‘I’m playin’ at something -else. How can I be a dragon and belong to all -the clubs?’</p> - -<p>‘But wouldn’t you like to be a nice scaly -dragon, all green,’ said Edward, trying persuasion, -‘with a curly tail and red eyes, and -breathing real smoke and fire?’</p> - -<p>Harold wavered an instant: Pall-Mall was -still strong in him. The next he was grovelling -on the floor. No saurian ever swung a tail so -scaly and so curly as his. Clubland was a -thousand years away. With horrific pants he -emitted smokiest smoke and fiercest fire.</p> - -<p>‘Now I want a Princess,’ cried Edward, -clutching Charlotte ecstatically; ‘and <i>you</i> can -be the Doctor, and heal me from the dragon’s -deadly wound.’</p> - -<p>Of all professions I held the sacred art of -healing in worst horror and contempt. Cataclysmal -memories of purge and draught crowded -thick on me, and with Charlotte—who courted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -no barren honours—I made a break for the -door. Edward did likewise, and the hostile -forces clashed together on the mat, and for a -brief space things were mixed and chaotic and -Arthurian. The silvery sound of the luncheon-bell -restored an instant peace, even in the teeth -of clenched antagonisms like ours. The Holy -Grail itself, ‘sliding athwart a sunbeam,’ never -so effectually stilled a riot of warring passions -into sweet and quiet accord.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;"> -<img src="images/illus159.jpg" width="319" height="122" alt="mask with ribbon on either side" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a><br /><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a><br /><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a><br /><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">EDWARD was standing ginger-beer like a -gentleman, happening, as the one that had -last passed under the dentist’s hands, to be the -capitalist of the flying hour. As in all well-regulated -families, the usual tariff obtained in -ours: half-a-crown a tooth; one shilling only -if the molar were a loose one. This one, -unfortunately—in spite of Edward’s interested -affectation of agony—had been shakiness undisguised; -but the event was good enough to run -to ginger-beer. As financier, however, Edward -had claimed exemption from any servile duties -of procurement, and had swaggered about the -garden while I fetched from the village post-office, -and Harold stole a tumbler from the -pantry. Our preparations complete, we were -sprawling on the lawn; the staidest and most -self-respecting of the rabbits had been let loose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -to grace the feast, and was lopping demurely -about the grass, selecting the juiciest plantains; -while Selina, as the eldest lady present, was -toying, in her affected feminine way, with the -first full tumbler, daintily fishing for bits of -broken cork.</p> - -<p>‘Hurry up, can’t you?’ growled our host; -‘what are you girls always so beastly particular -for?’</p> - -<p>‘Martha says,’ explained Harold (thirsty too, -but still just), ‘that if you swallow a bit of cork, -it swells, and it swells, and it swells inside you, -till you——’</p> - -<p>‘O bosh!’ said Edward, draining the glass -with a fine pretence of indifference to consequences, -but all the same (as I noticed) dodging -the floating cork-fragments with skill and -judgment.</p> - -<p>‘O, it’s all very well to say bosh,’ replied -Harold nettled: ‘but every one knows it’s true -but you. Why, when Uncle Thomas was here -last, and they got up a bottle of wine for him, -he took just one tiny sip out of his glass, and -then he said, “Poo, my goodness, that’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -corked!” And he wouldn’t touch it. And -they had to get a fresh bottle up. The funny -part was, though, I looked in his glass afterwards, -when it was brought out into the passage, -and there wasn’t any cork in it at all! So I -drank it all off, and it was very good!’</p> - -<p>‘You’d better be careful, young man!’ said -his elder brother, regarding him severely: -‘D’you remember that night when the Mummers -were here, and they had mulled port, and -you went round and emptied all the glasses after -they had gone away?’</p> - -<p>‘Ow! I did feel funny that night,’ chuckled -Harold. ‘Thought the house was comin’ down, -it jumped about so: and Martha had to carry -me up to bed, ’cos the stairs was goin’ all -waggity!’</p> - -<p>We gazed searchingly at our graceless junior; -but it was clear that he viewed the matter in -the light of a phenomenon rather than of a -delinquency.</p> - -<p>A third bottle was by this time circling; and -Selina, who had evidently waited for it to reach -her, took a most unfairly long pull, and then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -jumping up and shaking out her frock, announced -that she was going for a walk. Then she fled -like a hare; for it was the custom of our Family -to meet with physical coercion any independence -of action in individuals.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 494px;"> -<img src="images/illus167.jpg" width="494" height="702" alt="girl running toward gate in fence; three other children and bunny sitting on ground" /> -<div class="caption">“‘SHE’S OFF WITH THOSE VICARAGE<br /> -GIRLS AGAIN,’ SAID EDWARD”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘She’s off with those Vicarage girls again,’ -said Edward, regarding Selina’s long black legs -twinkling down the path. ‘She goes out with -them every day now; and as soon as ever they -start, all their heads go together and they -chatter, chatter, chatter the whole blessèd time! -I can’t make out what they find to talk about. -They never stop; it’s gabble, gabble, gabble -right along, like a nest of young rooks!’</p> - -<p>‘P’raps they talk about birds’-eggs,’ I suggested -sleepily (the sun was hot, the turf soft, -the ginger-beer potent); ‘and about ships, and -buffaloes, and desert islands; and why rabbits -have white tails; and whether they’d sooner -have a schooner or a cutter; and what they’ll -be when they’re men—at least, I mean there’s -lots of things to talk about, if you <i>want</i> to -talk.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; but they don’t talk about those sort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -of things at all,’ persisted Edward. ‘How <i>can</i> -they? They don’t <i>know</i> anything; they can’t -<i>do</i> anything—except play the piano, and nobody -would want to talk about <i>that;</i> and they don’t -care about anything—anything sensible, I mean. -So what <i>do</i> they talk about?’</p> - -<p>‘I asked Martha once,’ put in Harold; ‘and -she said, “Never <i>you</i> mind; young ladies has -lots of things to talk about that young gentlemen -can’t understand.”’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t believe it,’ Edward growled.</p> - -<p>‘Well, that’s what she <i>said</i>, anyway,’ rejoined -Harold indifferently. The subject did not seem -to him of first-class importance, and it was -hindering the circulation of the ginger-beer.</p> - -<p>We heard the click of the front-gate. Through -a gap in the hedge we could see the party setting -off down the road. Selina was in the middle; a -Vicarage girl had her by either arm; their heads -were together, as Edward had described; and -the clack of their tongues came down the breeze -like the busy pipe of starlings on a bright March -morning.</p> - -<p>‘What <i>do</i> they talk about, Charlotte?’ I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -inquired, wishing to pacify Edward. ‘You go -out with them sometimes.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t know,’ said poor Charlotte dolefully. -‘They make me walk behind, ’cos they say I’m -too little, and mustn’t hear. And I <i>do</i> want to -so,’ she added.</p> - -<p>‘When any lady comes to see Aunt Eliza,’ -said Harold, ‘they both talk at once all the -time. And yet each of ’em seems to hear what -the other one’s saying. I can’t make out how -they do it. Grown-up people are so clever!’</p> - -<p>‘The Curate’s the funniest man,’ I remarked. -‘He’s always saying things that have no sense -in them at all, and then laughing at them as if -they were jokes. Yesterday, when they asked -him if he’d have some more tea, he said, “Once -more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,” -and then sniggered all over. I didn’t see anything -funny in that. And then somebody asked -him about his button-hole, and he said, “’Tis -but a little faded flower,” and exploded again. -I thought it very stupid.’</p> - -<p>‘O <i>him</i>,’ said Edward contemptuously: ‘he -can’t help it, you know; it’s a sort of way he’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -got. But it’s these girls I can’t make out. If -they’ve anything really sensible to talk about, -how is it nobody knows what it is? And if -they haven’t—and we know they <i>can’t</i> have, -naturally—why don’t they shut up their jaw? -This old rabbit here—<i>he</i> doesn’t want to talk. -He’s got something better to do.’ And Edward -aimed a ginger-beer cork at the unruffled beast, -who never budged.</p> - -<p>‘O but rabbits <i>do</i> talk,’ interposed Harold. -‘I’ve watched them often in their hutch. They -put their heads together and their noses go up -and down, just like Selina’s and the Vicarage -girls’. Only of course I can’t hear what they’re -saying.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, if they do,’ said Edward unwillingly, -‘I’ll bet they don’t talk such rot as those girls -do!’ Which was ungenerous, as well as unfair; -for it had not yet transpired—nor has it -to this day—<i>what</i> Selina and her friends talked -about.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 517px;"> -<img src="images/illus171.jpg" width="517" height="178" alt="thee bottles of ginger beer with ribbon behind" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a><br /><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a><br /><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a><br /><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE ARGONAUTS</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE advent of strangers, of whatever sort, -into our circle had always been a matter -of grave dubiety and suspicion. Indeed, it was -generally a signal for retreat into caves and -fastnesses of the earth, into unthreaded copses -or remote outlying cowsheds, whence we were -only to be extricated by wily nursemaids, rendered -familiar by experience with our secret runs -and refuges. It was not surprising, therefore, -that the heroes of classic legend, when first we -made their acquaintance, failed to win our entire -sympathy at once. ‘Confidence,’ says somebody, -‘is a plant of slow growth’; and these -stately dark-haired demi-gods, with names hard -to master and strange accoutrements, had to -win a citadel already strongly garrisoned with -a more familiar soldiery. Their chill foreign -goddesses had no such direct appeal for us as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -the mocking malicious fairies and witches of -the North. We missed the pleasant alliance -of the animal—the fox who spread the bushiest -of tails to convey us to the enchanted castle, the -frog in the well, the raven who croaked advice -from the tree; and—to Harold especially—it -seemed entirely wrong that the hero should ever -be other than the youngest brother of three. -This belief, indeed, in the special fortune that -ever awaited the youngest brother, as such,—the -‘Borough-English’ of Faery,—had been -of baleful effect on Harold, producing a certain -self-conceit and perkiness that called for physical -correction. But even in our admonishment we -were on his side; and as we distrustfully eyed -these new arrivals, old Saturn himself seemed -something of a <i>parvenu</i>.</p> - -<p>Even strangers, however, if they be good fellows -at heart, may develop into sworn comrades; -and these gay swordsmen, after all, were of the -right stuff. Perseus, with his cap of darkness -and his wonderful sandals, was not long in -winging his way to our hearts. Apollo knocked -at Admetus’ gate in something of the right fairy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -fashion. Psyche brought with her an orthodox -palace of magic, as well as helpful birds and -friendly ants. Ulysses, with his captivating -shifts and strategies, broke down the final -barrier, and henceforth the band was adopted -and admitted into our freemasonry.</p> - -<p>I had been engaged in chasing Farmer Larkin’s -calves—his special pride—round the field, -just to show the man we hadn’t forgotten him, -and was returning through the kitchen-garden -with a conscience at peace with all men, when I -happened upon Edward, grubbing for worms in -the dung-heap. Edward put his worms into his -hat, and we strolled along together, discussing -high matters of state. As we reached the tool-shed, -strange noises arrested our steps; looking -in, we perceived Harold, alone, rapt, absorbed, -immersed in the special game of the moment. -He was squatting in an old pig-trough that had -been brought in to be tinkered; and as he rhapsodised, -anon he waved a shovel over his head, -anon dug it into the ground with the action -of those who would urge Canadian canoes. -Edward strode in upon him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘What rot are you playing at now?’ he -demanded sternly.</p> - -<p>Harold flushed up, but stuck to his pig-trough -like a man. ‘I’m Jason,’ he replied defiantly; -‘and this is the Argo. The other fellows are -here too, only you can’t see them; and we’re -just going through the Hellespont, so don’t you -come bothering.’ And once more he plied the -wine-dark sea.</p> - -<p>Edward kicked the pig-trough contemptuously. -‘Pretty sort of Argo you’ve got!’ said he.</p> - -<p>Harold began to get annoyed. ‘I can’t help -it,’ he retorted. ‘It’s the best sort of Argo I -can manage, and it’s all right if you only pretend -enough. But <i>you</i> never could pretend one -bit.’</p> - -<p>Edward reflected. ‘Look here,’ he said -presently. ‘Why shouldn’t we get hold of -Farmer Larkin’s boat, and go right away up -the river in a real Argo, and look for Medea, -and the Golden Fleece, and everything? And -I’ll tell you what, I don’t mind your being -Jason, as you thought of it first.’</p> - -<p>Harold tumbled out of the trough in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -excess of his emotion. ‘But we aren’t allowed -to go on the water by ourselves,’ he cried.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Edward, with fine scorn: ‘we -aren’t allowed; and Jason wasn’t allowed -either, I daresay. But he <i>went!</i>’</p> - -<p>Harold’s protest had been merely conventional: -he only wanted to be convinced by -sound argument. The next question was, How -about the girls? Selina was distinctly handy -in a boat: the difficulty about her was, that -if she disapproved of the expedition—and, -morally considered, it was not exactly a Pilgrim’s -Progress—she might go and tell; she -having just reached that disagreeable age when -one begins to develop a conscience. Charlotte, -for her part, had a habit of day-dreams, and was -as likely as not to fall overboard in one of her -rapt musings. To be sure, she would dissolve -in tears when she found herself left out; but -even that was better than a watery tomb. In -fine, the public voice—and rightly, perhaps—was -against the admission of the skirted animal: -despite the precedent of Atalanta, who was one -of the original crew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 498px;"> -<img src="images/illus181.jpg" width="498" height="695" alt="two children in dragon sailing ship" /> -<div class="caption">“WE PUT THE ARGO’S HEAD UPSTREAM, SINCE<br /> -THAT LED AWAY FROM THE LARKIN PROVINCE”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘And now,’ said Edward, ‘who’s to ask -Farmer Larkin? <i>I</i> can’t; last time I saw him -he said when he caught me again he’d smack -my head. <i>You’ll</i> have to.’</p> - -<p>I hesitated, for good reasons. ‘You know -those precious calves of his?’ I began.</p> - -<p>Edward understood at once. ‘All right,’ he -said; ‘then we won’t ask him at all. It doesn’t -much matter. He’d only be annoyed, and that -would be a pity. Now let’s set off.’</p> - -<p>We made our way down to the stream, and -captured the farmer’s boat without let or hindrance, -the enemy being engaged in the hay-fields. -This ‘river,’ so called, could never be -discovered by us in any atlas; indeed our -Argo could hardly turn in it without risk of -shipwreck. But to us ’twas Orinoco, and the -cities of the world dotted its shores. We put -the Argo’s head upstream, since that led away -from the Larkin province; Harold was faithfully -permitted to be Jason, and we shared the -rest of the heroes among us. Then, quitting -Thessaly, we threaded the Hellespont with -shouts, breathlessly dodged the Clashing Rocks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -and coasted under the lee of the Siren-haunted -isles. Lemnos was fringed with meadow-sweet, -dog-roses dotted the Mysian shore, and the -cheery call of the haymaking folk sounded -along the coast of Thrace.</p> - -<p>After some hour or two’s seafaring, the prow -of the Argo embedded itself in the mud of a -landing-place, plashy with the tread of cows -and giving on to a lane that led towards the -smoke of human habitations. Edward jumped -ashore, alert for exploration, and strode off -without waiting to see if we followed; but I -lingered behind, having caught sight of a moss-grown -water-gate hard by, leading into a garden -that, from the brooding quiet lapping it round, -appeared to portend magical possibilities.</p> - -<p>Indeed the very air within seemed stiller, as -we circumspectly passed through the gate; and -Harold hung back shamefaced, as if we were -crossing the threshold of some private chamber, -and ghosts of old days were hustling past us. -Flowers there were, everywhere; but they -drooped and sprawled in an overgrowth hinting -at indifference; the scent of heliotrope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -possessed the place as if actually hung in solid -festoons from tall untrimmed hedge to hedge. -No basket-chairs, shawls, or novels dotted the -lawn with colour; and on the garden-front of -the house behind, the blinds were mostly drawn. -A grey old sun-dial dominated the central -sward, and we moved towards it instinctively, -as the most human thing in sight. An antick -motto ran round it, and with eyes and fingers -we struggled at the decipherment.</p> - -<p><small>TIME: TRYETH: TROTHE</small>: spelt out Harold -at last. ‘I wonder what that means?’</p> - -<p>I could not enlighten him, nor meet his further -questions as to the inner mechanism of the thing, -and where you wound it up. I had seen these -instruments before, of course; but had never -fully understood their manner of working.</p> - -<p>We were still puzzling our heads over the -contrivance, when I became aware that Medea -herself was moving down the path from the -house. Dark-haired, supple, of a figure lightly -poised and swayed, but pale and listless—I -knew her at once, and having come out to -find her, naturally felt no surprise at all. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -Harold, who was trying to climb on to the top -of the sun-dial, having a cat-like fondness for -the summit of things, started and fell prone, -barking his chin and filling the pleasance with -lamentation.</p> - -<p>Medea skimmed the ground swallow-like, and -in a moment was on her knees comforting him, -wiping the dirt out of his chin with her own -dainty handkerchief, and vocal with soft murmur -of consolation.</p> - -<p>‘You needn’t take on so about him,’ I -observed politely. ‘He’ll cry for just one -minute, and then he’ll be all right.’</p> - -<p>My estimate was justified. At the end of his -regulation time Harold stopped crying suddenly, -like a clock that had struck its hour; and with -a serene and cheerful countenance wriggled out -of Medea’s embrace, and ran for a stone to -throw at an intrusive blackbird.</p> - -<p>‘O you boys!’ cried Medea, throwing wide -her arms with abandonment. ‘Where have -you dropped from? How dirty you are! I’ve -been shut up here for a thousand years, and all -that time I’ve never seen any one under a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -hundred and fifty! Let’s play at something, at -once!’</p> - -<p>‘Rounders is a good game,’ I suggested. -‘Girls can play at rounders. And we could -serve up to the sun-dial here. But you want a -bat and a ball, and some more people.’</p> - -<p>She struck her hands together tragically. -‘I haven’t a bat,’ she cried, ‘or a ball, or -more people, or anything sensible whatever. -Never mind; let’s play at hide-and-seek in -the kitchen-garden. And we’ll race there, -up to that walnut-tree; I haven’t run for a -century!’</p> - -<p>She was so easy a victor, nevertheless, that I -began to doubt, as I panted behind, whether -she had not exaggerated her age by a year or -two. She flung herself into hide-and-seek with -all the gusto and abandonment of the true -artist; and as she flitted away and reappeared, -flushed and laughing divinely, the pale witch-maiden -seemed to fall away from her, and she -moved rather as that other girl I had read about, -snatched from fields of daffodil to reign in -shadow below, yet permitted now and again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -to revisit earth and light and the frank, caressing -air.</p> - -<p>Tired at last, we strolled back to the old -sun-dial, and Harold, who never relinquished -a problem unsolved, began afresh, rubbing his -finger along the faint incisions. ‘<i>Time tryeth -trothe.</i> Please, I want to know what that -means?’</p> - -<p>Medea’s face drooped low over the sun-dial, -till it was almost hidden in her fingers. ‘That’s -what I’m here for,’ she said presently in quite a -changed, low voice. ‘They shut me up here—they -think I’ll forget—but I never will—never, -never! And he, too—but I don’t know—it is -so long—I don’t know!’</p> - -<p>Her face was quite hidden now. There was -silence again in the old garden. I felt clumsily -helpless and awkward. Beyond a vague idea -of kicking Harold, nothing remedial seemed to -suggest itself.</p> - -<p>None of us had noticed the approach of -another she-creature—one of the angular and -rigid class—how different from our dear comrade! -The years Medea had claimed might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -well have belonged to her; she wore mittens, -too—a trick I detested in woman. ‘Lucy!’ -she said sharply, in a tone with <i>aunt</i> writ large -over it; and Medea started up guiltily.</p> - -<p>‘You’ve been crying,’ said the newcomer, -grimly regarding her through spectacles. ‘And -pray who are these exceedingly dirty little -boys?’</p> - -<p>‘Friends of mine, aunt,’ said Medea promptly, -with forced cheerfulness. ‘I—I’ve known them -a long time. I asked them to come.’</p> - -<p>The aunt sniffed suspiciously. ‘You must -come indoors, dear,’ she said, ‘and lie down. -The sun will give you a headache. And you -little boys had better run away home to your -tea. Remember, you should not come to pay -visits without your nursemaid.’</p> - -<p>Harold had been tugging nervously at my -jacket for some time, and I only waited till -Medea turned and kissed a white hand to us -as she was led away. Then I ran. We gained -the boat in safety; and ‘What an old dragon!’ -said Harold.</p> - -<p>‘Wasn’t she a beast!’ I replied. ‘Fancy the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -sun giving any one a headache! But Medea -was a real brick. Couldn’t we carry her off?’</p> - -<p>‘We could if Edward was here,’ said Harold -confidently.</p> - -<p>The question was, What had become of that -defaulting hero? We were not left long in -doubt. First, there came down the lane the -shrill and wrathful clamour of a female tongue; -then Edward, running his best; and then an -excited woman hard on his heel. Edward -tumbled into the bottom of the boat, gasping -‘Shove her off!’ And shove her off we did, -mightily, while the dame abused us from the -bank in the self-same accents in which Alfred -hurled defiance at the marauding Dane.</p> - -<p>‘That was just like a bit out of <i>Westward -Ho!</i>’ I remarked approvingly, as we sculled -down the stream. ‘But what had you been -doing to her?’</p> - -<p>‘Hadn’t been doing anything,’ panted Edward, -still breathless. ‘I went up into the village and -explored, and it was a very nice one, and the -people were very polite. And there was a -blacksmith’s forge there, and they were shoeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -horses, and the hoofs fizzled and smoked, and -smelt so jolly! I stayed there quite a long time -Then I got thirsty, so I asked that old woman -for some water, and while she was getting it her -cat came out of the cottage, and looked at me -in a nasty sort of way, and said something I -didn’t like. So I went up to it just to—to -teach it manners, and somehow or other, next -minute it was up an apple-tree, spitting, and I -was running down the lane with that old thing -after me.’</p> - -<p>Edward was so full of his personal injuries -that there was no interesting him in Medea at -all. Moreover, the evening was closing in, and -it was evident that this cutting-out expedition -must be kept for another day. As we neared -home, it gradually occurred to us that perhaps -the greatest danger was yet to come; for the -farmer must have missed his boat ere now, and -would probably be lying in wait for us near the -landing-place. There was no other spot admitting -of debarcation on the home side; if we got -out on the other, and made for the bridge, we -should certainly be seen and cut off. Then it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -was that I blessed my stars that our elder -brother was with us that day. He might be -little good at pretending, but in grappling with -the stern facts of life he had no equal. Enjoining -silence, he waited till we were but a little -way from the fated landing-place, and then -brought us in to the opposite bank. We -scrambled out noiselessly and—the gathering -darkness favouring us—crouched behind a willow, -while Edward pushed off the empty boat -with his foot. The old Argo, borne down by the -gentle current, slid and grazed along the rushy -bank; and when she came opposite the suspected -ambush, a stream of imprecation told -us that our precaution had not been wasted. -We wondered, as we listened, where Farmer -Larkin, who was bucolically bred and reared, -had acquired such range and wealth of vocabulary. -Fully realising at last that his boat was -derelict, abandoned, at the mercy of wind and -wave—as well as out of his reach—he strode -away to the bridge, about a quarter of a mile -further down; and as soon as we heard his -boots clumping on the planks we nipped out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -recovered the craft, pulled across, and made -the faithful vessel fast to her proper moorings. -Edward was anxious to wait and exchange -courtesies and compliments with the disappointed -farmer, when he should confront us -on the opposite bank; but wiser counsels -prevailed. It was possible that the piracy was -not yet laid at our particular door: Ulysses, -I reminded him, had reason to regret a similar -act of bravado, and—were he here—would -certainly advise a timely retreat. Edward held -but a low opinion of me as a counsellor; but he -had a very solid respect for Ulysses.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 311px;"> -<img src="images/illus192.jpg" width="311" height="107" alt="ship in distance" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a><br /><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a><br /><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE ROMAN ROAD</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">ALL the roads of our neighbourhood were -cheerful and friendly, having each of -them pleasant qualities of their own; but this -one seemed different from the others in its masterful -suggestion of a serious purpose, speeding -you along with a strange uplifting of the heart. -The others tempted chiefly with their treasures -of hedge and ditch; the rapt surprise of the -first lords-and-ladies, the rustle of a field-mouse, -the splash of a frog; while cool noses of brother-beasts -were pushed at you through gate or gap. -A loiterer you had need to be, did you choose -one of them; so many were the tiny hands -thrust out to detain you, from this side and -that. But this one was of a sterner sort, and -even in its shedding off of bank and hedgerow -as it marched straight and full for the open -downs, it seemed to declare its contempt for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -adventitious trappings to catch the shallow-pated. -When the sense of injustice or disappointment -was heavy on me, and things were -very black within, as on this particular day, the -road of character was my choice for that solitary -ramble when I turned my back for an afternoon -on a world that had unaccountably declared -itself against me.</p> - -<p>‘The Knights’ Road’ we children had named -it, from a sort of feeling that, if from any quarter -at all, it would be down this track we might some -day see Lancelot and his peers come pacing on -their great war-horses; supposing that any of -the stout band still survived, in nooks and unexplored -places. Grown-up people sometimes -spoke of it as the ‘Pilgrims’ Way’; but I -didn’t know much about pilgrims—except -Walter in the Horselberg story. Him I sometimes -saw, breaking with haggard eyes out of -yonder copse, and calling to the pilgrims as they -hurried along on their desperate march to the -Holy City, where peace and pardon were -awaiting them. ‘All roads lead to Rome,’ I -had once heard somebody say; and I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -taken the remark very seriously, of course, and -puzzled over it many days. There must have -been some mistake, I concluded at last; but of -one road at least I intuitively felt it to be true. -And my belief was clinched by something that -fell from Miss Smedley during a history-lesson, -about a strange road that ran right down the -middle of England till it reached the coast, and -then began again in France, just opposite, and -so on undeviating, through city and vineyard, -right from the misty Highlands to the Eternal -City. Uncorroborated, any statement of Miss -Smedley’s usually fell on incredulous ears; but -here, with the road itself in evidence, she seemed, -once in a way, to have strayed into truth.</p> - -<p>Rome! It was fascinating to think that it -lay at the other end of this white ribbon that -rolled itself off from my feet over the distant -downs. I was not quite so uninstructed as to -imagine I could reach it that afternoon; but -some day, I thought, if things went on being as -unpleasant as they were now—some day, when -Aunt Eliza had gone on a visit,—some day, -we would see.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>I tried to imagine what it would be like when -I got there. The Coliseum I knew, of course, -from a woodcut in the history-book: so to -begin with I plumped that down in the middle. -The rest had to be patched up from the little -grey market-town where twice a year we went -to have our hair cut; hence, in the result, -Vespasian’s amphitheatre was approached by -muddy little streets, wherein the Red Lion and -the Blue Boar, with Somebody’s Entire along -their front, and ‘Commercial Room’ on their -windows; the doctor’s house, of substantial -red-brick; and the façade of the New Wesleyan -chapel, which we thought very fine, were the -chief architectural ornaments: while the Roman -populace pottered about in smocks and corduroys, -twisting the tails of Roman calves and -inviting each other to beer in musical Wessex. -From Rome I drifted on to other cities, faintly -heard of—Damascus, Brighton (Aunt Eliza’s -ideal), Athens, and Glasgow, whose glories the -gardener sang; but there was a certain sameness -in my conception of all of them: that -Wesleyan chapel would keep cropping up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -everywhere. It was easier to go a-building -among those dream-cities where no limitations -were imposed, and one was sole architect, with -a free hand. Down a delectable street of cloud-built -palaces I was mentally pacing, when I -happened upon the Artist.</p> - -<p>He was seated at work by the roadside, at a -point whence the cool large spaces of the downs, -juniper-studded, swept grandly westwards. His -attributes proclaimed him of the artist tribe: -besides, he wore knickerbockers like myself,—a -garb confined, I was aware, to boys and artists. -I knew I was not to bother him with questions, -nor look over his shoulder and breathe in his -ear—they didn’t like it, this <i>genus irritabile</i>. -But there was nothing about staring in my -code of instructions, the point having somehow -been overlooked: so, squatting down on the -grass, I devoted myself to the passionate absorbing -of every detail. At the end of five -minutes there was not a button on him that I -could not have passed an examination in; and -the wearer himself of that homespun suit was -probably less familiar with its pattern and texture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -than I was. Once he looked up, nodded, -half held out his tobacco pouch, mechanically as -it were, then, returning it to his pocket, resumed -his work, and I my mental photography.</p> - -<p>After another five minutes or so had passed, -he remarked, without looking my way: ‘Fine -afternoon we’re having: going far to-day?’</p> - -<p>‘No, I’m not going any farther than this,’ -I replied; ‘I <i>was</i> thinking of going on to Rome: -but I’ve put it off.’</p> - -<p>‘Pleasant place, Rome,’ he murmured: ‘you’ll -like it.’ It was some minutes later that he -added: ‘But I wouldn’t go just now, if I were -you: too jolly hot.’</p> - -<p>‘<i>You</i> haven’t been to Rome, have you?’ I -inquired.</p> - -<p>‘Rather,’ he replied briefly: ‘I live there.’</p> - -<p>This was too much, and my jaw dropped as -I struggled to grasp the fact that I was sitting -there talking to a fellow who lived in Rome. -Speech was out of the question: besides I had -other things to do. Ten solid minutes had I -already spent in an examination of him as a -mere stranger and artist; and now the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -thing had to be done over again, from the -changed point of view. So I began afresh, at -the crown of his soft hat, and worked down -to his solid British shoes, this time investing -everything with the new Roman halo; and at -last I managed to get out: ‘But you don’t -really live there, do you?’ never doubting the -fact, but wanting to hear it repeated.</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ he said, good-naturedly overlooking -the slight rudeness of my query, ‘I live there -as much as I live anywhere. About half the -year sometimes. I’ve got a sort of a shanty -there. You must come and see it some day.’</p> - -<p>‘But do you live anywhere else as well?’ I -went on, feeling the forbidden tide of questions -surging up within me.</p> - -<p>‘O yes, all over the place,’ was his vague -reply. ‘And I’ve got a diggings somewhere -off Piccadilly.’</p> - -<p>‘Where’s that?’ I inquired.</p> - -<p>‘Where’s what?’ said he. ‘O, Piccadilly! -It’s in London.’</p> - -<p>‘Have you a large garden?’ I asked; ‘and -how many pigs have you got?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I’ve no garden at all,’ he replied sadly, and -they don’t allow me to keep pigs, though I’d -like to, awfully. It’s very hard.’</p> - -<p>‘But what do you do all day, then,’ I cried, -‘and where do you go and play, without any -garden, or pigs, or things?’</p> - -<p>‘When I want to play,’ he said gravely, ‘I -have to go and play in the street; but it’s poor -fun, I grant you. There’s a goat, though, not -far off, and sometimes I talk to him when I’m -feeling lonely; but he’s very proud.’</p> - -<p>‘Goats <i>are</i> proud,’ I admitted. ‘There’s one -lives near here, and if you say anything to him -at all, he hits you in the wind with his head. -You know what it feels like when a fellow hits -you in the wind?’</p> - -<p>‘I do, well,’ he replied, in a tone of proper -melancholy, and painted on.</p> - -<p>‘And have you been to any other places,’ -I began again presently, ‘besides Rome and -Piccy-what’s-his-name?’</p> - -<p>‘Heaps,’ he said. ‘I’m a sort of Ulysses—seen -men and cities, you know. In fact, about the -only place I never got to was the Fortunate Island.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - -<p>I began to like this man. He answered your -questions briefly and to the point, and never -tried to be funny. I felt I could be confidential -with him.</p> - -<p>‘Wouldn’t you like,’ I inquired, ‘to find a -city without any people in it at all?’</p> - -<p>He looked puzzled. ‘I’m afraid I don’t -quite understand,’ said he.</p> - -<p>‘I mean,’ I went on eagerly, ‘a city where -you walk in at the gates, and the shops are all -full of beautiful things, and the houses furnished -as grand as can be, and there isn’t anybody -there whatever! And you go into the shops, -and take anything you want—chocolates and -magic-lanterns and injirubber balls—and there’s -nothing to pay; and you choose your own house -and live there and do just as you like, and never -go to bed unless you want to!’</p> - -<p>The artist laid down his brush. ‘That <i>would</i> -be a nice city,’ he said. ‘Better than Rome. -You can’t do that sort of thing in Rome—or in -Piccadilly either. But I fear it’s one of the -places I’ve never been to.’</p> - -<p>‘And you’d ask your friends,’ I went on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -warming to my subject; ‘only those you really -like, of course; and they’d each have a house -to themselves—there’d be lots of houses,—and -there wouldn’t be any relations at all, unless -they promised they’d be pleasant; and if they -weren’t they’d have to go.’</p> - -<p>‘So you wouldn’t have any relations?’ said -the artist. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right. We -have tastes in common, I see.’</p> - -<p>‘I’d have Harold,’ I said reflectively, ‘and -Charlotte. They’d like it awfully. The others -are getting too old. O, and Martha—I’d have -Martha to cook and wash up and do things. -You’d like Martha. She’s ever so much nicer -than Aunt Eliza. She’s my idea of a real -lady.’</p> - -<p>‘Then I’m sure I should like her,’ he replied -heartily, ‘and when I come to—what do you -call this city of yours? Nephelo—something, -did you say?’</p> - -<p>‘I—I don’t know,’ I replied timidly. ‘I’m -afraid it hasn’t got a name—yet.’</p> - -<p>The artist gazed out over the downs. ‘“The -poet says, dear city of Cecrops,”’ he said softly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -to himself, ‘“and wilt not thou say, dear city -of Zeus?” That’s from Marcus Aurelius,’ he -went on, turning again to his work. ‘You don’t -know him, I suppose; you will some day.’</p> - -<p>‘Who’s he?’ I inquired.</p> - -<p>‘O, just another fellow who lived in Rome,’ -he replied, dabbing away.</p> - -<p>‘O dear!’ I cried disconsolately. ‘What a -lot of people seem to live at Rome, and I’ve -never even been there! But I think I’d like -<i>my</i> city best.’</p> - -<p>‘And so would I,’ he replied with unction. -‘But Marcus Aurelius wouldn’t, you know.’</p> - -<p>‘Then we won’t invite him,’ I said; ‘will -we?’</p> - -<p>‘<i>I</i> won’t if you won’t,’ said he. And that -point being settled, we were silent for a while.</p> - -<p>‘Do you know,’ he said presently, ‘I’ve met -one or two fellows from time to time, who have -been to a city like yours—perhaps it was the -same one. They won’t talk much about it—only -broken hints, now and then; but they’ve -been there sure enough. They don’t seem to -care about anything in particular—and everything’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -the same to them, rough or smooth; -and sooner or later they slip off and disappear; -and you never see them again. Gone back, I -suppose.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course,’ said I. ‘Don’t see what they -ever came away for; <i>I</i> wouldn’t. To be told -you’ve broken things when you haven’t, and -stopped having tea with the servants in the -kitchen, and not allowed to have a dog to sleep -with you. But <i>I’ve</i> known people, too, who’ve -gone there.’</p> - -<p>The artist stared, but without incivility.</p> - -<p>‘Well, there’s Lancelot,’ I went on. ‘The -book says he died, but it never seemed to read -right, somehow. He just went away, like -Arthur. And Crusoe, when he got tired of -wearing clothes and being respectable. And -all the nice men in the stories who don’t marry -the Princess, ’cos only one man ever gets married -in a book, you know. They’ll be there!’</p> - -<p>‘And the men who never come off,’ he said, -‘who try like the rest, but get knocked out, or -somehow miss—or break down or get bowled -over in the melée—and get no Princess, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -even a second-class kingdom—some of them’ll -be there, I hope?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, if you like,’ I replied, not quite understanding -him; ‘if they’re friends of yours, we’ll -ask ’em, of course.’</p> - -<p>‘What a time we shall have!’ said the artist -reflectively; ‘and how shocked old Marcus -Aurelius will be!’</p> - -<p>The shadows had lengthened uncannily, a -tide of golden haze was flooding the grey-green -surface of the downs, and the artist began to put -his traps together, preparatory to a move. I felt -very low: we would have to part, it seemed, -just as we were getting on so well together. -Then he stood up, and he was very straight and -tall, and the sunset was in his hair and beard -as he stood there, high over me. He took my -hand like an equal. ‘I’ve enjoyed our conversation -very much,’ he said. ‘That was an -interesting subject you started, and we haven’t -half exhausted it. We shall meet again, I -hope?’</p> - -<p>‘Of course we shall,’ I replied, surprised that -there should be any doubt about it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 496px;"> -<img src="images/illus209.jpg" width="496" height="702" alt="man talking to boy" /> -<div class="caption">“THEN HE STOOD UP, AND HE WAS VERY STRAIGHT<br /> -AND TALL, AND THE SUNSET WAS IN HIS HAIR AND<br /> -BEARD AS HE STOOD THERE, HIGH OVER ME”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘In Rome perhaps?’ said he.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, in Rome,’ I answered; ‘or Piccy-the-other-place, -or somewhere.’</p> - -<p>‘Or else,’ said he, ‘in that other city—when -we’ve found the way there. And I’ll look out -for you, and you’ll sing out as soon as you see -me. And we’ll go down the street arm-in-arm, -and into all the shops, and then I’ll choose my -house, and you’ll choose your house, and we’ll -live there like princes and good fellows.’</p> - -<p>‘O, but you’ll stay in my house, won’t -you?’ I cried; ‘I wouldn’t ask everybody; -but I’ll ask <i>you</i>.’</p> - -<p>He affected to consider a moment; then -‘Right!’ he said: ‘I believe you mean it, and -I <i>will</i> come and stay with you. I won’t go to -anybody else, if they ask me ever so much. -And I’ll stay quite a long time, too, and I -won’t be any trouble.’</p> - -<p>Upon this compact we parted, and I went -down-heartedly from the man who understood -me, back to the house where I never could do -anything right. How was it that everything -seemed natural and sensible to him, which these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -uncles, vicars, and other grown-up men took -for the merest tomfoolery? Well, he would -explain this, and many another thing, when -we met again. The Knights’ Road! How it -always brought consolation! Was he possibly -one of those vanished knights I had been looking -for so long? Perhaps he would be in -armour next time—why not? He would look -well in armour, I thought. And I would take -care to get there first, and see the sunlight flash -and play on his helmet and shield, as he rode up -the High Street of the Golden City.</p> - -<p>Meantime, there only remained the finding it. -An easy matter.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"> -<img src="images/illus211.jpg" width="314" height="112" alt="long straight road" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a><br /><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a><br /><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a><br /><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE SECRET DRAWER</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT must surely have served as a boudoir for -the ladies of old time, this little used, rarely -entered chamber where the neglected old bureau -stood. There was something very feminine in -the faint hues of its faded brocades, in the rose -and blue of such bits of china as yet remained, -and in the delicate old-world fragrance of pot-pourri -from the great bowl,—blue and white, -with funny holes in its cover,—that stood on -the bureau’s flat top. Modern aunts disdained -this out-of-the-way, backwater, upstairs room, -preferring to do their accounts and grapple -with their correspondence in some central position -more in the whirl of things, whence one -eye could be kept on the carriage-drive, while -the other was alert for malingering servants and -marauding children. Those aunts of a former<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -generation—I sometimes felt—would have -suited our habits better. But even by us -children, to whom few places were private or -reserved, the room was visited but rarely. To -be sure, there was nothing particular in it that -we coveted or required. Only a few spindle-legged, -gilt-backed chairs,—an old harp on -which, so the legend ran, Aunt Eliza herself -used once to play, in years remote, unchronicled; -a corner-cupboard with a few pieces of china; -and the old bureau. But one other thing the -room possessed, peculiar to itself; a certain -sense of privacy—a power of making the -intruder feel that he <i>was</i> intruding—perhaps -even a faculty of hinting that some one might -have been sitting on those chairs, writing at the -bureau, or fingering the china, just a second -before one entered. No such violent word as -‘haunted’ could possibly apply to this pleasant -old-fashioned chamber, which indeed we all -rather liked; but there was no doubt it was reserved -and stand-offish, keeping itself to itself.</p> - -<p>Uncle Thomas was the first to draw my -attention to the possibilities of the old bureau.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -He was pottering about the house one afternoon, -having ordered me to keep at his heels for -company—he was a man who hated to be left -one minute alone,—when his eye fell on it. -‘H’m! Sheraton!’ he remarked. (He had a -smattering of most things, this uncle, especially -the vocabularies.) Then he let down the flap, -and examined the empty pigeon-holes and -dusty panelling. ‘Fine bit of inlay,’ he went -on: ‘good work, all of it. I know the sort. -There’s a secret drawer in there somewhere.’ -Then as I breathlessly drew near, he suddenly -exclaimed: ‘By Jove, I do want to smoke!’ -And, wheeling round, he abruptly fled for the -garden, leaving me with the cup dashed from my -lips. What a strange thing, I mused, was this -smoking, that takes a man suddenly, be he in -the court, the camp, or the grove, grips him like -an Afreet, and whirls him off to do its imperious -behests! Would it be even so with myself, I -wondered, in those unknown grown-up years -to come?</p> - -<p>But I had no time to waste in vain speculations. -My whole being was still vibrating to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -those magic syllables ‘secret drawer’; and that -particular chord had been touched that never -fails to thrill responsive to such words as <i>cave</i>, -<i>trap-door</i>, <i>sliding-panel</i>, <i>bullion</i>, <i>ingots</i>, or -<i>Spanish dollars</i>. For, besides its own special -bliss, who ever heard of a secret drawer with -nothing in it? And O I did want money so -badly! I mentally ran over the list of demands -which were pressing me the most imperiously.</p> - -<p>First, there was the pipe I wanted to give -George Jannaway. George, who was Martha’s -young man, was a shepherd, and a great ally of -mine; and the last fair he was at, when he -bought his sweetheart fairings, as a right-minded -shepherd should, he had purchased a lovely -snake expressly for me; one of the wooden -sort, with joints, waggling deliciously in the -hand; with yellow spots on a green ground, -sticky and strong-smelling, as a fresh-painted -snake ought to be; and with a red-flannel -tongue pasted cunningly into its jaws. I loved -it much, and took it to bed with me every night, -till what time its spinal cord was loosed and it -fell apart, and went the way of all mortal joys.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -<i>I</i> thought it very nice of George to think of me -at the fair, and that’s why I wanted to give him -a pipe. When the young year was chill and -lambing-time was on, George inhabited a little -wooden house on wheels, far out on the wintry -downs, and saw no faces but such as were -sheepish and woolly and mute; and when he -and Martha were married, she was going to -carry his dinner out to him every day, two -miles; and after it, perhaps he would smoke my -pipe. It seemed an idyllic sort of existence, for -both the parties concerned; but a pipe of quality, -a pipe fitted to be part of a life such as this, -could not be procured (so Martha informed me) -for a smaller sum than eighteenpence. And -meantime——!</p> - -<p>Then there was the fourpence I owed Edward; -not that he was bothering me for it, but -I knew he was in need of it himself, to pay back -Selina, who wanted it to make up a sum of two -shillings, to buy Harold an ironclad for his -approaching birthday,—H.M.S. <i>Majestic</i>, now -lying uselessly careened in the toyshop window, -just when her country had such sore need of her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> - -<p>And then there was that boy in the village -who had caught a young squirrel, and I had -never yet possessed one, and he wanted a shilling -for it, but I knew that for ninepence in cash—but -what was the good of these sorry threadbare -reflections? I had wants enough to exhaust -any possible find of bullion, even if it amounted -to half a sovereign. My only hope now lay in -the magic drawer, and here I was, standing and -letting the precious minutes slip by! Whether -‘findings’ of this sort could, morally speaking, -be considered ‘keepings,’ was a point that did -not occur to me.</p> - -<p>The room was very still as I approached the -bureau; possessed, it seemed to be, by a sort -of hush of expectation. The faint odour of -orris-root that floated forth as I let down the -flap, seemed to identify itself with the yellows -and browns of the old wood, till hue and scent -were of one quality and interchangeable. Even -so, ere this, the pot-pourri had mixed itself with -the tints of the old brocade, and brocade and -pot-pourri had long been one. With expectant -fingers I explored the empty pigeon-holes and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -sounded the depths of the softly-sliding drawers. -No books that I knew of gave any general recipe -for a quest like this; but the glory, should I -succeed unaided, would be all the greater.</p> - -<p>To him who is destined to arrive, the fates -never fail to afford, on the way, their small -encouragements. In less than two minutes, I -had come across a rusty button-hook. This was -truly magnificent. In the nursery there existed, -indeed, a general button-hook, common to either -sex; but none of us possessed a private and -special button-hook, to lend or to refuse as -suited the high humour of the moment. I -pocketed the treasure carefully, and proceeded. -At the back of another drawer, three old foreign -stamps told me I was surely on the highroad to -fortune.</p> - -<p>Following on these bracing incentives, came -a dull blank period of unrewarded search. In -vain I removed all the drawers and felt over -every inch of the smooth surfaces, from front -to back. Never a knob, spring or projection -met the thrilling finger-tips; unyielding the old -bureau stood, stoutly guarding its secret, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -secret it really had. I began to grow weary -and disheartened. This was not the first time -that Uncle Thomas had proved shallow, uninformed, -a guide into blind alleys where the -echoes mocked you. Was it any good persisting -longer? Was anything any good whatever? -In my mind I began to review past disappointments, -and life seemed one long record of -failure and of non-arrival. Disillusioned and -depressed, I left my work and went to the -window. The light was ebbing from the room, -and seemed outside to be collecting itself on -the horizon for its concentrated effort of sunset. -Far down the garden, Uncle Thomas was holding -Edward in the air reversed, and smacking -him. Edward, gurgling hysterically, was striking -blind fists in the direction where he judged -his uncle’s stomach should rightly be; the contents -of his pockets—a motley show—were -strewing the lawn. Somehow, though I had -been put through a similar performance myself -an hour or two ago, it all seemed very far away -and cut off from me.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/illus223.jpg" width="500" height="691" alt="boy ooking in desk by open window" /> -<div class="caption">“WESTWARD THE CLOUDS WERE MASSING THEMSELVES IN A LOW<br /> -VIOLET BANK; BELOW THEM, TO NORTH AND SOUTH, AS FAR<br /> -ROUND AS THE EYE COULD REACH, A NARROW STREAK OF<br /> -GOLD RAN OUT . . . . . I TURNED FOR A LAST EFFORT”</div> -</div> - -<p>Westwards the clouds were massing themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -in a low violet bank; below them, to -north and south, as far round as eye could -reach, a narrow streak of gold ran out and -stretched away, straight along the horizon. -Somewhere very far off, a horn was blowing, -clear and thin; it sounded like the golden streak -grown audible, while the gold seemed the visible -sound. It pricked my ebbing courage, this -blended strain of music and colour. I turned -for a last effort; and Fortune thereupon, as if -half-ashamed of the unworthy game she had been -playing with me, relented, opening her clenched -fist. Hardly had I put my hand once more to -the obdurate wood, when with a sort of small -sigh, almost a sob—as it were—of relief, the -secret drawer sprang open.</p> - -<p>I drew it out and carried it to the window, -to examine it in the failing light. Too hopeless -had I gradually grown, in my dispiriting search, -to expect very much; and yet at a glance I saw -that my basket of glass lay in shivers at my -feet. No ingots nor dollars were here, to crown -me the little Monte Cristo of a week. Outside, -the distant horn had ceased its gnat-song, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -gold was paling to primrose, and everything -was lonely and still. Within, my confident -little castles were tumbling down like so many -card-houses, leaving me stripped of estate, -both real and personal, and dominated by the -depressing reaction.</p> - -<p>And yet,—as I looked again at the small -collection that lay within that drawer of disillusions, -some warmth crept back to my heart -as I recognised that a kindred spirit to my own -had been at the making of it. Two tarnished -gilt buttons—naval, apparently—a portrait of a -monarch unknown to me, cut from some antique -print and deftly coloured by hand in just my -own bold style of brush-work—some foreign -copper coins, thicker and clumsier of make than -those I hoarded myself—and a list of birds’-eggs, -with names of the places where they had -been found. Also, a ferret’s muzzle, and a -twist of tarry string, still faintly aromatic! It -was a real boy’s hoard, then, that I had -happened upon. He too had found out the -secret drawer, this happy-starred young person; -and here he had stowed away his treasures, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -by one, and had cherished them secretly awhile, -and then—what? Well, one would never know -now the reason why these priceless possessions -still lay here unreclaimed; but across the void -stretch of years I seemed to touch hands a -moment with my little comrade of seasons—how -many seasons?—long since dead.</p> - -<p>I restored the drawer, with its contents, to -the trusty bureau, and heard the spring click -with a certain satisfaction. Some other boy, -perhaps, would some day release that spring -again. I trusted he would be equally appreciative. -As I opened the door to go, I could -hear, from the nursery at the end of the passage, -shouts and yells, telling that the hunt was up. -Bears, apparently, or bandits, were on the -evening bill of fare, judging by the character of -the noises. In another minute I would be in -the thick of it, in all the warmth and light and -laughter. And yet—what a long way off it all -seemed, both in space and time, to me yet -lingering on the threshold of that old-world -chamber!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a><br /><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a><br /><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a><br /><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>‘EXIT TYRANNUS’</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE eventful day had arrived at last, the -day which, when first named, had seemed—like -all golden dates that promise anything -definite—so immeasurably remote. When it -was first announced, a fortnight before, that -Miss Smedley was really going, the resultant -ecstasies had occupied a full week, during which -we blindly revelled in the contemplation and -discussion of her past tyrannies, crimes, malignities; -in recalling to each other this or that -insult, dishonour, or physical assault, sullenly -endured at a time when deliverance was not even -a small star on the horizon: and in mapping out -the shining days to come, with special new -troubles of their own, no doubt—since this is -but a work-a-day world!—but at least free from -one familiar scourge. The time that remained -had been taken up by the planning of practical -expressions of the popular sentiment. Under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -Edward’s masterly direction, arrangements had -been made for a flag to be run up over the hen-house -at the very moment when the fly, with -Miss Smedley’s boxes on top and the grim -oppressor herself inside, began to move off -down the drive. Three brass cannons, set on -the brow of the sunk-fence, were to proclaim -our deathless sentiments in the ears of the -retreating foe; the dogs were to wear ribbons; -and later—but this depended on our powers of -evasiveness and dissimulation—there might be -a small bonfire, with a cracker or two if the -public funds could bear the unwonted strain.</p> - -<p>I was awakened by Harold digging me in -the ribs, and ‘She’s going to-day!’ was the -morning hymn that scattered the clouds of -sleep. Strange to say, it was with no corresponding -jubilation of spirits that I slowly -realised the momentous fact. Indeed, as I -dressed, a dull disagreeable feeling that I could -not define grew up in me—something like a -physical bruise. Harold was evidently feeling -it too, for after repeating ‘She’s going to-day!’ -in a tone more befitting the Litany, he looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -hard in my face for direction as to how the -situation was to be taken. But I crossly bade -him look sharp and say his prayers and not -bother me. What could this gloom portend, -that on a day of days like the present seemed -to hang my heavens with black?</p> - -<p>Down at last and out in the sun, we found -Edward before us, swinging on a gate and -chanting a farm-yard ditty in which all the -beasts appear in due order, jargoning in their -several tongues, and every verse begins with -the couplet:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘Now, my lads, come with me,</div> -<div class="verse"> Out in the morning early!’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="unindent">The fateful exodus of the day had evidently -slipped his memory entirely. I touched him -on the shoulder. ‘She’s going to-day!’ I said. -Edward’s carol subsided like a water-tap turned -off. ‘So she is!’ he replied, and got down -at once off the gate. And we returned to the -house without another word.</p> - -<p>At breakfast Miss Smedley behaved in a -most mean and uncalled-for manner. The -right divine of governesses to govern wrong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -includes no right to cry. In thus usurping -the prerogative of their victims they ignore -the rules of the ring, and hit below the belt. -Charlotte was crying, of course; but that -counted for nothing. Charlotte even cried -when the pigs’ noses were ringed in due season; -thereby evoking the cheery contempt of the -operators, who asserted they liked it, and doubtless -knew. But when the cloud-compeller, her -bolts laid aside, resorted to tears, mutinous -humanity had a right to feel aggrieved, and -think itself placed in a false and difficult -position. What would the Romans have done, -supposing Hannibal had cried? History has -not even considered the possibility. Rules and -precedents should be strictly observed on both -sides. When they are violated, the other party -is justified in feeling injured.</p> - -<p>There were no lessons that morning, naturally—another -grievance! The fitness of things -required that we should have struggled to the -last in a confused medley of moods and tenses, -and parted for ever, flushed with hatred, over -the dismembered corpse of the multiplication<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>-table. -But this thing was not to be; and I -was free to stroll by myself through the garden, -and combat, as best I might, this growing -feeling of depression. It was a wrong system -altogether, I thought, this going of people one -had got used to. Things ought always to -continue as they had been. Change there -must be, of course; pigs, for instance, came -and went with disturbing frequency—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘Fired their ringing shot and passed,</div> -<div class="verse"> Hotly charged and sank at last’—</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="unindent">but Nature had ordered it so, and in requital -had provided for rapid successors. Did you -come to love a pig, and he was taken from -you, grief was quickly assuaged in the delight -of selection from the new litter. But now, -when it was no question of a peerless pig, but -only of a governess, Nature seemed helpless, and -the future held no litter of oblivion. Things -might be better, or they might be worse, but -they would never be the same; and the innate -conservatism of youth asks neither poverty nor -riches, but only immunity from change.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<p>Edward slouched up alongside of me presently, -with a hangdog look on him, as if he -had been caught stealing jam. ‘What a lark -it’ll be when she’s really gone!’ he observed, -with a swagger obviously assumed.</p> - -<p>‘Grand fun!’ I replied dolorously; and conversation -flagged.</p> - -<p>We reached the hen-house, and contemplated -the banner of freedom lying ready to flaunt the -breezes at the supreme moment.</p> - -<p>‘Shall you run it up,’ I asked, ‘when the fly -starts, or—or wait a little till it’s out of -sight?’</p> - -<p>Edward gazed round him dubiously. ‘We’re -going to have some rain, I think,’ he said; ‘and—and -it’s a new flag. It would be a pity to -spoil it. P’raps I won’t run it up at all.’</p> - -<p>Harold came round the corner like a bison -pursued by Indians. ‘I’ve polished up the -cannons,’ he cried, ‘and they look grand! -Mayn’t I load ’em now?’</p> - -<p>‘You leave ’em alone,’ said Edward severely, -‘or you’ll be blowing yourself up’ (consideration -for others was not usually Edward’s strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -point). ‘Don’t touch the gunpowder till you’re -told, or you’ll get your head smacked.’</p> - -<p>Harold fell behind, limp, squashed, obedient. -‘She wants me to write to her,’ he began presently. -‘Says she doesn’t mind the spelling, if -I’ll only write. Fancy her saying that!’</p> - -<p>‘O, shut up, will you?’ said Edward -savagely; and once more we were silent, with -only our thoughts for sorry company.</p> - -<p>‘Let’s go off to the copse,’ I suggested -timidly, feeling that something had to be done -to relieve the tension, ‘and cut more new bows -and arrows.’</p> - -<p>‘She gave me a knife my last birthday,’ said -Edward moodily, never budging. ‘It wasn’t -much of a knife—but I wish I hadn’t lost it!’</p> - -<p>‘When my legs used to ache,’ I said, ‘she -sat up half the night, rubbing stuff on them. I -forgot all about that till this morning.’</p> - -<p>‘There’s the fly!’ cried Harold suddenly. -‘I can hear it scrunching on the gravel.’</p> - -<p>Then for the first time we turned and stared -each other in the face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The fly and its contents had finally disappeared -through the gate, the rumble of its -wheels had died away. Yet no flag floated -defiantly in the sun, no cannons proclaimed the -passing of a dynasty. From out the frosted -cake of our existence Fate had cut an irreplaceable -segment: turn which way we would, the -void was present. We sneaked off in different -directions, mutually undesirous of company; -and it seemed borne in upon me that I ought -to go and dig my garden right over, from end -to end. It didn’t actually want digging; on -the other hand no amount of digging could -affect it, for good or for evil; so I worked -steadily, strenuously, under the hot sun, stifling -thought in action. At the end of an hour or -so, I was joined by Edward.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/illus239.jpg" width="500" height="703" alt="two boys standing by brick wall arch one holding hatchet and the other leaning on a shovel" /> -<div class="caption">“‘I’VE BEEN CHOPPING UP WOOD,’ HE<br /> -EXPLAINED, IN A GUILTY SORT OF WAY”</div> -</div> - -<p>‘I’ve been chopping up wood,’ he explained, -in a guilty sort of way, though nobody had -called on him to account for his doings.</p> - -<p>‘What for?’ I inquired stupidly. ‘There’s -piles and piles of it chopped up already.’</p> - -<p>‘I know,’ said Edward, ‘but there’s no harm -in having a bit over. You never can tell what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -may happen. But what have you been doing -all this digging for?’</p> - -<p>‘You said it was going to rain,’ I explained -hastily. ‘So I thought I’d get the digging -done before it came. Good gardeners always -tell you that’s the right thing to do.’</p> - -<p>‘It did look like rain at one time,’ Edward -admitted; ‘but it’s passed off now. Very queer -weather we’re having. I suppose that’s why -I’ve felt so funny all day.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I suppose it’s the weather,’ I replied. -‘<i>I’ve</i> been feeling funny too.’</p> - -<p>The weather had nothing to do with it, as -we well knew. But we would both have died -rather than admit the real reason.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 316px;"> -<img src="images/illus241.jpg" width="316" height="111" alt="two cannons iwth ribbon between" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a><br /><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a><br /><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a><br /><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>THE BLUE ROOM</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THAT nature has her moments of sympathy -with man has been noted often enough,—and -generally as a new discovery. To us, -who had never known any other condition of -things, it seemed entirely right and fitting that -the wind sang and sobbed in the poplar tops, -and, in the lulls of it, sudden spirts of rain -spattered the already dusty roads, on that blusterous -March day when Edward and I awaited, -on the station platform, the arrival of the new -tutor. Needless to say, this arrangement had -been planned by an aunt, from some fond idea -that our shy, innocent young natures would -unfold themselves during the walk from the -station, and that, on the revelation of each -other’s more solid qualities that must inevitably -ensue, an enduring friendship, springing from -mutual respect, might be firmly based. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -pretty dream,—nothing more. For Edward, -who foresaw that the brunt of tutorial oppression -would have to be borne by him, was sulky, -monosyllabic, and determined to be as negatively -disagreeable as good manners would permit. It -was therefore evident that I would have to be -spokesman and purveyor of hollow civilities, and -I was none the more amiable on that account; -all courtesies, welcomes, explanations, and other -court-chamberlain kind of business, being my -special aversion. There was much of the tempestuous -March weather in the hearts of both of -us, as we sullenly glowered along the carriage-windows -of the slackening train.</p> - -<p>One is apt, however, to misjudge the special -difficulties of a situation; and the reception -proved, after all, an easy and informal matter. -In a trainful so uniformly bucolic, a tutor was -readily recognisable; and his portmanteau had -been consigned to the luggage-cart, and his -person conveyed into the lane, before I had -discharged one of my carefully considered -sentences. I breathed more easily, and looking -up at our new friend as we stepped out together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -remembered that we had been counting on -something altogether more arid, scholastic, and -severe. A boyish eager face and a petulant -<i>pince-nez</i>—untidy hair—a head of constant -quick turns like a robin’s, and a voice that kept -breaking into alto—these were all very strange -and new, but not in the least terrible.</p> - -<p>He proceeded jerkily through the village, with -glances on this side and that; and ‘Charming,’ -he broke out presently; ‘quite too charming -and delightful!’</p> - -<p>I had not counted on this sort of thing, and -glanced for help to Edward, who, hands in -pockets, looked grimly down his nose. He had -taken his line, and meant to stick to it.</p> - -<p>Meantime our friend had made an imaginary -spy-glass out of his fist, and was squinting -through it at something I could not perceive. -‘What an exquisite bit!’ he burst out. ‘Fifteenth -century—no—yes it is!’</p> - -<p>I began to feel puzzled, not to say alarmed. -It reminded me of the butcher in the <i>Arabian -Nights</i>, whose common joints, displayed on the -shop-front, took to a startled public the appearance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -of dismembered humanity. This man -seemed to see the strangest things in our dull, -familiar surroundings.</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ he broke out again, as we jogged on -between hedgerows: ‘and that field now—backed -by the downs—with the rain-cloud -brooding over it,—that’s all David Cox—every -bit of it!’</p> - -<p>‘That field belongs to Farmer Larkin,’ I -explained politely; for of course he could not -be expected to know. ‘I’ll take you over to -Farmer Cox’s to-morrow, if he’s a friend of -yours; but there‘s nothing to see there.’</p> - -<p>Edward, who was hanging sullenly behind, -made a face at me, as if to say, ‘What sort of -lunatic have we got here?’</p> - -<p>‘It has the true pastoral character, this -country of yours,’ went on our enthusiast: ‘with -just that added touch in cottage and farmstead, -relics of a bygone art, which makes our English -landscape so divine, so unique!’</p> - -<p>Really this grasshopper was becoming a -burden! These familiar fields and farms, of -which we knew every blade and stick, had done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -nothing that I knew of to be bespattered with -adjectives in this way. I had never thought of -them as divine, unique, or anything else. They -were—well, they were just themselves, and -there was an end of it. Despairingly I jogged -Edward in the ribs, as a sign to start rational -conversation, but he only grinned and continued -obdurate.</p> - -<p>‘You can see the house now,’ I remarked -presently; ‘and that’s Selina, chasing the -donkey in the paddock. Or is it the donkey -chasing Selina? I can’t quite make out; but -it’s <i>them</i>, anyhow.’</p> - -<p>Needless to say, he exploded with a full -charge of adjectives. ‘Exquisite!’ he rapped -out; ‘so mellow and harmonious! and so -entirely in keeping!’ (I could see from Edward’s -face that he was thinking who ought to -be in keeping.) ‘Such possibilities of romance, -now, in those old gables!’</p> - -<p>‘If you mean the garrets,’ I said, ‘there’s a -lot of old furniture in them; and one is generally -full of apples; and the bats get in sometimes, -under the eaves, and flop about till we go up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -with hair-brushes and things and drive ’em -out; but there’s nothing else in them that I -know of.’</p> - -<p>‘O, but there must be more than bats,’ he -cried. ‘Don’t tell me there are no ghosts. I -shall be deeply disappointed if there aren’t any -ghosts.’</p> - -<p>I did not think it worth while to reply, feeling -really unequal to this sort of conversation. -Besides, we were nearing the house, when my -task would be ended. Aunt Eliza met us at -the door, and in the cross-fire of adjectives that -ensued—both of them talking at once, as -grown-up folk have a habit of doing—we two -slipped round to the back of the house, and -speedily put several broad acres between us and -civilisation, for fear of being ordered in to tea in -the drawing-room. By the time we returned, -our new importation had gone up to dress for -dinner, so till the morrow at least we were free -of him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the March wind, after dropping a -while at sundown, had been steadily increasing -in volume; and although I fell asleep at my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -usual hour, about midnight I was wakened by -the stress and the cry of it. In the bright moonlight, -wind-swung branches tossed and swayed -eerily across the blinds; there was rumbling in -chimneys, whistling in keyholes, and everywhere -a clamour and a call. Sleep was out of -the question, and, sitting up in bed, I looked -round. Edward sat up too. ‘I was wondering -when you were going to wake,’ he said. ‘It’s -no good trying to sleep through this. I vote -we get up and do something.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m game,’ I replied. ‘Let’s play at being -in a ship at sea’ (the plaint of the old house -under the buffeting wind suggested this, naturally); -‘and we can be wrecked on an island, -or left on a raft, whichever you choose; but I -like an island best myself, because there’s more -things on it.’</p> - -<p>Edward on reflection negatived the idea. ‘It -would make too much noise,’ he pointed out. -‘There’s no fun playing at ships, unless you -can make a jolly good row.’</p> - -<p>The door creaked, and a small figure in white -slipped cautiously in. ‘Thought I heard you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -talking,’ said Charlotte. ‘We don’t like it; -we’re afraid—Selina too! She’ll be here in a -minute. She’s putting on her new dressing-gown -she’s so proud of.’</p> - -<p>His arms round his knees, Edward cogitated -deeply until Selina appeared, barefooted, and -looking slim and tall in the new dressing-gown. -Then, ‘Look here,’ he exclaimed; ‘now we’re -all together, I vote we go and explore!’</p> - -<p>‘You’re always wanting to explore,’ I said. -‘What on earth is there to explore for in this -house?’</p> - -<p>‘Biscuits!’ said the inspired Edward.</p> - -<p>‘Hooray! Come on!’ chimed in Harold, -sitting up suddenly. He had been awake all -the time, but had been shamming asleep, lest -he should be fagged to do anything.</p> - -<p>It was indeed a fact, as Edward had remembered, -that our thoughtless elders occasionally -left the biscuits out, a prize for the night-walking -adventurer with nerves of steel.</p> - -<p>Edward tumbled out of bed, and pulled a -baggy old pair of knickerbockers over his bare -shanks. Then he girt himself with a belt, into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -which he thrust, on the one side a large wooden -pistol, on the other an old single-stick; and -finally he donned a big slouch-hat—once an -uncle’s—that we used for playing Guy Fawkes -and Charles-the-Second-up-a-tree in. Whatever -the audience, Edward, if possible, always -dressed for his parts with care and conscientiousness; -while Harold and I, true Elizabethans, -cared little about the mounting of the -piece, so long as the real dramatic heart of it -beat sound.</p> - -<p>Our commander now enjoined on us a silence -deep as the grave, reminding us that Aunt Eliza -usually slept with an open door, past which we -had to file.</p> - -<p>‘But we’ll take the short cut through the -Blue Room,’ said the wary Selina.</p> - -<p>‘Of course,’ said Edward approvingly. ‘I forgot -about that. Now then! You lead the way!’</p> - -<p>The Blue Room had in prehistoric times been -added to by taking in a superfluous passage, and -so not only had the advantage of two doors, but -also enabled us to get to the head of the stairs -without passing the chamber wherein our dragon-aunt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -lay couched. It was rarely occupied, -except when a casual uncle came down for the -night. We entered in noiseless file, the room -being plunged in darkness, except for a bright -strip of moonlight on the floor, across which we -must pass for our exit. On this our leading -lady chose to pause, seizing the opportunity -to study the hang of her new dressing-gown. -Greatly satisfied thereat, she proceeded, after -the feminine fashion, to peacock and to pose, -pacing a minuet down the moonlit patch with -an imaginary partner. This was too much for -Edward’s histrionic instincts, and after a -moment’s pause he drew his single-stick, and, -with flourishes meet for the occasion, strode on -to the stage. A struggle ensued on approved -lines, at the end of which Selina was stabbed -slowly and with unction, and her corpse borne -from the chamber by the ruthless cavalier. -The rest of us rushed after in a clump, with -capers and gesticulations of delight; the special -charm of the performance lying in the necessity -for its being carried out with the dumbest of -dumb shows.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 502px;"> -<img src="images/illus255.jpg" width="502" height="704" alt="child in bed watching others play" /> -<div class="caption">“WE ENTERED IN NOISELESS FILE, THE ROOM<br /> -BEING PLUNGED IN DARKNESS, EXCEPT FOR A<br /> -BRIGHT STRIP OF MOONLIGHT ON THE FLOOR”</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>Once out on the dark landing, the noise of the -storm without told us that we had exaggerated -the necessity for silence; so, grasping the tails -of each other’s nightgowns, even as Alpine -climbers rope themselves together in perilous -places, we fared stoutly down the staircase-moraine, -and across the grim glacier of the -hall, to where a faint glimmer from the half-open -door of the drawing-room beckoned to us -like friendly hostel-lights. Entering, we found -that our thriftless seniors had left the sound red -heart of a fire, easily coaxed into a cheerful -blaze; and biscuits—a plateful—smiled at us -in an encouraging sort of way, together with the -halves of a lemon, already squeezed, but still -suckable. The biscuits were righteously shared, -the lemon segments passed from mouth to -mouth; and as we squatted round the fire, its -genial warmth consoling our unclad limbs, we -realised that so many nocturnal perils had not -been braved in vain.</p> - -<p>‘It’s a funny thing,’ said Edward, as we -chatted, ‘how I hate this room in the daytime. -It always means having your face washed, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -your hair brushed, and talking silly company -talk. But to-night it’s really quite jolly. -Looks different, somehow.’</p> - -<p>‘I never can make out,’ I said, ‘what people -come here to tea for. They can have their -own tea at home if they like—they’re not -poor people—with jam and things, and drink -out of their saucer, and suck their fingers and -enjoy themselves; but they come here from a -long way off, and sit up straight with their feet -off the bars of their chairs, and have one cup, -and talk the same sort of stuff every time.’</p> - -<p>Selina sniffed disdainfully. ‘You don’t know -anything about it,’ she said. ‘In society you -have to call on each other. It’s the proper -thing to do.’</p> - -<p>‘Pooh! <i>you’re</i> not in society,’ said Edward -politely; ‘and, what’s more, you never will be.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I shall, some day,’ retorted Selina; -‘but I shan’t ask you to come and see me, so -there!’</p> - -<p>‘Wouldn’t come if you did,’ growled Edward.</p> - -<p>‘Well you won’t get the chance,’ rejoined -our sister, claiming her right of the last word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -There was no heat about these little amenities, -which made up—as understood by us—the art -of polite conversation.</p> - -<p>‘I don’t like society people,’ put in Harold -from the sofa, where he was sprawling at full -length—a sight the daylight hours would have -blushed to witness. ‘There were some of ’em -here this afternoon, when you two had gone off -to the station. O, and I found a dead mouse -on the lawn, and I wanted to skin it, but I -wasn’t sure I knew how, by myself; and they -came out into the garden, and patted my head—I -wish people wouldn’t do that—and one of -’em asked me to pick her a flower. Don’t -know why she couldn’t pick it herself; but I -said, “All right, I will if you’ll hold my mouse.” -But she screamed, and threw it away; and -Augustus (the cat) got it, and ran away with it. -I believe it was really his mouse all the time, -’cos he’d been looking about as if he had lost -something, so I wasn’t angry with <i>him</i>. But -what did <i>she</i> want to throw away my mouse -for?’</p> - -<p>‘You have to be careful with mice,’ reflected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -Edward; ‘they’re such slippery things. Do -you remember we were playing with a dead -mouse once on the piano, and the mouse was -Robinson Crusoe, and the piano was the island, -and somehow Crusoe slipped down inside the -island, into its works, and we couldn’t get him -out, though we tried rakes and all sorts of things, -till the tuner came. And that wasn’t till a -week after, and then——’</p> - -<p>Here Charlotte, who had been nodding solemnly, -fell over into the fender; and we realised -that the wind had dropped at last, and the house -was lapped in a great stillness. Our vacant -beds seemed to be calling to us imperiously; and -we were all glad when Edward gave the signal -for retreat. At the top of the staircase Harold -unexpectedly turned mutinous, insisting on his -right to slide down the banisters in a free -country. Circumstances did not allow of argument; -I suggested frog’s-marching instead, and -accordingly frog’s-marched he was, the procession -passing solemnly across the moon-lit Blue -Room, with Harold horizontal and limply submissive. -Snug in bed at last, I was just slipping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -off into slumber when I heard Edward explode, -with chuckle and snort.</p> - -<p>‘By Jove!’ he said; ‘I forgot all about -it. The new tutor’s sleeping in the Blue -Room!’</p> - -<p>‘Lucky he didn’t wake up and catch us,’ I -grunted drowsily; and, without another thought -on the matter, we both sank into well-earned -repose.</p> - -<p>Next morning, coming down to breakfast -braced to grapple with fresh adversity, we were -surprised to find our garrulous friend of the -previous day—he was late in making his -appearance—strangely silent and (apparently) -pre-occupied. Having polished off our porridge, -we ran out to feed the rabbits, explaining to -them that a beast of a tutor would prevent -their enjoying so much of our society as -formerly.</p> - -<p>On returning to the house at the fated hour -appointed for study, we were thunderstruck to -see the station-cart disappearing down the drive, -freighted with our new acquaintance. Aunt -Eliza was brutally uncommunicative; but she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -was overheard to remark casually that she -thought the man must be a lunatic. In this -theory we were only too ready to concur, dismissing -thereafter the whole matter from our -minds.</p> - -<p>Some weeks later it happened that Uncle -Thomas, while paying us a flying visit, produced -from his pocket a copy of the latest weekly, -<i>Psyche: a Journal of the Unseen;</i> and proceeded -laboriously to rid himself of much -incomprehensible humour, apparently at our -expense. We bore it patiently, with the forced -grin demanded by convention, anxious to get -at the source of inspiration, which it presently -appeared lay in a paragraph circumstantially -describing our modest and humdrum habitation. -‘Case <small>III.</small>,’ it began. ‘The following particulars -were communicated by a young member of -the Society, of undoubted probity and earnestness, -and are a chronicle of actual and recent -experience.’ A fairly accurate description of -the house followed, with details that were unmistakable; -but to this there succeeded a flood -of meaningless drivel about apparitions, nightly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -visitants, and the like, writ in a manner -betokening a disordered mind, coupled with a -feeble imagination. The fellow was not even -original. All the old material was there—the -storm at night, the haunted chamber, the white -lady, the murder re-enacted, and so on—already -worn threadbare in many a Christmas Number. -No one was able to make head or tail of the -stuff, or of its connexion with our quiet mansion; -and yet Edward, who had always suspected the -fellow, persisted in maintaining that our tutor -of a brief span was, somehow or other, at the -bottom of it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 312px;"> -<img src="images/illus263.jpg" width="312" height="111" alt="landscape" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a><br /><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a><br /><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a><br /><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>A FALLING OUT</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">HAROLD told me the main facts of this -episode some time later,—in bits and -with reluctance. It was not a recollection he -cared to talk about. The crude blank misery -of a moment is apt to leave a dull bruise which -is slow to depart, if it ever do so entirely; and -Harold confesses to a twinge or two, still, at -times, like the veteran who brings home a bullet -inside him from martial plains over sea.</p> - -<p>He knew he was a brute the moment he had -done it. Selina had not meant to worry, only -to comfort and assist. But his soul was one -raw sore within him, when he found himself -shut up in the schoolroom after hours, merely -for insisting that 7 times 7 amounted to 47. -The injustice of it seemed so flagrant. Why -not 47 as much as 49! One number was no -prettier than the other to look at, and it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -evidently only a matter of arbitrary taste and -preference, and, anyhow, it had always been -47 to him, and would be to the end of time. -So when Selina came in out of the sun, leaving -the Trappers of the Far West behind her, and -putting off the glory of being an Apache squaw -in order to hear him his tables and win his -release, Harold turned on her venomously, rejected -her kindly overtures, and even drove his -elbow into her sympathetic ribs, in his determination -to be left alone in the glory of sulks. -The fit passed directly, his eyes were opened, -and his soul sat in the dust as he sorrowfully -began to cast about for some atonement heroic -enough to salve the wrong.</p> - -<p>Of course poor Selina looked for no sacrifice -nor heroics whatever; she didn’t even want him -to say he was sorry. If he would only make it -up, she would have done the apologising part -herself. But that was not a boy’s way. Something -solid, Harold felt, was due from him; and -until that was achieved, making-up must not -be thought of, in order that the final effect -might not be spoilt. Accordingly, when his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -release came, and Selina hung about trying to -catch his eye, Harold, possessed by the demon -of a distorted motive, avoided her steadily—though -he was bleeding inwardly at every -minute of delay—and came to me instead. -Needless to say, I warmly approved his plan. -It was so much more high-toned than just -going and making-up tamely, which any one -could do; and a girl who had been jobbed -in the ribs by a hostile elbow could not be -expected for a moment to overlook it, without -the liniment of an offering to soothe her injured -feelings.</p> - -<p>‘I know what she wants most,’ said Harold. -‘She wants that set of tea-things in the toy-shop -window, with the red and blue flowers on ’em; -she’s wanted it for months, ’cos her dolls are -getting big enough to have real afternoon tea; -and she wants it so badly that she won’t walk -that side of the street when we go into the -town. But it costs five shillings!’</p> - -<p>Then we set to work seriously, and devoted -the afternoon to a realisation of assets and the -composition of a Budget that might have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -dated without shame from Whitehall. The -result worked out as follows:—</p> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="budget"> -<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="center"> <i>s.</i> </td><td align="center"> <i>d.</i> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><div class="hang1">By one uncle, unspent through having been lost for nearly a week—turned up at last in the straw of the dog-kennel</div></td><td align="center">2</td><td align="center">6</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><div class="hang1">By advance from me on security of next uncle, and failing that, to be called in at Christmas</div></td><td align="center">1</td><td align="center">0</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><div class="hang1">By shaken out of missionary-box with the help of a knife-blade. (They were our own pennies and a forced levy)</div></td><td align="center">0</td><td align="center">4</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><div class="hang1">By bet due from Edward, for walking across the field where Farmer Larkin’s bull was, and Edward bet him twopence he wouldn’t—called in with difficulty</div></td><td align="center">0</td><td align="center">2</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><div class="hang1">By advance from Martha, on no security at all, only you mustn’t tell your aunt</div></td><td align="center"><span class="u"> 1 </span></td><td align="center"><span class="u"> 0 </span></td></tr> -<tr><td align="right">Total</td><td align="center">5</td><td align="center">0</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p class="unindent">and at last we breathed again.</p> - -<p>The rest promised to be easy. Selina had a -tea-party at five on the morrow, with the chipped -old wooden tea-things that had served her successive -dolls from babyhood. Harold would -slip off directly after dinner, going alone, so as -not to arouse suspicion, as we were not allowed -to go into the town by ourselves. It was nearly -two miles to our small metropolis, but there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -would be plenty of time for him to go and -return, even laden with the olive-branch neatly -packed in shavings. Besides, he might meet the -butcher, who was his friend and would give him -a lift. Then, finally, at five, the rapture of the -new tea-service, descended from the skies; and, -retribution made, making-up at last, without -loss of dignity. With the event before us, we -thought it a small thing that twenty-four hours -more of alienation and pretended sulks must -be kept up on Harold’s part; but Selina, who -naturally knew nothing of the treat in store for -her, moped for the rest of the evening, and took -a very heavy heart to bed.</p> - -<p>Next day when the hour for action arrived, -Harold evaded Olympian attention with an -easy modesty born of long practice, and made -off for the front gate. Selina, who had been -keeping her eye upon him, thought he was -going down to the pond to catch frogs, a joy -they had planned to share together, and made -after him. But Harold, though he heard her -footsteps, continued sternly on his high mission, -without even looking back; and Selina was left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -to wander disconsolately among flower-beds that -had lost—for her—all scent and colour. I saw -it all, and, although cold reason approved our -line of action, instinct told me we were brutes.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/illus273.jpg" width="500" height="695" alt="boy looking in shop window" /> -<div class="caption">“SHOPS CAME FIRST, OF COURSE. . . . .”</div> -</div> - -<p>Harold reached the town—so he recounted -afterwards—in record time, having run most -of the way for fear the tea-things, which had -reposed six months in the window, should be -snapped up by some other conscience-stricken -lacerator of a sister’s feelings; and it seemed -hardly credible to find them still there, and -their owner willing to part with them for the -price marked on the ticket. He paid his money -down at once, that there should be no drawing -back from the bargain; and then, as the things -had to be taken out of the window and packed, -and the afternoon was yet young, he thought -he might treat himself to a taste of urban joys -and the <i>vie de Bohême</i>. Shops came first, of -course, and he flattened his nose successively -against the window with the indiarubber balls -in it, and the clock-work locomotive; and -against the barber’s window, with wigs on -blocks, reminding him of uncles, and shaving-cream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -that looked so good to eat; and the -grocer’s window, displaying more currants than -the whole British population could possibly -consume without a special effort; and the -window of the bank, wherein gold was thought -so little of that it was dealt about in shovels. -Next there was the market-place, with all its -clamorous joys; and when a runaway calf came -down the street like a cannon-ball, Harold felt -that he had not lived in vain. The whole place -was so brimful of excitement that he had quite -forgotten the why and the wherefore of his -being there, when a sight of the church clock -recalled him to his better self, and sent him -flying out of the town, as he realised he had -only just time enough left to get back in. If -he were after his appointed hour, he would not -only miss his high triumph, but probably would -be detected as a transgressor of bounds—a -crime before which a private opinion on multiplication -sank to nothingness. So he jogged -along on his homeward way, thinking of many -things, and probably talking to himself a good -deal, as his habit was. He had covered nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -half the distance, when suddenly—a deadly -sinking in the pit of his stomach—a paralysis -of every limb—around him a world extinct of -light and music—a black sun and a reeling -sky—he had forgotten the tea-things!</p> - -<p>It was useless, it was hopeless, all was over -and nothing could now be done. Nevertheless -he turned and ran back wildly, blindly, choking -with the big sobs that evoked neither pity nor -comfort from a merciless mocking world around; -a stitch in his side, dust in his eyes, and black -despair clutching at his heart. So he stumbled -on, with leaden legs and bursting sides, till—as -if Fate had not yet dealt him her last worst -buffet of all—on turning a corner in the road -he almost ran under the wheels of a dog-cart, -in which, as it pulled up, was apparent the -portly form of Farmer Larkin, the arch-enemy, -at whose ducks he had been shying stones that -very morning!</p> - -<p>Had Harold been in his right and unclouded -senses, he would have vanished through the -hedge some seconds earlier, rather than pain -the farmer by any unpleasant reminiscences<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -which his appearance might recall; but, as -things were, he could only stand and blubber -hopelessly, caring, indeed, little now what -further misery might befall him. The farmer, -for his part, surveyed the desolate figure with -some astonishment, calling out in no unfriendly -accents, ‘Why, Master Harold! whatever be -the matter? Baint runnin’ away, be ee?’</p> - -<p>Then Harold, with the unnatural courage -born of desperation, flung himself on the step, -and, climbing into the cart, fell in the straw at -the bottom of it, sobbing out that he wanted to -go back, go back! The situation had a vagueness; -but the farmer, a man of action rather -than of words, swung his horse round smartly, -and they were in the town again by the time -Harold had recovered himself sufficiently to -furnish details. As they drove up to the shop, -the woman was waiting at the door with the -parcel; and hardly a minute seemed to have -elapsed since the black crisis, ere they were -bowling along swiftly home, the precious parcel -hugged in a close embrace.</p> - -<p>And now the farmer came out in quite a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -and unexpected light. Never a word did he -say of broken fences and hurdles, of trampled -crops and harried flocks and herds. One would -have thought the man had never possessed a -head of live stock in his life. Instead, he was -deeply interested in the whole dolorous quest -of the tea-things, and sympathised with Harold -on the disputed point in mathematics as if he -had been himself at the same stage of education. -As they neared home, Harold found -himself, to his surprise, sitting up and chatting -to his new friend like man to man; and before -he was set down at a convenient gap in the -garden hedge, he had promised that when -Selina gave her first public tea-party, little Miss -Larkin should be invited to come and bring -her whole sawdust family along with her; and -the farmer appeared as pleased and proud as if -he had won a gold medal at the Agricultural -Show, and really, when I heard the story, it -began to dawn upon me that those Olympians -must have certain good points, far down in -them, and that I should have to leave off -abusing them some day.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the hour of five, Selina, having spent the -afternoon searching for Harold in all his accustomed -haunts, sat down disconsolately to tea -with her dolls, who ungenerously refused to -wait beyond the appointed hour. The wooden -tea-things seemed more chipped than usual; -and the dolls themselves had more of wax and -sawdust, and less of human colour and intelligence -about them, than she ever remembered -before. It was then that Harold burst in, very -dusty, his stockings at his heels, and the -channels ploughed by tears still showing on his -grimy cheeks; and Selina was at last permitted -to know that he had been thinking of her ever -since his ill-judged exhibition of temper, and -that his sulks had not been the genuine article, -nor had he gone frogging by himself. It was a -very happy hostess who dispensed hospitality -that evening to a glassy-eyed stiff-kneed circle; -and many a dollish <i>gaucherie</i>, that would have -been severely checked on ordinary occasions, -was as much overlooked as if it had been a -birthday.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>But Harold and I, in what I was afterwards -given to understand was our stupid masculine -way, thought all her happiness sprang from -possession of the long-coveted tea-service.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 311px;"> -<img src="images/illus280.jpg" width="311" height="116" alt="tea set" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a><br /><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a><br /><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>‘LUSISTI SATIS’</h2> - - -<p class="drop-cap">AMONG the many fatuous ideas that possessed -the Olympian noddle, this one was -pre-eminent; that, being Olympians, they could -talk quite freely in our presence on subjects of -the closest import to us, so long as names, dates, -and other landmarks were ignored. We were -supposed to be denied the faculty for putting -two and two together, and like the monkeys, -who very sensibly refrain from speech lest they -should be set to earn their livings, we were -careful to conceal our capabilities for a simple -syllogism. Thus we were rarely taken by surprise, -and so were considered by our disappointed -elders to be apathetic and to lack the divine -capacity for wonder.</p> - -<p>Now the daily output of the letter-bag, with -the mysterious discussions that ensued thereon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -had speedily informed us that Uncle Thomas -was intrusted with a mission—a mission, too, -affecting ourselves. Uncle Thomas’s missions -were many and various. A self-important man, -one liking the business while protesting that he -sank under the burden, he was the missionary, -so to speak, of our remote habitation. The -matching a ribbon, the running down to the -stores, the interviewing a cook—these and -similar duties lent constant colour and variety -to his vacant life in London, and helped to keep -down his figure. When the matter, however, -had in our presence to be referred to with nods -and pronouns, with significant hiatuses and -interpolations in the French tongue, then the -red flag was flown, the storm-cone hoisted, and -by a studious pretence of inattention we were -not long in plucking out the heart of the -mystery.</p> - -<p>To clinch our conclusion, we descended -suddenly and together on Martha; proceeding, -however, not by simple inquiry as to facts—that -would never have done; but by informing -her that the air was full of school and that we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -knew all about it, and then challenging denial. -Martha was a trusty soul, but a bad witness for -the defence, and we soon had it all out of her. -The word had gone forth, the school had been -selected; the necessary sheets were hemming -even now, and Edward was the designated and -appointed victim.</p> - -<p>It had always been before us as an inevitable -bourne, this strange unknown thing called -school; and yet—perhaps I should say consequently—we -had never seriously set ourselves -to consider what it really meant. But now that -the grim spectre loomed imminent, stretching -lean hands for one of our flock, it behoved us -to face the situation, to take soundings in this -uncharted sea and find out whither we were -drifting. Unfortunately the data in our possession -were absolutely insufficient, and we knew -not whither to turn for exact information. -Uncle Thomas could have told us all about -it, of course; he had been there himself, once, -in the dim and misty past. But an unfortunate -conviction, that nature had intended him for -a humorist, tainted all his evidence, besides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -making it wearisome to hear. Again, of such -among our contemporaries as we had approached, -the trumpets gave forth an uncertain -sound. According to some it meant larks, -revels, emancipation, and a foretaste of the -bliss of manhood. According to others—the -majority, alas!—it was a private and peculiar -Hades, that could give the original institution -points and a beating. When Edward was observed -to be swaggering round with a jaunty air -and his chest stuck out, I knew that he was contemplating -his future from the one point of view. -When, on the contrary, he was subdued and -unaggressive, and sought the society of his -sisters, I recognised that the other aspect was -in the ascendant. ‘You can always run away, -you know,’ I used to remark consolingly on -these latter occasions; and Edward would -brighten up wonderfully at the suggestion, -while Charlotte melted into tears before her -vision of a brother with blistered feet and an -empty belly, passing nights of frost ’neath the -lee of windy haystacks.</p> - -<p>It was to Edward, of course, that the situation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -was chiefly productive of anxiety; and yet the -ensuing change in my own circumstances and -position furnished me also with food for grave -reflexion. Hitherto I had acted mostly to -orders. Even when I had devised and counselled -any particular devilry, it had been carried -out on Edward’s approbation, and—as eldest—at -his special risk. Henceforward I began to -be anxious of the bugbear Responsibility, and -to realise what a soul-throttling thing it is. -True, my new position would have its compensations. -Edward had been masterful exceedingly, -imperious, perhaps a little narrow; -impassioned for hard facts, and with scant sympathy -for make-believe. I should now be free -and untrammelled; in the conception and the -carrying out of a scheme, I could accept and -reject to better artistic purpose.</p> - -<p>It would, moreover, be needless to be a Radical -any more. Radical I never was, really, by -nature or by sympathy. The part had been -thrust on me one day, when Edward proposed -to foist the House of Lords on our small republic. -The principles of the thing he set forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -learnedly and well, and it all sounded promising -enough, till he went on to explain that, for the -present at least, he proposed to be the House -of Lords himself. We others were to be the -Commons. There would be promotions, of -course, he added, dependent on service and on -fitness, and open to both sexes; and to me in -especial he held out hopes of speedy advancement. -But in its initial stages the thing -wouldn’t work properly unless he were first -and only Lord. Then I put my foot down -promptly, and said it was all rot, and I didn’t -see the good of any House of Lords at all. -‘Then you must be a low Radical!’ said -Edward, with fine contempt. The inference -seemed hardly necessary, but what could I do? -I accepted the situation, and said firmly, Yes, I -was a low Radical. In this monstrous character -I had been obliged to masquerade ever -since; but now I could throw it off, and look -the world in the face again.</p> - -<p>And yet, did this and other gains really -outbalance my losses? Henceforth I should, -it was true, be leader and chief; but I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -also be the buffer between the Olympians and -my little clan. To Edward this had been -nothing; he had withstood the impact of -Olympus without flinching, like Teneriffe or -Atlas unremoved. But was I equal to the -task? And was there not rather a danger that -for the sake of peace and quietness I might be -tempted to compromise, compound, and make -terms? sinking thus, by successive lapses, into -the Blameless Prig? I don’t mean, of course, -that I thought out my thoughts to the exact -point here set down. In those fortunate days -of old one was free from the hard necessity of -transmuting the vague idea into the mechanical -inadequate medium of words. But the feeling -was there, that I might not possess the qualities -of character for so delicate a position.</p> - -<p>The unnatural halo round Edward got more -pronounced, his own demeanour more responsible -and dignified, with the arrival of his new -clothes. When his trunk and play-box were -sent in, the approaching cleavage between our -brother, who now belonged to the future, and -ourselves, still claimed by the past, was accentuated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -indeed. His name was painted on each -of them, in large letters, and after their arrival -their owner used to disappear mysteriously, and -be found eventually wandering round his luggage, -murmuring to himself, ‘Edward ——,’ in a rapt -remote sort of way. It was a weakness, of -course, and pointed to a soft spot in his character; -but those who can remember the sensation -of first seeing their names in print will not -think hardly of him.</p> - -<p>As the short days sped by and the grim event -cast its shadow longer and longer across our -threshold, an unnatural politeness, a civility -scarce canny, began to pervade the air. In -those latter hours Edward himself was frequently -heard to say ‘Please,’ and also ‘Would -you mind fetchin’ that ball?’ while Harold and -I would sometimes actually find ourselves trying -to anticipate his wishes. As for the girls, they -simply grovelled. The Olympians, too, in their -uncouth way, by gift of carnal delicacies and -such-like indulgence, seemed anxious to demonstrate -that they had hitherto misjudged this one -of us. Altogether the situation grew strained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -and false, and I think a general relief was felt -when the end came.</p> - -<p>We all trooped down to the station, of course; -it is only in later years that the farce of ‘seeing -people off’ is seen in its true colours. Edward -was the life and soul of the party; and if his -gaiety struck one at times as being a trifle -overdone, it was not a moment to be critical. -As we tramped along, I promised him I would -ask Farmer Larkin not to kill any more pigs -till he came back for the holidays, and he said -he would send me a proper catapult,—the real -lethal article, not a kid’s plaything. Then -suddenly, when we were about half-way down, -one of the girls fell a-snivelling.</p> - -<p>The happy few who dare to laugh at the woes -of sea-sickness will perhaps remember how, on -occasion, the sudden collapse of a fellow-voyager -before their very eyes has caused them hastily to -revise their self-confidence and resolve to walk -more humbly for the future. Even so it was -with Edward, who turned his head aside, feigning -an interest in the landscape. It was but for -a moment; then he recollected the hat he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -wearing—a hard bowler, the first of that sort -he had ever owned. He took it off, examined -it, and felt it over. Something about it seemed -to give him strength, and he was a man once -more.</p> - -<p>At the station, Edward’s first care was to -dispose his boxes on the platform so that every -one might see the labels and the lettering -thereon. One did not go to school for the first -time every day! Then he read both sides of -his ticket carefully; shifted it to every one of -his pockets in turn; and finally fell to chinking -of his money, to keep his courage up. We -were all dry of conversation by this time, and -could only stand round and stare in silence -at the victim decked for the altar. And, as I -looked at Edward, in new clothes of a manly -cut, with a hard hat upon his head, a railway -ticket in one pocket and money of his own in -the other—money to spend as he liked and no -questions asked!—I began to feel dimly how -great was the gulf already yawning betwixt us. -Fortunately I was not old enough to realise, -further, that here on this little platform the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -order lay at its last gasp, and that Edward might -come back to us, but it would not be the Edward -of yore, nor could things ever be the same again.</p> - -<p>When the train steamed up at last, we all -boarded it impetuously with the view of selecting -the one peerless carriage to which Edward -might be intrusted with the greatest comfort -and honour; and as each one found the ideal -compartment at the same moment, and vociferously -maintained its merits, he stood some -chance for a time of being left behind. A porter -settled the matter by heaving him through the -nearest door; and as the train moved off, -Edward’s head was thrust out of the window, -wearing on it an unmistakable first-quality grin -that he had been saving up somewhere for the -supreme moment. Very small and white his -face looked, on the long side of the retreating -train. But the grin was visible, undeniable, -stoutly maintained; till a curve swept him from -our sight, and he was borne away in the dying -rumble, out of our placid backwater, out into the -busy world of rubs and knocks and competition, -out into the New Life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 501px;"> -<img src="images/illus295.jpg" width="501" height="706" alt="two boys, one sitting on wheelbarrow; two girls in background feeding rabbits" /> -<div class="caption">“. . . . SELINA AND CHARLOTTE WERE BUSY STUFFING EDWARD’S<br /> -RABBITS WITH UNWONTED FORAGE, BILIOUS AND GREEN”</div> -</div> - -<p>When a crab has lost a leg, his gait is still -more awkward than his wont, till Time and -healing Nature make him <i>totus teres atque -rotundus</i> once more. We straggled back from -the station disjointedly; Harold, who was very -silent, sticking close to me, his last slender -prop, while the girls in front, their heads together, -were already reckoning up the weeks to -the holidays. Home at last, Harold suggested -one or two occupations of a spicy and contraband -flavour, but though we did our manful best there -was no knocking any interest out of them. Then -I suggested others, with the same want of success. -Finally we found ourselves sitting silent -on an upturned wheelbarrow, our chins on our -fists, staring haggardly into the raw new conditions -of our changed life, the ruins of a past -behind our backs.</p> - -<p>And all the while Selina and Charlotte were -busy stuffing Edward’s rabbits with unwonted -forage, bilious and green; polishing up the cage -of his mice till the occupants raved and swore -like householders in spring-time; and collecting -materials for new bows and arrows, whips, boats,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -guns, and four-in-hand harness, against the -return of Ulysses. Little did they dream that -the hero, once back from Troy and all its onsets, -would scornfully condemn their clumsy but -laborious armoury as rot and humbug and -only fit for kids! This, with many another -like awakening, was mercifully hidden from -them. Could the veil have been lifted, and the -girls permitted to see Edward as he would -appear a short three months hence, ragged -of attire and lawless of tongue, a scorner of -tradition and an adept in strange new physical -tortures, one who would in the same half-hour -dismember a doll and shatter a hallowed belief,—in -fine, a sort of swaggering Captain, fresh -from the Spanish Main,—could they have had -the least hint of this, well, then perhaps——. -But which of us is of mental fibre to stand the -test of a glimpse into futurity? Let us only -hope that, even with certain disillusionment -ahead, the girls would have acted precisely -as they did.</p> - -<p>And perhaps we have reason to be very grateful -that, both as children and long afterwards,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -we are never allowed to guess how the absorbing -pursuit of the moment will appear not only to -others but to ourselves, a very short time hence. -So we pass, with a gusto and a heartiness that -to an onlooker would seem almost pathetic, from -one droll devotion to another misshapen passion; -and who shall dare to play Rhadamanthus, to -appraise the record, and to decide how much -of it is solid achievement, and how much the -merest child’s play?</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;"> -<img src="images/illus298.jpg" width="497" height="155" alt="monogrammed luggage" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2><i>BOOKS BY KENNETH GRAHAME</i></h2> - - -<div class="adtitle2">THE GOLDEN AGE</div> - -<p class="unindent">16mo. $1.00 net. Twenty-third Edition.</p> - - -<div class="adtitle2">THE GOLDEN AGE</div> - -<p class="unindent">An Illustrated Edition, set in old-faced type, with 18 -full-page Photogravures, Title-page, Tail-pieces, and -Cover-design by Maxfield Parrish. Sq. 8vo. $2.50 net.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="unindent"><i>New York Times Saturday Review.</i>—‘The new illustrated -edition of “The Golden Age” is published now because the -ordinary half-tone process applied to Maxfield Parrish’s charming -drawings, when the book was first illustrated, did not do -justice to the artist’s work. The original drawings, which -had been sold to many purchasers, were hunted up, and they -have here been reproduced by photogravure. No artist ever -caught the spirit of an author more surely than Maxfield Parrish -has caught that of the staid Secretary of the Old Lady of Threadneedle -Street, who in his leisure hours writes these exquisite -memories of childhood.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Chicago Evening Post.</i>—‘One of the most exquisite pieces of -illustration that has been done in America for some time. A -more felicitous expression of the spirit of Mr. Grahame’s classic -could not be conceived. In this case it is difficult to say, if -indeed it were not invidious to say, which were the more charming, -the more lasting in subtle beauty,—the work of brush or -pen. Together they have made a gem for any library.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>New York Evening Post.</i>—‘The publisher, at no little expense -and labor, has sought out the original pictures. The -result is delightful.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Brooklyn Daily Eagle.</i>—‘Decidedly it was a good thought, -this new edition.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Boston Evening Transcript.</i>—‘In point of attractiveness and -beauty this new edition stands by itself.’</p></div> - -<p class="unindent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="adtitle2">DREAM DAYS</div> - -<p class="unindent">16mo. $1.00 net. Fourth Edition.</p> - - -<div class="adtitle2">DREAM DAYS</div> - -<p class="unindent">An Illustrated Edition, set in old-faced type, with 10 full-page -Photogravures, Title-page, Tail-pieces, and Cover-design by -Maxfield Parrish. Sq. 8vo. $2.50 net.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Dial.</i>—‘One of the most delightful holiday books of a season or two -ago was the edition of Mr. Kenneth Grahame’s “The Golden Age,” -with illustrations by Mr. Maxfield Parrish. Even more delightful is -the companion volume now issued containing the same author’s -“Dream Days.” It is hardly necessary to speak of Mr. Grahame’s -text. His two books hold a place apart in the literature of childhood, -and we can well envy the reader who has yet to make their -acquaintance.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Dr. Guy Carleton Lee</span>, <i>Baltimore Sun</i>.—‘Very few more delightful -books than “Dream Days” have ever seen the light. If -we were forced to make out a list of the works of literature published -during the last two decades, that are, in our judgment, -likely to be alive two decades hence, in the very brief list we -should certainly include “Dream Days.”’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Churchman.</i>—‘To put yourself in a child’s place, to think a boy’s -thoughts about the happenings of everyday life, is a rare quality in -any writer. Still more rare is it, perhaps, to dream the child’s dreams -in literary form, to preserve the evanescent glow of juvenile fancy. -In that art, as it seems to us, Kenneth Grahame has no present rival.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Boston Evening Transcript.</i>—‘Hardly since Robert Louis Stevenson’s -“A Child’s Garden of Verses” have we had such imaginative presentation -of the juvenile point of view.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Brooklyn Eagle.</i>—‘Mr. Grahame is one of those wizards whose magic -has created pictures of childlife exquisite in humour, quaint in fancy, -subtle in charm. In Mr. Maxfield Parrish the author has an ideal -illustrator.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>New York Tribune.</i>—‘Mr. Parrish is one of the most original and -effective draughtsmen that we have, and in this series of illustrations -he is at his best. A more exquisitely decorated Christmas -book than this it has not been our fortune to see.’</p></div> - -<p class="unindent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="adtitle2">PAGAN PAPERS</div> - -<p class="unindent">16mo. $1.00 net. Second Edition.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Academy.</i>—‘Rarely does one meet with an author whose wit is so apt, -whose touches of sentiment are so genuine. His paper on tobacco is -good reading, though one remembers Calverley and the Arcadian -mixture; the eulogy on the loafer is second only to Mr. Stevenson’s -praise of “The Idler.” There is too a distinct flavour of poetry in -much of Mr. Grahame’s works. One could have wished “White -Poppies” had been written in verse, were not the prose of it so delicate -and adequate.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—‘Mr. Kenneth Grahame’s accomplishment is astounding. ... -His style is a delight, so high is its vitality, or cool -its colours, so nimble and various its rhythms. He has read and -assimilated Browne Burton. He has a pretty poetic fancy and is apt -at a quaint analogy. Many forms of beauty—existent and non-existent—he -loves with a deep and discriminating love.’</p></div> - - -<div class="adtitle2">THE HEADSWOMAN</div> - -<p class="unindent">16mo. 50 cents net. New Edition.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Bookman.</i>—‘Mr. Grahame’s cleverness does not forsake him when he -attempts satire. “The Headswoman” is a pretty bit of foolery.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Literary World.</i>—‘A delightful little tale with a tinge of satire in it. -For gracefulness of style and charm in the telling of a story it is in -the front rank, and that is saying a great deal.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Dundee Advertiser.</i>—‘Humour is not dead amongst us, for Kenneth -Grahame’s witty little romance of “The Headswoman” brims over -with it.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><span class="smcap">Mr. W. L. Courtney</span> in <i>Daily Telegraph</i>.—‘Well we are more -than a trifle dull, <i>nous autres;</i> and we should be grateful to Mr. -Kenneth Grahame for throwing in a story or two of his own, as often -as he can. Happy Mr. Grahame, who can weave romances as well.’</p> - -<p class="unindent"><i>Scotsman.</i>—‘Mr. Grahame has written a most charming book, which -cannot fail to delight all who were once children.’</p></div> - -<p class="center"> -JOHN LANE COMPANY, <i>The Bodley Head</i>, <span class="smcap">New York</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 591px;"> -<img src="images/cover-real.jpg" width="591" height="800" alt="cover" /> -<div class="caption">Transcriber's Note: Original cover</div> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="tnote"><div class="center"><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></div> - -<p>Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.</p> - -<p>Repeated chapter titles were deleted to avoid redundancy.</p> - -<p>Page 97, “supicious” changed to “suspicious” (beastly suspicious by)</p> - -<p>Page 101, “stealthly” changed to “stealthy” (his stealthy career)</p> - -<p>Page 102, “frighful” changed to “frightful” (a frightful funk)</p> - -<p>The book cover image at the beginning of this e-book was created by the -transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN AGE***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 53250-h.htm or 53250-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/2/5/53250">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/2/5/53250</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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